Sea kayaking - Myall Lakes National Park, NSW

A vast lake lies ahead - smooth as glass and reflecting blue sky and the leaning branches of ancient paperbarks. White sand beaches slide by as we paddle steadily across the tannin-stained water. It is day two of a so-far idyllic trip - exploring isolated shorelines where goannas hunt and young sea eagles practice flights and battles. It feels like a soft, soul restoring kind of journey. 

Then, about mid-morning, the wind gets up, ruffles its feathers of air. White caps rush ahead of us. The roar of a southerly wind rises. We are out in the centre of Myall Lake and the water crashes regularly across the bow of our kayaks as white streaks of foam begin forming on the torn surface. 

The suddenness of the change in weather is humbling. I focus on a tiny island of trees just ahead and try to keep the boat straight. The distance looks longer and harder with each passing minute.

Over the past summer we have enjoyed two sea-kayaking, multi-day trips in Myall Lakes National Park. On our first trip, it was pure glass. On this, our second journey, things start equally well. We put in at Neranie Campground at the northern end of Myall Lake and paddle south to the stunning Shelly Beach. It is a weekday, out of school holidays, and the lake feels nicely isolated. Occasional mooring buoys can be seen in the deeper bays. The shoreline is always dense forest.  A crested tern cruises above us. Small groups of black swans mill along the shore but always take flight as we approach – their wingtips flashing white like semaphores and their huge webbed feet slapping loudly against the surface of the lake for take-off. Our first night's camp is heavy with heat, a coal-glow sunset, tropical looking white sand beach, the racket of a hundred musk lorikeets screaming in the flowering angophoras.

Day two is to be a planned exploration of the small islands of Myall Lake - McGraths, Johnsons, Bird Island, Double Islands and Stag Island before looping back to Neranie, closer to the opposite shore. But, nature has its own routines and it is oblivious to ours.  

After rounding Johnsons Island we concentrate on paddling the most direct route possible to the tiny Double Island. The strong southerly change forces us to hunker down and paddle hard. The larger of the two islands is probably 50m wide and only 200m long. With relief, we break into its lee, find a gap in the reeds and point the sea kayaks ashore. We enjoy lunch beneath a spreading fig tree watching a scruffy eastern yellow robin hunt amongst the fallen leaves. Then we circumnavigate, on foot, our island refuge. It doesn't take long.

It's always a bonus when any journey turns into an adventure but a quick check of the weather (there is mobile phone coverage on the lake) and we discover wind gusts up to 45km/hr are being recorded. There is nothing for it but to wait the change out. This is where we see two juvenile sea eagles, wrestling each other mid-air - talons outstretched and entwined - just metres above the tree tops on the smaller of the Double Islands. They are enjoying the southerly wind in a way I can only envy. 

Seizing the chance to improve his paddling skills, Caz ventures out in the southerly for a short lap of Double Island.

Sitting on Double Islands waiting for the wind to abate we pour over the topographical and tourist maps and dream up longer and longer challenges, journeys and adventures for future days. It is not a bad way to spend an afternoon, marooned in the middle of a lake, enough food and water on board to be Crusoe's for the night. And, as the southerly wind does not abate all afternoon we take another lap of the island with this in mind, looking for possible campsites amongst the leaf litter, rocks and low forest. 

All night the water slaps against the rocks on the shore. There is a light lull at one point but, in the morning, the wind has picked up again, this time from the north-east. Although it is not as strong as the previous day we curtail our island hopping and bypass a quick visit to Bird Island and Stag Island to save our energy for the paddle back to Neranie, another 8km and into the rising breeze.  

Shelly Beach campsite

With an early start, the lake is empty but for us. Tiny fish take fright beside our kayaks and leap across the surface. The semaphores are signalling again; black swans stretching their wings on the horizon and then settling back to feed. We stop for a rest at Burrah Burrah Point then the final leg to Neranie is mesmerizing – patches of glassy undulating water are licked with molten colour – black, silver, blue. The rhythm of the body paddling, the quiet it instills, the adventure survived and the shore approaching.  Not a soft journey in the end, some hard-work in the unpredictable weather, but soul-restoring…always. 

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