Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 46 Schultzes Landing - Waikerie

Day 46: 382 km Waikerie 30th Nov 2016

Utopian dreams - Irrigation - Oranges - Murray River Queen - Rain - Cliffs - Great Yarra Reach - Armstrong brothers - Newspaper Interview - Local knowledge - It's complicated



Schultzes Landing to Waikerie

I woke early, packed by 7 and after a cuppa, hit the river by 7:30. I wanted to make an early start so that I could spend a good portion of day poking around Waikerie. Waikerie is a special little town, built around the tall limestone and sandstone cliffs that typify this area. Like many of the other towns in the area, it began as a communal settlement, where all produce grown and wages earned were to be shared with the all residents. Like most places who did not alter these rules, the utopian scheme failed. Those settlers that remained did however establish successful irrigation schemes. The area was famous for its oranges. The bins in the main street are testament to those times: they actually look like oranges. A large farmer's cooperative handled produce until recently, where it was brought by a commercial juice company. Now local farmers have diversified. Oranges and citrus are still grown, but so too are grapes, mangos and grain crops. The community is proud of its river and settler history. The great events of floods and droughts and peoples struggle to survive and thrive in the, at times, very harsh conditions binds these river towns like a thread. A book in the local library was titled, “Where were you when the waters broke? Recollections of the 1956 flood.” And each community has pictures of when the river ran dry and tales of how they coped. Waker was a centre of local government. Its old buildings, built from limestone still stand proud in the main street. When the local pub burnt down about 5 years ago, they reused the old stone, discovering in the process, the original ceremonial stone and a dedication to the lady that performed the opening. Now revealed, it has taken pride of place in the new building. When we keep our connections with the past, and seek to understand them, we are the richer for the experience.

I was not sure where I would stay in Waikerie. The caravan park which I thought came down to the water’s edge was still under construction and the free camping areas were too far out of town to leave my boat safely. Lying awake last night, I found that the Murray River Queen, the first of the new fleet of paddle steamers built for the Lower Murray in the 1970’s offered accommodation. If I could leave my boat safely tethered to her, I thought this could be a good option. I had followed the Murray River Queen’s story ever since she was launched. Growing up in a river town, I took an interest in such things. In Echuca, we restored old boats. In South Australia, they were building new ones. This break with tradition was interesting. The owners were clever. They travelled to Europe and to places along the Murray and saw what worked and what didn’t. What were passengers looking for? The Murray River Queen was the answer. It struggled in the first few years, but once featured on Bill Peaches “Australia” program it was a huge commercial success. Two other passenger boats were built, the Murray Explorer and the Murray Princess, however the Queen remained passengers’ favourite (at least according to the history on the boat ;). I wanted to get into Waikerie early enough to check out the situation and, if it turned out not to be suitable, to have enough time to find an alternative further down the river.

In contrast to the sunny days I have been experiencing for the last two weeks, today began overcast and with the threat of rain. In fact I could see it falling on the horizon. The wind was building too, and it was not long before I donned full bad weather gear. This was not as dramatic as it sounds and it meant that in the wind and rain, which actually persisted for almost three hours, I stayed nice and warm. It was one of the occasions where I was happy that my cameras were waterproof. In that regard, I did not need to worry about the rain at all.

There were spectacular cliffs today. I was able to paddle alongside their base and hear the slap of water against their hollowed out bases, where the water has turned their solid mass into a honeycomb like structure. Great Yarra Reach ran for 12 kilometres in a westerly direction, making a slight northerly curve as it did so. It merges into Island reach, where, after a short break, the cliffs continue. Island Reach swings South into Waikerie through Cockle, then Hart Reaches, all the time accompanied by cliffs on one side. On the other are a row of the most magnificent ancient red gums that you will see anywhere on the Murray. Their twisted roots and branches like fingers caressing the air and soil. The land available for the river to meander in is quite limited. You can clearly see the high ground on both sides. In Waikerie, it is only 1km wide. This means that in times of flood, the water rises higher here than in places where it is able to spread out more. Local authorities are planning for a rise of over 3m. Towns and particularly crossings tend to be built in places where the river has a bottleneck. Bridges and ferry cables don’t have to be as long. Before either of these, it meant that stock did not have to swim as far, which meant that less would drown.

The Murray River Queen surpassed all of my expectations. My boat is now tethered to her stern, like an obedient puppy. The rooms are excellent. There is a great cafe / bar and dinner is sounding promising. I’ve booked into their Thai restaurant, which has a good reputation and the staff are both friendly and proficient. After a shower which felt like something you would write home about (they feel novel and special when you are roughing it in the bush most nights) I set off to walk around town and get a sense of history. The barman directed me to a cliff top walk to the town lookout, so I set off. A few minutes into the walk I was stopped by a man asking “Murray River Paddle?” He was one of two Armstrong brothers I was to meet that day, first Bruce and then Ian. Bruce had been following my page. It had first caught his interest when I shared a picture of a DC3 in a paddock near Barham. He has a friend who is restoring one and has one motor functioning, but is looking for parts for the second. I promised to share the location. The Armstrongs are local farmers. They have been in Waker all their lives. “Wouldn’t live anywhere else” said Bruce. He took me on a tour of his town, including the lookout and its proud buildings. He explained how the pumps had continually been improved; first steam, then oil then a kind of gas turbine, diesel and now electric. The pumps have to be capable of pumping water over 114 feet vertically from whence it is distributed throughout the region. Bruce had been looking for me. He knew I was arriving this morning and had brought in a supply of oranges and peaches from his farm. From the lookout, he showed me how the river moved through the landscape and explained how the first settlers irrigated and farmed the old billabongs using flood water and the natural cycles. Bruce set up an interview with the local paper for the afternoon and dropped me off at the local library so that I could read up on its history.

Relaxing after the interview with a cold Corona, I met his brother Ian and wife Josie. Ian was a walking encyclopaedia on river heights and flows over the years. He could also identify which trees were from which floods in the landscape and provide dates for when channels were cut. He remembered the 1956 floods, which he said were the fourth or fifth high river in a row. He also said that they would not have been as bad for the town had levees not been built on some of the land on the opposite bank to prevent flooding there. This story I hear up and down the river. Water has to go somewhere. If it can’t run over its natural floodplain, it will flood elsewhere. Many of these old levels still exist. Whether they were built with, or without permission, they have consequences for the whole community. Ian was able to tell me the story of individual trees. The growth rates don’t fit with published scientific reports, showing just how important local knowledge is to understand the full picture. This kind of intimate knowledge of the landscape is what I am looking forward to gathering on the second part of the PhD. It challenges and grounds my investigation, provides a bigger and more accurate picture of what is going on. Like Belinda Hansen said, it's complicated, but simple. Simple once you understand. Throughout this trip I have been amazed by how little it takes to get people talking about their river. It is so important to them, and they want people to understand, they want them to make the right decisions and so they want to share what they know.

