A Sydney Harbour sunset.... what an awesome city I live in!

I’m usually an early morning paddler so I don’t see many sunsets from the water, but I received an invite for an evening paddle from my close mate Nat (a recent convert to the Church of the Double-Bladed Paddle). Pushing off into Lavender Bay, Nat immediately fell in and needed to self rescue, but with that out of the way we paddled out to the Sydney Harbour Bridge to have a look at the city.

Nat starting to dry off after his swim. Not a bad view from here!

The most incredible aspect of the paddle was the fact the usually busy Harbour was deserted. Clearly Sunday nights aren’t that attractive to sailors or party boats, and we were able to scoot around at our leisure chasing ferries and playing in their wake. We paddled past Neutral Bay before turning into the heart of the harbour and up to Fort Denison, an old prison from Sydney’s early penal history that was now mainly used for corporate functions and parties.

Fort Denison, formerly Pinchgut Island (prison). Built to defend against Russian warships!

The sun was now almost down and around us the city was swept with burning red light. We cruised towards the Garden Island naval yards, watching bats taking off for the nights hunt and flying above our heads. The short film festival Tropfest played to outdoor audiences a stones throw from where we were on the water, oblivious to the paddlers sliding past in the dusk.

Nat looking beautiful bathed in pink light - haha!

We continued on into Woolloomooloo Wharf, paddling between the super-yachts moored to the expensive Finger Wharf where Russell Crow has an apartment. The lights of East Sydney’s skyline started to come on as the last few minutes of light slowly disappeared, leaving us to cruise the dark waters of the harbour using lit marker buoys for navigation.

Last light over the East Sydney skyline.

We slowly meandered over to the Sydney Opera House, watching carefully for boats or ferries knowing they probably couldn’t see us (I had the Kayalite blazing on the rear deck and Nat had lights on both the front and back of his PFD, but in a little boat you can never be too careful). This great Aussie landmark is next to Circular Quay, the central hub for Sydney’s ferries, and can be a treacherous body of water to navigate due to the heavy ferry traffic and ridiculously confused waters. We pulled up in front the Opera House’s sea wall so we could look out for exiting ferries, bobbing about in the dark in the messy waves, whilst gazing out at the city of lights of the Sydney skyline.

The lights of North Sydney reflected on the Harbour.

Then suddenly three big ferries pulled out of the quay, all heading east. As they passed us a few hundred metres away, the giant Manly Ferry (more like a fast frigate really!) came in from the east heading back into the quay. Between all four of the ferries, the churning wake-waves that they created started to combine, jacking up into huge walls of water hurriedly speeding towards us in the dark. As they hit, we rode nose first up and over the series of waves before hearing them boom as they hit the sea wall behind.

“GO!!” I yelled as we heard the waves hit. Nat in his fast ski took off like a bullet, with me following not far behind, before the first of the huge messy rebound waves caught up with us. I felt the stern of the kayak angle up skyward as suddenly my boat launched down the waves face, the nose carving out a bubbling bow wave as I sped along.  Nat’s ski fired like a rocket, and as I started to drop off the back of the wave, I lost him from sight as he zoomed out across the Harbour.

Behind me were a whole series of giant rebound waves, and I managed to catch each one for 10 or 15 seconds before falling off. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw another ferry passing in the distance ahead of me, and before I knew it I’d hit an incoming wave as I was flying down the face of the one behind me. And then I was airborne, yelling into the darkness as my boat flew through the air before plunging nose first into another wave, submarining the bow before we exploded back up out of the water. This was absolutely awesome!!!

Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Luna Park Ferry stop

I was getting close to the other side of the Harbour now, with Nat now a good 50 metres ahead. The water was confused from all the ferry action and I battled to keep from being washed into the Milsons Point sea wall, as we made our way back towards Lavender Bay. As we approached the lit-up Luna Park ferry stop however, we had our last ferry incident as an incoming ferry blasted its horn at us as we raced to pass the ferry stop before it came into to dock.  Ahead Nat got broadsided by the churning ferry wake and struggled to stay on board, whilst I shot up the breaking wake right behind the ferry as it passed, flying through the foam and bouncing around in the turbulance behind. And then suddenly the waters were quiet again, as both Nat and I gave a little sigh of relief.

