Goulburn River Paddle Day 1. Eildon - Molesworth.

0 - 57 (57) km

Introduction



The Goulburn is not much of a river when it enters the Murray - most of the time. I live and grew up in Echuca, 18 kilometres downstream from the confluence of these two rivers. I have often visited the junction, as we call it, and rarely does the river push far into the Murray. Rather than speed up the river, paddlers know it as the place that the Murray slows down, as from this point on it comes under the influence of the Torrumbarry weir 80 kilometres further downstream. Occasionally however, it is a different story: when the Goulburn is in flood, it reaches the top of its 8 metre banks and, it's bed no longer able to contain it, it flows into the Murray through the forest in three different places. It has been known to cause the Murray to flow backwards as far upstream as the Barmah Lakes and even without a contribution from the Murray and the Campaspe, to cause widespread flooding in Echuca. When high volumes of water are moving down these rivers simultaneously, the effect can be catastrophic for the communities downstream.

Map of the Goulburn catchment Source
The Goulburn obviously had power and a majesty all her own. Equally clear was that, living down the bottom end of that valley, I did not get to see it. This is where the idea to paddle the Goulburn came from.

The Broken River, a tributary to the Goulburn. In the 460km from Eildon to Echuca the river changes from a fast flowing mountain stream to a meandering river, making it very interesting to canoe down. Picture Source


In October 1824, Hume and Hovell left NSW to explore land between Cumberland and Westernport. Their party of eight included six convicts, two carts, horses and donkeys. On December 4th they crossed the Goulburn River at what is now Molesworth, seeking a passage from Sydney to Spencer
Gulf. Hovell recorded that there was “an abundance of fine grass and both hills and lowlands are thinly covered with timber. It is our opinion that we have not seen a more agreeable and interesting country since leaving home”. They camped on the banks of the Goulburn for two days at Christmas, s ‘in order that they might avail themselves of the fine fish which abound in its waters, as well as refresh the cattle.’ Hume and Hovell named the river after the then Colonial Secretary of NSW, Sir Frederick Goulburn. It paid to honour your sponsors even then. Of course it had many names before this. The Wurundjeri tribe and Taungurung language speakers are the traditional owners of the land, known as Murrindindi (ref 1, 2). Near Alexandra it was known as Koriella, lower down the valley, near Nagambie, it was known as Bayunga ref: http://home.vicnet.net.au/~goulburnriverclans/
Map showing the route Hume and Hovell took in their 1824 expedition, during which they were the first European settlers to record a crossing of the Goulburn River. Image source

The Goulburn Valley is home to 215,000 people. It is used to irrigate 270,000 ha of private land and over 880,000 ha of public land. It has 70% of Victoria's fresh water storage reserves, around 50% of Victoria's underground water supplies and Australia's largest irrigation delivery network (more info). Channels supply water to land around Benalla, Shepparton, Kyabram and Nagambie, within the valley and via the Waranga Basin, further afield to towns along the Campaspe and Loddon as well as the growing cities of Ballarat and Bendigo. A controversial pipeline even throws a lifeline to Melbourne, should that 4 million metropol run dangerously low on water again as it did in 2009. The Goulburn is even used to supply cities such as Adelaide with a good flow, when not enough water is able to come down the Murray for that purpose without flooding low lying communities such as Picnic Point in the Barmah Forest.

Map showing how water from the Goulburn is shared between valleys and cities in Victoria.
Map Source; Goulburn Murray Water

Given all these demands and the regulation that helps the river meet them, the river is surprisingly in good ecological condition. It is full of snags, which keeps larger boats and the problems caused by their wash away. Vegetation growth along the banks is strong minimising the effect of erosion by cattle and providing habitat for wildlife. After Shepparton, there is almost 200 kilometres of river redgum forest - now a national park. It was declared a heritage river in 1992. It is no wonder fishermen love it.

Tahbilk Wetlands

Our Toyota Echo packed and ready to go.
Eildon - Thornton (0 - 14 km)

Our journey began in Eildon, where my son Tim and I put into the water just below pondage number two at just after 11 am. The pondages are designed to increase the temperature of the water to cause less disruption to native fish breeding than would be so if the freezing water from the bottom of lake Eildon was allowed to flow directly into the river below. Whilst I have no doubt that this has some effect, it was still pretty damn fresh when we got it.


