One Summer’s Paddling
Kayak expeditions in the South Australian
Sea, December 1980–February 1981 One Summer’s Paddling
Kayak expeditions in the South Australian Sea, December 1980–February 1981
Text and photographs by Peter Carter
Contents
Introduction 3
Circumnavigating Kangaroo Island 4
Port Lincoln to Adelaide 13
Daily Log 19
‘Cover’ picture: The final stage, across the Gulf from Edithburgh to Glenelg. Glassy smooth in the middle, Mount Lofty visible in the distance
One Summer’s Paddling 2 Introduction
ea kayaking began in earnest in South Australia in the 1970s. There daily log. It also became the web pages at
21 December–12 January “Idon’t suppose I can stop you fellows now.” The police sergeant was not happy. Before him were people with plans to do something that had never been done before, no less than a complete circumnavigation of Kangaroo Island, Australia’s second largest island: by kayak. It would be too easy, and totally wrong, to criticise his attitude. After all, part of his responsibilities include, at times, having literally to pick up the pieces of broken boats, cars, aircraft, and people. He didn’t want four more. We explained that we had planned carefully, that we had all the necessary equipment and knew how to use it, that we had made arrangements to communicate through the fishing cooperative network and promised to keep him advised of our progress. Months of planning and organising were put into effect at about 14:00 on December 21 1980, as we launched from the beach at Kingscote, passed the jetty for the local paper’s editor to take pictures, and headed north across the Bay of Shoals. Before long we were walking again, towing our heavily laden boats behind us across the shoal. Leaving Kingscote at low tide was not such a good idea. The four of us made an assorted crew. John Hicks and I were both teachers, although John has had many other interesting jobs elsewhere in the world. David Nicolson and Mike Higginson were both ‘outdoor’ workers, David for a climbing equipment supplier and Mike was then an instructor for Outward Bound. David and John, both very experienced in the outdoors, were making their first major kayak expedition, but Mike, besides being a very competent surf paddler, had been a member of a 1978 British kayak expedition down the River Nile. Wading across the Bay of Shoals, John in background That year I had made an expedition to the Sir Joseph Banks Islands. When John woke next morning he wondered why his boat had come to That night we camped on the beach at Boxing Bay. Among the flotsam be above him, not below, on the beach. on the beach was a length of very heavy hawser. It would have been good for a tug of war, with the first team to manage to pick it up The forecast warned of a change, and included a Strong Wind Warning. becoming the winner. During the night there might well have been We decided to leave as soon as possible, but by late morning found more items of flotsam as the tide rose higher than the previous one. ourselves with a headwind of some 25 kn, making the going heavy. We Circumnavigating Kangaroo Island landed for lunch at Dashwood Bay, where some fishermen were calling it a day. During lunch there came the sound of an approaching helicopter. It circled us and landed, bringing a television crew and journalists, who somehow managed to get my name wrong, even though I wrote a monthly column for their paper. While others were reading about us on page three the next morning, we were having problems launching from a boulder beach near Cape Cassini, where we had landed after it had become clear that both head winds and opposing tide were not worth battling against. In moving the boats down the rocks I lost my footing and fell on my knees, on an abalone shell. Out with a first aid kit. John then had some difficulty with a wave on the way out, but we were on our way in fine clear weather. We lunched on the beach at Middle River. There, we replenished our water supplies from someone who had read page three that morning. Stowing a fortnight’s food into a kayak is simple enough, but carrying The helicopter near Dashwood Bay. L–R John, Mike sufficient water in summer is always a problem, and we needed to replenish every two or three days. Wine casks make good water containers, being light, tough and flexible, and we had bought a quantity (empty!) to carry and leave in the food dumps set out before our departure. Much of our food was dehydrated or freeze dried, supplemented by vitamin and mineral capsules. Not the most exciting fare, but sufficient. By evening when we arrived at Western River Cove we had the Sun full in our faces, making for uncomfortable paddling. It was dark when tea was finished, so the washing up was left until morning.
Approaching Cape Cassini, Mike at left
One Summer’s Paddling 5 Circumnavigating Kangaroo Island Our fourth day was a very easy one, moving along with the tide in almost calm conditions. We passed Snug Cove. There, at the top of a pinnacle was an eagle’s nest, with one of its owners watching us through a veritable cloud of terns. We landed at Kangaroo Gully and spent the afternoon drying out some gear. Making the first days of an expedition fairly easy allows things like not quite waterproof packing to be found and corrected before they become real problems. One problem that David found was a gremlin in his SLR camera. That was something we couldn’t fix. He went fishing, but caught rock cod only and threw them back. John spent some time working on a loose paddle blade. We saw no kangaroos, only a large billygoat.
