Silly buggers

"Silly buggers". A term of endearment in NZ, and Australia, said with a bit of a smile and slight twist of the head, adding a touch of respect. But that's what you could probably call Justin Jones and James Castrission, currently paddling their custom-built tandem kayak across the Tasman Sea, on an expedition called "Crossing the Ditch" - a colloquism given to crossing the Tasman.

They left Oz on November 13 and hoped to reach Auckland by Christmas Day, pretty good timing for the 2200km trip. But fairly constant headwinds and tricky currents are taking their toll, adding another 800kms to the tally and making that deadline date probably unreachable. Today, they're about half-way across.

Increased fatigue and waning morale have taken a toll on the expedition. The pair report three indicators each night to their support team to gauge their current stamina. On a scale of one to 10, they each rate today their physical fitness as a seven but their mental toughness and fatigue levels have dropped to five and below.

The toll on their equipment's hurting as well - the salt water's buggering up their rudder cables, and their automatic desalinator pump and cabin bilge pump have given up, taking valuable paddling time away to resort to manual pumping for both.

There's been a bit of controversy (what's new) over whether it's a true "kayak" they're paddling; but who really cares. They're doing it, they're hurting, and I hope they make it. Others haven't.

[Photo above of the boys leaving Forster, Australia on November 13. That's a Mirage kayak seeing them off, a modified version of which Andrew McAuley attempted his Tasman crossing in.]

Don't leave your boat

There’s a sad story playing out off the east coast of Australia, where a 12m catamaran, the Kaz II, has been found adrift and its three-person crew missing.

When the Coastguard boarded the boat, via a chopper drop and a good swim, the engine was found idling, table laid for dinner, a laptop and other computers open running, but no people. The headsail's shredded and the main sheet looks as though it's parted company with its traveler, but it doesn't take much to do that on an untended boat. Interestingly, there's also a reef in the main, and that could be a whisper pole hanging from the mast on the port side - perhaps they'd poled the headsail out on a down wind reach.

Media is reporting that the liferaft is missing, but there’s yet been no confirmation whether the cat did have a liferaft or not. I can't see an empty cradle anywhere on the foredeck where a liferaft would normally be secured. There is a RIB hanging from the stern on davits, still with its outboard.

This tale is a poignant reminder when at sea in a kayak or a yacht – don’t leave your boat, unless it’s sinking from under you. In most cases, the boat will survive. And always wear a lifeline.

When I was skippering a bareboat off the Turkish coast in 1990, we were told of a charter yacht that had similarly been found adrift. The Med had been flat calm and nor were there any signs of a struggle. What rescuers did find though, were lots of finger nail scratch marks along the side of the hull, just above the waterline. Apparently the crew had all jumped overboard for a swim, but had forgotten to hang a boarding ladder.

I thought that perhaps this is what had happened in this case, but watching the video, you can see that the Coastguard swimmer has little trouble climbing up one of the hull’s low transoms. But what I do find curious is that there’s one fender hanging over the starboard side of the cat, and another three hanging over the port side. Dad never let us leave our fenders over the side of the boat for more than a minute once we’d left the jetty!

Prior to this year’s Everglades Challenge, EC superstar SandyBottom had advised me to have a line of some sort attaching me to my kayak. And I took her at her word. In fact, Andrew McAuley’s loss compounded that decision. I had an old climbing tape, less than a metre long, looped around the side of my PFD, with a carabiner to clip the other end to the kayak’s safety lines. I felt just that little bit safer, knowing that if anything really bad did happen, I wouldn’t be separated from my boat, or at least I’d be found with my boat.

* Six hours later: The more I think about this case - and it's been plaguing me all day - the more I believe that this is probably a very sad case where one of the crew has fallen overboard, another tried to help him (two were brothers), and the other fell over trying to save all of them. I've seen it before where a person's fallen overboard, and another has automatically jumped straight over the side without a thought in the world in an attempt to save them. And I have a sneaking suspicion that this could have happened shortly after first leaving port when winds were gusting 30knots, particularly because the reef is still in the main. It appears that conditions have been perfect for sailing once that 30knots blew over.

Helping hand for Andrew McAuley

It was comforting to see that Andrew McAuley’s website has been updated. I and I don’t doubt many others would have liked the opportunity to attend his memorial service.

It was fascinating to see the photo of the bird pushing Andrew along on his quest. We’ve been trying to figure out what bird it is – I thought perhaps a booby or albatross. My brother, Rob, is a tourism resource consultant back in NZ and lives with his family in Nelson at the top of the South Island. I asked him what he thought it was: “Could be either a royal albatross or a southern giant petrel. Can't see its beak properly, but my bet would be the royal albatross."

He also sent me a photo he took last year of a wandering albatross near White Island. A bit blurry (they were catching some big fish), but it has a beak. White Island’s one of NZ’s two active volcanoes, off the east coast of the North Island – I’ve had some great diving trips there, but that’s another story.

The only mainland breeding colony for any albatross species found in the southern hemisphere is found at NZ’s Royal Albatross Colony at Taiaroa Head, on the tip of the Otago Peninsula on the east coast of the South Island. It’s just a bit lower than the same line that Andrew was paddling across the Tasman.

Part of Andrew’s enjoyment of the trip, and all his trips, must have been the wildlife he encountered along the way, but probably closer to both the Tasmanian and New Zealand coasts on this crossing. And albatrosses can cover huge distances, so his shot above could have been taken anywhere.

Can you imagine Andrew's delight when this albatross came to nudge him along?