I was just napping a bit again, when I felt a breeze coming up from behind. A breeze which turned into a wind, into strong gusts and eventually almost into a storm…25-30 knots at least! Where the hell did that come from?

Experience in this area with the weather told me the previous day was actually quite threatening for such a wind. It was simply too calm, too muggy. It was the literally calm before the storm. I didn’t want to think about that all day.

But now it was *there* – which good weather fairy made it blowing out of the west south west, almost parallel along the cliffs? I guessed this is what you deserve after the previous suffering overnight paddles…I was happy to have my floats out in the still moonless night, watched carefully my drift on my GPS, and had only to steer a bit offshore to avoid getting too close to the cliffs. I made 6-7 km/ hr without paddling, and I even paddled a bit to make the best out of that wind gift! My GPS showed numbers close to the 10km/hr mark. I was really speeding along, *with* floats! It was an unbelievable feeling, and I was quite thankful for that. What a ride!

This spooky “gift” lasted for about two hours. Without floats, I reckon I’d be scared to death and lost. Thank goodness, no more night paddle without them…but basically I was not after any more over night paddle at all any more on this trip!

I had agreed with Greg to call him last time at 10pm, that he could get a bit of sleep that night, and then again at 6am in first light. My radio was left switched on all night, and at 12.20pm I heard him checking in if I was all right…he woke up from the wind shaking the van, and was probably more scared about me being down there in the darkness than I was myself. He was happy to hear I had my floats out, and got actually pushed along very nicely! Thanks for checking in, darling…

The moon rose at around 2am, the wind settled and unfortunately shifted to the south east. But it was a reasonable 10 kn, maybe gusting15 kn. I felt I had enough powernaps, was not sea sick with the continuous ginger input and dared to take the floats off for a reasonable paddle into the light headwind.

At dawn, I had 45 km left. Greg was driving already ahead to check out the landing. He was hoping to discover “Sponge Bay”, a rocky bay with a tiny beach under an overhang where Paul was landing after his overnight stint along the cliffs, before he eventually paddled further on 1 mile to the long next beach . But a fence forced Greg eventually out to the highway, probably put up by the new whale watching center at the Head of the Bight. The center was off season and closed with a locked gate from the highway.

Greg has heard from locals the only reasonable access to the Head of the Bight beach was via the Red Gate track from the highway. Eventually he was driving through that gate, about 30 km on quite a rocky track, topped up at the end with sand. This track was leading into some campsites set up by the local Aboriginal community. The campsites were simple newly fenced areas with nice wooden poles, but with no facilities. But they had fancy signs on the various intersections…

He drove out on the beach through the “Hilton” campsite, following old wheel tracks. He was waiting for my arrival at the beach, ready set with showering water, towels and dinner.

But the second paddling day off the cliffs was not as friendly as the previous one, headwinds stayed 10-15 kn all day, and I felt my energy was going to be drained quite a bit. It took me eventually until 5pm to cover the remaining 45 km, average speed less than 5 km /hr. But oh well, the numbers were still counting down continuously, and I could see the beach ahead already quite early.

I was actually not too disappointed that Sponge Bay was not accessible, as Paul was writing about some lifting surf next day. I think I found it on the last mile of the cliffs, right underneath the wooden walkway and viewing platforms of the new whale watching station. But I couldn’t figure at all how they got out of the bay up the steep walls…maybe in those days there was a ladder or such. The surf on the beach where Greg was waiting was almost nothing, and it was soft sand with little to no reefy rocks. Why bothering landing in such a rocky bay anyway, 1 mile short only from a sandy easy beach?

I arrived in relatively good shape. I kept myself awake and entertained the last couple of hours with singing stupid old German folk songs, sometimes with text fully out of the blue…kind of fun. But it made my throat a bit sore the next day…

Water and air temperatures were inviting to jump into the sea for a relaxing floating rest after this last slog. I was vey happy to be done with those stunningly beautiful, but loooooooong cliffs! Any “normal” paddler should give it a bit of a back and forth go along them for a “live” impression…it’s worth!

I rinsed my body with fresh water and had some food. Greg liked to get off the beach that night, as it was quite soft sand and he didn’t trust the tide and weather…

We loaded my boat and gear, and started driving back on Greg’s own wheel tracks towards that “Hilton” camp. If it was the extra weight of me and the kayak, or just bad luck, but the soft sand got the van bogged eventually…just what we needed tonight! Greg did a great effort to dig the van out of the sand, then we put our tarp and camp carpet before the wheels, I was pushing with all my remaining strength, and the van got moving again…thank goodness. No more beach drives on soft sand!

We found a sheltered spot in the dunes, and all I liked to do was falling asleep as soon as possible. My sore body needed rest! I was just happy to be through. The next leg of beach didn’t look to bad with low surf! At least here…

Text message from Freya via satellite phone:

Survived a rough night with 25 to 30 knot WSW! blowing out of nothing from 12 to about 2am. Floats out, nice push! Now light east wind. 45 km left.

Text message from Freya via satellite phone:

31.28 131.12, Head of the Bight. 185 km, 3:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. the next day. DONE!