Dodging Crocs Down Under
Part 2
The sea kayaking expedition of our Australia semester consisted of paddling through the Dampier Archapeligo of the Barrup Penninsula of Western Australia. The Dampier Arhapeligo is a group of 42 rocky islands offering scrubby eucalyptus valleys and isolated coral reefs. The islands are incorporated into reserves for the conservation of flora and fauna, making the Archipelago one of the largest and most bio-diverse groups along the Western Australian coastline. It is named after William Dampier, an English buccaneer and explorer who visited in 1699. Our group of 14 paddled 180 kilometers in fibreglass dandem and plastic single kayaks studying marine ecology, coastal navigation and wilderness leadership along the way. There were only two instructors (myself and one “Aussie”) on this expedition so we each had ample teaching opportunities, at least two formal classes per day. Melbourne-born “Sam” was quite versed in his native local natural history of Australia making it logical for him to field ecology and environmental classes. I headed up the technical curriculum like navigation, kayaking and leadership.
Australia lies along the Tropic of Cancer and, like many tropical climates, sported a rainbow of colourful fish not unlike ones I’ve seen in Baja and Hawaii. However, jellyfish and sharks are much more common. I ventured underwater several times skin diving and, thankfully, did not see any sharks. Sharks are well fed here due to the abundance of fish and did not cause us any problems. Green, Loggerhead, Flatback and Hawksbill turtles also abound in these waters. The turtles especially like the reefs and mangroves which provide habitat and food. When I paddled in the lead of our kayak pod, I saw up to twenty turtles a day sometimes. They are the most graceful and peaceful of sea creatures, although easily frightened. Often I would spy them floating with their head above water looking around. When my kayak came within twenty feet or so, they would duck under the water and calmly swim away. Turtles leak salt through their eyes, on occasion, and appear to be crying. Along Rosemary Island I saw more sea turtles as we passed inbetween the beach and a long narrow reef. A section of this beach showed the path turtles made as they climbed up the sandy beach and over the burn to lay their eggs, up to 100 eggs at time.
Some days were clear and calm. Others were clear and windy. When we left Rosemary Island, we launched in 20 knot winds with many whitecaps. It was the roughest conditions I've ever guided students in. However, my Sam and I agreed that after only two kilometers we would paddle round the northern point of the island and into the lee, giving us more pleasant conditions. We were willing to push that envelope. We kayaked 18 kilometers that day, ending on the far side of an Island named Enderbury. Following that long crossing we took a lay-over day. I took half the course students diving on nearby Rosemary's Island. We paddled less than one kilometre from camped and carried our kayaks up the beach above high tide where they would be safe for the day. Taking mask, snorkel and fins with us, we hiked up and over a narrow, rocky arm of the island to the other side where a long dark-blue reef lay in contrast with the turquoise blue surrounding it. We had to swim for 15 minutes to reach the reef, where we began to see a multitude of coral. I recognized brain coral, stag’s horn coral and fan coral. The coral grew in hundreds of different colours and shapes. Clams attached themselves to some and occasionally spurt out a sandy cloud. I kept my eye out for sharks, but did not see any. As I swam overhead, I noticed a blue-ringed octopus hiding under a bed of coral. The blue-ringed octopus is one of the most poisonous creatures in the sea. With scowling eyes, it flashed its flouresent blue rings at me as if to say, “I see you and don’t think about coming any closer.” With respect, I snapped a few pictures and continued swimming.
A bit further on I spotted two Cayman crawfish hiding under a Swiss cheese-shaped coral. Each was over a foot long (two feet long incluing the antennae). They resembled a colorfull blue-red lobster without claws. Their main defence consisted of forward pointing spikes extending off its exoskeleton which they use to secure themselves into a hole by backing up, tail first, into the coral. I attempted to catch one by grabbing its tail, but my hand slipped off and tore two legs (they grow back). I did not have the air in my lungs to keep trying. I'm sure I could have brought home a wonderful crawfish dinner if I had been wearing gloves.
