THE AMAZING AUSTRALIAN ADVENTURE PENSIONER LYN;
HER PRESENTATION TO THE TASMANIAN WOMEN’S INSTITUTE.
‘When I was first asked to speak I felt nervous and wondered where to begin, now I still feel nervous and need to watch the clock.
I inherited an inquiring and challenging mind from my parents and my adventurous spirit emerged at the age of three.
My first real challenge was having my own dance band and driving passenger vehicles both at the age of eighteen.
However I’ve decided to leap into the eighties when I no longer had family responsibilities, but had difficulty deciding what may be of interest to you.
Could it be: my four wheel driving safaris in an old Land Rover, whereby I was the only female competitor in eighty to ninety vehicles, often through rivers and mud over the lights, or dropping over a bank which the bottom was not visible until you were already there?
Or maybe my involvement of the scientific survey of Short Tailed Sheerwaters and DNA testing on Fisher Island, which is only onehectare big and the toilet is down to low water line. The solar shower hangs in a tree out the back of the hut and it takes a brave person and much discipline to venture out there in fierce gales. Periodically I nipped around the surrounding islands in the twelve foot dinghy in unpleasant condition to pick up other biologists.
Could it be: relocating seals, when in seventeen consecutive days I drove 10,640 kms, micro-chipped and weighed the seals including the rogues, and ‘Radar’ (my favourite who weighed 300 kilos). I replaced a man who had his fingers bitten off, so I needed to work very quickly and warily. (And was filmed on ABC TV.)
Perhaps trying to encourage the gannets back to Cat Island; or eliminating a mice plague on Big Dog Island; or egg counts on Briggs Island. When I cried as I was engulfed in nature’s beauty? Or on Albatross Island, where the adults soar gracefully in the updraughts around the cliffs, and the chicks sit on their nest with an occasional mum or dad standing by completely unafraid of human beings? Wow!
Or maybe my total commitment and delight of releasing a stranded turtle on Ocean Beach and my bitter disappointment of trying to save stranded whales? Or sleeping at the Patriarchs on Flinders Island with a tiger snake slithering in the wall where it lived and just prior to my stay, slithered over a man’s shoulder while he was asleep in the same bed that I was trying to sleep in?
Maybe a huge challenge of playing the part of Kate Weindorfer on radio. Or the ecstasy of running with the Olympic Torch and the enormous privilege of being the first person in Tasmania selected to light the cauldron after having broken my neck for the second time six months previously in another car accident.
My several trips to Three Hummock and Hunter Islands for various reasons, which proved to be quite dangerous and life threatening on one occasion.
The shock of my recent lone kayaking experience with a killer whale surfacing at my left elbow with two loud spouts and it’s black fin protruding skywards, with the rest of it’s body obviously under the back of my kayak. I was terrified! I had no knowledge of their habits and if it rolled me could I be able to right my kayak and get back in? three weeks later I did a sky dive from 10,500 ft for my birthday.
However I’d like to share briefly some of my catamaranning adventures. The cat. named ‘Whiskas’ was only thirteen foot long and belonged to my friend Stan. One trip we did to Maria Island we camped at Chinaman Bay. I wanted to explore the outside of the island, so we took Whiskas to pieces and carried it over the peninsular in bits; put it back together on the beach and go off out to sea, much to the disgust to a professional fisherman in the area.
Another trip we began from Coles Bay to Shouten Island. The sea was intolerably rough and soon we were in trouble as we were loaded incorrectly. The boom swung around and split my head open. I felt and remembered nothing, but I woke up at the bottom of the ocean. My life jacket brought me to the surface where I laid helplessly. A fisherman (who witnessed the accident) somehow got me on board and took me back to the Bay. I was badly concussed and had whiplash, and wandered around outside our little two man tent totally unaware of how ill I was. No doctor was available in the area but a nursing sister bandaged my head, which eased the pressure. Five days later, en route to Hobart I visited a doctor who wanted me to go into hospital, but I declined as I figure I’d survived the worst period.
Our most challenging trip was crossing the famous Banks Strait from little Musselroe Bay to Flinders Island. Mrs. Ponting (who lived on the point) begged us not to, as the sea was rough and full of white caps. However we’d set off with a 500 lb load on board of all our supplies; tent, food, camera, maps, compass, radio, clothes and shoes for dancing on New Years Eve; on this little thirteen foot catamaran and a tiny five horse power motor. It wasn’t long before we were struggling and suffering dreadfully with the cold, as we were drenched with no shelter from the fierce wind and no activity.