Sitting on the back deck of the Murray River Queen, the sun is shining. The water is now calm, reflecting the blue of the sky. On the banks the leaves are the bright green they turn when the sunlight shines through them. In the distance I can see the cliffs I will paddle past tomorrow on my way to Morgan. I am told that they are rich in fossils and am hoping to see some.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 45 Moorook South - Schultzes Landing

Day 45: 410 km Schultzes Landing 29th Nov 2016

Canoe trail - Wetland tour - Weir operations - Flood pulse - Overland Hotel - Hot days Cool beer - Wigley Straight 


Moorook to Schultzes Landing.

I left Moorook South early to enjoy the light and to have plenty of time to take a few detours. Like Katarapko Creek, near Loxton, this area has been developed with canoe trekkers in mind. There are allocated campsites, each with their own fireplace all along the river, and marked trails through wildlife reserves and between lakes. With the river restricted to the space carved by the ancient Murray through the landscape, billabongs and anabranches are never far away. Under the influence of the lock 3 weir pool, these are flooded. Flood runners become streams resulting in a maze of pathways through the bush. I turned into one of these near Thurk Island (just before Kingston on Murray) to explore Loch Luna Game Reserve and was immediately surprised by the speed of the current. Once I got used to hugging corners and dodging snags again, I enjoyed paddling amongst the reeds and water plants. Normally a shy bird, reed warblers were everywhere. After climbing a hill to understand the landscape, I paddled back to the Murray and continued on to Kingston.

Whilst it was fun to paddle in the small stream, I prefer the main channel. It too is edged by reeds and there are plenty of opportunities to explore its fringing wetlands.

Making good time now, I noticed a pontoon boat drifting in the direction of the weir. I picked up the pace thinking I could at least tie up the boat to a tree so that it did not come to grief. On coming closer I saw that it had people on board. It was a tour from Kingston which specializes in the wetlands. When I saw them they had been drifting, listening to birds. We had a chat about what I was doing before they disappeared into Loch Luna to continue their tour.

When I arrived at the weir, the personnel were removing the walkways from the top of the weir wall using an excavator on rails. As there was not yet enough water going over the weir pass for larger vessels, the yellow barrier floats blocked boats from entering. I tried calling the lock master, but each time got a fax. Later I found out I had been calling a number in Melbourne. I had forgotten to use the South Australian area code '08'. I tied up my boat, found the lock master and entered the lock once the gates were open wide enough. Lock Master Simon wore a big hat with a cattle tag on the bream and had worked for National Parks in Alice Springs before moving to Lock 3. He told me that he had been to a conference where they learnt about the carp virus. Apparently CSIRO is still number crushing before they bring it into the country. I thought it was ready to go. Simon had spent a lot of his free time removing willows near the lock. He had reservations about using them to prevent bank collapse. "People are people, they will let them grow, rather than managing them and they'll go wild again" he said. Simon gave me his card to keep in touch. He knows a lot of people who would be useful to talk to next time I come through. The wetlands manager at Banrock Station will want to talk to you, and my wife is involved in landcare: she knows a lot of people too.

Simon pointed out a large dead cod. It was the first he had seen. "We've seen lots of bony bream, but up until now, no cod." I said that I thought it had come from somewhere local, because I hadn't seen any for the last 5 days. After starting two weeks behind the flood pulse, I am now two weeks ahead, so it is unlikely that this fish came from those killed in the Mildura region, or further upstream. Other than the odd bony bream, I saw no other dead fish today and no sign of shrimp gathering by the edge of the river, so my guess was that it was one of the wetlands that feeds into the Murray.

Leaving Lock 3 behind, I set off for The Overland Corner Hotel. This was something I've been looking forward to for days. My memory of the place from 2012 was of a hotel in the middle of a dusty plain, accessible only by a small track through the Lignum scrub. That year had been particularly hot. For weeks the temperature remained above 40°C. The bush looked parched and had not yet begun to recover from the millennium drought. On the water, I constantly had to pour water over myself to keep from overheating. Nearing the end of the day’s paddle, tired and thirsty, I saw the most unlikely of signs. Standing on an angle in the gray mud amongst the lignum, it said hotel 700 m. How could I refuse? I set up camp in the shade of a small bush, changed into some decent clothes and trekked through the dust not really believing that there would be anything at the end of the track. You can imagine my surprise when I saw the most comfortable and quaint looking of buildings. It's 2 foot thick walls kept the inside cool and that was where I was headed. I ordered a pint and a burger and still think of this as one of my best experiences on the river.

The Overland Corner Hotel gets its name because it marks the spot where, in the days of steam and before the Murray's system of weird was developed, that paddle steamers could reliably take the passengers in times of drought. From this point on they had to take the coach. This was something of a come down. The passenger paddle steamers of the day had cooks, dining rooms and entertainment. They didn't bump around, you had your own room and you could watch the banks pass at a leisurely pace with a breeze coming off the river to keep you cool and you could take as much luggage as you wanted. In the evenings the captain would join you at the long dinner table on the top deck spinning river yarns and tales of characters he'd met. Stagecoaches were no comparison. For those people the Overland Hotel was the last point of comfort.

This visit is quite different. I do not have the high temperatures. For most of my trip the temperature has been 20s and 30s and I've only had a few days with strong headwinds and bad weather. I have, however, had floods. The Highwater enabled me to canoe past the leaning hotel sign, follow the space between the lignum bushes where the track must've been and paddle right up to the levee that surrounds the Overland Hotel. Apparently I was the first person to arrive by boat this year. I don't think I'll be the last.

After chatting with the owners and enjoying a cool beer, I moved outside to the shady garden surrounding the hotel to enjoy the massive burger they had served me. I also used the opportunity of having mobile reception to catch up with family and conduct an interview with Matt from ABC Mildura (scheduled to air at 7:10 tomorrow I think).

Rather full, I made my way down the aptly named 'Wigley Straight (Reach)'. For the next 10 km were the most impressive cliffs. The tallest being Telegraph Cliffs. It was at this point that I heard the low growling sounds of a large engine. I'm used to the sounds of pump engines whether they be diesel or electric but this was different. In the distance I could see the Murray Princess approaching. She is the biggest paddle boat on the Murray River, taking sometimes week long cruises on the lower sections of the river. I gave her plenty of room, which was a good thing, as the wash her enormous stern wheel kicked up was a little short of amazing. It could easily sink a boat and had more in common with ocean ways than what we normally see on the river.

With 10 hours on the river today I was glad to finally find camp. Only a short run into Waikeri tomorrow, where I will restock my food and enjoy a walk around town.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 44 Katarapko Creek (Pyap) - Moorook South

Day 44: 452 km Moorook South 28th Nov 2016

Katarapko - Seven Mile straight - River Islands - Orchards - Vineyards - River stories



Pyap to Moorook South.