We averaged five to ten kilometres a day and camped above high tide line in areas that gave us the most protection from prevalent easterly winds. Our first big open-water crossing was 12 kilometres to Malus Island. Unfortunately, a frontal strong system blew in and pinned us down. Wind howled all morning and into mid day. Twenty to 30 knot winds were creating four to five-foot swell and whitecaps out in the sound. It was early in the course, students were still novices and would probably have capsized and/or become seasick if we paddled out in those conditions. There was a lot of fetch and wind had a lot of room to blow in from the Indian Ocean. Our destination lay to the west and the easterly wind could be used to our advantage, pushing us towards our destination. We just had to wait for conditions to calm down a bit. Weather patterns are opposite in the southern hemisphere, largely due to the Corriolis Effect. Wind picks up early in the morning (usually about 2am), blows all day and then dies down about 3 pm. My experience sea kayaking north of the equator is usually the opposite, with wind picking up in the afternoons. We had been beach bound on Gidley Island for three days. On the fourth afternoon calm conditions presented. We were already packed and ready for our weather window. The crossing went without a hitch, but took four hours causing us to paddle the last bit in the dark. However, paddling a large open water crossing as the sun set was also a high point for all of us also.
The following day was a seven kilometre crossing. After rounding the southern end of the island before reaching our bay, three bottlenose dolphins spotted us and put on a show. They balanced themselves vertical in the water with their heads pointing straight upwards into the air. They danced like this several times in front of our kayak pod as we gaped in bewilderment. We all stopped paddling to watch the show. It was a nice gesture as if being welcomed to there island from afar. After setting up camp some students went to explore the little island. They hiked to a rocky point and found a group of rock walabies. Rock walabies look like a cross between a kangaroo and a cat. They hop like kangaroos, but travel in groups. They were very tame and students were able to pet and take pictures with them. That evening we camped in a sheltered, west-facing beach with a rocky cliff to protect us from the typical easterly wind. As I sat cooking curry rice with coccunut milk for dinner, nine rock walabies hopped up to the cliff above us and looked down at our various activity. I suspect that we may have been camping in their territory. It felt a bit eerie having nine small kangaroos sit atop the cliff and just stare at us as we cooked and ate. Walabies proved to be all over the island and eat spinifex which is a stiff, prickley grass that can create infection if stuck under the skin. During the night a students was awakend suddenly when several walabies hopped through camp landing on his legs and knocking him in the head.
We continued our island hopping through the Dampier Archapeligo. We paddled an eight kilometer crossing with four-foot swell the following day. Kayaks were surfing down the face of waves increasing our speed over water to six kilometres per hour. We quartered our boats to the waves making our heading the same direction as the swell. This became perfect conditions for surfing to maximize our speed. At camp later that day, I went down to the surf for a swim. There was a two-foot beach break (small and up close to the sand). As each wave came in I could, for a moment, see through the water. I was planning to jump in and cool off, but through the water I noticed two lumps through the water of the wave. I crept a little closer (about five feet away) and I noticed that the dark spots in the water were eyes looking back at me. I motioned towards it with my hands and a HUGE stingray fluttered in the sand, arced around and swam away trailing a long five-foot tail. After my swim and snorkel I found a patch of oysters growing on a pile of rocks at low tide. I smashed them open with a rock and ate them raw.
We are able to get a lot of sleep out here in the field. I was in bed by around 8pm and sleep until 6am, which allowed me to catch up on much needed sleep. My appetite wanned. Some days all I ate was a biscuit, coffee and a bowl of rice. Food was not scarce, but variety was, especially towards the end of each 10-day ration period. Rations were all dry and primarily carbohydrates. I craved fresh salad from my garden at home and juicy steak off the grill. Even though I ate sparingly, I still felt energized and healthy.
