Saturday, Neil and I were up extremely early to catch the first ferry leaving Horseshoe Bay for Langdale. We weren’t able to leave on the first ferry without reservations, but we made it onto the second ferry less than an hour later. The later departure was no worry as we had a few hours to kill before the tide would change in our favour. We arrived at Pedals & Paddles in time to load the kayak with our gear, settle into the kayak and begin our trek onto the open sea.

The morning couldn’t have been more gorgeous. The glorious sunshine warmed our skinned as we filled our lungs with the salty smell of the ocean. Full of anticipation and excitement, we crossed the inlet heeding warnings about strong winds mid-afternoon, making the crossing more dangerous if we were to do so further up the inlet. As we made our way towards Piper’s Point (the point on the left side of the first photo; a close-up in the following photo), we saw a seal pop its head above the surface of the water to check us out. You can just barely see him in the first image, but a close-up in the second gives you a better look.

The water was smooth by the time we were gliding along the shoreline around each point towards our destination. We made our way past Piper’s Point and around another point, just as there was a dramatic change in the weather. It had suddenly cooled and the wind picked up. There was a dark, dense cloud just to the West of us looking very foreboding. Neil thought he could hear the rain starting to drip on the water’s surface just as the cloud was making its way across the inlet.

I snapped a shot and quickly sealed my camera in the submersible bag, before we paddled like mad trying to get out of its path. It started with a small drip, then a couple of more, then we could clearly see the line of rain as it approached pounding through the surface of the water. Oh God! Here it comes! We sprinted as fast as we could, but there was no paddling away from it. We were victims of its relentless punishment as it soaked us from our hats, through our splash skirts, to the puddle forming on our seats. There was no escaping its wrath. We could do nothing but laugh our sorry wet selves through it. Minutes later, it passed and the beautiful blue sky opened up beyond it, but only after we looked like we had just rolled over in the kayak. Luckily, our gear was stowed safely beneath, with our sleeping bags and clothes tightly protected in dry bags.The rest of the trip was in sunshine, having passed the rain cloud. It was quite interesting to watch it cross the inlet and wreak havoc on the kayakers setting up camp on the opposite side of the inlet. We landed roughly an hour later and wasted no time unpacking our gear and setting up our site. In no time, the tent was set up, sleeping mats and bags rolled out and the kitchenware ready for use.

We were both chilled and hungry, but we decided to drop the traps before changing into dry clothes. We poured the crab ‘bait’ into the buckets and set them in the traps before rigging up the kayak to drop the traps. We tried hitting bottom a few times before realizing the water got quite deep, quite quickly. Eventually, we found a few spots that maxed out the rope, but wouldn’t bounce the traps along the ocean floor. Full of hope, we paddled back to shore.