I was delayed in leaving my camp on Katarapko Creek (just downstream from Loxton) because I had arranged a radio interview with ABC Riverland at 9:20. When you wake at 5:30 and get up soon afterwards this seems like forever. I t did mean that I could enjoy a leisurely breakfast and was able to use up the last of my butter, which had to my surprise, lasted 4 days without refrigeration. I had kept it low in the hold and had a wet towel on top, but given the strength of the sun, I didn't expect it to last. I consciously enjoyed toasting my bread roll on my spirit burner and layering the jam on. Pure luxury, chased down by a cup of tea.

Packed and with still an hour to go, I took a walk through the sand dunes along the track that connects the designated campsites. One of them was on a midden. You could tell from the thick layer of mussel shell fragments. Middens were everywhere here, it must have been a rich environment for the original inhabitants.

I had underestimated the size of Katarapko Creek. Creek indeed. Whilst it looked as luscious as the narrows (where the river flows through the Barmah Forest), it was twice as wide as the Murray at Echuca. Everything is bigger down here.

The track that ran between the campsites had been cut off for sometime, as there was no evidence of tyre tracks. However it was covered in animal tracks. As expected, kangaroo prints showed up as they hopped across the road, but there were also tracks from small marsupials, goannas, snakes and small lizards.

I enjoyed myself that much that I had to rush back to camp to be on time for my radio interview. These interviews are important to me as not only do they share my concern about the river, but they also are preparation for the second part of my study. This trip, and in particular the photographs I am taking, set up a baseline against which to compare people's memories, experiences and photographs of what the river used to be like. The radio is a way of reaching a wide audience and the more people from all walks of life I can reach, the better.

Keen to get going, I set off and maintained a good pace until I reached my campsite for the night at Moorook South. This included the 'Seven Mile Straight', this time thankfully without headwind. This whole area is fairly densely settled, however on the Seven Mile Straight the countryside is fairly low. Billabongs and lagoons, filled because of our proximity to Lock 3 mean that all development is up on the hills and away from the river. The names of the old stations are preserved as landing names, Pyap Hut Landing, Zeppels Landing, Klaus Landing, Shiers Landing and amusingly New Residence Landing (must have been particularly posh).

Where the banks were close, I could see orange farms and vineyards. The trees on the banks below most were in good condition, but below some, they were all dead. These changes stopped at their property boundaries. What was going on there: salinity, poisons, fertilizer, ringbarking?

Moorook South has a lovely grassed camping area and the shop is well known by paddlers who have appreciated its wares after a battle down the straight, be it hot chips and coffee, or iced chocolate and ice-cream (depending on the weather). I met two friendly couples, who had travelled from Adelaide to spend a few days on the river. They invited me to share a BBQ with them and told me stories from their community at the end of the river. Without everybody’s stories, we don't get the whole picture.

Tomorrow, I will push off early. I aim to make it to the Overland Corner Hotel for lunch and a cold beer (finally). The day will take me past Lock 3, more wetlands and canoe trails, Banrock Station and more Paddlesteamers landings. History is written all over this landscape. I am enjoying attempting to read it.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 43 Booky Cliffs - Katarapko Creek

Day 43: 482 km Katarapko Ck, near Pyap 27th Nov 2016

Bookpurnong - Riparian zone - Layers in the cliffs - Salt evaporation basin - In search of a cold beer



Booky Cliffs to Pyap.

My campsite last night was on a tight corner beach opposite Bookpurnong cliffs. The upper parts of the beach, which are now flooded, have beds of reeds. Behind them, in the shallow water, are flowering groundcovers and emergent rushes which cover the ground in a mosaic-like jigsaw pattern, broken up by areas of bare sand. These shallow waters are teeming with baby fish and all sorts of water life. The reeds protect them from the current, provide shelter from predators like larger fish and birds and are also a food source. These beds, or their equivalent are missing along much of the river. In fast flowing areas where reeds have trouble establishing, snags can be used to slow the current down on the river's edge. River Myall, or Swap Willow as it is sometimes known, provides a similar habitat when the water rises, as do willows, though these are not popular on much of the river because of the way they narrow the channel.

In Renmark, I watched how willows, reeds and rushes dampened waves from passing wake boats. Barely a ripple reached the, at times, fragile riverbank edge. With the demands we put on our rivers for irrigation, water supply and recreation we need to look after its banks. Looking after the banks reduces erosion, it reduces loss of land to farmers and householders whose properties border the river, it improves the quality of the water by filtering sediment carried by the river and by reducing the amount of soil entering the river, and, it provides habitat for the animals and plants which use the river as a corridor to travel from one place to another and is part of the natural picture which makes the Murray River such an iconic Australian landscape.

At Kaiser's Landing about halfway between Berri and Loxton, are the most beautiful cliffs. Like others in the area, its soft crumbling face tells a story of past climates. There are layers of pebbles, sand, and clay stone, each representing a different period of time. The larger the size of the stone, the stronger the current and the wetter the climate was at the time. In the middle of the rock face is a thick series of horizontal layers. These must be harder than the rest because they jut out further. In the shelter they create fairy martins like to nest. They build their nests from mouthfuls of mud and saliva, much like swallows do, except theirs have narrow turtle neck like openings. In the vertical faces beneath them, rainbow bee-eaters are nesting. They burrow into soft sediments, a round hole the only clue that they have been there. Drifting past, the cliff is alive with the calls of small birds.

The contrast to the other side of the river couldn't be greater. Where tall gums with diverse understories stood further up river, are dead trees and seemingly empty space. Little vegetation taller than a salt bush seems to be growing. This lower part of Katarapko Island has been used by the Loxton irrigation scheme as a salt evaporation basin since the 1960's. This has resulted in all but the most salt tolerant species disappearing from this part of the National Park. When the river has high enough flow that the salt will not negatively affect downstream communities, it is used to flush the salt out of the wetlands. This must be such a time and I wonder how the wetland will react. From the dead trunks, I can tell a little of what it looked like before. However, things may not be as bad as they seem. Apparently the salt marsh is an important water bird breeding area, flushing the salt to the sea in times of high flow mimics natural processes and the salinity is not as difficult to rectify as on the land.

I planned to camp tonight at Loxton Caravan Park and have a wander through town to get a feel for the place and learn a little more about its history, but the caravan park was underwater, except for a new area, which would have been a long drag of the boat and had no shade whatsoever. No fun when you are in a tent. I pushed on.

On the next bend I came across a teenager and his younger sister. They had pulled into the bank at a campsite and were collecting rubbish. In a few minutes they had two bags full and put these in their tinny. Complimenting them, they told me that they lived just up the hill and just felt like tidying up because you shouldn't leave the bush like that. What great kids!

