A journal of canoe expeditions along the rivers of Australia's Murray Darling Basin using photographs, stories and information to highlight the beauty, challenges and history of these rivers and the communities they flow through.
Showing posts with label Murray River Paddle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Murray River Paddle. Show all posts
After today's paddle from Yarrawonga, I have heightened respect for all those kids on school relay teams who have paddled the stretch. The legs on the Marathon are long and full of snags; some stretches are windy and open and despite the many campers, you get the feeling if isolation. Junior school TK2 relay teams, including kids as young as 13 have completed this stretch. Start to Alpha is just under 30km: it was a gutsy effort for those kids to negotiate all of those snags, to not be disheartened on the long straights and yet another bend when they thought they were almost there.
St. Joseph's Murray Marathon Team 2006
In contrast to most other sports, they were on their own on the river. There was no-one to help them. It is difficult enough as an adult, where life experience builds resilience. So, respect to any kid who has completed long legs like these on the Marathon. You have earner your stripes.
Lunch break in the shade of a beautiful gum tree.
Quiet beaches.
The river always changes. Downstream from Yarrawonga, the banks are becoming taller. Most of the way we have been surrounded by forest, at times with the original tussock grass (Poa) understory, which must have been similar to what Sturt saw when he first travelled down the Murray in 1830. These tussock grasses will withstand grazing by cattle, but not intensive grazing as is common on most properties today. This was the type of countryside that Mitchell saw on his 1836 expedition through NSW (crossing the Murray near Swan Hill). He called it Australia Felix - the fortunate country. There has been a recent trend back to these drought tolerant, highly nutritious grasses, however their height in summer worries many farmers, as they fear that they heighten the bushfire risk of areas.
Families enjoying the river. Most kids wore life jackets - a change from when I was a kid growing up on the river.
Sunbaking after a cool dip - but with a little more sun protection than we did when we were kids.
I remember lying on the hot concrete and baking till we were covered in sweat, then jumping in the pool and doing it again.
Several European trees survive on the beaches.
This one spent welcome shade to a family enjoying their summer holidays.
A more obvious feature is the beautiful beaches. On almost every corner, beaches reach into the middle of the river. They are made if coarse white sand. A smattering of larger rocks and pebbles can also be found - evidence of times of faster stream flow. Roads follow the Victorian bank, allowing campers access. We saw family after family. Some had pool areas made from safety fences wrapped around star spikes, others placed gazebos in the water and tied giant floating thongs so that they would sway back and forth in the shade. Almost all kids had life jackets on, which was good to see - river beaches are dangerous places. Some if the older campers looked more or less permanent, as though they had elected a transient lifestyle instead of a nursing home, hybrid fishermen gypsies. Some felt patriotic about their camping, with Australian flags marking their claim to that patch of beach.
We paddled by, waving, gesturing hello's to find what the next bend would bring, until finally we found our own little piece of paradise on the downstream side of a beach in the Cottadidda State Forest and called in for the night.
Jellyfish in the Murray: microscopic life that we don't see, but feed our fish and keep our waterways clean. Identification and ecology of Australian Freshwater Invertebrates. Bug Guide.
Murray River Access Maps: Spatial Vision. Yarrawonga - Mulwala - Cobram - Barooga - Tocumwal - Ulupna Island (The Blue One).
Red Cross Murray Marathon Day 1: Yarrawonga - Tocumwal: Map (pdf).
Call in the cod squad: Researchers from the DEPI Arthur Rylah Institute (ARI), commonly known as the Cod Squad, are using video to assess the effectiveness of putting habitat for native fish back into rivers across Victoria. mmg.com.au
Day 31: Wellington, view from our balcony at the old Wellington Hotel. The evening before the lake crossing, with Jack's Boat in the foreground.
Day 31: Dawn in Wellington. By the time this photo was taken, I had already been on the water for 2 hours and was well away from the shoreline. I could now start to use my compass and maps and was less reliant on my iPhone 'radar'.