Some days were clear and calm. Others were clear and windy. When we left Rosemary Island, we launched in 20 knot winds with many whitecaps. It was the roughest conditions I've ever guided students in. However, my Sam and I agreed that after only two kilometers we would paddle round the northern point of the island and into the lee, giving us more pleasant conditions. We were willing to push that envelope. We kayaked 18 kilometers that day, ending on the far side of an Island named Enderbury. Following that long crossing we took a lay-over day. I took half the course students diving on nearby Rosemary's Island. We paddled less than one kilometre from camped and carried our kayaks up the beach above high tide where they would be safe for the day. Taking mask, snorkel and fins with us, we hiked up and over a narrow, rocky arm of the island to the other side where a long dark-blue reef lay in contrast with the turquoise blue surrounding it. We had to swim for 15 minutes to reach the reef, where we began to see a multitude of coral. I recognized brain coral, stag’s horn coral and fan coral. The coral grew in hundreds of different colours and shapes. Clams attached themselves to some and occasionally spurt out a sandy cloud. I kept my eye out for sharks, but did not see any. As I swam overhead, I noticed a blue-ringed octopus hiding under a bed of coral. The blue-ringed octopus is one of the most poisonous creatures in the sea. With scowling eyes, it flashed its flouresent blue rings at me as if to say, “I see you and don’t think about coming any closer.” With respect, I snapped a few pictures and continued swimming.
A bit further on I spotted two Cayman crawfish hiding under a Swiss cheese-shaped coral. Each was over a foot long (two feet long incluing the antennae). They resembled a colorfull blue-red lobster without claws. Their main defence consisted of forward pointing spikes extending off its exoskeleton which they use to secure themselves into a hole by backing up, tail first, into the coral. I attempted to catch one by grabbing its tail, but my hand slipped off and tore two legs (they grow back). I did not have the air in my lungs to keep trying. I'm sure I could have brought home a wonderful crawfish dinner if I had been wearing gloves.
We averaged five to ten kilometres a day and camped above high tide line in areas that gave us the most protection from prevalent easterly winds. Our first big open-water crossing was 12 kilometres to Malus Island. Unfortunately, a frontal strong system blew in and pinned us down. Wind howled all morning and into mid day. Twenty to 30 knot winds were creating four to five-foot swell and whitecaps out in the sound. It was early in the course, students were still novices and would probably have capsized and/or become seasick if we paddled out in those conditions. There was a lot of fetch and wind had a lot of room to blow in from the Indian Ocean. Our destination lay to the west and the easterly wind could be used to our advantage, pushing us towards our destination. We just had to wait for conditions to calm down a bit. Weather patterns are opposite in the southern hemisphere, largely due to the Corriolis Effect. Wind picks up early in the morning (usually about 2am), blows all day and then dies down about 3 pm. My experience sea kayaking north of the equator is usually the opposite, with wind picking up in the afternoons. We had been beach bound on Gidley Island for three days. On the fourth afternoon calm conditions presented. We were already packed and ready for our weather window. The crossing went without a hitch, but took four hours causing us to paddle the last bit in the dark. However, paddling a large open water crossing as the sun set was also a high point for all of us also.
The following day was a seven kilometre crossing. After rounding the southern end of the island before reaching our bay, three bottlenose dolphins spotted us and put on a show. They balanced themselves vertical in the water with their heads pointing straight upwards into the air. They danced like this several times in front of our kayak pod as we gaped in bewilderment. We all stopped paddling to watch the show. It was a nice gesture as if being welcomed to there island from afar. After setting up camp some students went to explore the little island. They hiked to a rocky point and found a group of rock walabies. Rock walabies look like a cross between a kangaroo and a cat. They hop like kangaroos, but travel in groups. They were very tame and students were able to pet and take pictures with them. That evening we camped in a sheltered, west-facing beach with a rocky cliff to protect us from the typical easterly wind. As I sat cooking curry rice with coccunut milk for dinner, nine rock walabies hopped up to the cliff above us and looked down at our various activity. I suspect that we may have been camping in their territory. It felt a bit eerie having nine small kangaroos sit atop the cliff and just stare at us as we cooked and ate. Walabies proved to be all over the island and eat spinifex which is a stiff, prickley grass that can create infection if stuck under the skin. During the night a students was awakend suddenly when several walabies hopped through camp landing on his legs and knocking him in the head.