Katarapko Creek re-enters the Murray opposite the site of the town of Pyap. Like Lyrup, Pyap was one of the communes to be established in the depression of the 1890's. Unlike Lyrup, it did not last. They had problems with the pumps, many people had an issue with working communally and the management seemed to make decisions on whims rather than after considering submissions. The town was abandoned in 1903. With no cold beer to be found in Pyap, I headed up Katarapko Creek about a kilometer, finding a lovely cool spot amongst young gums and so far is still mossie free! There are Corellas, Murray Rosellas and Grass Parrots in the trees, Crested Pigeons down by the water's edge and Honey-Eaters in the tree crowns. The presence of Magpies and Ravens shows that agricultural land is not far away. The sandy soil is covered with the same flowering ground cover as at my last site, together with pig face, saltbush and a whole swag of dry land plants. A family of Kookaburras has moved into the old gum near my camp and are beginning their chorus. They keep interrupting however as one of the young ones can do little more than squeak. Sounds like it has a very sore throat, more like a frog than a kookaburra. I guess it takes them time to develop their singing ability. Behind my camp, on the high ground, red kangaroos are feeding. I can hear Butcherbird's whistles being relayed through the forest. Taking the road that leads up there I can see lizard tracks. A Bronze Wing ground pigeon breaks cover for the safety of a distant tree, and everywhere are sugar ants with surprisingly large mounds of sand around their nests. They'll have to move camp soon. The river is rising. After a bit of a break, the evening chorus had begun. This time the frogs have joined. Like the young kookaburra, I'm not sure it's an improvement.

Tomorrow I have time to do a little exploring of the creek, before pushing on towards Moorook.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 42 Renmark - Booky Cliffs

 Day 42: 520 km Booky Cliffs 26th Nov 2016

Pike River Anabranch - Lake Alexandrina - Weir pools - Weekend visitors - Social experiments - Wilabalangaloo



I left Renmark around 9 am. A timely departure, seeing as my caravan park neighbours had just pushed off from the bank without their starter keys, and I was able to run these over to them. They told me that they had come from Goolwa, and that by the end of the millennium drought, there was so little water in the Murray Channel that a temporary wall was built from soil to make it navigable and to keep the salt from Flooding into the river. It was a contentious topic, with both long and short term residents split on what would be best. Many wanted the sea to be allowed into the lake as it naturally used to. Others thought this would kill off already weakened species. When the drought broke in 2012, it was removed.

Around the corner is the Renmark-Paringa suspension bridge. The road hangs from the framework above it. The lifting span is opened twice daily at set times. If craft want to go through at other times, they need to give two hours notice. A houseboat was approaching the bridge at full speed and continued to do so until approached by a tinny, who must have warned the occupants that they would not fit, because their turn was even faster. I thought I was going to see the span lift, as it was almost lifting time, however, no such luck. What did go under the bridge was a large clump of cumbungi, roots, leaves and all. I had heard that there were rafts of water plants floating, but this was the first one I had actually seen.

All the way along today’s stretch were campsites set aside for canoes and facilities for campers in general. It is certainly something that South Australia does better than both Victoria and NSW. Some of these were underwater, but the toilet blocks (thankfully) were always set up high. My camp tonight is one of those sites set aside for fishermen and canoe tourers. Set amongst bottlebrush and black box there are enough sites to cater for around 100 people. From my camp I was able to watch the last rays of the setting sun light the cliffs in front of me. There is no-one else here - perhaps the roads are cut off - just me and a family of red kangaroos. The camp is on a peninsula, with water and cliffs on three sides. Frogs are calling from amongst the reeds and the cicadas contribute to a low buzz in the air. At this end of the Murray one weir pool merges into the next, creating a flooded landscape. Old river channels carry water once again and billabongs are permanently filled. For canoeists it means that they can criss cross through the bush in a web of canals, getting up close to bird life and other wildlife. With the high water, some of those canals have got quite a bit of current flowing through them, which might be why I haven't seen too many people out and about.

Some of the canals are as wide as the river itself. Pike River (which runs along the base of the high ground within which the River Murray meanders), is really an anabranch. There are signs at both ends pointing to the real river. On the higher banks, campers in caravans and old buses were a common sight. It is the weekend and Murray is no longer so far from Adelaide. A dad in one boat had 6 kids with him, having the time of their lives.



I pulled over to Lyrup for lunch and a stretch and read a bit about the town history from an information board. Lyrup was one of those communities which was founded in the depression of the 1890's when there was very little work in the cities. Many were communes, social experiments. Most did not survive the test of time, but Lyrup is one of the exceptions. They recognised earlier than other communities that a single manager was more effective at making decisions than a committee, they had more clay in their soil, which was better for farming, and they allowed outside work and money to be used instead of coupons. The information board not only lists the names of the original settlers, but also everyone who left and why. Some left because they were dissatisfied, some married and some were expelled. The names of those who stayed have become street names; there is Bollenhagen Place, Tschirpig Lane and Olson Road. Today the irrigation is still managed cooperatively and the town is proud of its history. Lyrup is an example of how irrigation existed along much of the Murray long before its system of locks and weirs were built. It is proposed in some quarters that the drought of 1912 alone was not enough to run the river dry. Pumps along the river took what was left. These events were important drivers towards national agreements, and eventually federation.

A little further down the river is a station with just as impressive a name. ‘Wilabalangaloo’. It is registered with the National Trust. You can visit the property and walk around several kilometres of tracks along the cliff top and through the gullies that divide them. Seeking an opportunity to observe the river from a high vantage point, I found a place with enough of a sandy base for me to pull in and followed a track to the top of the cliffs. To get a little more height, someone had placed a wrought iron spiral staircase at the highest point: a stairway to heaven. Although I would really rather have stayed on the ground I edged my way up the stairs, testing each step to be sure it was solid. I did not want to test the rails too much,as they might not have passed that test and I was glad for what was still there. Seeing the Lower Murray from above highlights how different it is from the Middle and Upper Murray. The river is much wider, the bends are longer, (most are two to six kilometres long) and when the wind blows along those straight sections, or big bends, there is nothing to stop it.

It was nice to see people enjoying the river. The last 1700 km have been pretty quiet.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 40 & 41 Headings Cliffs to Renmark Nov 25

Headings Cliffs to Renmark: 565 km

Blackwater - Flood frequency - Water quality - Floating logs - Renmark - Classic cars




For the last part of the day paddling from Custom’s House (South Australian Border) to Headings Cliffs and for the whole of today we did not see one dead fish. We also observed that even at the time we left our campsite, that there were no shrimp gathered at the side of the river. This means that the black water and the fish it has killed upstream have not yet reached Renmark. It is possible that the blackwater in the river has been diluted by flows from tributaries, like the Chowilla Creek and Rufus River (Lake Victoria) and that the worst of its effects will be avoided because of it. Time will tell. However, there is no avoiding the fish deaths. There are reports that bream have been seen dead around Mildura. There are many backwaters and places where the river flows over the land, rather than simply down the channel upstream of Mildura which will have caused locally intense blackwater, so the fish deaths are not surprising. That the bream are also dying is not a good sign, they are hardier than the cod. Today, the river had not yet exceeded its banks around Renmark, however with a 30cm rise still coming from Mildura, this should be expected in the coming week or two. The question is really, how far will the effect be transported downstream? It seems that no-one really knows.

