Investigator Straight Solo Crossing 3, 4 September 2018
It appeared that all the holes in the cheese aligned to allow me to attempt a crossing of Investigator straight; a stretch of water that separates the Yorke Peninsular from Kangaroo Island.
The plan was to leave from Cable Hut Bay and cross to Althorpe Island. From here I would begin the full crossing aiming to land at Stokes bay. From there travelling east to Point Marsden and then finally Cape Jervis, a total of approximately 135km.
Malcolm Hamilton had generously offered to drive with me over to Innes National Park, where he would then spend the night to make sure I got under way safely. He would then drive my car back to eventually pick me up at Cape Jervis.
When we arrived clouds had formed blocking out the sun. The cool air and lack of sunshine always manages to bring a sort of gloom to the air. I was nervous, and rightly so. To counter this I busied myself with all the preparations of packing the boat and getting ready for departure, trying not to overthink what lay ahead. But now it was time to depart. After a quick hug I was on my way.
It didn’t take long before the water became a washing machine. Again easterly winds were driving a second swell that met nearly head on with the south western southern ocean swell. Initially I was going to head straight to Althorpe, but the conditions meant it was better to go hide in the lee of the Haystack Island, then catch the wind over to Althorpe.
I felt like I was already trying to keep a lid on my nerves when all of a sudden a pod of large marine mammals surfaced next to me. They began crisscrossing my bow, and surfacing all around me. I took a moment to stop and say to myself ‘come on, this is pretty amazing!’ an attempt to fight the dark dog off.
A feeling of grandeur impresses itself on you as you approach the 100m tall sandstone cliffs of Althorpe Island. The bay is an anchorage that can offer protection from weather from the West through to the South East, but the Island has claimed three vessels. One vessel the ‘Pareora’ lost 10 of its crew when the ship struck the monument, a set of rocks that act as a natural breakwater to the bay. A large cross was erected in the bay in their memory.
Matthew Flinders named the islands after the family home of George Spencer, the Second Earl Spencer whom he also named Spencer Gulf and Cape Spencer after. There is an abandoned Jetty from the Islands’ busy earlier days. Unfortunately I imagine it may only take one more major storm to tear the middle section away from the rest of the jetty.
On top of the Island is an array of old cottages which are somewhat maintained, as well as the lighthouse. What an incredible place it would be to stay, with views out the front door of the cottages back towards Cape Spencer and a pair of Sea Eagles soaring on the updrafts. Now days the only residence are the large Cape Barron Geese in very healthy numbers! In the alcove the central cottage is a visitor’s book, with the first entry from 1993!
Crossing over to the Helicopter pad, you are rewarded with a full panoramic of Investigator Straight. You can see Wedge Island, Thistle Island and of Kangaroo Island you can see from Cape Borda to Mt. Marsden in the east. The south side of the Island has gigantic slots in which the ocean has penetrated. Depending on the conditions, these slots provide a kayaker with an incredible amphitheatre of cliffs and clear water, a pleasure Kieran Millstead and I had earlier this year.
After a quick reconnaissance of the Straight and it was time to get back and cook dinner.
When I landed I discovered despite my attempts to fix a leak in my back hatch, it now had more water than it had before, and I’d only been on water for an hour and a half! Not a good feeling.
To add to the pressure, an updated forecast did not bring any relief. I realised it was going to be a struggle to complete the trip.
NE winds tomorrow means a full day of buffeting beam on winds and seas.
20 – 25kt N Winds Wednesday meant I was unlikely to get off the beach at Stokes that day.
20 – 22kt W winds Thursday mean a really challenging day to reach point Marsden, and then a 43km crossing in a built up sea state back to Cape Jervis.
Do I pull the pin while I can still get back to Malcolm on Yorkes? I’m very tempted to. This is that dark dog again, but will it still be there in the morning? I don’t know if I want to do this.
I was in need of some council and managed a phone call with Malcom.
After getting my little world in order, a meal in my belly and a chat with Malcolm I was feeling positive again. He mentioned that if you’re feeling 50/50 that they are not good enough odds to paddle on.
The plan: To rise and pack early, asses the weather and I’ll know if I’m heading north or south. I’m feeling about 80% confident now.
Some hard yards lie ahead, I’m sure the feeling of achievement will be all the greater for it.
As I went to bed I remembered a gem Malcolm had said in the car trip regarding egos – “Don’t keep knowledge like secrets, you’ve got to share it. If I cannot teach you to be a better kayaker than I am, am I really a good teacher?”
Cable Hut Bay to Althorpe Island Via Haystack Island, 11.5km 1hr 30m
Tuesday 24th
I awoke to a golden cloudless sky, but already the seas were becoming pretty choppy but I reckon I’m going across.
