Alarms went off at 3:30am. Conditions were perfect. We cooked a large breakfast consisting of rice with dried fruit and nuts, and packed the kayak in the moonlight. Our first attempt at pushing off the sand and out through the breaking waves left us drenched, the kayak half full of water and both of cursing the thought of the 12 hour paddle ahead in wet clothes. Our second attempt was far more successful and after having successfully negotiated our way through the breakers, we sat and waited for Peter to arrive. Forty five minutes later and there was still no sign of him. Just as we were about to head off without him, we saw the silhouette of a sea-kayaker paddle around the corner and into the sheltered cove. After brief introductions, Peter told us that after having spoken to us the night before, he had heard a second forecast. He told us he had picked up a ‘scratchy’ forecast on his AM/FM radio predicting a strong southerly at around midday. This was not good and could potentially have meant another 4 days on the island. We paddled back ashore and praying the 2nd battery on the satellite phone would work, called through to the weather bureau. The news was good. Not only did the phone work, but the winds were not expected to increase or swing around to the south until late evening. Frustrated to have wasted so much time, but relieved to be back underway, we set off again at around 6am.Sunrise over the water was spectacular and with the conditions the way they were, the mood was good and spirits were high. Despite his late arrival and the delay caused by the inaccurate forecast, we were fortunate to have Peter accompany us on this, the longest leg of the journey. Peter was an extremely experience sea-kayaker and his presence alone made me feel a lot safer. Anyone who attempts to paddle across Bass Strait by themselves is either completely mad, or experienced enough to be confident in their ability to arrive safely at the other side. Given the association with madness, when Peter told us he was a ‘scientist’, I hoped it was the later.
We set a compass bearing and planned to stick to it all day. The strategy was to allow the strong cross tides carry us way out to the north east and, maintaining our compass bearing, have the ebb tide carry us perfectly back to out destination. We passed the time and monotony of constant paddle strokes and undulating swell, by discussing the much written about bakery at Killiecrankie and how much we intended to eat on our arrival. As the hours passed and our destination drew slowly closer, I wanted nothing more than to get out of the kayak and feel land under my feet. As Killiecrankie came into view, our pace quickened at the prospect of the shop closing. It was just before 5pm – nearly 11 hours after leaving Deal Island, when we arrived on Flinders Island. To our relief, the shop was still open, and several pies, ice creams and cans of coke were consumed as we sat on the beach and waited for Peter to arrive.
After a short rest, we said goodbye to Peter and paddled around to the next bay to stay with some family friends of Nick's, where we were greeted on the beach with cold beers. The Renwick’s were extremely hospitable, and that night we enjoyed a fantastic meal, a hot shower (the first we had had in over a week), and a warm and extremely comfortable bed.