We paddled the final stretch back to our launch point at Lavender Bay. When Nat was off his ski he admitted the whole thing had been amazing, but terrifying. His arms slowly began to unknot from the death grip on his paddle, whilst I just simply sat with a grin from ear to ear on the awesome final part of our Sunday session.  It’s moments like these when you you can do nothing but bask in the joy of it all, and I was in paddling nirvana. This was really living, and I couldn’t have been happier. Until next time, cheers! FP

Tags: night paddling, Night surfing, ocean ski, sydney harbour

Boats in the darkness, banks of the Hawkesbury River

A busy weekend schedule meant no paddling unless I could get one in late at night, so I contacted paddler mate Ned, the engine room of the Team Fat Paddler fundraising efforts, to see if he was interested in meeting up somewhere. We decided to meet up at Mooney Mooney on the Hawkesbury River, known to many paddlers as the finish point for the Hawkesbury Canoe Classic, sometime around 9pm.

Ned of course managed to take a wrong turn somewhere and ended up on the wrong side of the river, but after doubling back we finally met up and a little after 10pm we pushed out into the inky darkness of the river.

Ned showing his appreciation for my attempt to burnt out his retina with a high powered camera flash

After a quick discussion we decided to head towards the sea. As we reached the Mooney Mooney Bridge, we paused to adjust the boats and discovered that the current was rushing down the river in the direction of the ocean as the tide went out. As we passed into the darkness beyond the bridge, Ned made the brilliant suggestion to turn north up the Mooney Mooney Creek, which quickly found us bottomed out on a shallow expanse of mud! So we doubled back and decided to follow the channel markers into the darkness, moving us ever closer to the un-seen ocean somewhere in the distance.

Over the next few hours we paddled under the stars, passing under railway bridges, sliding silently past the odd party on a boat or house, and discussing the usual stuff mates talk about when out alone. Then finally, we decided we needed to head back against from the strong currents moving us further and further away from our put-in point.

At this point the incredible connectedness of the modern world interrupted our paddle through the night. Ned’s phone rang with his wife Megan giving me the news that old mate Burnsie had just become a father, with his wife Naomi giving birth to a gorgeous baby girl. Megan had found out via Facebook… and was now telling me at midnight as I floated down a river through the countryside!

We continued our struggle against the outgoing current when rain started to gently fall. We discussed how nice it is to paddle in the rain when a strange rumbling noise started to rise in the distance, which increased in volume as whatever it was got closer. Then we realised it was heavy rain rapidly approaching us from the hills to the south. And then it hit, hard driving rain that pummelled us on the river.

Driving rain pelting the kayak

Ned paddling through the rain

Rain masquerading as snow in the camera lights

A very wet Fat Paddler

Within minutes it passed and we listened as it continued its rumbling sound northwards before striking back out against the current.  Then after another 30 minutes of paddling, and fighting the tidal race at the river’s choke point at the Mooney Mooney Bridge, we finally pulled into our launch point to pack up, at the respective time of 1am.

Finished!

As we packed up and chatted about the paddle we’d just done, I noticed a bit of movement in the grass near the boats. Getting a bit closer, something scampered away from me before doubling back and coming straight out to face me. There looking at me with its big eyes and pink nose was a young fearless Brush-Tailed Possum.

Hey there little fella, how are you going?

Now these may look cute, but they have razor-sharp claws that can do real damage if you try to handle them. I once had a staffy bull terrier that caught one in our backyard and was feeling very smug before it turned on him and with a single swipe, carved his eye-brow clean out of his skull. You’ve never seen such a tough-looking dog whimper like such a little sook, but possums can be remarkedly violent when cornered or annoyed.