Starting off at 4:30am there was no moon, I had to be very careful where everything was and that I would be able to find my way. The beginning was a little deceptive because the strong lights from the ferry at Wellington lit up the whole river. Once past the island of light around the ferry, I paddled into increasing darkness. I had given up the idea of a torch. The river was too wide and it would ruin my night vision. I paddled gingerly into the void, trying to make out where the banks of the river began and which direction the river was headed. One way to make it out was the absence of stars. The sky was full of them. The milky way stretched high across the heavens and the Southern Cross was clearly visible, indicating South. On my deck and tied to the net in front of my cockpit I had my favorite old bushwalking compass. Don’t let me down, old friend. Next to it in its own waterproof bag was my new friend, the one which has made all these reports and photo uploads possible - my iPhone. In addition to this, in its own waterproof map case, I had a small copy of a map of the lake to which I had added the bearings that I would need to take to get to stages of the journey across the lake and the approximate distances. In the same map case, I had a copy of the Murray River Pilot, which gave more detail on beacons, bearings and dangers.
Day 31: Pelicans have been my companions on the Murray since before Mildura. Whilst crossing the lake they often circled low overhead, curious I suppose, but it was nice to think they were kindred spirits.
It was so dark that the maps were useless for the first 13km. It took the one and a half hours I needed to get to the open lake to be able to see them. Up until this time I had to rely on the Maps App from my iPhone. This was brilliant. That CEO should not have resigned! I was able to get a satellite image of where I was, see which direction I was headed and how close to the banks I was. It was close as a sea kayak ever had to having a radar screen. I remember the times I spent on the Nella Dan in the Antarctic. I used to like spending time with the Captain, or mate up in the bridge when I could not sleep and would watch the radar screen which was used to keep a constant lookout for icebergs. The maps app gave a similar sense of security. I used it to navigate safely out into the lake and then used sight and compass bearings from there as my main tools. The maps app was still useful on the open lake however, because it gave me an absolute fix on my position. When navigating it is important to compare where you think you are and where you actually are. This is why the sea captains in the days of sailing ships had to have such accurate clocks and to be able to work with theodolites. The maps app filled this spot for me.
We had heard tales from the old fishermen in the pub about how wild the lake can be. One gentleman with a long grey beard, bad teeth and a firm hand grip said that you have to hope that you have been treating the lady right, because she’ll turn and throw anything at you that she wants. it can be as calm as day everywhere else and she will throw in a storm. Another said that because it is so shallow, only a couple of meters deep the waves whip up quickly. He can remember being out their in a tinny with three other blokes and a storm blew in. The waves were 6 feet and only 6 feet apart. In every trough the outboard motor hit the ground and with every wave water entered the boat. It was so rough, they all had to sit on the bottom of the boat, and all three who weren’t driving bailed the incoming water. “ok”, he said, “the waves were not quite that bad, but it felt like it. “it’s called the Coorong Doctor”, said Heather, one of the party headed for Goolwa the next day, “the Coorong and Lake Alexandrina have their own weather.”
Day 31: Dawn, on Lake Alexandrina.
I headed out into open water. Despite the gentle breeze, there was quite a chop up. I had assured everyone that I would take the coastal route. The fishermen suggested I curve towards the coast but not deviate too far from the passage. I decided to give it a go. After all, Jack’s Boat was also coming this way and would be keeping an eye out for me. I found the first (and it turned out, the last) navigation beacon, set my bearing for Sturt’s Point 26 kilometres away and set off. If I was to have difficulty I could always head South to the coast. The chop became waves which hit me from the right and rear. In addition to the waves being driven by the wind, a second set seemed to exist from the weather that had passed through previously. This bounced the boat around and turned it, either into, or away from the waves, depending on their pattern. Yet the boat kept its course and momentum. I went further and further. At one point I hazarded a look to my left towards the coast, 4 kilometres away. Rolling waves, one after the other raced towards the coast. The sun reflecting off their backs had a different colour, a greyer shade , than the rest of the lake. It was quite unnerving. I knew the same was coming from the 20 kilometres of lake on my left. I told myself, keep calm. People travel around Australia on ocean voyages. If you can handle 5 minutes, you can handle 5 hours. Just keep going, keep calm and keep safe. Every half an hour I rewarded myself with something to nibble on, a 20 second stop and a navigation check with the iPhone. I had my compass on my deck and constantly followed my bearing. This was necessary every wave, because every wave changed my direction. After two hours the land I was headed for became visible. In another hour I was there. Sturt’s point in four and a half hours, with an average speed of eight kilometers an hour. I tell you what though, I am glad all that chop was a tail wind. Did you know that people also swim the Murray... and the lake. How tough would that be?!
