Outer Edge Magazine

In an Australian exclusive, sea kayaking queen Freya Hoffmeister tells Outer Edge what it’s like to circumnavigate a continent and become a legendary all-rounder.

Just after sunrise, somewhere in the Indian Ocean off Cape Jaubert, between Broome and Port Hedland, Freya Hoffmeister feels a sudden, violent jolt through the fibre of her expedition Epic kayak. It is 6am on day 175 of her attempt to circumnavigate the Australian continent in a sea kayak, and she is being attacked by a shark.

Actually, I shouldn’t use the word ‘attempt’. Freya doesn’t like such defeatist terminology. As she pointedly told me before during an email conversation in the middle of her expedition, and subsequently reminded many a hapless well wisher on her blog:

“I’m not ‘attempting’ to paddle around Australia. I am paddling around Australia.”

FREYA’S SELF-CONFIDENCE IS astonishing. True, she already has two major circumnavigations under her spray deck – in 2007 she kayaked around Iceland (1620km in 33 days) and then, just three months later, began a 2386km paddle around the South Island of New Zealand. Both expeditions set records.

But this, a 15,000km round trip (give or take a click or two), is in a different league altogether, even for someone with Freya’s undoubtable skill, experience, bravery and determination. Then again, if you’re going to bite off something this impressively enormous, you have to back yourself.

“It’s the biggest island I could find on the map,” she replies to the most obvious question. “And I think it’s quite nice…”

If – sorry, when – she is successful, Freya will become only the second person, and the first ever woman, to achieve the feat of paddling around the globe’s largest island.

The first and last person to paddle around the Australian mainland was a Kiwi called Paul Caffyn. An international sea kayaking legend, Caffyn took 360 days to complete his 1982–83 expedition, which was recorded in his book The Dreamtime Voyage.

In the 27 years since Paul’s paddle, a number of others have tried to follow in his blade strokes. All have thrown the towel in a long way short of completing the circuit. Most of them had a damn good reason. Take Sandy Robson, for example, who aborted her circumnavigation attempt in the Top End, after being attacked by a giant saltwater crocodile. 

IN DECEMBER 2007, a plaque was unveiled in Queenscliff, Victoria, to commemorate the 25th anniversary of Caffyn’s unequalled achievement. The spot, locally known – among the kayaking clique at least – as Caffyn’s Cove, marked his start/finish point.

Just over a year later, on 18 January 2008, Freya launched her own expedition. The time of year for her departure is very similar to Caffyn’s, and she also opts to travel in an anti clockwise direction, as most paddlers attempting the loop tend to do, keeping Australia on the left (a shrewd navigational tip, as noted by Eric Stiller in the title of his account of his own failed attempt to do the big loop in a two-man folding kayak with Tony Brown.)
Caffyn was a huge influence and source of inspiration for Freya, even before her Australia expedition – he too had circumnavigated Iceland, and was the first paddler to go right around both the islands of his homeland.

“I know Paul very well, especially from my paddle around New Zealand,” says Freya. “He helped me a lot on that expedition.”

He’s helping her in Australia too, albeit remotely and, possibly, even with a slight sense of misgiving. Naturally, Freya references Dreamtime Voyage constantly as she makes her way around the coast, leaning heavily on Caffyn’s descriptions of landing points and surf conditions so as to be prepared for what lies ahead.

During planning, Freya also sought and received permission to use Caffyn’s charts on her website, where his paddle times over various legs can be compared to her own. At the same time, she started calling her expedition ‘The Race Around Australia’. And this is where some people in the paddling community began to have issues.

The obvious implication, as many interpreted it, was that she had set out to beat Caffyn’s time, in a race where he’d done his dash nearly three decades earlier, in very different circumstances, without even knowing he was in a competition.

“Yes, I put up his times and my times on the website,” Freya tells me, unapologetically. “It was a challenge to keep me motivated and moving at a decent pace. It’s important to keep to some kind of schedule on a trip like this, to make sure you don’t drift into the wrong season.

“It made sense, time-wise and season-wise, to leave from Queenscliff at around the same time of year as Paul had done. It meant I didn’t have to research anything really. I left a bit later because I knew I was going to cut the journey a bit shorter, by crossing the Gulf of Carpentaria. 

“But as for making it a competition…you can’t compare these trips, they were very different. He was a pioneer, doing it for the first time with no technical gear. But he had a support crew, and I was unsupported – at least for the first nine months.

“I wasn’t racing Paul. I was racing myself.”