We continued our island hopping through the Dampier Archapeligo. We paddled an eight kilometer crossing with four-foot swell the following day. Kayaks were surfing down the face of waves increasing our speed over water to six kilometres per hour. We quartered our boats to the waves making our heading the same direction as the swell. This became perfect conditions for surfing to maximize our speed. At camp later that day, I went down to the surf for a swim. There was a two-foot beach break (small and up close to the sand). As each wave came in I could, for a moment, see through the water. I was planning to jump in and cool off, but through the water I noticed two lumps through the water of the wave. I crept a little closer (about five feet away) and I noticed that the dark spots in the water were eyes looking back at me. I motioned towards it with my hands and a HUGE stingray fluttered in the sand, arced around and swam away trailing a long five-foot tail. After my swim and snorkel I found a patch of oysters growing on a pile of rocks at low tide. I smashed them open with a rock and ate them raw.
We are able to get a lot of sleep out here in the field. I was in bed by around 8pm and sleep until 6am, which allowed me to catch up on much needed sleep. My appetite wanned. Some days all I ate was a biscuit, coffee and a bowl of rice. Food was not scarce, but variety was, especially towards the end of each 10-day ration period. Rations were all dry and primarily carbohydrates. I craved fresh salad from my garden at home and juicy steak off the grill. Even though I ate sparingly, I still felt energized and healthy.
The end of our paddling journey was aproaching. Two days remained and we could begin to see distant lights from Dampier, the closest outpost in the archapeligo. We paddled to a small offshore sandy island to debrief our kayaking section. On the way there I was trolling with a silver lure hoping to catch one last fish for dinner. As I paddled along through a shallow reef my reel spun out against the inside of my kayak's hull with a startling grind. Initially, I thought I snagged my hook on the reef. Waves were breaking here and there on the reef around me, so I pulled in the line as best I could as I paddled backwards away from the rocks. I saw a large white form under my kayak attached to my line and realized that I was not caught on the reef below. It was a big fish. A hectic few moments ensued as I fought the fish with one hand and maintained my position in the water using draw strokes from my paddle in the other hand. My main concern was to avoid being washed onto the rocks by the breaking waves and, eventually, was able to paddle into the safety of deeper water to bring in the fish. It was strong, but eventually tired and I was able to grab it by the tail. I brought it onto the deck of my kayak and knifed it in the head. It still was fighting as I cut into its head as best I could. It eventually expired, fish blood all over my spray deck. The fish’s head hung over one side of my boat while the tail hung over the other (about 20" long). It had a bony underbelly and some sharp dorsal fins that cut my hand a little. Later I looked up the fish in the identification book and learned that it was a Trevali reef fish. I stowed the Trevali under my deck bungee for the remainder of our paddle to camp. That evening I made a pasta dish with fish maranara sauce and we gorged on all the sweet meat on that travali. Delicious.
Australia lies along the Tropic of Cancer and, like many tropical climates, sported a rainbow of colourful fish not unlike ones I’ve seen in Baja and Hawaii. However, jellyfish and sharks are much more common. I ventured underwater several times skin diving and, thankfully, did not see any sharks. Sharks are well fed here due to the abundance of fish and did not cause us any problems. Green, Loggerhead, Flatback and Hawksbill turtles also abound in these waters. The turtles especially like the reefs and mangroves which provide habitat and food. When I paddled in the lead of our kayak pod, I saw up to twenty turtles a day sometimes. They are the most graceful and peaceful of sea creatures, although easily frightened. Often I would spy them floating with their head above water looking around. When my kayak came within twenty feet or so, they would duck under the water and calmly swim away. Turtles leak salt through their eyes, on occasion, and appear to be crying. Along Rosemary Island I saw more sea turtles as we passed inbetween the beach and a long narrow reef. A section of this beach showed the path turtles made as they climbed up the sandy beach and over the burn to lay their eggs, up to 100 eggs at time.