Day 31: The Murray, coming into Goolwa.
Day 31: Something comforting and humorous about arriving in civilisation after crossing the lake. There was the most wonderful and friendly yacht club here. The members opened the facilities for us here and told us of all the ways one could get to the mouth. The swimmers always take Mundoo Channel they said. Swimmers! Tough cookies!
Day 31: Clayton Bay, neighbour to Goolwa. Now the Murray has a distinctive marine atmosphere.
Day 31: Arriving in Goolwa.
Day 31: Pulling into my final campsite. My boat has been a good friend. Nothing at all went wrong, there was plenty of room for everything... and it behaved as if it was in its element in Lake Alexandrina. Now it gets a clean and rest.
Day 31: Coming into Goolwa, into the caravan park where we are staying.
The Murray is more of an estuary here than a river. It is very wide.
Day 31: Honouring the river. I now understand that the river does not naturally have a mouth, but rather a series of entrances to the sea. The Coorong is its interchange. Except in times of flood, there is no natural estuary. We have tried to change this with the barrages which join the islands that border Lake Alexandrina, keeping salt water from fresh. The Coorong is the Murray's inland estuary. When the river stopped flowing at this end for much of the last 10 years the Lake was a meter lower than the sea and 5 times as salty. For the sake of the Coorong it would have been better to allow the sea in. I think the idea is to use Alexandrina as a fresh water reserve however. Must find out more about this.
Homeward journey.
I reached the best possible goal I had set that morning, to arrive in Clayton Bay by evening, at 11:30. I had contacted Ruth and Anna and we met for lunch at the yacht club. Whilst there we met Hal and Lucy who had travelled from Goolwa to Echuca and back earlier this year in their yacht (mast removed) to take part in the hundred year celebration of the PS Melbourne. They congratulated me and shared their own story and love for our river and its history. They told how once they hit a snag and the whole front of their yacht rose up and out of the water, it kept going and the yacht was balanced in the air, until it edged on, slipped off and even cleared the motor. It reminded me of all I have seen, all the stories I have heard, all the experiences I have had and am thankful for the opportunity to have experienced these.
The Murray is so full of stories, so full of life, so dynamic. It is waiting to be discovered, again and again, by each in their own way.
Last night I did not eat well, I made the mistake of having a rest before cooking and then was too tired to do anything but nibble. I woke up well enough, but found that despite a good brekkie had no strength. Not good on a day where headwind turned out to be a feature. Headwind around here means waves - usually big enough to sink a TK2, but sometimes as big as a paddle steamers wash. I experimented with style, rests, etc, but nothing seemed to work, so it was grin and bare it. Even a slow pace will get you where you want to be in the long run.
Day 29: A rare patch of sunshine.
Day 29: Today was a day of headwinds from start to finish. The long straights funnel the wind and I just happened to be unlucky in their direction.