An eagle at the top, and a cloud of terns taking flight
Pre-launch packing at Kangaroo Gully
One Summer’s Paddling 6 Circumnavigating Kangaroo Island Christmas Day dawned fine and clear and we made good speed again to Harvey’s Return. There we found ourselves with another rocky beach instead of the sand we had expected. Some local people came down in the afternoon and were also surprised to find no sand, which normally appears in summer and washes away each winter. Harvey’s Return had been the landing for the materials of the nearby Cape Borda lighthouse, and on the shore is the concrete base for the crane used to unload it all. The nearby rocks would keep geologists happy for some while collecting specimens of their intricately folded strata. This time David’s fishing was more successful, and the sweep he caught were a special addition to Christmas tea, cooked in foil with spices. We were now at the end of the sheltered north coast of the island. We had seen the occasional big swell passing, but seas had been small, and except for one day we had been sheltered from the wind. The north coast has numerous small coves, only few of which we had actually used. Paddling had been easy. From now on we would face open ocean. On the rocks at Harveys Return The wind was picking up as we rounded Cape Borda next morning, and the occasional gust made paddling awkward. We wondered whether it would be possible to land at Ravine des Casoars, but one look at the swell dumping on the beach showed that it wasn’t. We continued, passing a fishing boat which reported our position and gave us more advice on approaching West Bay, to which we were now heading. Landing at West Bay was not without its drama. We had been advised to approach the northern part of the beach, but it all looked the same to us as we surfed in. Mike managed to loop his boat through the break, showing us his stern in the air, inverted. West Bay is within Flinders Chase and is a popular spot for tourists, and before long the four small boats on the sand were being inspected by both visitors and local people. The bay is also used by fishing craft as an anchorage, as it is sheltered from all directions except the west. The forecast for the next day was doubtful, of another change coming, and when we awoke cloud was building up and moving rapidly southwards, although the surf was low. We decided to stay. In any case, Dave off Ravine des Casoars: 3 m dumpers One Summer’s Paddling 7 Circumnavigating Kangaroo Island there was food and water to retrieve from its hiding place in the sand. Instead of paddling, we spent the day digging, fishing, drying out a wet radio or exploring, and John went diving with some borrowed gear. He brought up some abalone for supper, but was disappointed that he had been unable to catch the crayfish he had seen. The weather turned out to be superb. Mosquitoes were the main distraction of the night, but the day dawned overcast, drizzling and with strong winds. We stayed again. The ABC News reported us as being ‘in high spirits’ but in reality we were frustrated, especially in view of more Strong Wind Warnings. The news next morning reported a yacht in difficulties in rough seas in Backstairs Passage and having to be towed to Kingscote. The weather remained doubtful, so we stayed again. One of our visitors that day was a descendant of someone in the last century who, evading the law in Melbourne, had lived at West Bay and trapped possums for their skins. To send them off to Port Adelaide he had rowed single handed out to stop passing ships. Our visitor himself had paddled a homemade canoe off Kangaroo Island beaches, usually to be swamped by the first wave, Dave and Mike dig up the supplies and was interested to compare his craft with our Nordkapps. The Nordkapp is no newcomer to the sea expedition scene. It was designed in l974, derived from a Greenland original, to make an expedition to Nordkapp, the northernmost point of Europe. Since then Nordkapps have been around Cape Horn, Britain, New Zealand, Tasmania and many other places. To turn the wheel full circle, some have been used by Inuit on Baffin Island. A Nordkapp is 5.5 m long and 55 cm beam, is reasonably fast, very seaworthy, but a little ‘tippy’ unless loaded. Ours had the now usual systems of bulkheads and hatches, cockpit pumps, spare paddles and various emergency equipment. “Yahoo! We made it Dave!” was Mike’s comment as we broke through the surf next morning. As it turned out, that would have been a better remark for the end of the day, but we were pleased to have better weather at last and headed towards Cape du Couedic.
