100 Magic Isles

A.R.S.E. II - Cruising the Whitsunday Islands from Mackay to Bowen

Text by Sharon Betteridge

Photos by Rob Mercer, Sharon Betteridge and Andrew Eddy

I looked up at the island five kilometres offshore and back to my feet. Several times in fact to check it wasn’t an optical illusion. But no, Flat Top Island shimmered in the distance - a barely discernable blue line ahead of it and an expanse of soft sand and mud from there, all the way to where I was standing. It looked like I could almost walk out to it. The debris line from the morning’s high tide left a pattern of shell grit and seaweed. Again I looked up and back to where this line touched my sandals. These tides were bigger than anything I’d ever experienced. I’d read about big tidal ranges in the cruising guides, checked it out in the tide tables and had asked yachties with first hand experience - but now the reality hit - we would be ruled by these tides for the next four weeks! Big tidal ranges meant big volumes of water ebbing north and flooding south. Combine this with constricted passages where currents run at six knots and more, and shallow ground creating shoaling, eddies, whirlpools and over falls and even our best laid plans would need to alter depending on the wind and tidal conditions on the day. As indeed happened when the predicted winter trade winds increased to gale force for a few days then dropped off and turned into anything between 10 and 30 knot afternoon sea breezes that got up early and intensified as the temperature soared as morning became afternoon. This continual oscillation meant we had to curtail our plans to forge northwards. Instead we planned each and every day as it came. We ran with the wind. We stayed put when the winds were wild. We paddled when the conditions allowed. We visited as many islands as we could. And, true to the “A.R.S.E” tradition, we stayed in Accommodation when we pleased, made use of our Rudders if we had them, Sailed on the few favorable days, but most of all we had an Enjoyable holiday.

By 9am Rob, Andrew and I had wheeled the last of the heavily laden kayaks down to just below the high tide line and waited for the tide to fill. Our craft were heavily laden with water, food and gear - enough to be self sufficient for the weeks ahead. We pushed off as the high tide lapped at our gunwales. Only the previous night I had stood on this same spot – high and dry - contemplating the weeks ahead. Now I sat in my kayak surrounded by water, with an eager anticipation to get started. From our low vantage point the day’s destination was lost in the haze somewhere over the horizon. Like Rob and Andrew, I too had plotted the day’s course and marked the bearings on my chart taking into account the tides, currents and winds and my paddling speed. My compass would be an essential tool today and I would use my GPS to check speed and drift. It was a hot and soupy start and I knew the predicted afternoon sea breeze would kick in early and strong. There was nowhere to stop en-route so I just hoped our first forty kilometre plus crossing from Iluka Beach to Keswick Island could be achieved before the tide turned or we would be faced with a hard slog fighting the tide at the end of a long hot day.

Our first night’s camp was a deserted picturesque bay framed by rocky headlands. The water a turquoise imitating the travel-posters that beckons southerners to travel north during their cold winter months. The setting up of camp; cooking, eating and cleaning up; listening to the short wave radio for weather forecasts, checking the tides and plotting our next day’s route would become a routine that we adhered to at the end of each and every day before turning in early. In its simplicity I found comfort. This was the kind of holiday I needed to recharge my body and mind from the stresses of work and family. Each and every campsite was a delight to the senses – scenic, quiet, secluded.

For the next few weeks our launching times became increasingly later to accommodate the tides. We could sleep in, go for a walk, enjoy the sunrise, catch fish, have a cooked breakfast, comb the beach for treasures, watch the birds and listen to their melodious calls, read some chapters of a novel before the water came lapping up close enough to our campsite indicating that it was time to leave. By contrast our day’s paddling would end later and, more often, involve shorter distances traveled. Unfortunately launching after a short carry at high tide and paddling the entire ebb tide meant landing at low water. The subsequent portage after a long tiring day on the water was always exhausting and, when it involved a half kilometre trek through soft mud necessitating the unloading of dry bags and water bags to ease the load, it verged on soul-destroying. In these cases our kayak trolley was useless. Even with empty kayaks the trolley’s wheels would bog after only one or two rotations and we would have to resort to strap carrying the kayaks up to our night’s camp.

