McAuley Andrew - Solo: a man, a kayak, an ocean

SOLO

Vicki McAuley

SOLO

First published 2010 in Macmillan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited
1 Market Street, Sydney

Copyright Vicki McAuley 2010

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

McAuley, Vicki.

Solo: a man, a kayak, an ocean / Vicki McAuley.

ISBN: 9781405040136 (pbk.)

McAuley, Andrew.
Sea kayakers Australia Biography.
Adventure and adventurers Australia Biography.

797.224092

Typeset in 12/16 pt Fairfield LH Light by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Printed in Australia by McPhersons Printing Group
Cartographic art by Laurie Whiddon, Map Illustrations

Papers used by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

These electronic editions published in 2010 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney 2000

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

Solo

Vicki McAuley

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For my two angels, Ant and Finlay

A ndrew McAuley had many dreams. One was to cross the Tasman Sea in a kayak. Another was to write a book about it. He crossed the Tasman, but to my utmost devastation he was unable to write the book.

On 26 February 2007 a crowd exceeding five hundred gathered in the shadow of Australias oldest lighthouse, Macquarie Lighthouse overlooking the Tasman Sea. I made a promise to him then to write his book.

On that windswept February afternoon I asked him to watch over me and help me find the words, and when I eventually summoned the courage to tackle this overwhelming project, I discovered that hed already written quite a few of them for me. He had told me hed been writing, but he refused to show me, claiming it would be better for me to read it after he succeeded in his challenge. Thus, upon my return from New Zealand, I found files of his writings, and film footage that has haunted me from the day I unearthed them.

So, at last, my Ant, here tis. Your story, my catharsis.

Fortescue Bay, Tasmania 2 December 2006 2.45 pm

S ee you in New Zealand,

See you in New Zealand, the small child echoes.

A light westerly blows. A sliver of sunlight filters through the clouds. History is unfolding before us. One man is about to depart from Tasmania, bound for Milford Sound, New Zealand.

The distance, some 1600 kilometres, his vessel a kayak.

A lifetime of adventure has led to this, the ultimate challenge for the 39-year-old. Two video cameras in waterproof casings are mounted on the deck to capture the journey for posterity.

He adjusts the camera casing on the front deck and tucks the small waterproof satchel containing the camera remote controls under his life vest. He presses play, takes a deep breath, swallows hard, turns and waves. See you, gorgeous. His voice betrays his emotions as he casts one final, longing glance at his wife and young son who sit huddled together on the shore, calling out to him. He pushes off from the boat ramp and his eyes well up with tears. He digs his paddle in for a sweep stroke to bring the bow around, manoeuvring his heavily laden craft with difficulty, and paddles off to a chorus of cheers from the small crowd. With each stroke of the blade, tears flow.

Some years ago, Andrew McAuley had a dream. That dream involved a sea kayak, and an open ocean. And some tough questions. What distance of open ocean can be safely crossed in a kayak? How much can a man endure, physically, emotionally, psychologically?

And now, the time for answers.

Overwhelmed by raw emotion, the floodgates open. He sobs uncontrollably. Water flicks off the paddle blade with each laboured stroke, splashing up into his face to mingle with the tears. A river runs down his cheeks. He stops, turns, waves back at the shore and sobs louder with the sounds of See you daddy, love you fading away in the distance.

He sniffs, wipes his nose with the back of his hand and spits overboard. The hypnotic sound of each stroke is inconsistent with his short, shallow breaths, which verge on hyperventilation. A wave of desperate sobbing ensues. Oh God. Minutes pass, but not the tears, nor the agony of leaving his wife and child.

Oh God. Please let me finish in one piece. Please let me finish in one piece.

He turns back to wave again. I love you, gorgeous. He rests the paddle over the cockpit and slumps, head in hands. I love you, beautiful. Weeping without restraint, he picks up the paddle again.

Oh gorgeous, I love you. I love you, Finlay. His face distorts with the intensity of emotions. Finlay and Vic love you more than anything. His voice wavers. He sobs, stops, reaches forward, and adjusts something on the deck. This simple physical act seems to stimulate a mental response because his voice becomes suddenly strong and forceful.

I must make it. I must make it... I will. I will. I must make it... I will make it! The mantra continues, although the resolve weakens and his voice trembles again. I love you, Finlay and Vic. I must make it. I must make it. My beautiful wife, Ill never put you through this again. More tears flow. I love you too much. I love you, gorgeous. Ill never put you through this again. He stops to adjust the paddle leash.

Cliffs rise to his starboard as he progresses further out of the bay and clouds wisp overhead, exposing larger patches of blue sky.

I love you. I love you. I just want to get there in one piece. I really do...

Tears cascade down his face, threatening to wash the thick layer of sunscreen away. Oh beautiful, what am I doing? I love you.