We started our paddle at 8am in Adventure Bay, greeted by the morning sunrise and stillness. But as we rounded the headland made south along the fabled Fluted Cape the trip took on an epic scale. These are spectacularly grand and imposing sea-cliffs when viewed from the top. But when you sit at the bottom of them you feel like a character in a Greek myth, waiting for a giant sea creature, or god to emerge from the deep and punish me for daring to gaze on such natural wonders.
The crack and the boom were otherworldly, and echoed for what felt like minutes, as was the mushroom cloud of sea mist it left behind. Giant sea caves beckoned us to explore them. Many would emit a terrible roar as the swell rolled in and out. One even blasted us with sea spray for daring to get too close.
A few us foolishly decided to paddle through one of the largest caves, initially disappearing from sight, only to emerge on the other side of the cliff, into a wall of white-water surging across the exit of the cave.
The constant rebound of the modest swell from the sea cliffs and the fact that there is nowhere to exit your boat until you reach the safety of Cloudy Bay, should repel all but the most well prepared and experienced sea-kayakers.
We had countless species of seabirds and curious and playful seals as companions. The sea kelp was mesmerising as it swayed rhythmically below the surface.
8 hours and 40km later, we were paddling into Cloudy Bay with a sense of achievement and relief, and that warm, lingering satisfaction you feel when you’ve spent a day in nature at its most beautiful and undisturbed.
... we were paddling into Cloudy Bay with a sense of achievement and relief, and that warm, lingering satisfaction you feel when you’ve spent a day in nature at its most beautiful and undisturbed.
We started our paddle at 8am in Adventure Bay, greeted by the morning sunrise and stillness. But as we rounded the headland made south along the fabled Fluted Cape the trip took on an epic scale. These are spectacularly grand and imposing sea-cliffs when viewed from the top. But when you sit at the bottom of them you feel like a character in a Greek myth, waiting for a giant sea creature, or god to emerge from the deep and punish me for daring to gaze on such natural wonders.
The crack and the boom were otherworldly, and echoed for what felt like minutes, as was the mushroom cloud of sea mist it left behind. Giant sea caves beckoned us to explore them. Many would emit a terrible roar as the swell rolled in and out. One even blasted us with sea spray for daring to get too close.
A few us foolishly decided to paddle through one of the largest caves, initially disappearing from sight, only to emerge on the other side of the cliff, into a wall of white-water surging across the exit of the cave.
The constant rebound of the modest swell from the sea cliffs and the fact that there is nowhere to exit your boat until you reach the safety of Cloudy Bay, should repel all but the most well prepared and experienced sea-kayakers.
We had countless species of seabirds and curious and playful seals as companions. The sea kelp was mesmerising as it swayed rhythmically below the surface.
8 hours and 40km later, we were paddling into Cloudy Bay with a sense of achievement and relief, and that warm, lingering satisfaction you feel when you’ve spent a day in nature at its most beautiful and undisturbed.
... we were paddling into Cloudy Bay with a sense of achievement and relief, and that warm, lingering satisfaction you feel when you’ve spent a day in nature at its most beautiful and undisturbed.
Every year the short-tailed shearwaters leave the shores of Tasmania and head back to Alaska, leaving their young behind. No-one has told them how to get there. It just blows your mind that it's even possible, writes BirdLife Tasmania Convenor Karen Dick.
There is a lot of positive stuff and a nice road map laid out to recover the endangered Forty Spotted Pardalote, including through a project that's being run by the Bruny Island Environment Network called the Threatened Woodland Birds of Bruny Island.
This short collage of aerial footage takes viewers on a sweeping visual journey across some of the sights of the Chitral & Gilgit-Baltistan region
It is all too easy for us to lose our connection with the natural world, but some cities are beginning to shape themselves around it. Hosted by David Attenborough.
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