Tragic as it is, the fish seem to survive, or recolonise areas lost to their species following these events. Their numbers bounced back from the 2011 events. They should following this one too. Here, the habit diversity of the river is the key. Each stream, each cutting and each snag, offers survival niches. Were the Murray simply a channel, the whole population could be lost by such an event.

We arrived early in Renmark today and did a car shuffle from Mildura, preparing for Anna’s departure tomorrow. Since there is no public transport between Renmark and Mildura anymore, I hired a car. The car was driven to the caravan park where I am staying by a fellow who is a few years older than me. He is 58 and has been in Renmark all his life. “You know”, he said, “we never used to have black water when I was younger, so what has changed?” I agreed. In my 52 years at Echuca, black water - at least on this scale, has only been a recent phenomenon. Like most locals, he could name the years that the river had flooded in his lifetime. “We had floods in 74, 75, and in the 80’s, then 92, 2011, and now, but it is only the last two floods that have created this issue. They are no higher than those earlier floods and they were around the same time of the year. The difference is flood frequency, the number of times that the river has been high enough to flow through the forest has been decreasing. Before Dartmouth Dam was built the Murray’s level changed dramatically every year, watering its banks and rebuilding its beaches. It also seemed to flood about every 5 years. when Dartmouth was built, it doubled the holding capacity of dams in the upper Murray, where 95% of the rain in the Murray Darling Catchment falls. Water which normally flooded the forests and washed away the litter was caught and kept for irrigation. Now these high rivers seem to happen only every ten. In some places, much less. Large areas of the Edwards-Wakool Forest had not flooded since 1992 (24 years ago). Because the backwater is produced locally, it is possible that some sections of the river have been skipped. That dead fish have been reported at Goolwa, but nothing in between, suggests that blackwater has formed ahead of the main flow and highlights the complexity and patchiness of these events.

Booking into our caravan park, the ladies at reception told me that the blackwater had scared away many of their customers. “People think that we are underwater,” they said; “we’ve had lots of cancellations.” There is a lot of fear around the high river. The black water is not poisonous. It is simply dark in colour and low in oxygen. If the river was low enough to expose the beaches, I would be swimming in it - mind you, not if there were a lot of dead fish around. Though dark, the water is actually clearer than usual. I can see my paddle to a depth of around 30 cm. When boat traffic picks up at this time of the year, I can usually only see about 5cm. I filter the water to drink it using a ceramic filter designed for the muddy water holes of Africa. The filter is fine enough to take out bacteria and viruses, but not colour and taste. Most evenings I filter three to four litres of water. I drink two during the day and use two for cooking, tea and water whilst I am on land. Surprisingly, it tastes as good as usual. Most houseboat businesses have closed, citing danger from floating logs and the blackwater. This is an overreaction in my opinion. There are hardly more logs floating than in a normal year and certainly much less for houseboat hirers to avoid than when the river is full of boats, swimmers and people floating down on pool toys. The fish deaths are not pretty, but they are still novel enough, that people count them, they are not everywhere. The blackwater itself makes the river reflect the blue of the sky. Despite its unfortunate initial effect, it feeds and will kick start the whole river ecosystem. Following this event, river life will boom, because it has now been fed. Witnessing the high water is an educational and beautiful experience. Its what a river does normally, before we began disrupting its cycles. People should get to know these cycles, not avoid them.

The paddle into Renmark was a pretty one. In the morning light, the orange and yellow colours of Renmark region’s cliffs stood out against the clear blue sky. Whistling kites hunted low over the water and between trees. Darters sat on their nests - some for the second batch of chicks already. Black swans lead us away from their young. Anna found that she could imitate their call and held quite a long conversation with one of the parents. Perhaps her call was like one of the young signets.

Renmark has an impressive foreshore. As a river town, it depends on tourist numbers from Adelaide. River towns have suffered enough from the blue green algae of last summer. They don’t need to have fear of black water keep people away from a (now) rare high water event. If you haven’t witnessed it, get out and have a look. Tell your friends too. Its pretty special.

In town, an event was taking place just for the locals. Renmark High School students were celebrating the end of year with a prom. Like a debutante ball, the young couple had gone to great lengths with their preparation, but unlike the deb balls I know, the street was blocked off and couples arrived in classic cars. Locals lined the streets and cheered as each couple arrived. Each car had a number. As they approached the red carpet area an announcer described the features of the car, a little of its story and who was driving it. The driver would then step out of the car, open the doors for the young ladies and then the couples would also be introduced. There was a whole array of vehicle types, from 1950’s rockabilly style coupes, Pontiacs, Cadillacs, Mustangs, Firebirds, Holden specials from every era and Falcon 500’s. The locals voted on which made the best entrance. One young fellow, in a successful effort to impress, was in a red Bathurst Torana escorted by three Harley Davidsons. What a great way to involve, develop and celebrate community!

Visit a river town if you can. The floods are part of their story. Get out there and discover it.


Day 41: 564 km Renmark - Rest Day 25th Nov 2016


Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 39 Customs House - Headings Cliffs (near Renmark)

Day 39: 595 km Heading Rd. Renmark

Rain - Life in a tent - Natural splendour - River rising - Chowilla Woolshed - Kangaroos




It rained much of the night. It all began while we were cooking dinner. At first quite lightly, forming perfect circles on the surface of the water just beyond our boats. It was so light that we could more see the rain than hear it, but it was enough to begin taking short cuts whilst cooking dinner. Not long after we had all the ingredients in the pot, it began to rain more heavily. I suggested to Anna that she take shelter in her tent and I joined her once I had made things tidy and weather safe enough outside. With dinner on a slow burner we joked and told stories till it was ready. There is something very comfortable about a tent. Once you’re inside it is like your cocoon, your own bit of civilisation, a grown up sort of cubby house. The rain continued well into the night. In the early hours of the morning, when it stopped, the moon and the stars were so bright, the air so still that they are fixed in my memory. This is what camping in the bush is like. The night cooled off, so much so that when morning came, mist was rising and travelling in a layer above the water. Washing my face and hands in the water I could feel that it was warm. The mist continued to rise for the next hour. First it seemed to be driven downstream by the sunlight, but increasingly, as seems to happen in this part of the river, it was driven by the morning breeze.



