Paddle Report

Falcon Bay to Dawsville Cut & Return - 3 March 2003

The weather looked perfect as we arrived at Falcon Bay. There were few people bathing on the sheltered beach. It was such a beautiful day and Geoff, Jo, Alaine, Tony and myself were the only paddlers to take advantage of it.

We rounded a reef protecting the bay and headed south. Within minutes two dolphins skimmed the water surface, but soon disappeared. The sea was as calm as the river on a good day. Several vehicles with empty boat trailers were parked on a beach before Avalon. Many of the boats were anchored just off shore near the reef. Divers were taking advantage of the calm day. We passed by a small dingy with a generator labouring, and with no occupant inside. A yellow hose was floating from it and spread 50 - 60 metres. As we paddled around it, bubbles were coming to the surface. I could see a shape of a diver just below. It seemed a dangerous thing to do, having your air supply vulnerable to propellers from other boats.

With only inches to spare the calm conditions allowed us to paddle over Avalon reef. There was a suggestion that we should jump out and go for a snorkel, but it never happened. Instead we cruised towards the Dawsville Cut commenting on a large new house on the beachfront that looked more like a warehouse than a dwelling.

The boat traffic increased nearing the cut. Fishermen were also out in large numbers, lining the beaches, jetties and rock shores. Within minutes of entering the cut we turned into a canal lined with expensive houses. We seemed to resent the extravagance and lifestyle of canal living with comments like, "I could never live here it's too sterile". Sterile or not I wouldn't mind living in some of the spectacular houses.

A beautiful beach spread before us at the end of the canal. It was time to stretch our legs, take refreshments, check out the scene more thoroughly and tell tall stories.
We paddled on along another canal lined with upmarket terraced houses and moved under a fine looking bridge, similar to something you would fine in Venice. Many of the occupants were having breakfast on their balconies. They looked out on to the canal watching us slice through the still waters. At that moment I think we all had thoughts of changing places with them and to eat bacon, eggs and sip on orange juice. As we turned another corner the end house was built like a fort. We had images of action hero Horacio Hornblower defending or blowing up such a place.

The houses were scattered between empty sandy bare blocks. Many looked quite dismal. We left them and moved back out into the channel where we accelerated with the incoming tide.
A number of shags were milling around near the bridge, probably waiting for the fishermen on the wharf to lose some of their catche. Waves from the boats now washed over our spraydecks, up to now they had been dry. At the end of the canal we entered the inlet and turned to head back trying to avoid boats that were motoring into the channel.

As we turned it became apparent that we were going to take longer to get out than it did to paddle into the channel, as the tide had some power behind it. As a boat passed Alaine said, "look there". I thought she was referring to bikini clad lady on the bow of the boat, but she was talking about a plastic beg floating under water at speed beside us. The bag didn't interest me. Suddenly Geoff and Tony sped up as the boat cruised by them. I wonder why.

It felt more like paddling in the tidal currents of the Kimberley rather than being near Perth. The current made us work, so it was time to sing to take the pain away. My friends wouldn't join in, - all they said was mee-ow.
It was time for another stop, so we paddled into a small cove on the southern side of the channel. Here we watched others swimming while having a snack and telling more tall stories.

The day was incredibly perfect. The wind was still absent. Once out of the channel and in to the big open sea we headed north hoping the SW wind would pick up to blow us home. No such luck. The paddle was just long enough to make us feel like we had had a work out, but not too long that we felt buggered.

Back at Falcon Bay the waters and beach were crawling with swimmers and sun bathers, a contrast to when we left. It was hard to find a space to land without hitting someone. With all the bikini clad females on the beach I did hear Geoff and Tony say - why didn't we just stay here.

All Jo and Alaine wanted to do was to swim out to the pontoon, it was full of young muscle bound males.

Once the boats were loaded we had lunch on the grass and told a few more told stories.

By Terry Bolland