kensbigbackyard: Did I kill Andrew McAuley?

Did I kill Andrew McAuley?

Photo on the cover of Rock's guide to The Rock, photo by Greg Claire.

You won’t find my name in the coroner’s report. You won’t find my name in the story in Australian Geographic written after his death. No one, to my knowledge, associates my name with the death of one of Australia’s greatest modern adventurers.

But every so often, as a particularly dark cloud crosses the sun, something triggers a memory in me: a memory of a particular meeting, where I argued strongly to support Andrew McAuley in his daring quest to be the first person to kayak from Australia to New Zealand. Having crossed huge open seas and ridden through gale-force winds, completely alone, for 29 days, snatching moments of sleep imprisoned inside his wildly bobbing kayak, he tragically disappeared within sight of New Zealand’s mountains on 8 February 2007. His upturned kayak was eventually found, but he never was. He left behind a young son and dedicated partner.

One of these dark moments hit me recently. I pulled out an old rock-climbing guide, and there he was, on the cover. On a sheer rock wall, his toes smearing on tiny footholds, he looks poised and relaxed, yet coiled like a spring, with an inner strength that is almost visible.

In my decade or so working at Australian Geographic, it was always a joy to mix with adventurers like Andrew. Just hanging around them inspired me to be bolder in my mini-adventurers – whether canyoning, hiking or climbing. Andrew was always one of the harder core adventurers, a step up from some of the other doorknockers. He was also my age, so gave me a direct comparison. I remember him telling me of his commute to work in the city from his home in the Blue Mountains. He would get up at some ridiculously early hour, cycle or drive to the Parramatta River, and then hop in a kayak and paddle the rest of the way.

A keen and accomplished rock-climber and kayaker, he really blew me away when he paddled across the Gulf of Carpentaria. Alone, he watched crocs and sharks bigger than his kayak circle around and under him, as he paddled 530km over seven days. When he got to the other side he couldn’t walk, because his legs had been inactive and pinned in the vessel for so long. He also had salt sores all over his back.

Andrew’s other kayaking adventures included crossing Bass Strait three times, and a 1000km sea-kayaking expedition along the Antarctic Peninsula. Believe me, this bloke knew his stuff. He was renowned for being painstaking in his planning and preparation, and yet still able to occasionally pull the pin on a trip.

So when he came to the Australian Geographic Society for sponsorship to cross the Tasman Sea, his case had serious merit. At that stage I was part of a small team that helped determined what projects the Society would sponsor, in science, the environment, education and adventure. In most cases, the Society’s emphasis was on granting smaller amounts of money (usually in the low thousands) for lots of people rather than larger sums for one or two. An exception was the extraordinary project by Lloyd Godson to live underwater for a week, and he received $50,000.

But even with smaller amounts of money, there was fierce competition for the limited funds, and we sometimes had fiery debates. In this case, I have clear memories that several people in the room said we shouldn’t support such a high-risk venture as kayaking alone across the Tasman. I argued strongly that Australian Geographic should support him. “If anyone can do it, this bloke can,” I said.

If I hadn’t argued so strongly, and he hadn’t got sponsorship from Australian Geographic, would he have still gone? Would his four-year-old son, Finlay, have been left fatherless?

Probably. The amount of money we supplied wasn’t a deal breaker for Andrew. But if no one had supported him – if everyone had said to him “sorry mate, not this time, not this adventure” – then he probably would have had to reconsider.

When the dark cloud moves on and the sun shines brightly again, what do I do with my thoughts that I may have contributed to his death? Do I shy away from my love of adventure, and my firm beliefs that adventurers and adventurous activities should continue to be supported? It certainly would be easy to do so in an increasingly litigious and scared society.

No, I continue to believe that our lives here on this planet are a precious and very short gift. We are just a “vapour in the wind” as the Old Book says, and I believe we are to use our gift of life in exciting and interesting ways, not locking it away in a bank. Adventuring is part of that. Bear Grylls says that when he gets to heaven he wants to come in dirty, bleeding and limping, with a huge smile on his face saying “what a ride!” As many have said before me, it is more scary to think that people like Andrew – or any of us in our own ways – might never really get to “live”, than that misadventure may occasionally occur.

Other adventurers sponsored by Australian Geographic also died on various trips, and that affected other members of staff. Sue Fear’s death on Manaslu in 2006 had a huge effect on one colleague.

But for me, Andrew McAuley will be a reminder of the struggle between the value of human life, and yet the importance of adventure and a life lived to the max. Even eight years after his death, he still inspires me and troubles me.

Vale Andrew McAuley.

1968–2007

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