Kayaking the Noosa Everglades, Or Discovering the Real Size of Pelicans

Driving into Noosa was quite an experience for my landlocked Canadian self. I had yet to lay eyes on one of those fabled Australian white-sand beaches. With a penchant for dramatic timing, I rolled into town just in time for sunset.

After passing a couple of barefoot surfers I found myself on little coastal pass. Sweeping around my first corner, the vista rushed into view—glittering white sand, shimmering waves, a canvas of light and motion unfolding to my left. Silhouettes  of surfboards neatly lined up hoping to catch that last wave. 

I continued my weaving ascent as palm leaves cast scattered shadows across my windshield. Through the gaps flikering specks of light queezing through in a chaotic scatter. Serpentine and sun-warmed the road dragged me further up to an endless blue stretching to my left, a dense jungle pressing in from the right. The sun, the waves, the shifting shadows—swept me along in a hypnotic rhythum that almost got me mouthing "What the hell is this place?" 

Noosa Heads, apparently. A little town in a collection of little towns of endless beaches that make up the Sunshine Coast. The beaches here were unlike anythong I'd seen in Melbourne. Form the fine glistening sands to the pristine waters beneath a vast outstretched sky, the chosen palette choice pulled directly from those postcards. 

After speaking to some of the locals, I had discovered that Noosa was a favourite for Canadians to not only visit but to stay. I could see why. I grew interested in kayak rentals when the topic of Noosa Everglades came up.

I'd been under the impression that Everglades was a Florida exclusive. To my surpise a man mentioned that one existed in the area. The thought of my onoly kayaking excursion through an Everglade would be in Australia amused me enough to investigate further. Unimpressed by the constraints of the tours I somehow managed to recieve a contact that rented kayaks as a service. No timeline, set price. no itenerary. Perfect! Now to find a a co-adventurer.

I believe it was through Couchsurfing that I lucked upon a fellow Canadian, Doreen,  who had been  staying at a neihboring beach to my Sunset Beach: Sunrise beach.  We met up and agreed I'd pick her up early the next day for the 7am meeting point.

Early the next morning I picked Doreen up by her beachside accomdation and set off to the meeting point by Boreen Point. We pulled up to an empty field and wondered if we were in the correct spot. 7am passed and not even a morning roo passing by. Around 10 mins in a large 4x4 pulled up but oddly enough they parked a good 5 or 6 car lengths ahead. We watched, we waited. No motion. Surely it must be him? 

In sync, we both turned over our engines—I pulled forward as they reversed. Our windows rolled down, and we exchanged wary glances. I hesitated before asking, “Kayaks?”

"Yes, kayaks!" Relief washed over us.  Turns out, he was also here to rent a kayak. After a few awkward moments, it became clear—we were both still waiting on the kayak guy.

They were your standard German couple, well-prepared with liters of water, sunscreen, and top-shelf gear. As they proudly demonstrated their setup and waterproof shoes, we glanced at our water bottles and modest lunch bags—clearly, our flip-flops did not impress them.

Eventually a truck with kayaks in tow did arrive. Easy going and Australian as you could get, a man lead us to the launch site.  We carried our kayaks down a dirt path towards the lake. In the dim early light, you could just make out the blue outline of some lake. Silent and still, the water gently glowed as the first glow of dawn arrived. An outline of weeds and tall grass appeared along with a wooden frame.

Atop the frame stood what I could discern as a large heron of sorts. It stood tall and still. In the absolute calmness of the dawn, its outline emerged in tandem with the blue wash behind. There is still a surreal quality to that moment to this day. As the thought of taking a photo began to surface, it turned it's head to profile and unfurled it's wing like it was some sort of emblem. "Picturesque much?" I thought.

Once its display ended, it took to low flight, dragging its gangly legs across the lake—leaving the first ripples of the day. With that, I could finally focus on what the kayak man was saying.

We got a quick rundown—safety procedures, emergency protocols, where to shelter in a storm, and points of interest worth checking out. Finally, enjoy, and return the kayaks to the dock.