(Now I’d like to read an excerpt from my little book I wrote:)
‘As we went around Cape Sir John we had our worse experience. It went on and on. Over our heads in this horrific ‘confused’ sea of four metre swell and forty knot head wind. The coastline is irregular and with each headland we passed we were hopeful of finding a sheltered bay just for a breather, but we felt disheartened as we were confronted with nothing but rocky foreshore one after another. How time dragged on. Onwards, onwards we vibrated from wave to wave. The effect crushed or spirit. We were both silent! My main job was to stay calm and conserve energy in case it was needed for other purposes. I think that if either one of us had to go over it would be me and I’d hoped maybe I’d make it to a rock if one didn’t find me first. We both knew we had our backs to the wall. Not only did we have the horrendous sea to contend with, but also the contradiction of the wind and tide against each other. The mountainous waves thundered and smashed high up the rocks, and rebounded around us engulfing us in their fury, jarring frayed nerves. We rolled and were tossed every which way and weren’t sure if there were any hidden rocks just below the surface. To land on one would certainly have meant disaster, and that caused me constant anxiety as well as wondering if that little motor would retain it’s momentum. I try to discipline my mind, so with a giant emotional effort I pushed the negative thoughts away as they crept in and forced myself to relax.’
We spoke to some kayakers who were paddling past Key Island point on Cape Barren Island. They thought we were both brave and silly, but we did agree on the fifteen foot waves breaking on the top.
Finally we arrived at Lady Barron and laboriously lugged all our gear up drum by drum to safety. I began showering in tepid water as my circulation returned painfully; washed my hair, applied cream to my swollen face and lips and hurried off to the dining room for a sumptuous meal, and was first on the dance floor. Then we did all the touristy things up and down the island, including climbing Mount Strezleki before taking to those merciless seas again.
On our return to Tassie we were caught up in the famous ‘rip tide’ and were swept five kilometres off course up the coast, which felt strange to be labouring so hard, as the landmarks disappeared in the wrong direction. This stretch of water has earned the respect of all those who venture into it!
Ten days later we motored up Lake St. Claire; tied Whiskas to a tree, put our backpacks on and climbed mountains. On our return several days later, one of the kayakers left us a note to say we were much safer there than out in Banks Strait.
Some time later I was employed to write a curriculum and tutor professional adults in retail and retail reception in Hobart, after which I felt I needed a holiday. Coming down from Mount Kosciusko area, I had a car accident in which I dislocated and broke my neck, and waited over two hours for an ambulance. I was in two different hospitals, when two weeks later the surgeon was concerned and transferred me by air ambulance to Austin and sent for my son in Western Australia, when I thought I was a bright little shining star! I was expected to be a quadriplegic on three different occasions. (Another very interesting story there.) Emotionally it took me four years to recover from the trauma, but in the meantime I continued climbing mountains and tripping around on Whiskas, including our second trip to Flinders Island, again, still in dreadful conditions and swift running currents.
(Another excerpt from Trip Two)
‘Overnight the heavens opened up. The mist and fog played games with the visibility and the depth of perception was virtually non existent, as natures fury unleashed itself. The conditions were distressing, as the sea was still disturbed and choppy from the previous gale and the flotsam littered the shoreline.
With our wider experience the current flow in the channels were more easily recognised from a greater distance. They rip along at tremendous pace and force and appear like myriads of pinnacles (similar to water boiling furiously in a pot), while eddies of smooth water appear periodically and our trusty little motor worked doubly hard to push through.
That last leg seemed to take forever as the last faint light from the silvery moon disappeared behind darkened cloud. We were freezing! The smell of mutton birds filled our nostrils as we passed through the heads of Little Dog and Great Dog Islands. I felt envious when an abalone boat went speeding by, leaving us to virtually wallow in their wake by comparison. The occupants looked questionable and almost sympathetically, as they left us a mere speck in the water a few minutes later. I try to interest myself in landmarks and nearby island reefs and stared, as they grew smaller astern. I wished that the distant lights of Lady Barron would draw closer more quickly. Now it was dark.’
The snakes stories told to us on the islands were vivid and convincing, so I wanted to divert over to Mount Chappel Island en route and see these ‘beautiful’ animals. Stan said ‘We’re out of time and nearly out of petrol’. Now there is an unwritten law that there’s only one captain per ship so I didn’t argue. However he did value my directional skill periodically in spite of having a compass.
The week prior to our second trip to Flinders, we went up the Gordon River as far as the Angel Cliffs and to the Big Falls on the Franklin River. Often we had to scurry and grab Whiskas as it was swept away in the rapids. Our adrenalines pumped high, as we pushed safely to the limits. The challenge was daring but exhilarating!
We felt totally blessed to have had these experiences and share nature’s wonder in all its harshness and beauty as we slipped into our own personal silent ceremony.
Now I’d like to leave you with a quotation from Charles Linburg: ‘The lure of adventure, the appreciation of beauty where immortality is touched by danger, when life meets death on an equal plane and existence is both supreme and valueless in the same instant. The destination will never be more important than the journey.’
PS November 2002 I climbed the Gloucester Tree in Pemberton Western Australia of sixty-one metres, with nothing to prevent you from falling at any stage. I have just received a letter to say that I am the oldest lady to have done so. Maybe I’ll go back in five years time and do it again.’
Richard Terry 