Hopefully I’ll pump it out in six hours.
During the night the strong smell of fish arrived and in the morning I found the cause. An old large Sea Lion Bull had moved in next door!
All squared away and a quick call to Malcolm and I’ll see ya on the other side.
What a day.
Six hours of hard paddling, totally exposed with no escapes other than to make it there.
To be three hours in and only halfway to land was something else.
I started without the sail, as the wind was blustery around the island and the rebound waves were creating standing-like waves.
After 45 minutes I looked back at Althorpe. I could swear it hadn’t moved. I’d done 3km. I thought ‘that’s 4kph, 40km crossing, 10hours out here… that’s just not gonna do!” I popped the sail up and continued on my bearing of 120º.
Stokes Bay lay 43km away on a bearing of 125º. 120º was the best angle I could manage before the wind dropped my sail, but I feared that wouldn’t be close to enough angle to get me to Stokes with the way the wind was blowing. I cursed the wind for having so much east in it when it was meant to be swinging to the north. At least the sail added an extra 3kph to my speed.
Two hours in and Althorpe still looked too close. That’s the problem with tall vertical islands, they don’t let you feel like you’re ever getting any closer or further away.
I was already entering a battle of the mind. Trying to keep it distracted from how far you are away from land is really hard when all you can see is how far away you are from land. It was time to crank some beat through my Bluetooth speaker.
Three hours and Althorpe is finally beginning to fade. Also I found a great relief in knowing that if I was to simply run with the wind, I’d now hit Kangaroo Island, and not miss it out past Cape Borda anymore.
Four hours and it’s getting hard. I’m really beginning to question why I’m doing this to myself, because it’s really not enjoyable. I’m constantly balancing to my left to counter the waves breaking across my boat. The water never changes, just the same colour of lumpy 1-2m seas. Any object that floated by grabbed my attention, always just a piece of seaweed.
By now it was becoming clear I wasn’t going to reach Stokes beach. I started running through options. Either to hit the coast and push on up to Stokes, or settle for a beach like Snellings.
I looked up from studying the map to see a wave cresting perfectly to meet me. It broke around my armpit and gave me a good wash, but then I discovered it had swept the maps away, tearing them off the chord I’d attached for just that reason. I was so upset, because this was now the second time Malcolm had lent me his charts and I’d lost them in a wave. I circled around to look for them but with no luck. After a big yell of frustration and disappointment I had to push on. Nothing was going to bring them back.
Five hours. I was realising it was going to be a battle just to make it to Snellings. Where is that northerly wind! My thoughts on the trip are starting to deteriorate and I’m starting to think of ways I can get off the Island once I’m there.
A couple of kilometres out from Snellings I turned my phone service back on, but ‘No Service’ was all I got. Oh boy. It’s unusual to not find service off the coast, as phone signal travels so far over water. More anxious thoughts; how am I going to tell Malcolm I made it safely? How am I going to check the weather? How am I going to get off this island!! Maybe there is service closer.
Althorpe Island to Snellings Beach, 40km 6hrs.
Finally I land on the beach at Snellings. My legs quickly remember what it is to stand and I drag the boat up out of the water. It’s so heavy. The back hatch is flooded.
I’m not as happy as I thought I’d be.
I had imagined scenes of laying down and kissing the sand, but I didn’t feel like that either.
I didn’t feel much at all, because it wasn’t over yet.
I still had no phone service. There was no way I was hopping back on the water to punch further up the coast in the hope Stokes had service.
I began walking and thinking of options. Surely one of these houses has people in it and will let me use the home phone. I found a public shelter that would make a great place for the night. I sat at the bench looking back towards Althorpe when I heard one of the most wonderful sounds; the ding of my phone receiving a message. It cant be!! Sure enough, one bar. I was singing hallelujahs and straight on the phone to Malcolm to inform him of my safe arrival and situation.
As we spoke I felt a lump start to rise in my throat, and my eyes starting to water. What’s going on!? Why am I starting to cry!? While I’m holding back the avalanche we decided on a plan that I’d call him back later once Id had a rest to discuss where to go from here. I wanted to cry to him, but I also didn’t. I realised it was a moment meant for myself. We hung up and then the flood waters broke.
I had no idea how much emotion I had suppressed just to make it here. I realised that when I arrived with no phone service, I was very much still in survival mode holding it all together.
But once I had service and I’d made that phone call I knew I was properly safe, and the walls came down.
It wasn’t tears of joy or even relief. If anything it was sadness and remorse.
I had just done the single most dangerous thing I’ve ever done in my life and I realised it was asking too higher price. I’d made it this time.
Without trying to sound cliché, one thought dominated my mind over all, and that was my wife. On the water I’d realised how much life I’ve hoped to spend with her, and I had seriously just risked that.