And within those few lines of conversation lay the three factors that show why the two expeditions are completely incomparable:

THE ERA: While the natural conditions changed very little in the 27 years between paddles, the technological landscape was utterly revolutionised. Paul scrambled around for loose change to put into public phone boxes near cities, and spent many weeks completely incommunicado in the more remote areas of Australia; Freya had access to three weather forecasters, had a sat phone and an impressive collection of navigational devices and emergency communication equipment, and was able to log on to the internet and blog her progress for most of the way around. “Without a GPS I would not like to have done it,” she admits.

SUPPORT: Caffyn had land support for most of his journey, so was able to travel very light. For three quarters of her trip – until she found love in the most unlikely location of Cape York, when she consulted local charter boat operator Greg Bethune for advice and ended up with a boyfriend who was prepared to put his life on hold for three months to help her out – Freya was completely on her own. 

“I was paddling for those nine months with a heavily loaded boat,” points out Freya. “It was tough job, because I had to do everything myself, including shopping and making camp. Fully loaded, with two weeks’ worth of food and five days’ water, I was pulling a 100kg boat. Plus myself, another 75kg. That’s a big difference to a 25kg boat. I’d say at least 2km less per hour.”

ROUTE: OK, so both Paul and Freya were going around Australia, but that’s where the similarities end. Caffyn hugged the coast all the way, while Freya went point to point, including making a crossing of the Gulf of Carpentaria. Both routes have their inherent risks and advantages, but the salient point here is that Caffyn would have paddled many, many more miles than Freya.

ONLY ONE OTHER PERSON has paddled across the Gulf of Carpentaria: Andrew McCauley, the legendary adventurer who later died while attempting a solo sea kayaking crossing of the Tasman, from Australia to New Zealand.

“Cutting across Gulf of Carpentaria, I had seven nights out on the water in a row,” explains Freya. “I could sleep, because I had an outrigger float, to stabilise the boat. It wasn’t good quality sleep, but enough to feel alright.”
Her outrigger system involved attaching a float to each end of a paddle, and placing it across the bow of her kayak. A former gymnast, Freya is a supple as strand of sea grass, and was able to lay back on her kayak with this ‘outrigger’ keeping her from capsizing long enough to get some shut eye.

“I had never slept in a kayak overnight before,” she laughs. “I’d paddled all through the night, but never slept like that, so I hadn’t had any practise at it. But it worked fine.

“I had rough seas for a couple of nights, and had to put out the sea anchors to stop from drifting. I’d check my GPS every two hours to make sure I hadn’t drifted too far. Some times I got a free ride, sometimes I’d be going in the wrong direction. The sea changes by the hour out there, sometimes by the minute.”

By becoming the first female to paddle across the Gulf of Carpentaria, Freya at least avoided the heightened crocodile danger that she would have faced by skirting the shore. In Caffyn’s day, there were far fewer salties, because of hunting, but now that has been banned, the population is large. She did have to face a number of crocs in the Top End, but nothing like the horror story that ended Sandy Robson’s trip.

THE TONE OF FREYA’S blog borders on the salacious at times, with much talk of nudity and topless paddling – it certainly raised eyebrows among some people in the kayaking community I spoke to, who said that her expedition was amazing enough, and there was no need to sex it up. There were other concerns too – at one stage she emerged from her tent on a very remote beach to find that a guy had been waiting for her to wake since 4.30am. He was a harmless paddler, but… 

In fact, Freya actively discouraged company on the water, even during the nine months that she spent paddling by herself, with no land support besides the occasional meal and some shelter provided by helpful strangers.
Beyond having people along for an hour or so around bigger cities, she kept other paddlers strictly at arms length (something Outer Edge experienced firsthand, when she politely declined requests to join her for sections). This also raised the heckles of a few old sea dogs. But she had her reasons, and stands by them.

“I just didn’t want anyone paddling with me. If I had a matching partner with a matching pace it might be OK. But I like paddling on my own, I can go as fast as I want, and stop when I want.”

It’s easy to see why not everyone finds Freya easy to deal with. The 45-year-old from Husum in North Germany is a powerful, determined and independent woman, with highly accentuated Teutonic tendencies.

She is extremely organised and direct to the point of abruptness, and keeps her emotions well hidden. During her expedition she hasn’t seen her 14-year-old son for nearly a year. “His voice has broken while I’ve been away,” she tells me in a rare open moment. “I left a boy and I’m going back to a man.”

The only time I hear her admit to having any serious concerns for her life is when she talks about things outside of her control. “After the shark bite I did wonder for a few hours whether it was all worth the risk…but then I just carried on.”

While some people find her somewhat abrasive, these characteristics are also strengths that have undoubtedly helped her complete expeditions that would have crushed weaker souls.

