With the exception of severe cuts on his feet from oyster shells, and being burned by the sun, the lad is none the worse for an adventure that, fortunately, turned out successfully. He only admits to having “the wind up” on one occasion, and that was when he was caught by a half gale in the middle of Deception Bay. The exploit is one that the most daring might well jib at, and, of course, “no person with any sense” would dream of attempting it. It might be just as well to remark here that Olsen undertook it without the knowledge of his people, or of any other responsible citizens.
People who know the bay, and have seen it in some of its wildest moods, may believe the feat impossible, and will tell of the size of the waves that a north-easter can beat up; and of the tide rips in the Bribie Passage; of the distance across Deception Bay, and the treacherous weather there; but the fact remains that the trip was made, and the young navigator, despite his trying experiences, squares an indignant, sunburnt jaw when anyone tries to point out to him the dangers of the venture, and that he had considerably less than an even chance of coming out of it alive.
The Great Adventure
Olsen set off a little after 9 o’clock on Wednesday (Boxing Day) morning from the top of Humbug reach, just above the Oregon mills. He was in bathing “togs,” and a pal went down to Bribie by the Koopa with a parcel of “civilized” clothing, which he left at the Bribie store for him. The whole of the first day was occupied in the trip to the mouth of the river, where the lad struck a kindly motor boat owner, who made a shakedown for him on board. The trip was resumed at 6 o’clock next morning, after a breakfast of fairy cakes and sardines, and Sandgate was reached at midday. Woody Point was the next port of call, and there the lad spent the night, sleeping in the sand under the lee of an upturned canoe.
A Strenuous Morning
Next morning (Friday) the wind was fresh, and Olsen experienced considerable difficulty in keeping the canoe afloat. Eventually, after a strenuous morning, Scarborough was reached, but the size of the waves made it impossible to launch the canoe again. It was leaking a good deal owing to the canvas under the keel having worn through at both ends, where it had scraped on sandbanks and rocks. With some carpet tacks, obtained from a nearby resident, a tin of black enamel and a rock, temporary repairs were effected, after which the canoe was portaged across Scarborough Point into Deception Bay, where the water appeared to be comparatively calm.
Olsen decided to take a risk and cut straight across the bay to Toorbul Point. It was a risk that nearly ended the cruise. When he was about a third of the way across, the breeze freshened considerably, and soon whipped the heavy swell into rollers that started to curl and break. For a while he struggled to keep his frail craft bow on to the combers, but they broke over it, and he shipped a good deal of water. He could make no progress against the wind, and several times a breaking waves almost swamped him.
Canoe half swamped
There was nothing for it but to make for shore, and at infinite risk he turned the canoe round. The prospect was enough to appall the stoutest heart. A blur on either side and in front, low down on the water, was all he could see of the land. It represented the line of trees fringing the beach, he knew, but the trees were not distinguishable. White horses were racing all around, threatening to break aboard at any moment, and there was a good deal of water in the canoe. Going before the wind, he made fair progress, and little water came aboard, though he experienced the utmost difficulty in preventing the canoe from turning broadside on. His arms ached, and his whole body was stiff with the continual strain of balancing his cockle-shell of a craft, but he dared not cease paddling. After what seem hours, he thankfully ran ashore. A brief rest, and the lad set off along the edge of the water, towing the canoe, while he ate two cook crabs (which a holiday amateur fisherman had given him at Scarborough), and four ores. The tide was out, and he was walking along the sandbanks, about half a mile from the beach.
Commissariat Lost
He trudged along for a couple of hours in the dark, with only the wailing of a curlew and the distant lights of Bribie to cheer him up. Once his foot sank into a depression in the sand, and a stingaree splashed away. It “put the wind up” him for a while, and when a light showed on the shore he left all his gear on the sand, and made towards the light, with the canoe on his shoulder.
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| Fred Olsen carrying his canvas canoe |
It weighs the better part of half a cwt (~45 kg), so his walk over the sands can be better imagined than described. To crown all, when he at length reached the beach, he found that the light was a mile or so away, up on a hill. Utterly disheartened, he again made for the water’s edge, but an hour’s search failed to reveal the condensed milk and other possessions he had left there, and when he nearly lost the canoe, too, he gave up, and paddled on towards the few lights of Bribie that still remained. At last the moon rose, and by its light he made better progress, though every now and again he get out and push the canoe off a sandbank.
Feet cut by oysters
Eventually he came to Cook’s Rocks, where, in attempting to get round, he ran aground again. The rocks were covered with oysters, which cut his feet badly when he got out to free the canoe, and for the next quarter of an hour he had perhaps the most unenviable experience of the whole night. He reached Toorbul Point, and beached the canoe opposite Bribie jetty about midnight. There was still a fresh wind blowing, and the sea was rough. The currents in the passage were swirling, and he did not dare to attempt to cross over. There was nothing for it but to camp on the beach, so he drew the canoe well up, and with his last two dry matches started a fire, which, however, soon went out for lack of dry fuel. Dead tired, the lad dug a hole in the sand, and, despite the sandflies, went to sleep, though he awoke several times during the night with nightmares.
The End of the Trip
At daylight the next morning (Saturday) the passage was calm, so he crossed over to Bribie. At this point the passage is rather more than half a mile in width, but he negotiated it safely, and the end of the long trip from Brisbane ended about 6 o’clock.
The hero of the exploit bought a bottle of lemonade and a one pound block of cake, which he had for breakfast; then he collected his clothes from the store. During the day nearly everyone in Bribie was anxious to have a trip in the canoe that had come from Brisbane, but they found it very difficult to balance, and most of them capsized. In the evening Olsen went to a concert and dance, getting to bed about midnight.
On Sunday he came up to Brisbane by the Koopa, bringing the canoe with him. It is minus a good deal of paint where it had scraped against sand and rocks, but is otherwise in good condition.
The Canoe described
The canoe was built a bit at a time in odd moments from pieces of scrap timber. The keel is a piece of 8ft 6in long by about an inch and a half square. The gunwales are light, about 10ft by 1 ½ inch by ½ inch. Instead of ribs, there are two solid wooden shapes, ¾ inch thick, placed 2ft 6in and 2ft from the bow and stern, respectively. These form a well 4ft long, in which the occupant sits. The portions of the top outside the well are covered. There is one rib of 1in. by ¼ in. pine in the centre of the well, and there are five “stringers,” or ribs, from stem to stern, of the same dimensions, on each side. Over this framework, light duck of good quality is stretched, and given two coasts of white paint. As yet there is no floor in it, and the paddler sits on the keel.
The finished article is a canoe that is rather heavy for its size, and very hard to balance, though a 3 in. false keel along the bottom helps. It is a good craft for fun in the river, but is not one for rough water or for a trip of any length. A double-ended paddle is used, and is a great help in balancing the canoe.
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