Some days were clear and calm. Others were clear and windy. When we left Rosemary Island, we launched in 20 knot winds with many whitecaps. It was the roughest conditions I've ever guided students in. However, my Sam and I agreed that after only two kilometers we would paddle round the northern point of the island and into the lee, giving us more pleasant conditions. We were willing to push that envelope. We kayaked 18 kilometers that day, ending on the far side of an Island named Enderbury. Following that long crossing we took a lay-over day. I took half the course students diving on nearby Rosemary's Island. We paddled less than one kilometre from camped and carried our kayaks up the beach above high tide where they would be safe for the day. Taking mask, snorkel and fins with us, we hiked up and over a narrow, rocky arm of the island to the other side where a long dark-blue reef lay in contrast with the turquoise blue surrounding it. We had to swim for 15 minutes to reach the reef, where we began to see a multitude of coral. I recognized brain coral, stag’s horn coral and fan coral. The coral grew in hundreds of different colours and shapes. Clams attached themselves to some and occasionally spurt out a sandy cloud. I kept my eye out for sharks, but did not see any. As I swam overhead, I noticed a blue-ringed octopus hiding under a bed of coral. The blue-ringed octopus is one of the most poisonous creatures in the sea. With scowling eyes, it flashed its flouresent blue rings at me as if to say, “I see you and don’t think about coming any closer.” With respect, I snapped a few pictures and continued swimming.
A bit further on I spotted two Cayman crawfish hiding under a Swiss cheese-shaped coral. Each was over a foot long (two feet long incluing the antennae). They resembled a colorfull blue-red lobster without claws. Their main defence consisted of forward pointing spikes extending off its exoskeleton which they use to secure themselves into a hole by backing up, tail first, into the coral. I attempted to catch one by grabbing its tail, but my hand slipped off and tore two legs (they grow back). I did not have the air in my lungs to keep trying. I'm sure I could have brought home a wonderful crawfish dinner if I had been wearing gloves.
We averaged five to ten kilometres a day and camped above high tide line in areas that gave us the most protection from prevalent easterly winds. Our first big open-water crossing was 12 kilometres to Malus Island. Unfortunately, a frontal strong system blew in and pinned us down. Wind howled all morning and into mid day. Twenty to 30 knot winds were creating four to five-foot swell and whitecaps out in the sound. It was early in the course, students were still novices and would probably have capsized and/or become seasick if we paddled out in those conditions. There was a lot of fetch and wind had a lot of room to blow in from the Indian Ocean. Our destination lay to the west and the easterly wind could be used to our advantage, pushing us towards our destination. We just had to wait for conditions to calm down a bit. Weather patterns are opposite in the southern hemisphere, largely due to the Corriolis Effect. Wind picks up early in the morning (usually about 2am), blows all day and then dies down about 3 pm. My experience sea kayaking north of the equator is usually the opposite, with wind picking up in the afternoons. We had been beach bound on Gidley Island for three days. On the fourth afternoon calm conditions presented. We were already packed and ready for our weather window. The crossing went without a hitch, but took four hours causing us to paddle the last bit in the dark. However, paddling a large open water crossing as the sun set was also a high point for all of us also.
The following day was a seven kilometre crossing. After rounding the southern end of the island before reaching our bay, three bottlenose dolphins spotted us and put on a show. They balanced themselves vertical in the water with their heads pointing straight upwards into the air. They danced like this several times in front of our kayak pod as we gaped in bewilderment. We all stopped paddling to watch the show. It was a nice gesture as if being welcomed to there island from afar. After setting up camp some students went to explore the little island. They hiked to a rocky point and found a group of rock walabies. Rock walabies look like a cross between a kangaroo and a cat. They hop like kangaroos, but travel in groups. They were very tame and students were able to pet and take pictures with them. That evening we camped in a sheltered, west-facing beach with a rocky cliff to protect us from the typical easterly wind. As I sat cooking curry rice with coccunut milk for dinner, nine rock walabies hopped up to the cliff above us and looked down at our various activity. I suspect that we may have been camping in their territory. It felt a bit eerie having nine small kangaroos sit atop the cliff and just stare at us as we cooked and ate. Walabies proved to be all over the island and eat spinifex which is a stiff, prickley grass that can create infection if stuck under the skin. During the night a students was awakend suddenly when several walabies hopped through camp landing on his legs and knocking him in the head.
