Kangaroo Island World
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Kangaroo Island World
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When I was a young boy, I had the pleasure and privilege of being raised in Kingscote, Kangaroo Island's main town. We had a small gaff-rigged motor yacht, just 19 feet long. Dad sailed it from Port Adelaide to Kingscote when I was too young to remember, so I remember growing up with the 'Lakatoi', as the boat was called, being as important in my life as a sibling or a pet dog.
Although the 'Lakatoi' sailed quite well, most of our trips were fishing trips where the distances travelled were quite short, so rather than raising the main and jib, we used to hand crank the sea-water cooled Vinco two stroke engine. Being water cooled and slow revving, it was a quiet little putt-putt boat that ensured a pleasurable day's fishing.
A typical day's fishing meant a not-too-early start from Seaview because we had to serve breakfast (our home was a guest house) and then make some sandwiches and fill some thermoses with hot tea. This meant the summer's day was usually warming nicely by the time we parked the Ford Zephyr station wagon at the top of the quarry and walked our gear down the gravelly track to the dinghy. The dinghy was stored upside-down behind coastal vegetation above the high-tide mark. We had to walk it out through the shallows to where it would float and then load it up and climb aboard.
Dad or one of my older brothers would then row us out to the Lakatoi, moored in about 6 feet of water. Being a plank boat of carvel construction, with gaff rig, it had a half ton of ballast stored adjacent it's keel for stability when sailing, so was not trailerable like most boats these days.
The Lakatoi was designed and built by Neil Cormack, a well known identity in South Australian maritime history, having written a number of books on the subject.
After climbing aboard and stowing our gear in the small cabin, we would lash the dinghy to the Lakatoi's mooring rope and then Dad would proceed to start the Vinco. Normally this went without hitch. Turn on the fuel, slightly retard the magneto, place thumb over carburettor air intake, backstroke the flywheel to prime the engine. Rotate the flywheel forward till the impulse coupling was set then with two hands on the flywheel, firmly turn the engine over. Normally it would fire after one or two pulls, but sometimes the Son of God was pantingly asked to lend a hand.
Once the engine was running, the magneto was reset, the dog clutch engaged and the mooring cast off. A steady increase in throttle and we were away, bound for The Spit.
The Lakatoi cruised at around four knots, so the voyage to The Spit took from 30 to 45 minutes, depending on the weather. The Lakatoi had ample deck space for passengers to lie flat on the foredeck, down the sides or even on the cabin top. This allowed for the all important sun-tan to be worked on. Often the day-dreams invoked by such leisurely activity were interrupted by the sighting of something interesting: a school of Australian salmon leaping out of the water, dolphins swimming ahead of our bow or the tips of a large sting-ray breaking the surface of the water.
As we approached the Spit, our daydreams were abandoned for the approaching excitement. In the same way we were excited about visiting the Spit, so too were the Spit's inhabitants excited by our approach. Penguins, shags, pelicans and gulls lined the shore watching our approach. Eventually our distance was sufficiently close for them to consider safety above curiosity and they would scurry away to their nests and burrows.
By then of course, the water was shallow enough that the Lakatoi could proceed no further. One of us would jump overboard into the nearly waste deep water and bed the anchor into the sand. Dad would then shut the engine down. Everyone would then jump overboard, one with the cockle seive and one with the hessian bag. We would fan out feeling for likely cockle beds with our bare feet, indicated by a slightly lumpy feel on the soles or our feet.
Feel that slightly lumpy bottom, bend from the waist, wriggle fingers into the sand, bring up a double handful of sand and shell. If there was a good quantity of large, live cockles, call out "Over Here!" The others would come over and we would go through the bed, lifting sand/shell/cockles into the cockle sieve, washing the debris through the large mesh sieve, retaining the larger cockles to be tipped into the hessian bag, the smaller cockles returning to the sand to grow and breed.
When sufficient cockles had been collected for the day's fishing, time came to explore the Spit. Cockles and sieve were loaded back onto the Lakatoi, and then we waded ashore. By this time the birds had become accustomed to our presence, so appeared not too stressed by our approach. The penguins had invariably disappeared into their burrows, but the shags, gulls and pelicans had no-where to hide. The Spit was covered in low vegetation providing some shelter from the wind and holding the entire system together. Presumably there was enough fresh water provided by the occasional rains, and sufficient plant food provided by the combination of rotting vegetation and bird guano to feed the plants. Being no more than about 6 feet above high water mark and composed entirely of sand and shell, a more hostile environment for terrestrial plant habitat could hardly be imagined.
However the interaction between flora and fauna made for a vibrant and viable community.
Scanning the ocean from the spit, you could sometimes spot the wingtips of a passing sting-ray breaking the surface of the water, the dorsal fins of passing dolphins and shags and pelicans diving for fish.
While returning to the Lakatoi, we might spot a fiddler - a small ray with no barb, but with a spiny back. They are characterised by what we called "corroboree markings", their backs looking like they have been painted by an Aboriginal artist.
Once abord, the Vinco would be fired up once more, the pick raised and away we would go, for the fishing grounds. Depending on time and tide, we might only travel a few hundred yards, to one of the deeper channels near the Spit, to try our luck there. Our target species was the prized King George Whiting, considered by some to be amongst the best tasting fish available. They can also provide for very good sport, providing spirited resistance to the fisherman's attempt to raise them from the bottom.
Well I remember the day when we were on one of these patches near the Spit, catching a few good sized whiting, when they went off the bite. The reason became immediately apparent, a large dark shadow moving slowly beneath us. Dad identified it, correctly or otherwise, as a Grey Nurse shark. Regardless of it's species, it was large. Relative to the length of our boat, we estimated it's length at about 12 feet. If it decided to nudge us, the thin planking would have been little defence against the bulk of such a large creature. Fortunately it preferred to graze on the fish we had hoped to catch. No point in staying there, it had scared off any fish that managed to avoid it's jaws, so we raised the anchor and motored further in towards Kangaroo Island.
Forty years have passed since then, The Spit has been demolished, the rookeries destroyed and the marine environment surrounding the Spit presumably altered by the changes. No doubt the forces that built the Spit are busy rebuilding it, but it probably took thousands of years to build and will take thousands more years to rebuild if not given a helping hand.
Humans destroyed the Spit. Maybe we can hasten it's repair. We will not be trying to change a natural environment, rather we will be trying to undo the damage done forty years ago.