Sails and Tribulations

A leaking kayak, howling winds, ferocious downpours, blisters and mozzie bites - well yes, but there is much more here than meets the eye.

The last few days, well away from society and mobile coverage, have been blissful. Just ask Lain to describe the look of glee in my face as I ran around naked in the rainforest in a downpour surrounded by the glistening round leaves of the majestic Licuala palms. Priceless. Hippy.

As we have packed enough flour for two loaves of bread a week the bakery opened on Snapper Island for a perfect, crusty rye loaf. I think Lain was even more surprised than I was at my baking prowess, although I may have set an unnecessary precedent. Like my BBQ skills, I should have burnt the first loaf to a cinder so that I am never allowed near the yeast sachet again. Note to self - burn the next loaf!

The many delights of coconuts have been added to our culinary selection over the last few days. I am somewhat dubious however, that the energy spent on obtaining the flesh justifies the effort of cutting it out. Even with fancy machetes there is clearly a clever technique for hacking through the husk to which we who shop in supermarkets are not privy. I am slowly learning and this afternoon we drank the sweet milk of several of these deadly cannonballs. Rustle, rustle, THUMP! Yes, don't place your tent under a coconut tree.

The paddling so far has been a mixture of blissful serenity and terrifying exhilaration, similar to reading a good book while rocking on a chair then leaning too far back with you stomach in your throat. Sailing on a gentle breeze silently past dense tropical rainforest and thick, healthy mangroves and countless terrified turtles is just about as good as it gets. Later in the day the wind has been picking up converting blissful cruising to a ride you would happily queue for hours in an amusement park for. The swell and wind pushes and pulls the kayaks one way while the sails are doing the opposite resulting in an exhausting exercise in preventing oneself from being capsized while attempting to head in the right direction. Lucky we can see where we are going…for now.

Cedar Bay was heavenly - fresh water creeks flowing out over graceful sandy, coconut lined beaches with fringing coral reef all wrapped in an elaborate parcel of mountainous rainforest. No sooner had we erected our flashy new tarp when the heavens opened - a downpour of legendary proportions. Within seconds our campsite was completely flooded and the rain on the tarp was so loud we had to yell at each other just to be heard. We were collecting the rain to refill our supplies of fresh water but the 10L bucket we were collecting it in was overflowing within 30 seconds. Needless to say, we have enough water for now. The torrent that flowed out over the beach would have kept any whitewater enthusiast drooling and the previously crystal clear gentle streams were now mudslides. It is brilliant to see nature's power, even better to be naked and standing in it!

This first week has been an emotional one. As we figure out the task we have set ourselves to achieve, how to pack our boats, the routines of camp, how to avoid sunburnt lips, how to make the electronics clip together, and what to do in our spare time, our thoughts inevitably drift back to home, to friends, family, puppies, to hot coffee and cold beer. Lain started this week an emotional wreck with the slightest reminder of home resulting in a stream of tears. The days of separation seem to be making things easier. Lain has just closed the last page of Vicki McAuley's book "Solo" about Andrew McAuley's ill-fated paddle to New Zealand. Perhaps glimpsing the footprints of adventure giants like McCauley make Lain and I realise that what we have set out to do is, if a little bit dangerous, very achievable.

Another storm is lashing the tent as I write this spiel from the campsite below Archer Point. If the wind stays up we'll have trouble getting out of this shallow bay tomorrow, but nothing we can't handle.