At the boat ramp immediately downstream of the Eildon pondage.

The current in the Upper Goulburn is strong, running at around 6km/hr.

'Bus stop' 3 km from Eildon.

We entered the Goulburn after 20 or 30 members of a white water kayak race, feeling a little out of place with our almost 6 metre long sea kayaks. Three kilometres later we met them again, still at the rapids they had finished at. Some cheered as we picked our way between the rocks and pressure waves that followed them. I had been nervous about how the boats would handle this section, but needn't have worried, even fully loaded, they kept their line well and were more than capable of handling the waves.

Site of the rapids at Bluegums Caravan Park, where the downriver race finished, where OEG have a base camp and where gates are set up for whitewater training. Source: Google Earth.
'The Sump'. About 3km from Eildon.


Straight near Point Hill Reserve, about 5km from Eildon.

The water is clean and clear with visibility easily over a metre. It is interesting to watch the bottom of the river, with all its colours as you paddle over it. It is almost like canoeing over a coral reef in a glass bottomed boat.
Initially the river flows through a cultured landscape. It is surrounded by farms and many of the trees that line its banks are non-native. In this section, we saw very few signs of erosion or pollution. The water was very cold and clear. It was often quite deep; bends opened lazily into long straights.





One of the first things Tim and I noticed was how clear the water was. We could easily see a metre through the water. It appeared crystal clear. We could see the full outline of our boats hulls as they glid through the water. Our paddles seemed shorter and leaves being tossed by the current deep in the river took on a life of their own as they reflected alternately, their own colour and then the colour of the sky.
I was struck how clear the water was and how healthy the water plants were. They swayed noiselessly back and forth in the current beneath our hulls as we passed over them.




It is 442 km from the base of Lake Eildon to the junction of the Goulburn with the Murray River. Goulburn-Murray Water estimate that it takes water in the river 10 days to travel that distance on average. We aimed to match that, although as we don't travel 24/7, it meant that we would have to do some paddling as well to achieve the same. That's the tiring bit. We had our first break just after Gilmore's Bridge, 18 km from where we had put in. It was a lovely flat area with a low bank which we could run the boats up onto and had plenty of shade to have a rest in as well. Officially there is no wild camping allowed between Eildon and Alexandra, but in an emergency, there are plenty of places to pull in.
Map source: Goulburn River Boating Guide GBCMA



Goulburn River profile, showing altitude, distance and time the river takes to reach its junction with the Murray River.


Video grabs of what it is like to paddle on the river in this section.




The Upper Goulburn experienced a gold rush after the discovery at Jamison in 1854. In 1886, the 'Yea Chronicle' reported that the first crush of quartz and Prosser's Reef (just a few kilometres upstream from Thornton) had been most promising. Gold dust can still be found in streams by people panning for gold. More info: 1.



Thornton beach 2017.  (Source: Google Earth Map of area). Image: TerryBickerton


Thornton Bridge
The first town we passed through was Thornton; like Eildon, a small place, so small that they share a football team, the 'shinboners', or 'boners' for short. Despite three premierships in 2000, 2001 and 2003, the club went into recess because of lack of players, but has now reformed and has great hopes for the future. Thornton is halfway between Eildon and Alexandra. Just before passing under Thortnon bridge (which takes you onto the Eildon back road), the Goulburn Valley Fly Fishing Centre (GVFFC) complex appears on the left, where they teach the art of fly fishing, run drift boat tours and offer accommodation. Thornton caravan park is set on the left bank of the river, just after passing the fly fishing centre and before you get to the bridge. The caravan park and the 'beach' are probably the best places to pull out if you would like to go into town for a look around.


A flyfishing drift boat. We saw a guide in one of these expertly negotiating the eddies below the 'sump' rapids at Blue Gums. They call it streamcraft... and yes, they teach that too at the GVFFC
(image source: visitmelbourne


Thornton to the Alexandra (14 - 34 km from Eildon).


A great spot for a lunch break. We ran our kayaks up on the shore and were able to step onto dry land. 


