A time for restoration.

During a hot and gruelling paddle from Morris Island, with virtually not a breath of wind to flutter our empty sails, we attempted to find a campsite amongst the jagged rocks and mangrove roots on two smaller islands before pulling up for the evening on Night Island. That night the wind changed, became cooler and stronger, and waved a little flag that the sublime weather was at an end.

This tropical region has its wet and its dry seasons but it seems that we have slipped into the fragile crack between the two during the last few weeks. Stories of a trade wind so predictable that we could sail calmly all the way to the tip were tantalising, but unrealistic. In fact, while we travel quickly with the sails full, it is about as exhausting as trying to tame a mechanical bull where somebody keeps slipping coins into the machine.

The wind blew and for a day we had a great ride, narrowly avoiding being dashed against a reef, and cruising to Cape Direction almost as fast as a shopping trolley in the "12 items or less" lane. We didn't realise at the time but our campsite was the very spot where another long distance paddler was bailed up by a croc until she abandoned her paddling goal and sought a rescue. Fortunately the croc was elsewhere and we enjoyed a fine but windy campsite, surrounded by huge granite boulders and with a welcome trickle of fresh water.

With loaded water containers we packed up the following morning, Anzac day, aware that the weather had further deteriorated and that the wind was blowing significantly harder than the previous day. The wind is not so much the problem, but combined with a strong swell the conditions can get hairy. After slogging it out for several hours, and with Restoration Island clearly in sight, a wave sought to derail me and I came as close as I have ever been to being capsized from my kayak. Paddling beside me, Lain glanced over to see nothing but the underside of my kayak as I lay side-on in the water. Fortunately a dunking wasn't on the cards for me and I regained stability only to have the joy of battling back into the headwind to retrieve a water container that had been ripped off the deck.

Like Captain Bligh many years before us, making landfall at Restoration Island was an absolute relief - a place for the restoration of our senses. We were still wringing ourselves dry when we were enthusiastically greeted by the island's only residents, the iconic Dave and his enthusiastic 3 year old puppy, Quassi. Dave's visitor's book lists a long history of paddlers and other visitors to the island, and we were honoured to add our names to the list.

Given that we have been living on dehydrated meals for a while, the feast that was cooked up by Dave and our new north QLD friends was just as much of a restoration for our stomachs as this island has been for our souls. A curry of coral trout, painted crays and banana prawns cooked in coconut milk - yep, this is the life.

The wind is still blowing pretty hard and our next stop is another 40km or so out to sea, so we just might stay here another day and soak up the restoring powers of this island for a little while longer. I wonder what is on the menu tonight…

Pictures: Juz and Lain watching a Cape Direction sunset. Dave on Restoration Island.