There are so many birds here that I cannot put a name to them all. Perhaps because, like a big family at the dinner table, they are all trying to talk at once. The number of bird species reflects the diversity of landscapes that intersect here. Here the red gum and black box woodlands that have been part of the character of the Murray for most of its length are joined by mallee on top of the cliffs that jut into the river channel. Callitris pine grow on the steeper faces, grasslands and pasture on the gentler higher slopes and reeds form thick beds that stretch for hundreds of meters along the waterfront. We saw reed warblers singing so loudly they did not see us approaching, honeyeaters squabbling amongst the foliage, ring-neck parrots flying swiftly from tree to tree. Grass parrots investigating hollow logs, apostle birds moving as a group through the woodland. Spoonbills sat in their nests, messy imitations of the whistling kites, surprisingly close by. Young magpies practising their songs, somewhat shyly still. Nesting darters that looked like they were into their second sets of eggs. Whistling kites dived on fish swimming near the surface of the water. Herons picked at shrimps gathering near the water’s edge. More than once we were caught in eddies whilst starring into the trees and spun in the opposite direction to where we wanted to go.

The river is still rising here, not as quickly as the 4 inches a day that some people reported around Mildura, but steadily. It is now at the top of the lower banks and smiling into the forests beyond. When it does this, you can see that the river sitting within its natural levees, is actually higher than the forest - not as extreme as in the Gunbower-Perricoota-Koondrook Forest, but still higher than the land beyond. The nearer you get to Renmark the narrower the available land the river seems to have to travel within. Cliffs and high ground begin to appear on both sides. It was these cliffs that prompted the south Australian Government in 1968 to propose that a dam be built on the Chowilla Station that would back water up, all the way to Wentworth. The dam was eventually knocked back because of the amount of good land that would be covered, the number of towns inundated and the decision to build Dartmouth Dam on the Mitta Mitta River. Had the dam been built this most beautiful part of the river would have no longer existed.

Anna and I pulled into Chowilla Woolshed for lunch. The woolshed has group accommodation and caters for special occasions. They have pictures of wedding tables being set inside. Anna did not think this was a good idea. “You would all smell of sheep” she said. I tried to explain that they have a great atmosphere and are something completely different, which people are often looking for, however there was way she was going to get married in a shearing shed, she said. Chowilla, together with Calperum Station are part of the Bookmark Biosphere reserve. Both are functioning stations, but are run to preserve the cultural, historical and environmental heritage of the area. Rotary send school students to Calperum Station as part of a Murray Darling Basin Freshwater Research Initiative to expose secondary school students to issues along the Murray River. La Trobe University send their students there to understand the arid zone. The name ‘Bookmark Biosphere Reserve’ comes from the name of the original station in the area. Bookmark was later divided into Chowilla and Calperum. Now, they are working together to preserve our heritage, like so many other private initiatives and groups along the river. Inside the shearing shed were photos from the late 1800’s. One showed sheep being driven across a floating bridge, others showed paddles steamers loading wool. The people in the pictures looked healthy, but thin. They always wore their finest. In many of the photos they looked like they were on a picnic. They may have wished to show family how well they live in the bush, and how civilised their life is, despite the challenges. It was these challenges though, rather than the lace, that defined them. It comes through clear as day int he pictures that depict their daily life.

At Chowilla station a creek enters the river. it was not flowing quickly, but its contribution to the river was made more obvious by its colour. It pushed a brown cloud out into the dark Murray water. These flows dilute and aerate the blackwater in the river. It may be happening more often than we give credit. We noticed today that we had not seen any fish gasping for air. For the last week we have seen a small species of fish swimming near the river’s surface, mouthing at the water’s surface. We hadn’t seen any today. Like on other days, we saw quite a few dead cod, all yellow, showing that they had died some time ago. Putting these two things together, it seems that the cod deaths are happening upstream and the fish being transported down the river. This may change in the coming weeks, but seems to be what is happening here now.



We pulled into a campsite frequented by round Australia travellers on the downstream side of Heading Cliffs, about 30km out of Renmark. Here the steep cliffs retreat inland several hundred meters, allowing a river flat to form at their base. We gathered speed and launched our kayaks up on the shore, then, finding a spot between two black box, pulled up our boats and set up camp. Endangered white breasted tree-creepers flitted around us whilst we cooked and whistling kites practised their manoeuvres on the ever changing breeze. We walked up to the top of the cliffs to see the sunset, stopping to watch some young red kangaroos on the way. From the top of the cliffs, the sun set as an orange ball. Its light bathed the valleys between us in a golden light. The birds were quiet now. There was just the light. Over the river the sky turned blue and green. The swirls caused by the current picking up some of these colours on its otherwise dark surface as it continued its journey on to the sea.

Tomorrow we make for Renmark. It will be Anna’s last day with me. Having her with me has been a real highlight. It is not often that a father and daughter have a chance to do something like this together. When your daughter lives on the other side of the world, it is even more special. For Anna, it has been a real dose of Australia. Its wilderness, its isolation, the harshness of its environment and its gentle beauty. She has brought me within 600 km of the sea. Not long to go now.


Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 38 Kulcurna Station - Customs House

Day 38: 636 km Customs House 22nd Nov 2016

Kulcurna - Customs House (South Australian Border)



Anna and I had a nice brekky at Kulcurna Station. No rush to get away today. With only 30 km to paddle we could take our time. Belinda Hansen, our host showed us old photographs of the area. The owner before the Higgins family had cleared all the trees and dug irrigation channels into the limestone. The cliffs too, were treeless, both on the face and at the top of the cliff. I assume they were cleared, however since the photographs were taken before weirs and dams were built on the Murray, perhaps the natural fluctuations in river height and frequent floods did not allow trees to establish along the cliff toe.


Now, with reliable water, trees have begun to colonise the water’s edge and black box are growing back on the plains where they once stood. Many are descendants of the 1956 flood.There were plenty of big floods before that according to Belinda. Not any more. Understanding how trees got to where they are puts their current condition into perspective. We can’t replicate big floods like the one that occurred in 1956, so we have to make choices. Should we try to maintain woodlands at all costs, or would grasslands, lignum, or mallee vegetation be more suitable to the area long term?Not long after we got going we passed Cal Lal police station. All that can be seen now is its old tin chimney and part of one wall. Its toilet, still standing when I went past in 2012, has fallen down. Everything has got to go sometime... even a dunny :)P.




A few kilometres later we paddled past Higgin’s Cutting. This is one of the cuttings which is now marked as the main river. Just before the cutting there is high ground close to the river channel. Quite a commodity in the times when paddle steamers were the main source of transport in the area.