Goulburn Valley Highway (Gilmore's Bridge) 18 km from Eildon. 
We were to pass under it twice today, once just after Thornton and then a second time just before Molesworth.


After 26 km, the Acheron a River enters from the South. Just before this, is one of the nicest situated caravan parks I have ever seen. It is called the 'Breakaway' and it was full of people who looked like they would prefer their patch of paradise remained a secret.

Breakaway Caravan Park is set right on the river under shady, safe trees. Ideal for canoeists and fishermen.

The breakaway gets its name because at this point, once the river reaches about 8,000 ML/d, flow starts going down the old course of the river, effectively turning the Goulburn into two rivers. There are remnants of levees in the mid-Goulburn. Indeed, levees on the riverbanks may have been the reason that the Goulburn has a breakaway near Alexandra. Two stories for the origin of the breakaway were heard — it was a neighbourly dispute with landholders on opposites sides of the riverbank building up the levees in competition until eventually one side blew and the breakaway formed with a new river course. Another version is that the breakaway started in 1912 following a big flood (the watercourse went through three properties, splitting them up). The breakaway was then further entrenched by feuding farmers raising levees on their own property to prevent flooding.
http://www.mdba.gov.au/sites/default/files/Reach-reports/GRR-Loch-Garry-to-River-Murray.pdf


River heights can change rapidly on this stretch. Releases from Eildon are not always planned, but could be in reaction to heavy rain in the mountains above the dam. In general, the river is highest in summer, due to the need for water for irrigation downstream, with releases of 8,000ML per day usual and up to 18,000ML per day in short term environmental flows designed to improve the condition of the river bed, banks and billabongs. These changes in flow usually are brought in gradually, however are good reason not to camp too close to the water level.




Sudden changes, or flash floods happen following heavy rains in the area, because of the unregulated rivers which enter the Goulburn on this stretch. The Rubicon River, Acheron River, Spring Creek, Home Creek and Yea River are all known as 'flashy' because of how fast they respond to rainfall in their catchment. It pays to keep your eyes and ears open.

Just before Alexandra, the river disappears in a maze of willows. We took the left channel, which ended up only being a metre wide. Going off this 2012 aerial shot by Google Maps, it would have been better to try the right channel.

Maroondah Highway bridge near Alexandra. When preparing for your trip, or driving in, bridges give you an opportunity to check water level and flow.  It is one thing to look up levels on a website, but nothing beats seeing them firsthand.

Alexandra to Molesworth (34 - 57 km from Eildon).

An afternoon break in the shade at Brooke's Reserve Canoe Camp, 2 km downstream from Alexandra. 




The river bed is usually between 25 and 40 metres wide in this section, around 2 metres deep and with a current of around 6 km/hr. As it snakes through the landscape it bounces from one set of hills across the plains to another and then repeats. Each valley crossing involves many turns and often takes 8 or 10 km because of these. Sometimes the river runs right into one of its giant neighbours and turns dramatically.

At times the river runs dramatically right into the hills that define its valley, bouncing off them as if they were a mirror, or running alongside in a silent challenge.


In many places willows cover the banks. Sometimes these grow so thickly that there is only 5 metres of river left to paddle on. If they manage to take a toe hold on a gravel race in the middle of the river as well as on the sides, then watch out. This happened at around 34 km into the trip. Rounding the bend it was not at all clear where the river went to. In truth, most just went straight through the willows which acted as strainers all the way across the river. Slowly edging our way along the bank, (because it is easier to pull out there if you are in trouble than in the middle), we noticed a metre wide gap. Once through, the river opened up again. When stones or trees channel the current into a narrow shoot, its speed increases dramatically. On one occasion, we were able to push our speed up to 18 km/hr, however or average was 9.8.


Sky and riverbanks reflected in the still water. 

An old and collapsing private bridge, with grass growing on it, about 5 km before Molesworth.
Our initial aim was to overnight at Brooke's Reserve Canoe Camp 2 km downstream from Alexandra, however as we arrived at around 3pm, we decided to push on, eventually arriving at Molesworth at around 6:30 pm, having paddled 57 km for the day.