One Summer’s Paddling 8 Circumnavigating Kangaroo Island As we headed south, dolphins beneath us at one stage, and birds above, Mike was quietly sinking. His bow dipped lower and lower so that he was finally going through, rather than over the waves, and the boat was becoming slower and progressively less stable. The most likely cause of the trouble was the hatch, which would now have to be opened to allow the compartment to be pumped put. We rafted up. Despite our efforts the hatchcover refused to budge. I could see no option but to use more force, so began striking it with a hatch lever and a flare tube as a mallet, much as I had done before with tight hatches. This one still refused to unscrew. I struck harder, and the retaining ring of the hatch broke. Now the hatchcover was really off. Pumping out was no great problem, securing it again was. Like all good ideas, the solution was simple: we wrapped tape right around the boat and over the hatch. The hatches wece originally designed for occasional use on lifeboats, not for the use, and abuse, they must withstand on sea kayaks. There was clear potential for someone inventive to produce simpler, more rugged, and Approaching Cape du Couedic, Mike right of centre therefore more reliable hatches, as has happened. Critics would argue that the event was extremely hazardous, a good reason for us not to be allowed to be where we were, several kilometres off one of the most inhospitable coasts in South Australia. Yes, it was a tense moment, but I consider the hazard more apparent than real. One doesn’t take a sea kayak into open water unless he knows how to make it work even when things are going wrong. This means both paddling and ‘engineering’ skills, and between the four of us there was no shortage of either. Even if we had completely lost the boat at that point we could all have returned to shore, albeit not comfortably. I was once in a group forced to land with a swamped boat in rough conditions, and at least one kayak has been broken apart off Tasmania, but its owner continued to enjoy his sea kayaking. There are risks certainly, that is part of the challenge of sea kayaking, but they are risks that can be overcome. Tentatively at first, we moved on. The taped hatch
One Summer’s Paddling 9 Circumnavigating Kangaroo Island Our immediate problem was to land and ensure that the repair was holding. The next step was to obtain a replacement. I’m not sure what the others were thinking, but my own idea was to get to a telephone and call the supplier, or to send a written message, and ask for one to be sent. I knew exactly what was needed and where it was to be found, and wanted to avoid the possible confusion that can happen with verbal messages. Feeling more confident as time went on, we passed Cape du Couedic, meeting a fishing boat. I mentioned that we were having hatch problems. ‘What’s a hatch?’ asked the skipper and I pointed to the one on my own deck. The nearest landing was near Remarkable Rock, and now it was my turn for a spectacular arrival. The landing technique in surf is to approach behind a breaking wave, but while waiting outside the break I turned to find a wave about to break on top of me. I was churned ashore inverted. Dave off Kirkpatrick Point. Not the usual tourist view of Remarkable Rock Mike’s boat was still dry, so, relieved, we closed it up again with more tape and some wet suit cement and launched again. I was nearly dumped again on the way out. By comparison, our landing at South West River was serene. There on the beach was an amiable fellow calling “Like a beer?” and inviting us up to tea on fresh whiting. The fish were delicious, but the place felt peculiar. We all remarked afterwards that the table seemed to have been moving with the swells. After tea I was driven to the nearest telephone, at a farmhouse. On calling the radio network I was told that a new hatchcover would be delivered by helicopter the next morning. The fisherman had radioed the news of our trouble, and there had been innumerable phone calls to locate the supplier. When he learned the news he had had the bright idea of taking it to a television station. They would have a story and we would have our replacement. We played Frisbee next morning as almost the whole population of South West River waited for the helicopter, and in due course the Mike holds the broken hatchcover: the new one is in place journalists had their story and Mike’s boat was complete again. The One Summer’s Paddling 10 Circumnavigating Kangaroo Island strongest wind we had that day was the helicopter’s downwash as it circled for pictures. In the calm we continued to Vivonne Bay, the largest settlement on the south coast. Almost the entire shore was rock, some of it rounded granite outcrops. Big swells rolled by. At Vivonne Bay we had more food stored and there had been some concern at to what might have to be left behind. ‘The mouse has decided for us,’ complained Mike as he inspected the bags, all sampled by a determined rodent. Only one package was untouched: the cheese! We set out in the morning in very doubtful conditions, but soon returned. The weather was obviously not going to improve. We were making very slow progress in heavy conditions and could not be sure of safe landing along an exposed coastline, and decided to return to where we knew we had shelter, communication and supplies. For the next seven days, as we grew increasingly despondent, the forecasts contained Strong Wind Warnings. On several days not even the Cape Kersaint: granite professional fishermen ventured out. Elsewhere, there were storms in Melbourne and heats of sailing championships were abandoned off Adelaide. We spent our time exploring, fishing, talking to people and trying to deter the neighbouring possum and penguins. As the week wore on the tidal range increased and we had to move higher on the beach. Someone asked ‘When are you fellows going to start paying rates?’ The sky was overcast when we set out again, but the wind was less than 15 kn at last. Almost nonstop we paddled, past Nobby Islet, Seal Bay and Cape Gantheaume, perhaps the most inaccessible part of the island, until we flopped on to the seaweed at D’Estrees Bay. Twenty seven nautical miles (51 km) after a week’s rest has its repercussions, but with virtually no intermediate landings possible the stage had to be done without a break. We made a slow start the next morning in light northerly winds, but with a change forecast, and stopped for lunch at Point Reynolds. By mid afternoon, we were all fairly tired and the others contemplated landing at Mouth Flat Beach, the mouth of Willson River, a steep little Nobby Islet: calcarenite One Summer’s Paddling 11 Circumnavigating Kangaroo Island beach with non-stop dumpers. I pointed out that Pink Bay, sheltered and with access to telephone, was within reach and that we should make the effort in the conditions we then had. We pressed on, with following winds and seas along a forbidding coast. Somewhere between Cape Hart and Cape Willoughby we were passed by a fishing boat, whose skipper threw us a bottle of orange cordial, cold from his refrigerator. For a moment it was like playing canoe polo to pick it up, not that the Nordkapp is much of a polo boat. Refreshed, we continued, with the sky now clouding over. Thunderstorms were rumbling over the distant mainland and it was raining by the time we passed the easternmost point of Kangaroo Island, the granite cliffs of Cape Willoughby, and arrived in Pink Bay. There we found two fishing craft, and before long our position had been reported to the world. We now knew that we had completed the most arduous part of the journey. From Pink Bay on we would be on the north coast again, sheltered from the worst effects of wind and sea. Next day we left about midday for an easy passage to Penneshaw where we were in ‘civilization’ again. After the weeks of solitude—it was now 21 days Moncrieff Bay, with Cape St Alban, and the mainland in the background since we had set out—the after-cricket crowd in the hotel was a trauma. That night the news had us in Penneshaw after paddling 100 nautical miles in two days. In reality, we had travelled 72 nm (134 km) in three days. Someone had misread his map scales. After a night in Penneshaw we moved on around to American Beach to stay with some diving friends before the final leg to Kingscote. That was an easy stage, with following wind and sea. We sat down to tea that night in the hotel, after a welcome by the mayor, a very relieved police sergeant, tourists, and more helicopter commuting journalists. Their report the next morning contained factual inaccuracies and had my name wrong again. My confidence in journalists sank to nil. The return to Adelaide that night by MV Troubridge felt a little odd. After looking up to waves for so long we now looked down on the sea. Mike and David returned to work, but John and I checked our boats and equipment for the next expedition. Back at Kingscote One Summer’s Paddling 12 Port Lincoln to Adelaide
23 January–2 February oining us was Ray Rowe, an instructor at Plas y Brenin, the JBritish National Centre for Mountain Activity, one of the most experienced British sea paddlers and on a working holiday in Australia. Ray travelled to Port Lincoln by road with friends but John and I went byTroubridge . At three in the morning we were woken by the captain so that we could see something of the coast we were to pass later. Interesting by moonlight, but our view was to be very different. The policeman who accepted our TP 168 (Small Ships Movement) forms this time sounded almost indifferent. Next morning, January 23, with the local media watching, we set off across Boston Bay and then turned south to Thistle Island. We stopped Crossing Boston Bay, John nearer camera for lunch at Observatory Point and moved on. Thistle Island is a sheep property and tourist resort. Our brief visit to the house to report our arrival was rewarding as we were given freshly caught and filleted fish for tea and advice about the effects of UV on the eyes from a visiting optometrist. We spent the night in a sheltered spot at the southern end of the island. In the morning we found our site had been given the seal of approval by another visitor, who woke and held his nose in the air in classic pose before lurching back into the sea.