WIth that, we set off into the converginig blues of water and sky. Silence followed us as we glided across teh still lake waters. Each paddle plunge ringing crisp amid the silent morning air. The open water was gentle and getting bluer by the minute. 

We eventually could just see the rainbow rocks up in the mountains. This was our cue to start turning inland. We weaved through drifting wood and weeds until the unmistakable outline of a wooden safehouse came into view. My arms rejoiced with joy and with a burst of excitement, we paddled to the docks where we encountered the German couple who were just leaving. 

If anything happened—like an approaching storm—this would be our shelter. It was fairly large and looked sturdy, albeit empty. Plenty of glass surrounded it, offering a front-row seat to any storm that might hold us captive.

After a short snack from this point on, the Everglade systems began. We hopped back into our kayaks and headed into the snaking stream ahead.

The Everglades itself snakes for miles with multiple forks. It opens up and quickly narrows in many sections. We came across the couple again who seemed to be headed back. Fortunetly for us, we seemed to be equally compelled to go deeper still.

The sun bore down on us as the occaisonal water strider skated around to remind us that life existed besides us. We’d been paddling for hours, winding through narrow, snaking paths that branched into even more paths. I took on navigation challenges around weeds and sunken trees to keep myself entertained. No crocodiles. No drop bears. As far as I could tell, it was just us and the rhythmic plunge of our paddles breaking the surface. Every so often, we’d drift side by side, exchange a few words, then fall back into our quiet exploration, seemingly both content to keep going indefinitely.

Despite being seemingly lost in our rowing reverie, sometime in the late afternoon we decided it was reasonable to stop for lunch and head back soon. We found a campsite with a dock that looked like it had been abandoned for ages. Twenty minutes later, as we readied to push off, a massive goanna clung to a tree, watching us go—as if bidding us farewell.

The journey back felt remarkably slow. Despite the pure determination and focus I felt, familiar landmarks presented themselves much later than expected. As fatigue crept into my arms, doubt followed close behind.

There was no more speaking—just moving forward like an arrow, slicing through the water with purpose. Paddles dipped in and out, a steady metronome. Stroke, pull. Stroke, pull. I let the rhythm pull me in a trance to keep my spirits up. Landmarks and checkpoints faded from thought. Time and distance dissappeared. There was only the motion—the quiet, painful deliberate cleaving of the water.

With the lake in view coming into view, I snapped out of my trance and thoughts existed again. We raced to leave the final hold of the Everglades and coasted to the welcome open waters. Unbeknownst to us , severa large figures had assembkled atop a floating branch. Curiosly, we approached.  Those had not been there before.

A gaggle of unusuallly large birds lined evenly spaced amonst themselves. These were Pelicans and they looked like they could swallow me whole. The sun was making a serious effort to retire but we decided a rest would do us some good. We joined the creatures as they suspicisouly eyeballed us off their purchashes. 

The chop had picked up as the light dimmed but clearly the current was pushing us back towards to the mouth of the everglades. It was time to make the final for land. We plunged our paddles and pulled with all our cumulitaed training to move forward ever so slightly. It was going to be battle afterall. 

I was taken back to my school gym days, where we would run back and forth to increasing intervals. The longer you'd keep up with the clock the more intense it got.  I felt like I was stuck in these final moments. Doreen's strokes  resolute power, egged me on. I could drop my arms and drift into the desires of the Everglades, or I could find whatever stregnth she found and celebrate every centimeter of progress as it came. Paddling just below full power, I drew my gaze to the water below and focused on every gained centimenter. Time had became my enemy and water went from dark blue to black.

With the launch sitenin sight a few more desperate strokes driving us inperceptibly closer we broke me free from the current and glided effortlessly to the awaiting sand.. The sun had all but dissappeared as our kayaks hit dirt. We dragged them up to the german couple's boat. We gathered our belongings and moved silently under the absense of the twinkling Australian stars. Without a word we slunk into our seats and with hand on the steering wheel and the other in the ignition I wondered, why did I just go paddling for basically 12 hours straight?