Map source: Goulburn River Boating Guide GBCMA

Passing under the Goulburn Valley Highway bridge at Molesworth. There are actually two bridges; the first is an old rail bridge which is now used for the Goulburn River High Country Rail Trail (walk / cycle / ride) which follows the river off and on, from Mansfield, through to Tallarook. 
The water remained clear all day. We saw three platypuses, a sacred kingfisher, black swans (which appeared to be protecting a nest), black ducks, moor hens, several murders of crows, crimson rosellas and raucous small groups of cockatoos.




Our camping spot at Molesworth, about 150m from their boat ramp. Having a kayak trolley meant that we didn't have to unpack to move the boats, which saved time and energy, both of which we were short of at the end of the day.

In camp, Tim and I enjoyed a good hot shower and a well flavoured trangia meal - the secret ingredient being a curry sauce. I was glad we had that, as I had also experimented with tinned ham - which unfortunately looked and had the consistency of dog food.

Lowbidgee Day 8: arriving at the confluence between the Murrumbidgee and Murray Rivers.

Murrumbidgee: Hay - Murray River (near Boundary Bend) Day 8: arriving at the Murray River. 44km.


Mike Bremers: Murrumbidgee Canoe Trip 1995-2008
My camp was at the 48.7km mark (52km by GPS) on this map. I got away early and soon passed Canally Station (which, like Pevensey Station, has a paddle steamer named after it).
Mike Bremers: Murrumbidgee Canoe Trip 1995-2008
The river twists and turns in this lower section. Sturt, exasperated, complained that the river followed every point of the compass at some stages (around the 50 and 80 km mark on these maps).

It had been a cold night, but I kept warm in my sleeping bag by pulling the hood down over my head until it resembled a frog. Out of the slit between the hood and the body of the sleeping bag I could breath and catch a glimpse of light. I feel claustrophobic when all the drawstrings are pulled tight, fearing that I could not get out in a hurry, or that the strings will get wrapped around my neck and strangle me, but with this arrangement the hood kept me warm without the feeling of being trapped. Other than the normal twists and turns associated with sleeping on the ground, I slept well. So well, that I slept through the first alarm that went off in the morning and it was only by chance that I awoke 20 minutes later at 5:50am to find the birds in full chorus and the light strong enough to make out everything without a torch. I packed methodically and efficiently, so that in 20 minutes, all of my gear was beside the boat, ready for stowing away.


Morning light on my camp near Canally station.



I made breakfast, dressed in my paddling gear (which had dried overnight), secured the solar panel and the clips to my battery behind my seat in the cockpit. The log beside my boat meant that I could get in without muddy feet, which was nice. I pushed off and than poked around till I found a way out between the saplings, eating breakfast gradually as I eased into padding. The morning was the coldest yet, only 3 degrees, so I was well rugged up, with a heavy neoprene spray deck, gortex jacket and beanie. I used a cut up stubby holder to stop water running down my sleeves and into my top. They worked surprisingly well.


The PS Canally: named after Canally Station and now under restoration in Morgan S.A. was known as the 'greyhound of the river' ,however not without controversy, as this report on a race between it and the PS Alexander Arbuthnot in 1913 shows.
3/9/1913 - Riverina Recorder Steamer Rivalry - The Barham 'Bridge' says that much rivalry exists between the connections of the Arbuthnot and the Canally as to which is the fastest boat and in a speed trial recently the owners of the latter claimed that their vessel was superior in this direction. The engineer of the Arbuthnot could not develop the speed which he knew his boat to be possessed of, and on examination of the smoke box it was discovered that some individual (presumably a rival) had dropped a brick down the funnel. The draught from the furnaces being considerably interfered with in consequence. Given a fair trial the crew of the Arbuthnot reckon they can beat anything on the river. (Source: Friends of the Canally).
The river is always changing...

in the morning, the sunlight almost invites you to discover each bend...