Our neighbour at Waterhouse Bay Port Lincoln to Adelaide Wedge Island, 15 nautical miles away, was our next goal. This was to be no coast hugging trip but an open crossing, and we had to be satisfied with weather and sea. Conditions at the surface were good, despite some rapidly moving clouds above, and we set out. Open crossings can be very tedious, with the land ahead seeming to come no closer and the land behind not appearing to recede. Nothing appears to change. On this occasion petrels and dolphins made paddling across smooth swells more interesting, and after 4¾ hours we were on shore again. Wedge Island is also a tourist resort, with most visitors flying in, and more people learned something about sea kayak expeditions at our camp in the middle of the long sandy beach on the north coast. The south coast is sheer cliff, and gives the island its wedge shape. Crossing to Wedge Island, with dolphin escort Conditions for the next crossing, to the foot of Yorke Peninsula, were near perfect. Since we could not see the land ahead we paddled by compass. Ray and I had compasses and we took turns of 15 minutes, as paddling by compass demands concentration, with no external directional reference.
Leaving Wedge Island, Ray nearer camera, lens cap in mouth
One Summer’s Paddling 14 Port Lincoln to Adelaide
Passing the wreck of the Ethel
Landing spot at West Cape
Without accurate information on tidal streams we found ourselves making landfall at West Cape, a little to the south of our aiming point. We lunched and then followed the coast, rugged limestone cliffs, past the wreck of the Ethel to Stenhouse Bay and debated whether to stay or move on in the dark. We stayed. A change was forecast for the next day. With the wind changing periodically, rain at one stage, and many cloud changes, we paddled along a rather flat, uninteresting coastline. By late afternoon the real change could be seen approaching so we landed at a place called Point Gilbert.
Early morning out of Stenhouse Bay
One Summer’s Paddling 15 Port Lincoln to Adelaide Now the weather struck. In miserable conditions of strong gusting winds and driving rain we pitched the tents and cooked tea. When it eventually eased a little I moved up to the shelter of bushes in the sandhills to avoid the worst of the wind, while John and Ray spent the night bailing a leaking tent. It was pitched crosswind, allowing rain to be driven up under the fly. Lying around, sleeping, and listening to reports of a boat abandoned off the north coast of Kangaroo Island and floods in the north of the state was all we did the next day. After two more days of Strong Wind Warnings we decided that we had seen more than enough of Point Gilbert and moved on despite the weather. In any case, we wanted to be at Edithburgh to be able to take advantage of the next calm day. The headwinds, with their chop, became cross winds and then following wind and seas as we made our way laboriously past the then new Troubridge Hill lighthouse and into Edithburgh where we were generously offered a caravan and great hospitality. John and Ray camped on the beach at Point Gilbert A somewhat annoyed policeman sought us out, asking where we had been, why we hadn’t made contact, and claiming that Marine Operations Centre Canberra and emergency services had heard nothing of us for a week. We explained that we had no ready communication but relied on sending messages by others, as we had done at Thistle and Wedge Islands and Stenhouse Bay, although the last had clearly become garbled. There had been no telephone and noone at Point Gilbert, but we were carrying flares and a VSB (a military survival beacon John had borrowed), and if we had needed assistance we, and not others, would have called. In any case, we had been readily visible on the beach at Point Gilbert to anyone who had really wanted to find us.
Passing the Troubridge Hill lighthouse
One Summer’s Paddling 16 Port Lincoln to Adelaide He was eventually satisfied, and when I later wrote to MOC learned that there had been no real panic for us. The point must be made, however, that any expeditions like ours must have all the required equipment and a responsible agent, Ray’s wife in our case, to handle all communication with emergency services, the media, etc., and it must be the group’s own responsibility to either solve their problems on the spot or if that is not possible, call for assistance. That responsibility cannot be taken by people elsewhere who do not know the real situation. Two more days of Strong Wind Warnings followed and we gazed across the gulf, unable to see the Adelaide Hills on the other side. We did learn something of Edithburgh and its interesting early history. It was 03:40 on February 2 when we launched again. We paddled out in the dark, the only lights our shielded Cyalume® compass Ray silhouetted in the sunrise lights, the stars, and phosphorescent plankton sparkling in the bow waves and paddle vortices. A fascinating experience, but one demanding concentration, both when leading the group on compass and also when following in formation. A faint orange sliver of moon rose later, to be followed by Venus, and then the dazzling Sun into a near cloudless sky. As we pressed on, stopping every hour for something to eat and drink, or to pump the cockpit dry, the light easterly breeze faded to glassy calm in the centre of the gulf, and then changed to a light southerly as we approached our landfall. We were heading for Glenelg and were able to resolve its buildings a couple of hours out and head towards them.