Soon we were running out of daylight and would have to rise early to accommodate the falling tide. Our first attempt at Solway Passage left us leaving Lindeman Island in howling 35-knot winds before sun up. These conditions stretched our patience and caught us beating a hasty retreat. In hindsight the forecasters were able to quote from local observations and warn of gale force winds easing ‘later’. It was a pity they had got it so wrong in the previous night’s forecast. Nevertheless I thought it fortuitous as we spent the day exploring the island and completed our crossing the following day in very windy yet manageable conditions.

As on so many of our lay days, or days when we left late, we could take the time to explore bush-walking possibilities in this beautiful island paradise. This time it was Lindeman - the true ‘jewel in t he crown’ for bush walkers. Like Brampton the bush walking was spectacular. Long circuitous paths took us to picturesque coves; high vantage points with spectacular 360-degree views; along rock shelves and sand flats alive with tiny sea creatures; and through rainforests whose overhanging canopy of green provided a cool and moist respite from the hot and sticky clime.

Sometimes we would laugh at the restrictions and intentionally paddle a flood tide that opposed the southeasterly trades. At Hook Island we left the ‘resort’ as the flood tide was at almost full strength and the Trade Winds were well and truly up. We paddled through the passage northwards as the tidal flow steadily increased and were met with heavily rebounding seas and surging green foamy waters punctuated with craggy rock pyramids that seamed to step in our way. The aptly named Pinnacle Rocks were a spectacle to behold – dark, jaggered and, at close range, truly awesome. With my sail up and a fully developed sea behind I watched them for some time marveling at their beauty and at the speed I felt I was traveling. I was flying. I was sure I’d reach Bowen before sundown. Many, many minutes later I was still watching the crags at very close quarters. Suddenly it dawned on me that I had not covered any distance – the winds pushing me north were being negated by the full tidal flow pushing me south. This was a scary sort of fun while it lasted but it was a welcome relief to pull down my sail and ferry across the current to join Rob and Andrew in the shelter of the adjoining bay.

Other times we hung upside down in our kayaks exploring the underwater world. Iridescent fish flitted between colourful soft corals. Large inquisitive groper and gentle rays came in close to get a fish-eye view. Schools of silver fish surrounded us watching our movements curiously. Tidal currents drifted us across exotic seabeds where urchins and cucumbers slumbered. Turtles eyed us cautiously before slowly turning their backs to us, flicking their tails deftly in a kind of haughty greeting and then gliding off.

Sea life was in abundance. On our first day out we were treated to the first of many whale sightings – but this one was different. Thinking that this humpback’s display of breaching and loud noises indicated his annoyance with us we kept our distance but watched and listened intently, using our graphite shafted paddles as hydrophones. His display continued even after we left. Later we were to find out that what we observed was a male humpback returning yearly to his breeding ground where he sings his song and puts on a display. Each year the song remains the same although altered and embellished with a few extra verses. But what is even more remarkable is that other whales that visit this site sing the same song. Over the ensuing weeks we would be treated to more whales, albino dolphins, dugongs, turtles, brahmany kites, sea eagles, oystercatchers, boobies, white herons, reef sharks, butterflies, honey eaters, manta rays, pheasant cougals, tree snakes, sea snakes, …but there was nothing as special as our first encounter.

At times we saw nobody. Only flotsam washed up by the prevailing winds and footprints in the sand were indicators of previous travelers. On occasion when we met fellow travelers who, like us, were heading north on an adventure, they befriended us. On’ Mid Pacific’ we were treated to a dinner in equal proportion to the grandeur of the craft. A ‘high tea’ aboard a striking yacht built in the mid 1950’s of locally felled Queensland timbers and restored lovingly and perfectly. ‘Kelekah’ helped us tie off our kayaks to their transom so we could come aboard and share afternoon tea complete with port and coffee and cake. Before wishing us adieu they shared with us their catch of fish. We caught up with the tiny ‘Fleetwing’ many times and each time were treated to tea and biscuits from their limited supply of water and provisions – a truly generous gesture. Tethered to their stern we sat bobbing up and down sipping tea from china cups and dunking gingernuts whilst comparing treks traveled and plans for the following days considering weather and tidal conditions.