On this high piece of land two tall palm trees can be seen. It was here that Belinda’s great grandparents, Irish immigrants, settled. With her husband often away for months working, Belinda’s great grandmother had to fend for herself. They bred them tough in those days. With less current flowing, the original channel is now beginning to silt up. Reeds grow on both sides and tree branches reach far into the channel.At 658km we found the border to South Australia, at least on the NSW side. On the Victorian side, it is 12 km later. The border is marked with a large sign mounted on a tall steel post. On the NSW side it is on top of a bank. For an unknown region it is actually in a swamp on the Victorian side. In this high river we were able to paddle up to both. Our clocks reset automatically, granting us an extra half hour (at least theoretically).


We paddled on to Customs house, the old border store and only chance to stock up on supplies in the area. It is the beginning of a canoe trail through the wetlands created by lock 7 and one of the few places that caters specifically for paddlers on the river. We set up our tents in one of the campsites down by the water’s edge and enjoyed a hearty, hot, one pot wonder, cooked up on our trangia and eaten inside Anna’s tent because it had begun to rain. There is something cosy about sitting in a tent while it is raining. They are a bit like cubby houses for grown-ups. Outside, it is dark. Birds are still singing - despite the rain. Pobblebonk frogs are in their element and there are no mossies: an almost unheard of situation on this trip. With the gentle tap of the rain on the tent fabric and darkness all around, it looks like it’ll be an early night. Two more short days on the run into Renmark. I’m hoping that tomorrow this means that we will be able to find time to explore some of the wetland canoe trails this area is famous for.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 37: Lock 8 - Kulcurna Station

Day 37: 666 km Kulcurna Station 21st Nov 2016

Lock 8 - Memories - Being overtaken by a dead fish - Refuges - Erodion - Flies - Delvils Elbow



Lock 8 to Kulcurna Station

It had been a warm night at our campsite at Lock 8. The sun has a lot of strength this time of the year and sleeping on the ground was like lying on a hot plate. When we were kids, before we were told to be sunsmart, we used to lie on the concrete at the town pool. It was too hot to walk over, so we would splash water on it first and then enjoy the warmth from below and above at the same time. It was easy to fall asleep, but that didn’t matter. The goal was to be brown, all over, and we thought that you had to get properly sunburnt to get a good tan. However camp was no town pool and with the fast currents and amount of dead fish, not so appetising. I haven’t been for a swim so far on this trip - which is a first.

Today, we finally got ahead of the dead fish. The last couple of days have been shocking. We made macabre jokes about sticking flags in the bigger cod to see who made it the furthest in 24 hours: we had the speed, but the fish went 24/7. Being overtaken by a dead fish is not a point of honour. It seems that blackwater is worse at this end of the river and I wonder whether with each new input of organic matter from the forest, the levels in the river are accumulating. Upstream, blackwater was the result of water flowing through the forest and sitting in shallow sections long enough to soak up the organic matter - like a strong brew of tea. Patches were local and soon diluted by the main flow. Down here, where the river is wider and deeper, and where the river is only just beginning to break its banks and enter the floodplains on either side, the blackwater is clearly from upstream. Perhaps the levels of organic matter are more than the microorganisms can break down and so the effect is transported downstream. Belinda Hansen, manager of Kulcurna Station worries that here, the effect will be worse than in 2011. “Back then, it was all over in one slug, this looks like it is going to go on for months”.

Back in the Middle Murray, the cod survive by finding points of aeration behind snags, especially those with fine twigs. These aerate the water through waves and ripples. They are also know to swim up tributaries, like the Campaspe and Goulburn Rivers. I thought that no such rivers existed down here, but I was wrong. Today we passed by quite stately creeks; Carr’s Creek, Mungo Creek, Rufus River (the outflow from Lake Victoria) and Sharp Point Creek: each as wide as what we would call a river in Victoria and capable of creating their own flood events following heavy rain. There is diversity here that takes time to recognise, that takes time to understand. We tend to look for blanket solutions, when the answer is more complicated than that. “Complicated, but simple”, says Belinda Hansen. Complicated, because it takes time to understand local environments. Simple, because once you do, it makes common sense. Their key is to involve locals, especially those who have built up an understanding of their area over a lifetime, or in cases, much longer.

Every now and then the Murray of today, bumps up against its parent banks. The banks left when Australia was much wetter, our mountains kilometres higher and the river as wide as the great rivers created by the great rainforests and tallest mountains in the world today. It was kilometres wide and left banks that were 20 to 30 metres higher than today and bends that ran for 10 to 20 kilometres. Today’s river winds around inside this ancient river course, like a trickle. However, every now and then it bumps into one of these walls and, like a steady drip, erodes into it. When it does so, it reveals something of the past. Our lunch stop at the base of an enormous rise was an example. Erosion was rampant. Gullies had eaten into its face and had worked their way inland hundreds of metres, revealing multi-coloured, soft sediments. The ground was covered in saltbush and the kind of small round limestone pebbles that form in this area when rain dissolves the calcium in this ancient sea bed, growing crystals as it evaporates, much like lime does in kettles. It was hot and the kind of strong wind that heralds a change in weather, was blowing. We had a view over the dry land bordering this corridor of green, the ribbon of life that the river is to the areas it flows through. In the distance we were watched by red kangaroos, licking their forearms to cool down. On the old billabongs, dead trees stood sentinel, telling their story of the past.

Out on the water, there are few insects to bother you. Coming ashore they lept upon us. Too hot for mosquitoes, but not for flies. Our backs were covered in them and they were determined to find things to nibble on around our faces, including around our eyes. When Anna left the bank in a flurry of splashes and arm waves, all her flies came to me. Thanks Anna! They kept with me through the three thunderstorms that followed that afternoon. They somehow found places to hide in the heavy rain that fell. Emerging to sit on my hat, like dogs on the back of a ute. These flies wanted to travel down the river. It became part of a joke between us, especially when we came together for a break and the flies would swap people.

We passed four stations today. The first was Ned’s Corner, a former sheep station which is now run by Fund for Nature, as a wildlife reserve managed for endangered animals, which around here means not just limiting the number of cats and foxes, but also the number of kangaroos. University students from LaTrobe stay in dorm-like accommodation near the kind of big old shearing shed that is typical of the area, as part of their arid zone land management studies. We had planned to call in, but didn’t as we had word that the managers would be away on that day. You have to get supplies some time or other when you live in the bush. It seems that more and more stations are opening their doors to the public, providing an opportunity to see what life is like in this part of the country and sharing their love of the land they live in. Lake Victoria Station offers ‘Possum’s Riverboat Safaris’ as part of a ‘Murray Darling Holidays’. The homestead is set behind the ruined walls of the original limestone building and its owner, Paul Chors is an authority on local history. A little further downstream, Warrakoo Station, is impressively preserved and now run by the Mildura Aboriginal Cooperative. Perhaps because of its proximity to Devils Elbow, arguably the most impressive place on the river where the Murray erodes into its grandfather banks, creating a crumbling vertical face. Here there are clear layers of white sands and green clays. Books talk about the Parilla Sands and Blanchetown Clays. I wonder if these are them. Having the high river I was able to paddle right up close and look. I had to be careful though, as behind me I heard blocks break off and at the end of the cliffs was the most enormous whirlpool. Not far downstream of Devil’s Elbow is Kulcurna Station. If I was to choose one location as being quintessentially Australian on the Murray, it would be Kulcurna. Located at the edge of wetlands, nestled at the base of tall red cliffs, it looks out over red gum forest. This is my third time here. Something in my psyche, the image of what it is to be Australian is twigged here. It is a family home, with all its memories, and Belinda Hansen, our knowledgeable host, is its connection. I have written this post on the wired in veranda, over looking the river, listening to John Williamson’s ‘Galleries of Pink Galahs’. It almost seems written for this place.