On the water there was a steady current of between one and one and a half kilometres an hour, seemingly faster in some places and slower in others. Reception was good throughout the day, as I moved out from the Murrumbidgee floodplain and into the Murray Darling Basin depression. The difference between paddling down the Murray and the Lower Murrumbidgee is that in the later you are paddling through an established ephemeral wetland. When the ‘bidgee floods (which naturally happens with the snow melt in September and October) it runs into parallel overflow channels which run for hundreds of kilometres – some for as far upstream as Narrandera. These then feed into smaller channels and lake systems. Some of these are used again today to maintain the natural landscape and environment in a healthy condition, which is why there are so many sea eagles here: their hunting is not confined to the river channel, but includes the lakes and wetlands around it. As I neared the Murray the last of these re-entered the river and the landscape became drier. The air smelt different, drier and the species of birds changed, there were more cockatoos, corellas and galahs and there were less eagles, kangaroos and emus. With every paddle stroke I was nearing the Murray – all my senses told me so.

which may open up into great straights...

or a tangle of snags...
The map was less convincing. The river twists and turns the whole way from Hay to the Murray River, but in the last section of the Lower ‘bidgee it seems to put in a special effort, as if it was saying ‘please let me do my own thing a little longer’. There are two points a little before and after Marnie Station, where the ‘bidgee has straights of a kilometre at every point of the compass, first East, then North, then West, then South. It left Sturt exasperated during his exploration of the river, “…(the river) in its tortuous course, swept round to every point of the compass with the greatest irregularity.”


Mike Bremers: Murrumbidgee Canoe Trip 1995-2008
Detail showing how the river seems not to be able to make up its mind which direction it wants to flow in...
Link to video footage of a re enactment of Sturt's Journey.


A plan by Sir John Monash proposing the possibility of irrigation and wetland coexistence.(Yanga Station Display).
Fisherman's shack.

Around Manie Station the snags were particularly bad. About 75 km downstream from Balranald a tree trunk with a diameter of almost a meter, completely blocks the river. I found a gap big enough to let my sea kayak through at the top end of the snag, however at lower water levels this would not have been an option and a portage would have been unavoidable. I avoided portages, because they meant unloading and reloading the boat (probably in the mud). In the next ten kilometers so may tree blocked the river, that I lost count. Most were small enough that I could push through the smaller twiggy branches, duck underneath, or slide over with a run up. On one, however, my run up was not fast enough and I spent some moments with both ends of the boat in the air, like a balance scale. I managed to continue by pushing down onto the snag, lifting my boat in the process. It was impossible to paddle off, or to pull my self over. Those few moments where I was stuck, with my tail rudder slowly catching the current and threatening to turn my boat sideways, seemed much longer than they actually were. My heart beat loudly, adrenalin pushed already tired arms and an exhausted body to go harder than ever seeking a release, which eventually came. The escape feeling must be similar to that in a hunted animal. It takes some minutes to calm down again and labored breathing to blow off all the accumulated carbon dioxide. I wondered how Sturt managed such problems in his whale-boat. Indeed, even in the higher river that he had (“We were carried at a fearful rate down its gloomy and contracted banks.”) he will have had issues with large snags and blockages of debris.



A large tree completely blocking the Murrumbidgee. I was able to slip around in a metre sized gap on te left hand side.

Here, an impressive clay reef stubbornly refuses to be eroded on the outside of a bend in the Murrumbidgee.

I passed five stations today, of which Canally was the first and the prettiest. It was a well maintained, white painted wooden weatherboard building with verandahs on all sides. In front of the house and to one side stood a windmill and a water tank on a tower, providing water pressure for the house. The tower was overgrown with a flowering vine, which gave a sweet scent to the air and would have provided a home to small birds, as well as keeping the tank water cooler in summer. It was from this homestead that I could hear the children’s voices last night. It struck me that those kids would have a good childhood; the place looked cared for and they were surrounded not only by fertile land, but the most beautiful natural environment. Waldara could not be seen easily from the water, only water tanks and farm machinery gave way its presence. Tarana was a well kept large traditional looking station, with large sheds, at least the equal of Yanga Station (now preserved in as part of a National Park further upstream); the only difference was that this one was cared for and still in use.

Succession is a problem on farms (ABC report), many things have to be right for the younger generations to be able to take over from the older. Some manage it: in Yanga Station, one of the signs spoke of a station that had been in the one family for well over a hundred years. In these days of increasing foreign and corporate ownership, it must be a worry of many land-owners that the past and the environment they have cared for will be looked after just as well by the people who follow in their footsteps.