At other times it was hectic. Encounters with the tourist Mecca of Whitehaven Beach made us bid a hasty retreat to the quieter waters of Hill Inlet where we found a sheltered spot behind a secluded beach. A quick scramble up a heavily vegetated hill afforded magnificent views of the famous beach and inlet as well as the tumultuous Solway passage – picture postcard perfect and well away from the noise created by people, engines, rotor blades and propellers.

On occasion we wearied of our dehydrated meals and carbo-loaded drinks and sought out more exotic fare, a place to wash off crusting salt and recharge our dying batteries. Hook’s resort offered cheap and cheerful meals, a warmish shower and other kayakers to share tales of daring do. Lindeman’s Club Med and Brampton’s beach burre’s looked inviting enough – although a bit overpriced and we had not the right attire. At the Molle group we sheltered from the 30-knot nor’easters at Cockatoo Beach – a pretty spot but small – and while Andrew did some sewing on his sail, Rob and I paddled the ‘Unsafe Passage’ to South Molle Resort where we enjoyed a few cleansing ales, some shopping, and a swim before returning across the tide race to the night’s camp. Long Island has on offer three resorts – from exclusive to low key. The buffet looked inviting so opted to have that for our tea. Hamilton Island was very busy – high-rise, an airport and a row of shops. We sampled food from each takeaway lining the harbour’s shore before replenishing provisions at the supermarket for the second half of our trip. At sunset we pushed our boats into the channel and paddled to Henning Island in quickly fading light to find a quieter place to rest our heads for the night.

Our itinerary became a long list of exotic island paradises. We stopped at most of the better-known isles and many of the lesser traveled ones. At Gloucester Island we enjoyed the full twenty-four kilometer circumnavigation complete with a lunch stop in a shady gorge dotted with granite and overhung with casuarinas. A tall ‘dry tropic’ island the peaks of which shone purple hues in the late afternoon setting sun – reminiscent of the Flinders Rangers (South Australia). Saddleback Island, true to name, resembled a horse’s back complete with saddle: two majestic and green mounds rose one each to its east and west while the leathery coloured dip in the horse’s back, being the lowest point in the island, beckoned us to climb atop to peruse the next leg of the trip. At Olden Island we were awoken by the sound of splashing. We watched two large Manta Rays performing acrobatics in the shallow water near shore, their white bellies glistening in the early morning sun. Fully air born we estimated that they measured several metres across, yet their antics appeared as graceful as creatures a tenth their size. Later we caught, cleaned and cooked trevally for our breakfast as the gulls and eagles fought over our scraps. Shaw Island’s pink granite escarpments with elongated vertical fault lines that created slender slits were homes to a variety of sea birds some so territorial they swooped

and squawked as warnings to us to ‘stay away’. At nearby Maher a continuation of this same granite belt produced a magnificent sea cave worthy of exploration. Once inside we peered through another vertical opening that provided a window to the islands further north.

Thoughts of staying on Stone Island quickly vanished as we perused the shore and discovered a run down row of cabins, a dilapidated resort building and a rickety jetty. If the private property signage wasn’t enough to keep us away the two large dogs threatening to dine on us if we landed certainly was. The sun was setting, the currents increasing and my patience waning. Large rounded boulders on the mainland shore were stacked up like a giant’s marbles and appeared to go on endlessly. Horseshoe Bay came as a welcome relief.

As I sat in the Café I mulled over the statistics on our trip. It had been twenty-eight days since we left the mainland at Mackay. We had paddled 486 kilometres and visited 34 islands. We had experienced winds from light and variable to 35 knots and direction from north through east to south, had been weather bound for 8 days, and had really experienced hundreds of magic isles.