After walking up to the top of cliffs to find reception to send this post we will move on. We have a short day today. We can explore, but we will need to rug up, the temperature is 20 degrees lower than yesterday with rain predicted.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 36: Moorna Station - Lock 8

Lock 8 Campsite 20th Nov 2016

Moorna Station - Ecology - Dead Cod - Heat - Lock 8 and 9 - Thunderstorms Building



Over toast and a hot cuppa, Annabelle, the manager of Moorna Station, shared her views on why blackwater in the river was such an issue. She takes a holistic view. Seeing the interruption of water cycles on a range of scales, from the seasonal floods which no longer happen most years, to those driven by trees and plants by drawing water from deep down on the soil, or by being a driving force behind the building of beaches and floodplains, as red gums do on the inside of river bends. Annabel argues that salinity is the greatest threat to our environment, but one that can be overcome, if we use native plants carefully. If there had been native grasses she argues, there would not be so much black water. They would have helped decompose the leaf litter that the floods have taken into the river, reducing the sad toll the event is having on the murray cod population.

Throughout the day, we saw many dead cod, usually quite large ones. Shrimp gathered on the side of the river for oxygen, but downstream of lock 9, many had also died. There was a thick layer of dead shrimp along the water’s edge. In this section of the Murray, the river runs from one weir pool to the next, it’s artificially high water level flooding billabongs. Though these areas are usually covered with water and so should not be a source of black water themselves, the lack of current exacerbates the condition when water which has been flowing through the firsts enters them. The situation may be quite different to the middle Murray, where I come from, because there are few flowing rivers that enter the Murray. Although on this paddle I have noticed that blackwater is patchy, that it tends to come from distinct areas and is soon diluted by the river channel, we may be seeing a cumulative effect. Every now and then the river flows through a snags which aerates it, or takes a cutting where two bends of the river near each other. These spots are lifelines for the big fish. People have told us stories of cod following the wake of their fishing boats, because the waves increase the oxygen content of the water, helping them to breathe, or hanging around snags in plain sight, when they are normally quite a shy animal. Much is assumed when it comes to working out how cod survive blackwater. The 2011 event is said to have been much worse than this one and yet the death of large cod shows that many survived. One can only hope that many find ways to survive this event also.

The river landscape continues to be a delight to paddle through. It looks wild, has thick understory shrubs in some places and grassy meadows in others. The old trees are generally recovering very well from the millennium drought - which cannot be said for many other parts of the river - and although there has been some tree fall, most of the older trees are still standing. It seems like we are coming to the front of the main rise. We are starting to see the kind of debris that floods pick up as they rise, sticks, duck weed and leaf litter. In places the river has not yet broken through its natural levees, leaving the areas behind them dry. In others the water can be seen rushing into the forests. There is another benefit to this... less mosses. At the beginning of this trip, I was paddling on a falling river. You know that your campsite is safe on a falling river, because levels are dropping, not rising, however on falling rivers, stagnant pools have had time to form and the mosquitoes are much worse.

Mosquitoes don’t like moving water, so now, being ahead of the main flow there are way less mosquitoes. Now that is a welcome change.

We continued to see plenty of whistling kites. There are more than when I was a kid and I wonder if there is a cooperative deal with fishermen. Their nests are large collections of sticks, high in the tallest trees. Occasionally you can see a young head looking out. No place for fear of heights - or strong winds. We saw a nankeen kestrel and a group of white breasted woodswallows huddled together on a branch of a dead tree. Ibis and spoonbills frequented the river shore. Galahs and little corollas screeched their presence to all who wanted to know and families of kookaburras used family chorus to do the same. In the heat of the day, when all else is silent, we often heard the beautiful whistling of butcher birds. Mudlarks defended their territories against all comers, whether they be marauding crows, or whistling kites who glide on the breeze. Willy wagtails flitted through the undergrowth and occasionally out over the water. Wattlebirds and honey-eaters quarrelled amongst the branches, and where the banks had broken away, we could often find rainbow bee-eaters with their soaring flight. Near older trees, swallows and fairy martins would fly out onto the water and circle us. Perhaps we stirred ups insects sitting on the water’s surface. It also seems like a greeting.

Today was our first real hot day. It was so hot that when Anna and I took a lunch break in the shade of an old box, our paddles were too hot to hold and the deck had softened. We cooled both down with water and hope that the food did not get too warm. Next time we will find a spot for the boats in the shade. A hot day meant impromptu water fights, including sneak attacks. It meant breaking out the serious marathon hats with the side and back flaps and using a sponge to wet ourselves down all over. We invented the armpit challenge. To do this you first soaked your paddling gloves and sleeves in the water and then put them straight up in the air above your head. The water runs ‘refreshingly’ down your sleeves and top. It usually involves some deal of shrieking - but then so too did the sneak attacks. :)

We travelled over two weirs today, lock 9 and lock 8. Lock 8 is one of the more isolated weirs on the Murray. Annabelle noted that we left a surprisingly sane impression on her, noting that this was often the case this far into this kind of journey. Paddlers are often scared of the lack of facilities in this area. There is little mobile contact possible (hence a text only entry tonight... I found a spot near an old tree where I have one bar of reception) and no chance to supply for three or four days. This is not an issue for us, we are able to filter our own water and have weeks worth of food. Tonight we have found a comfortable camp just downstream from lock 8 on a parking spot on the river road. It has shady black box and even a bench. Now that the day has cooled a little I am about to cook our evening meal on that. i have instructions from my wife Ruth to see how classy I can make this, so I am going to try... salmon on a bed of rice, with sautéed zucchini, onion, garlic and a slice of ginger, seasoned with freshly cracked pepper and murray salt (well I’m calling it that). I think we’ll let it cool before we eat it though :).

Around our campsite whistlers a red-lored whistler is proclaiming its territory. It may be hot out in the bush today, but it is still beautiful. Time to grab another wet towel and get dinner going.