My first break was at Younghusband, an odd name, but also the name of a successful land agency all around Australia. Did the founder come from here? I wonder. At Younghusband there is a small caravan park, which has a small shop, which is where everyone meets, that and the truck load of dirt they have tipped near the river, sandbagged it so that it won't flow away and call it a beach. Even at this place of dubious quality, where the toilets are large concrete pipes with doors in them and you find yourself turning around looking for the thing you came in for. Even in this place, you don't walk into the store dripping wet and wearing a gorges lacked thermal and shorts in summer. Fashion crime! The owner looked me over twice, her eyes traceable as she went from top to bottom, and not believing it, did it again. I walked into her shop so she followed me. No she did not have fresh vegetables, only cans and frozen. I considered for a moment, but decided my ageing veggies were better than anything she had in the shop, but bought a pie, as if to show I was normal under all this garb. I don't know why I bothered, it didn't work, this caravan park diva was queen of all she surveyed - even if it was not much - it was hers and everyone came to her.
Younghusband was not a total loss. I met up with two young blokes who had raced past me in a small tinny earlier in the day and with whom I had stopped to chat, when I caught up with them again. This time they had two friends with them. Despite 4 in the small boat it still managed to plane at considerable speed. The boys had picked up hot chips and were about to head back to their shack, but stopped to chat. They were from Adelaide and just up for the weekend. When I mentioned that I was impressed with the speed of their boat, the owner informed me it was a 12 ft pelican, fibreglass and with a 25 HP motor (twice what it should have) and that it could do 50km/hr. on the back it had two huge beach fishing poles, each adorned with a Murray River flag. To make the boat look bigger and faster, I enquired? A smile came in return - of course. I liked these guys, they epitomise the good fun the river can be. As they left one of them asked, "is this as fast as you're going to go?" The driver cranked it up and they were off.
I cooked up some chicken noodle soup for energy and to get warm. The salts from the soup are good for electrolytes, the noodles are easy to digest and deliver slow release energy and the oils longer term energy. The warmth was good to, as I was soaked through and after a while, even with all the gear on, that cools you down. 30 kilometres done, another 20 to Mannum. Refreshed the headwinds seemed a lot more manageable.
Day 29: Finally a good shot of one of the many ferries that cross the river in SA. It's free, so you can go back and forth as many times as you want!
Day 29: The business end of the Marion.
In Mannum, just after the ferry and the magnificently restored paddle steamer, Marion is a huge park. The park stretched almost from one end of the town to the other, it had zones for paddle steamers, visiting houseboats, swimmers, speed boats and jet skis. It was full of people, locals and visitors alike. As I drifted in looking for a place to stop, a fella, Jeff, offered to give me a hand and suggested I pull in where he was, "there aren't any better places". I hauled me boat up the 1 metre high bank and then began to chat with him. He was reading car magazines and was supervising his grandson. He could keep an eye on the boat. I should visit the pub, the supermarket (we have a supermarket!) and the bakery in his opinion. I showed him my map and asked his opinion on my choice of campsite. Yep, that should be good - though he did keep forgetting what we had just talked about, so that was a mild concern. I took up his offer and strolled first through the park and then through town.
Randall's square boiler. On his first voyage it began to bulge. Randall wrapped bullock chains around the boiler and used wooden wedges to tighten them.
Stuff for sale: Mannum blacksmiths.
There are plenty of original buildings in Mannum. This town has character and charm.
I was so impressed with the park. Amazing what a small town of 3 - 5,000 people can do. It included historical monuments, band stands, room for everyone, and, in the middle of everything, a rowing club. Murray Bridge's rowing team, 'The Cods' represented Australia in the 1924 Olympics in Paris and being a neighbouring town, their would have been local rivalry. Directly behind the park is a row of old houses; all people's homes. Mannum seems to live its history. Walking up the hill to the main street, there are more old homes. Christmas carols are playing from speakers in the streets. The lamp posts are decorated with over sized tinsel and bells. My eye falls on the bakery and I walk in, order a coffee and a 'London Bun' as the girl behind the counter doesn't know what a coffee scroll is, and take in the scene. A couple of motor bike riders, in full leathers, two elderly couples who have just stepped out of a vintage car and a young family. Time is getting on, but I continue along the main street. One of the bikie guys is there. He introduces himself as Don. He used to come here as a kid, as his parents had a shack up the river, and now had just come up from Adelaide for lunch. He said he often comes here to gaze at the river and enjoy the atmosphere in town. Everyone is friendly and it relaxes him. Time to go. It turns out that Jeff is still watching my boat. Almost everyone else has gone from the park.