Glassy smooth mid-Gulf. Ray at left
One Summer’s Paddling 17 Port Lincoln to Adelaide At a few minutes past three we were on shore again. Thirty eight nautical miles in 11½ hours, the longest crossing ever made in South Australia by kayak. It was 40° C on shore and we were glad to see the journalists go, allowing us to pack things away and go home to a cool spot. We were gratified by the generosity and hospitality we had received, and heartily thank the companies and individuals who gave or lent us materials and equipment, the commercial fishermen who reported our progress, and the many helpful people we met along the way. A summer to be remembered.
Final approach, Glenelg
One Summer’s Paddling 18 Daily Log
Kangaroo Island Day 21: 10 January Pink Bay–Penneshaw Day 1: 21 December Kingscote–Boxing Bay Time not recorded, break at Antechamber Bay 13.5 nm (25 km) Total time: 2:45 Distance: 7.7 nm (14.2 km) Day 22: 11 January Penneshaw–American Beach Day 2: 22 December Boxing Bay–near Cape Cassini Lunch at Dashwood Bay 4:40 15.1 nm (28 km) Time not recorded 6.5 nm (12 km) Day 23: 12 January American Beach–Kingscote Day 3: 23 December Near Cape Cassini–Western River Cove Time not recorded 13.2 nm (24.5 km) Lunch at Middle River 6:05 18.1 nm (33.5 km) Day 4: 24 December Western River Cove–Kangaroo Gully Total distance: 206 nm (382 km) 2:12 7.6 nm (14 km) Port Lincoln–Adelaide Day 5: 25 December Kangaroo Gully–Harvey's Return Day 1: 23 January Port Lincoln (Kirton Point)–Thistle Island 2:25 9.9 nm (18.3 km) (Waterhouse Bay) Day 6: 26 December Harvey's Return–West Bay Total time: 10:00 Distance: 28 nm (52 km) 4:05 14 nm (26 km) Day 2: 24 January Thistle Island–Wedge Island Days 7–9: 17–29 December West Bay 4:45 15 nm (27.8 km) Retrieving supplies, waiting for weather Day 3: 25 January Wedge Island–Stenhouse Bay Day 10: 30 December West Bay–Hanson Bay (South West River) Landfall and break at West Cape 8:30 27 nm (50 km) 11:09 (break at Kirkpatrick Point not timed) 23.2 nm (43 km) Hatchcover broken en route Day 4: 26 January Stenhouse Bay–Point Gilbert Day 11: 31 December Hanson Bay–Vivonne Bay Break at Port Davenport 9:00 29.5 nm (54.6 km) 5:52 18.4 nm (34 km) Late start, due to wait for helicopter Days 5–7: 27–29 January Point Gilbert Day 12: 1 January 1981 Vivonne Bay–near Nobby Islet–Vivonne Bay Day 8: 30 January Point Gilbert–Edithburgh 2:47 Decided to return in less than ideal conditions 5:45 17 nm (31.5 km) Days 13–18: 2–7 January Vivonne Bay Days 9–10: 31 January–1 February Edithburgh Day 19: 8 January Vivonne Bay–D'Estrees Bay Day 11: 2 February Edithburgh–Glenelg 9:05 27.5 nm (51 km) 11:25 (03:40 departure) 38 nm (70.4 km) Day 20: 9 January D'Estrees Bay–Pink Bay 10:38 (inc lunch break at Point Reynolds) 31.4 nm (58.2 km) Total distance: 154.5 nm (286 km) One Summer’s Paddling 19 South Australia: Kangaroo Island and adjacent waters 34° 40’ S Port Lincoln Gulf St Vincent Spencer Gulf
Yorke Peninsula Glenelg Thistle Island Point Gilbert Edithburgh Wedge Island
West Cape Stenhouse Bay
Investigator Strait
Boxing Bay Cape Cassini Bay of Shoals Backstairs Passage Kangaroo Gully Kingscote Western River Cove Cape Borda Penneshaw Harveys Return American Beach Kangaroo Island Pink Bay West Bay Cape Willoughby Vivonne Bay D’Estrees Bay South West River
Cape du Couedic Cape Gantheaume 36° 10’ S 135° 45’ E 138° 35’ E Kilometres 0 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 100
Nautical Miles 0 10 20 30 40 50 Campsites
One Summer’s Paddling 20