Nearing the junction.

Just before Manie Station, there was a new and narrow cutting, but the water was so shallow here and the possibility of being wedged against the snags at its outlet into the main stream made me decide to be cautious and not take that short cut. There was a fair drop in the river here, I could tell from the difference in water level between the top of the cutting and the bottom. I calculated that in the 400 km I had paddled that the river had dropped around 20m, that is 5cm a kilometer. In the kilometer that this cutting would have saved I noticed about a 20 to 30 cm drop, which means that the river must be pooling behind clay reefs in many other places. The kilometer past Manie station was full of snags and the fast current through here made paddling it like doing a slalom course. It could not be taken slowly. It had to be done at full power to have maximum steerage and the speed to go over small horizontal branches. I did get through. Manie station is set well back from the river. I was able to see tanks, but little else. A later look at Google Earth, confirmed its location, well back from the bank.

In this area, stations tend to be built on areas of red soil, as the pioneers learnt that these areas tend not to be flooded. Weimby, the last station before the Murray was no exception, again, the house cannot be clearly seen, but you will know that you are there when you see the rusty old remains of an old corrugated iron water tank which has been rolled to the river’s edge, along with a collection of other rubbish. It used to be common practice for farmers to dump their old vehicles off the river bank and watch them rust away. It must have been a period of detachment form the environment, when motorization, the lure and power of the combustion engine, made people feel that they did not need the environment, only enough machinery to bend it to their will. Thank God, those days have passed and rubbish dumping on this kind of scale is a rarity now.



Just before the junction I came across three old wooden boats with single cylinder engines. The three gentlemen owner-builders had come together from different corners of Victoria for an outing from Boundary bend and had pulled up for lunch a kilometre up the Murrumbidgee. As I passed them they had just lit a fire for lunch and invited me to join them, however with only a kilometre to go and the knowledge that Ruth was waiting for me, I was in no mood for a long break. It is only possible to travel about 4 to 5 kilometres up the Murrumbidgee in a boat like these before the passage is completely blocked by snags, however even this short foray awakes nostalgia. Enter into the Murrumbidgee and you step into the past, a time when white Australia was young, naive and hopeful, when the whistle of a paddlesteamer meant civilisation and the chance of prosperity, success depended on ingenuity, luck, and the whims of a river fed by storms and snow 1000 km away.
My camp by Canally Station was the end of the pure Lower Murrumbidgee Seasonal Wetland; bits of it reappear now and again, but farmland, with its sheep, goats and cattle are much more prominent. There is a change in the birdlife too. I saw no more of the sea eagles that have been so much a feature of this trip on this day and fewer pelicans. Corellas, cockatoos and galahs became more common, the crowns of the trees bright with their audacious character. The air smelt different too, it was a dry air, that told of drying soil and warned of the approaching summer. It was as though the river had been a playground and here were the realities of life. The ‘bidgee, with all its cheeky character and life was about to enter a river of a whole other scale. The teen was about to meet its parent. The junction was near.



Not that I was keen to end the paddle, but after 8 days and 400km it was great to reach the Murray.


The confluence of the Murrumbidgee and the Murray Rivers. Fishermen seemed to be having quite a bit of luck where the current swirls as the two rivers meet.
It happens suddenly. One last bend to the right, shorter than expected and the grey waters of the ‘bidgee join the green waters of the Murray. Swirls show where their currents meet in an unavoidable embrace. On the opposite bank I see my girl. Ruth has driven, as she always does, hours to meet me. I break into a sprint. A feeling a happiness, relief, satisfaction and privilege run through me. I feel privileged to have paddled the lower ‘bidgee. Not many people seem to have done it in the last few decades. It is the forgotten river, and all the more special for being so. The snags that make it so difficult, also protect it and provide home to so many animals above and below the water. Increasing my pace till my arms ache, I build my speed both as expression of my feelings, to show that I am well and to launch up on the bank on the Victorian side of the Murray. My boat makes a crunching sound as it slides up, over the sand. I release the spray deck and stagger to an upright position, walk to my girl and we hug. The lower ‘bidgee has been a challenge, but worth every kilometer.


Hanging up gear to dry before loading my boat for the trip home to Echuca.