Jeff used to be a dairy farmer, but all the local dairy farmers got out of the game. Falling milk prices and rising costs made government offers of water buy-backs hard to resist. He lived in Adelaide for a while, to be close to the kids, but came back because he likes the quiet here. Jeff told me to keep my eye out for a new marina development downstream from town. That used to be dairy farms, he said. You've still got a long way to go to the sea you know. I skied it once. Bloody near killed me.
Off again. 2 hours till camp at Woodside Reserve. The winds have dropped and only occasionally cause a bit of trouble. I arrive at camp about 6pm, change into dry clothes and begin to cook up something warm. The reserve seems to be set out for specific groups, but I can't seem to find the sign for canoeists paddling towards the sea, so I camped just the other side of a hedge. It doesn't seem like anyone lives in this town anyway. Perhaps it is all holiday homes, I thought. With this in mind, I cooked and ate under the members only sign on a cry nicely placed table and bench.
Day 29: Campsite at Woodland reserve, downstream from Mannum.
Serenity... Except for that rumble. Out of the dark came the MV Proud Mary. It's spot lights scanning the bank. It pulled up 100m further down. It seems that Woodland Reserve is its home port. I had considered camping just next to their sign too. Glad I didn't. Those spot lights were strong!
Last day of the river tomorrow. Just under 60 kilometres to Wellington... And then we shall look at the lake. Google+ Entire Photo Album
Day 28: Goodbye Blanchetown and the last of the Locks (lock 1). The difference in height between the downstream side of lock 1 and Goolwa is only 75 cm. so there will not be much current for the next 300km.
Day 28: Interesting weather ahead.
The forecast for today was ominous, South Westerly winds 15 to 20 km/hr gusting to 40. I am on the section of the Murray which heads South. It has seen the promised land and wants to go to the sea. It does that by heading South - right into the wind. The first straight was 16 kilometres long, longer even than the one leading into Moorook. I decided to get up and leave early, since the winds are usually calmer in the mornings. Not so this morning. I woke at 5 am, tried to get a bit more sleep, but to no avail. A gale was blowing outside. I waited 30 minutes and then began to pack. Luckily, in this time the wind calmed and I was able to begin my day's journey in calm conditions. As heavy clouds were building and the forest predicted rain, I put on my heavy spray deck. As well as keeping out water much better than my summer spray deck (which only covers half the cockpit) it keeps me much warmer. Anything that keeps you warm when wet is welcome.
Day 28: Aussie pride.
Day 28: Windmill against a dark sky. Leaving Blanchetown.
Day 28: River landscape: between Blanchetown and Big Bend.
I passed the point where Eyre made his camp 6 kilometres South of Blanchetown. It looked a nice spot, but a bit of a let down after the adventures of his great exploration. The South Australian government valued his ability to make peace with the aboriginal people, but it must have been lonely there. Perhaps Eyre did not want the city life, but he must have longer for educated conversation and recognition from his peers. Despite investing heavily in an irrigation scheme for the area, Eyre left for England only two years after taking his position at Blanchetown. What happened to him in England I do not know, but geographical societies were all the rage for gentlemen in those days and a man of his experience and good character would have been a sort after discussion partner for those wanting to learn about the colonies.
Day 28: Old irrigation pumps, downstream from Blanchetown.
Day 28: What shacks used to be like. Now they are more like condominiums.
Day 28: What shacks used to be like. Now they are more like condominiums.
Day 28: Big Bend. Between Blanchetown and Walkers Flat.
Day 28: 220km later, the cliffs are still spectacular.