I felt so remorseful for putting all of that in a kind of jeopardy.
I’m proud of my achievement today and so thankful for all the learning and realizations, but I also just want to run home to her with my tail between my legs.
Later that evening after contemplating my choices, I decided it was time to go home. Incredibly Malcolm was able to organise the ferry and come and get me the next day.
I could relax now, and just take it all in and process my thoughts.
Had I been in a more sea worthy vessel that tracked straight and didn’t have a flooded back hatch would I have felt the same? What I do know is that being blown 22º off your bearing and ending up 17km away from where you hoped and the flooded back hatch certainly added to my sense of vulnerability.
While I was out there I feel I got to experiences something of what it is like to be in the shoes of the Operation Flinders participants, only I was alone.
They endure a walk that is so long and hard that you cannot get away with just your brave face.
The enormity of it, and the only options for escape being get injured or just keep walking eventually overwhelms the brave face that we put on that helps us ignore the discomfort we are in.
Eventually it is too much and we are overcome, but not without a few precious realisations.
These realizations are the diamonds produced under pressure that we must hold onto. Miss them, and you’ve missed something truly valuable, yet you suffered all the same.
5th September
I’m feeling a lot more emotionally stable this morning. I think it is really important to know and expect to feel defeated in the evening after something big and hard. However also expect to feel renewed in the morning. Seeing the weather now and my emotional state, I believe I would have been able to dig deep and make it back to Cape Jervis if I had to. Survival mode would have gotten me there. But I didn’t have to.
I feel like a gambler who just risked big and won big, and instead of betting again I’m cashing out now while my winnings are still in my hands.
I need to let the dust settle around this new comfort zone I’ve stretch, and I’ll gain the rest another day.
Malcolm booked the return ferry for 1930, giving us plenty of time to debrief in the car and at the pub. My appreciation for this man has grown exponentially as he’s been a caring wise mentor figure.
I shared how I had a new perspective for the achievements of those world class paddlers and himself, Ben and David. But wisely he chimed in something along these lines; “I believe you must always celebrate your successes. If you’re busy comparing them to the successes of others then you’ll miss the point. You may gain an appreciation for what others have achieved, but a success is a success and it should be celebrated.”
Those two quotes I’ve shared are going to have a lasting impression on me.
6th September
This last part consists of some thoughts upon reflection of what I had just experienced and I feel it is worth sharing
Looking now this morning at the winds now compared to the forecast and seeing them lower makes it easy to wonder if bailing was the best option. It’s easy to think you could have kept going from the comfort of your house after a pub meal and a hot shower. Take this win, there will be plenty more battles to come.
All the time I was out there I kept asking myself, “Why are you doing this? Why go into such risk?”
These are some of my answers:
- To answer the call of adventure in my soul
- To spend time outside my comfort zone to see what there is to be found.
Outside our comfort zones lies weighty gold you are yet to obtain. Gold in knowledge, gold in experience and gold to unlock in who you are.
In the ancient story of ‘Iron John’, a metaphorical story of male initiation, an adventurer arrives in the kingdom and asks “What is there dangerous to do around here?”
The king replies “Surely you must not go into the forest, no one who goes in there has ever returned for quite some time now.”
The adventurer replies “I now know where I must go.”
It is of my opinion that boys do not simply become men when they reach milestones. The majority of the world’s cultures identified the need to initiate boys into men, not often does it just happen.
However if an initiation process was short, easy or without struggle, then was it really worth anything to achieve it? Without time, difficulty and struggle it has no value.
But what on earth can initiation look like now in our modern western world? What is a ‘man’ anyway?
Being a sea kayaker doesn’t make me a man, but what it has done is provide a vehicle – an avenue towards some form of initiation for me, and I know I’m not alone.
It provides an environment that really will test ‘Do I have what it takes?’, the question boys are asking when they begin testing their strength and potential on everything around them.
My first solo crossing of backstairs passage felt very much like a rite of passage. Something with a notorious reputation and I entered the fray alone and came out alive.
It took a long time to be ready for the crossing, it was a huge mental struggle, and a difficult stretch of water to cross.
Initiations are meant to provide learnt foundations for life. They are not un-related.
All the aspects of surviving a serious ocean going expedition are transferable to life. How you make decisions, how you handle your emotions under stress, the list goes on.
Though I’ve paddled alone, I’ve had many mentors and support to get there. Metaphorically they show you how to get to the door, and a few useful tools and tips for beyond it, but only you can pass through it.
Sea kayaking has allowed me to be tested, and each time I’ve come away with a bit more gold, and a bit more of who I really am.
If I fuss about comparing it to the achievements of others and down play what I’ve done, then I’ve missed it completely.
What is big for you, is big for you. And that is big,
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