Skipper: Ray Salisbury; Navigator: Ian Morris... ALONE, TOGETHER

Piggy-backing opportunists, we were, going on a Claytons Tramp - the tramp you do when you’re not having a tramp.

While Marie Lenting’s large party of enthusiastic hikers set off from Penzance Bay, toward Elaine Bay – by foot – my faithful companion Ian and myself donned lifejackets and paddled into a curtain of drizzle, across the remote reaches of Tennyson Inlet.

Borrowing Barry James’ double-seater sit-on canoe was genius, as our work was halved. (Although Ian would say the effort was more like 80-20).

With the exception of a couple of vessels, we were alone, together. GPS kept us on track, around the eastern headland into Godsiff Bay, where we searched for the hut ahead, hidden in the bush.

50 minutes of relaxed paddling put us on the beach, where we moored the kayak and bagged the empty hut, which was originally built as a hunters base in 1968 by the local Reserves Board.

Earlier, George and David Godsiff tented here for two years while they milled timber for the railways.In 2011, DOC threatened to move the hut, so the locals joined together, eventually forming a trust in 2016 to maintain and protect this hut.

On our return voyage, the sea was still, our yellow craft cutting through glassy waters; only the bow wave broke the eerie silence. Hundreds of transluscent jellyfish were pulsating, gliding beneath our vessel. Black stingrays skimmed the ocean floor, and I was rather glad when we were back on terror-firma.

– Ray Salisbury, Scribe & Hut-Bragger