Day 28: Headwinds, my constant companion since the river turned South.
In Swan Reach the river has a bend. Gasp! Finally! The cliffs on either side force it to. Rivers erode the banks on the outside of their bends, because there the force of the current is greater. They deposit sediment on the inside of their bends because the slower water there and edges cause it to drop sand and mud. Over time, the river moves through the space available to it, much like a hundred snake tracks. In the wide sections of the Murray, billabongs can be quite far from the river, as when the river takes a new track it has a lot of choices. Between these cliffs there is not so much room. If we were to watch its action sped up it would look like a writhing snake, trying to get out of its confines, but unable to, hitting one wall and then the next and repeating this over and over again. In Swan Reach, the cliffs are clearly visible on either side of the river, one forming one of its banks and the other a bit further away and every space in between is filled with billabongs. It is a paradise for wildlife to rival Kakadu.
Day 28: General store in Walker's Flat. Community hub, information and great chips!
Old fishing signs: public and commercial.
Day 28: Afternoon light, Murray Cliffs, Walkers Flat.
The villages here have interesting names. Travelling along this section of river I passed through Moorunde, Portee, Kooloola, Punyelroo, Nildottie, Wongulla and Walker's Flat. In Walker's Flat I stopped, tempted by the nice green lawns next to the ferry and the possibility of a treat at the shop. In the shop was a sticker, "Where the bloody hell is Walker's Flat - down the road from Wongulla you idiot". The Walker's Flat shop is a real community hub, where the owner, not only makes it his business to get people to talk together and share their stories, but also has local history on the walls of his shop. He was helpful in pointing out good camping sites and a few to avoid. He also makes very good hot chips :) . A fishermen burst in all excited whilst I was there, "My son just caught a catfish! You want to see a picture? It's a real beauty". The owner said he would like to put a copy of the photo up on the shop wall for all to see and would contact the local newspaper. The fishermen said that he had not caught a catfish in 20 years, when the river was a lot cleaner. He thought this was a sign of improving health in the river. Soon I was talking to the people at the table next to me and the young mum who came in, "Do you realise it is less than 6 weeks till the kids go back to school", he said teasingly. Some people are just what a small community needs. The owner told me that more and more people are travelling the river by kayak or canoe. Recently a man did the length of the Murray on a stand up paddle board. A young bloke with a bad back. He could not sit down. He completed the journey in 3 months. Hats off.
Day 28: Campsite at Bolts Landing.
Day 28: Campsite at Bolts Landing.
Day 28: Campsite at Bolts Landing.
Day 28: Campsite at Bolts Landing.
Day 28: Campsite at Bolts Landing.
Big Bend is as its name suggests, big. It took 16 kilometres to get around it. Camped somewhere on this bend was a friend I had made on Facebook and a member of the South Australian Marathon Canoe Club and I was looking for him. After 8 kilometres I found Darren and his 3 sons fishing. I pulled in and had lunch with them. These people are expert wind paddlers. Us 'upper Murray' paddlers have no idea how often and how strong the headwinds are here. If you have paddled the Murray 200, then you have had a taste of it. Darren accompanied me for 5 km before returning to his family. It was a nice gesture and actually the first time someone has paddled with me since I left Echuca 1500 km ago. The are a lot of quiet stretches of river out there.
Following the Walker's Flat shop keeper's tip I found an excellent campsite at a place where a creek found its way between the cliffs called Bolts Landing. I don't know who Bolt is, but the present owner keeps sheep. Three herds have passed through my peaceful campsite already tonight! Apart from that small inconvenience, the view is spectacular. On the other side of the river farmland is bathed in gentle evening light, the ripples on the river catch the sunlight as sparkles, in the foreground are tall luxuriant growths of trees and the whole view is framed by old river red gums. Behind me limestone studded hills rise to join the cliffs that were before this place and continue on afterwards. Evening falls.
Day 28: Evening light at my Bolts Landing Campsite.