We continued our island hopping through the Dampier Archapeligo. We paddled an eight kilometer crossing with four-foot swell the following day. Kayaks were surfing down the face of waves increasing our speed over water to six kilometres per hour. We quartered our boats to the waves making our heading the same direction as the swell. This became perfect conditions for surfing to maximize our speed. At camp later that day, I went down to the surf for a swim. There was a two-foot beach break (small and up close to the sand). As each wave came in I could, for a moment, see through the water. I was planning to jump in and cool off, but through the water I noticed two lumps through the water of the wave. I crept a little closer (about five feet away) and I noticed that the dark spots in the water were eyes looking back at me. I motioned towards it with my hands and a HUGE stingray fluttered in the sand, arced around and swam away trailing a long five-foot tail. After my swim and snorkel I found a patch of oysters growing on a pile of rocks at low tide. I smashed them open with a rock and ate them raw.
We are able to get a lot of sleep out here in the field. I was in bed by around 8pm and sleep until 6am, which allowed me to catch up on much needed sleep. My appetite wanned. Some days all I ate was a biscuit, coffee and a bowl of rice. Food was not scarce, but variety was, especially towards the end of each 10-day ration period. Rations were all dry and primarily carbohydrates. I craved fresh salad from my garden at home and juicy steak off the grill. Even though I ate sparingly, I still felt energized and healthy.
Some days were clear and calm. Others were clear and windy. When we left Rosemary Island, we launched in 20 knot winds with many whitecaps. It was the roughest conditions I've ever guided students in. However, my Sam and I agreed that after only two kilometers we would paddle round the northern point of the island and into the lee, giving us more pleasant conditions. We were willing to push that envelope. We kayaked 18 kilometers that day, ending on the far side of an Island named Enderbury. Following that long crossing we took a lay-over day. I took half the course students diving on nearby Rosemary's Island. We paddled less than one kilometre from camped and carried our kayaks up the beach above high tide where they would be safe for the day. Taking mask, snorkel and fins with us, we hiked up and over a narrow, rocky arm of the island to the other side where a long dark-blue reef lay in contrast with the turquoise blue surrounding it. We had to swim for 15 minutes to reach the reef, where we began to see a multitude of coral. I recognized brain coral, stag’s horn coral and fan coral. The coral grew in hundreds of different colours and shapes. Clams attached themselves to some and occasionally spurt out a sandy cloud. I kept my eye out for sharks, but did not see any. As I swam overhead, I noticed a blue-ringed octopus hiding under a bed of coral. The blue-ringed octopus is one of the most poisonous creatures in the sea. With scowling eyes, it flashed its flouresent blue rings at me as if to say, “I see you and don’t think about coming any closer.” With respect, I snapped a few pictures and continued swimming.
A bit further on I spotted two Cayman crawfish hiding under a Swiss cheese-shaped coral. Each was over a foot long (two feet long incluing the antennae). They resembled a colorfull blue-red lobster without claws. Their main defence consisted of forward pointing spikes extending off its exoskeleton which they use to secure themselves into a hole by backing up, tail first, into the coral. I attempted to catch one by grabbing its tail, but my hand slipped off and tore two legs (they grow back). I did not have the air in my lungs to keep trying. I'm sure I could have brought home a wonderful crawfish dinner if I had been wearing gloves.
We averaged five to ten kilometres a day and camped above high tide line in areas that gave us the most protection from prevalent easterly winds. Our first big open-water crossing was 12 kilometres to Malus Island. Unfortunately, a frontal strong system blew in and pinned us down. Wind howled all morning and into mid day. Twenty to 30 knot winds were creating four to five-foot swell and whitecaps out in the sound. It was early in the course, students were still novices and would probably have capsized and/or become seasick if we paddled out in those conditions. There was a lot of fetch and wind had a lot of room to blow in from the Indian Ocean. Our destination lay to the west and the easterly wind could be used to our advantage, pushing us towards our destination. We just had to wait for conditions to calm down a bit. Weather patterns are opposite in the southern hemisphere, largely due to the Corriolis Effect. Wind picks up early in the morning (usually about 2am), blows all day and then dies down about 3 pm. My experience sea kayaking north of the equator is usually the opposite, with wind picking up in the afternoons. We had been beach bound on Gidley Island for three days. On the fourth afternoon calm conditions presented. We were already packed and ready for our weather window. The crossing went without a hitch, but took four hours causing us to paddle the last bit in the dark. However, paddling a large open water crossing as the sun set was also a high point for all of us also.