The possum got bored of my attentions and went back to foraging for food, but before long another visiter turned up, an older far bigger male with a bad smell and a nasty case of mange. This fella was no-where near as cute as the little one, and started to stalk me across the car-park! This one just looked like he was itching for trouble, and I nervously back-pedalled away from him.

The big mangy Demon-Possum

As we packed our boats and gear up, this demon-possum kept stalking us around our own cars, clearly looking for trouble, and getting on both Ned and my nerves. Finally I lost patience and stood my ground, armed with my trusty Adanac Greenland paddle, and faced him front on. This didn’t scare him at all and as he continued to stalk me I had to give him a little tap on the nose with my stick. At that point he decided maybe I wasn’t going to be his dinner for the evening and he casually wondered off to stalk some fishermen who had just arrived instead.

From there we finished packing, said goodbye and got in our respective cars for the long drive home. A magical paddle under the stars with a good mate finally finished… cheers, FP.

Tags: hawkesbury river, kayak, Ned, night kayaking, night paddling

Heading off into the sunset - Wyong River, NSW Central Coast

A bloke named Ned, another Hawkesbury Canoe Classic competitor, got in contact with me a little while back and we decided to meet up for a night-time paddle as part of our training. So we decided on the Wyong River, a nice little river on the NSW Central Coast just north of Gosford, and a river that Ned was familiar with.

And what a brilliant kayak session it was. As night set in I discovered how hard it is to see obstacles (such as submerged trees and thick seaweed beds) and how disconcerting it can be when fish jump out of the water around you and birds take off from adjacent mangroves, none of which you can actually see in the milky darkness!

In the darkness this was about all I could see!

But what made the paddle really enjoyable was the company. Ned’s an interesting bloke with a diverse background and we hit it off immediately, chatting away in the darkness about our respective lives, the upcoming Hawkesbury Classic (which Ned’s done a few times before) and about all manner of random things. All whilst floating on the river under the stars with only the sounds of insects and jumping fish  to accompany our conversation.

Ned in his Prijon plastic fantastic, now complete with Fat Paddler sticker!

It’s hard to really describe just how nice this paddle was, and how good it was to meet another like-minded kayaker to share the fun with out on the water. Needless to say I had a great time. Cheers mate!

Tags: Ned, night paddling, Night time, Wyong River

Paddling down the Chicago River towards "The Loop"

When I arrived in Chicago I was greeted by hot, humid, muggy weather. And in the space of the cab ride from the airport, it rained, heavily, on four different occasions. As the cabbie said to me “If you don’t like Chicago weather, just wait 5 minutes until it changes”!

Well, the change was for the worse. A huge electric storm rolled in with driving rain and thunder, and it looked that my paddle was doomed to failure. So, thinking my paddle was totally out, I decided to assemble and de-assemble my folbot – right inside my hotel room.

Folbot Cooper in hotel room, assembled for the 2nd time in 26mins

The weather seemed to calm down eventually and I was really keen for my “sunset paddle” on the Chicago River, so leaving the folbot behind I took off in the hope that I *may* get a paddle in.

And I did, in a tour group of about 40 odd novice paddlers. But fortunately I was allowed to set the pace alongside one of the guides, and was able to paddle the river at night with the crazy paddlers smashing into each other behind me.

Pleasure boats on the Chicago River

Now just quietly, there’s not much pretty about the river system. It is a dirty toxic mess that made me happy not to have put my folbot into it. But the night-time paddle was perfect, with the  glittering lights of Chi-Town reflecting off  black water. With a great bunch of fun-loving crazy guides to help you, Kayak Chicago is a great thing to do if you ever get to visit this amazing city. Happy paddles!

Chi-Town at night from the Chicago River

This place has its own PostCode! Seriously!

Tags: Chicago, kayak, night kayaking, night paddling