As a visual source of inspiration, Freya uses imagery of ‘Rosie the Riveter’ a female character used for propaganda purposes in the US during WWII, and from her language you would sometimes think that she was engaged in combat with the Australian coastline. For this expedition at least, she certainly saw it as something to be conquered rather than contemplated.

AFTER TRANSPORTING A NEW Epic expedition kayak to her in Broome, Perth local Terry Bolland provided support for Freya as she took on the wild waters of the west coast.

“Once she got past Darwin, I knew there was no way she was going to give up,” he tells me. “At least, I knew the physical aspect was never going to stop her. After Greg left in Broome, she was very down. She just wanted to get the job done by that stage.”

An extremely experienced adventurer and ocean paddler himself, Terry is one of only four people who are known to have paddled the notorious Zuytdorp Cliffs in WA, where swells are huge, the backwash enormous and the there is nowhere for kayakers make landfall for almost 200km.

Several years ago Terry paddled the cliffs in the opposite direction, with Tel Williams and John de Nucci. The only other person known to have traversed this terrifying stretch of ocean is Paul Caffyn. After her successful crossing of the Gulf, these mighty cliffs were the biggest, scariest obstacles in Freya’s way. 

“I would never have suggested it myself – because if I had been the cause of her expedition failing I wouldn’t never have forgiven myself – but if Freya had asked for company I would have paddled the cliffs again.” 
True to form, Freya didn’t ask, and Terry provided land support instead.

“My worry was that she was brave to the point of over confidence,” he says. “She had sent all her stuff away, including the floats she’d used during the crossing of the Gulf. I thought that was very strange. And a bit worrying.

“My biggest problem was knowing what to do if I thought something had gone wrong. At one point when I was waiting for her at False Entrance, the last area where you can pull in before you take on the 34-hour section where there are no landings, she was over three hours late coming around Steep Point.

When you’re used to seeing someone paddle 80km a day, you start to think that they’re like Jesus, walking on water. When suddenly six hours have gone past and they haven’t even done 35km, you start to think: ‘Shit, what’s happened to Jesus?’

“What I didn’t know was that she was getting severely sea sick. I rang Greg, and he said not to worry. ‘If she was in trouble she would have hit the emergency button.’ So there was nothing I could do but wait. I was at the rivermouth taking photos when she finally came in, after nine hours at sea, and she looked like a totally different person. Every ounce of her energy had been used up.”

Freya still had to face another two huge stretches of solid rock without any landing opportunities along the Great Australian Bight.

“Each of them required a two-day paddle and an overnight without any sleep,” she explains. “I don’t really like paddling at night I must admit. But I made it. I had rough seas on the first one, but the last one was quite nice. The second one I threw up five times!”

Freya admits now, that not taking her floats on the cliff sections was a huge mistake. “I’d rather do the gulf crossing again than do the cliffs again without sleep.”

WITH OUTER EDGE’S OWN resident ocean-sports guru, Jarad Kohlar, I paddled out of the heads of Port Phillip to finally meet Freya on the last day of her expedition.

A lonely figure emerged on the horizon line, but it was obvious she could feel the pull of the finish. After all this time at sea, her posture was perfect and her stroke strong. Even Jarad was impressed – and you don’t see that very often.

“We were going to bring you some champagne,” I shouted. “I don’t drink,” came the curt reply. Glad I didn’t waste my money then.

Unused to company for so long, Freya seemed tense as we were joined by several other paddlers keen to welcome her back. Gradually she relaxed, though, and then, warming to her roll, she started playing to the crowd and demonstrating a few trademark tricks.

After it all, the gathering of kayakers and journalists that swarmed around her on the beach at Caffyn Cove were all interested in one thing: the scars on the back of her kayak, left by that shark attack in Cape Jaubert.

“In the northern end, sharks bumped the boat at east once a day, out of curiosity,” she says nonchalantly. The crowd lap it up. “I just shoved them off and said “off with you!”

“But the bigger animal, he opened his mouth and managed to bite right through my stern. He left pencil-thick holes in the boat, and everything got wet, including my tent and sleeping bag, which wasn’t much fun.

“In the end though, he got the message that I wasn’t to be messed with, and that my kayak wasn’t edible. And I think he must have told the others that too, because after that I had no more problems with sharks at all.”

The message is clear, even if you’re a bloody great big shark: Don’t hassle the Hoff.

Solo circumnavigation of australia: in a seashell

18 January–15 December 2009
332 trip days
245 paddling days
80% unsupported / 20% supported
5 time zones
13790km
55km/11 hours per day (average)
2650 paddling hours
13 nights afloat
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