The following day was a seven kilometre crossing. After rounding the southern end of the island before reaching our bay, three bottlenose dolphins spotted us and put on a show. They balanced themselves vertical in the water with their heads pointing straight upwards into the air. They danced like this several times in front of our kayak pod as we gaped in bewilderment. We all stopped paddling to watch the show. It was a nice gesture as if being welcomed to there island from afar. After setting up camp some students went to explore the little island. They hiked to a rocky point and found a group of rock walabies. Rock walabies look like a cross between a kangaroo and a cat. They hop like kangaroos, but travel in groups. They were very tame and students were able to pet and take pictures with them. That evening we camped in a sheltered, west-facing beach with a rocky cliff to protect us from the typical easterly wind. As I sat cooking curry rice with coccunut milk for dinner, nine rock walabies hopped up to the cliff above us and looked down at our various activity. I suspect that we may have been camping in their territory. It felt a bit eerie having nine small kangaroos sit atop the cliff and just stare at us as we cooked and ate. Walabies proved to be all over the island and eat spinifex which is a stiff, prickley grass that can create infection if stuck under the skin. During the night a students was awakend suddenly when several walabies hopped through camp landing on his legs and knocking him in the head.
We continued our island hopping through the Dampier Archapeligo. We paddled an eight kilometer crossing with four-foot swell the following day. Kayaks were surfing down the face of waves increasing our speed over water to six kilometres per hour. We quartered our boats to the waves making our heading the same direction as the swell. This became perfect conditions for surfing to maximize our speed. At camp later that day, I went down to the surf for a swim. There was a two-foot beach break (small and up close to the sand). As each wave came in I could, for a moment, see through the water. I was planning to jump in and cool off, but through the water I noticed two lumps through the water of the wave. I crept a little closer (about five feet away) and I noticed that the dark spots in the water were eyes looking back at me. I motioned towards it with my hands and a HUGE stingray fluttered in the sand, arced around and swam away trailing a long five-foot tail. After my swim and snorkel I found a patch of oysters growing on a pile of rocks at low tide. I smashed them open with a rock and ate them raw.
We are able to get a lot of sleep out here in the field. I was in bed by around 8pm and sleep until 6am, which allowed me to catch up on much needed sleep. My appetite wanned. Some days all I ate was a biscuit, coffee and a bowl of rice. Food was not scarce, but variety was, especially towards the end of each 10-day ration period. Rations were all dry and primarily carbohydrates. I craved fresh salad from my garden at home and juicy steak off the grill. Even though I ate sparingly, I still felt energized and healthy.
The end of our paddling journey was aproaching. Two days remained and we could begin to see distant lights from Dampier, the closest outpost in the archapeligo. We paddled to a small offshore sandy island to debrief our kayaking section. On the way there I was trolling with a silver lure hoping to catch one last fish for dinner. As I paddled along through a shallow reef my reel spun out against the inside of my kayak's hull with a startling grind. Initially, I thought I snagged my hook on the reef. Waves were breaking here and there on the reef around me, so I pulled in the line as best I could as I paddled backwards away from the rocks. I saw a large white form under my kayak attached to my line and realized that I was not caught on the reef below. It was a big fish. A hectic few moments ensued as I fought the fish with one hand and maintained my position in the water using draw strokes from my paddle in the other hand. My main concern was to avoid being washed onto the rocks by the breaking waves and, eventually, was able to paddle into the safety of deeper water to bring in the fish. It was strong, but eventually tired and I was able to grab it by the tail. I brought it onto the deck of my kayak and knifed it in the head. It still was fighting as I cut into its head as best I could. It eventually expired, fish blood all over my spray deck. The fish’s head hung over one side of my boat while the tail hung over the other (about 20" long). It had a bony underbelly and some sharp dorsal fins that cut my hand a little. Later I looked up the fish in the identification book and learned that it was a Trevali reef fish. I stowed the Trevali under my deck bungee for the remainder of our paddle to camp. That evening I made a pasta dish with fish maranara sauce and we gorged on all the sweet meat on that travali. Delicious.
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