Our side of the beach was shadowed by the large trees and mountains behind us, so by late afternoon, as the wind picked up and the beach was shadowed, it started to get chilly. Particularly, since we were still wet from being dumped on. We changed into dry clothes before setting up our stove for dinner. On the menu was Pasta Vegetable Parmagiana from Backpacker’s Pantry; a freeze-dried special blend of parmesan cheese, butter, garlic, parsley, basil, and vegetables mixed with pasta. It was our first test of the Astronaut food and it passed our test as we were so hungry and ready to ingest anything that looked remotely edible. We were eating gourmet, with rehydrated Apple Crisp for dessert.
Our bellies were happy and we were dry, but completely exhausted. We chilled out watching the waves crash for a while before heading back to the tent to warm up and just relax. It was 5:45pm when we were snuggled in our tent, reading our books, enjoying the comfort and warmth of our beds. I fought the overwhelming feelings of sleepiness for a chapter, but succumbed only fifteen minutes later. We had a nice little three-hour nap, after which we woke just in time to watch the last rays lower behind the trees.
After brushing our teeth, we head back to bed to sleep, still exhausted from such an early and active day on the water. It was only an hour later when Neil was waking up and moving around, concerned about the sounds of branches cracking and what he thought was the breath of a large animal lurking about in the dark. I told him to ignore it and go back to sleep until he whacked my feet an hour later, urging me to really listen. I couldn’t hear a thing and asked him if he wanted to go outside to ease his mind. We took our flashlights and cautiously shone them around the vicinity of the tent, without any beady little eyes looking back. I was a bit concerned myself, hearing the howling of a wolf just as I closed my eyes entering the wonderful world of sleep (and wolf droppings around the tent). We decided to remove the hanging food from its location and secure it in the kayak, hoping the water-proofness of it, also meant that it was odour-proof, to keep any bears and other critters away. Neil slept restlessly for the rest of the night, which meant my sleep wasn’t anything spectacular. However, we managed to survive another night, unscathed, unharmed with all four limbs still attached.
The next morning, we were up late to check on the traps. Just as I had suspected - a whole lot of nothing. Just a tiny fish, two jelly fish and two very sad-looking crabbers. We tossed the traps back on shore and dumped all the remaining, unused, crab bait into the containing buckets to try a new location. The bait we were using, upon Neil’s suggestion I might add, were little round pellets of food that looked and smelled much like dog food. I suppose, if we were attracting sea-dogs the pellets might have been useful, but in the world of crabbing, where fishheads and raw chicken are the expectation, little imitation pellets of food are useless. Along with the mere 50 feet of rope we were restricted to using.
We spent part of the afternoon checking out the shoreline, snapping a few photos, trying hard not to keep looking at the traps that were giving us false hope. We found a few interesting critters along the way, including a starfish (properly named “sea star”) and its many babies. Unlike the sunflower sea stars that we pulled up from our traps (see images following). We even found a few land critters, including an inanimate one and another that wasn’t quite so cute.

Cruising around in the kayak, we came across bird wildlife resting on the rocky shores of the inlet. I have never seen the following black bird with its orange bill before this weekend (if you know what it is, please share), but the Blue Heron is a more common sight on the West coast.

There were many spectacular views from our campground. I’ll post more to flickr as I upload them. The best part of it all was the absolute serenity save for a few sports fishermen attempting to sing along with their radios. Ugh. There were no neighbours to blast the bass until 2:00 am, or rearrange their apartment until 2:30am. There were no cars, horns, sirens, nor shouts from the streets below. It was peaceful. It was quiet.
Last night, Neil and I made sure to hang our food well away from our tent. We strapped a bear bell to the rope as a warning alarm and placed the axe beside the tent. It was an effort to relieve Neil’s fears and hope for a better night’s sleep. He fell asleep just as quickly as he had the night before, but this time, he slept more soundly having already survived a night without incident. This time, it was my ears that wouldn’t rest, until I finally gave in and just plugged them. The critter moving about the outside of our tent would just have to get on with it, because I gave up caring. I was too tired.
The next morning, I woke to find the first few layers of our roll of toiletpaper ripped to shreds with mouse turd scattered about. To think it was only inches from my body caused me to shudder, but it could have been way worse. We ate a quick breakfast of reconstituted milk and granola with raspberries (much better than the “scrambled eggs and spinach” chalk from the day before - blehck!), before packing up the tent and all of our belongings. We were on the water shortly after 8am, riding the current and the wind all the way back.

We crossed early since the water was relatively calm and we hadn’t traveled down the opposite side yet. There was no one on the water yet, except the odd fisherman heading out to sea. We enjoyed gliding through the calm, mirrored water, watching the jellyfish pass beside and under the boat, while the seals followed at a safe distance. At one point, we saw a family of seals of which we suspect to be the father, mother and child seal surfacing for air. When there is no one else on the water, it is very easy to hear the seals break the surface for air. You can hear them before you see their heads pop out of the water. I just wished they weren’t so shy and that they would come closer to the boat, but understandably, they maintain their distance.

During one of our rests in Oyster Beach, we could see two Eagles across the small inlet from each other, with us in the middle, while they called back and forth in such uniquely, spectacular communication. I could have rested there for hours listening to them (sorry for the crappy quality - no telephoto lens). However, time was wearing on and we were wearing out. We had no intention of fighting the tide home, so we kept on paddling, one stroke at a time. It was an exhausting trip back to the marina after what seemed like hours of paddling. We were never so happy to set foot on solid ground. (Catch Neil’s version of the events, in his post.)