Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 54: 16 km Clayton Bay 8th Dec & Day 55: Murray Mouth 9th Dec

Point Sturt to the Murray Mouth

This day’s story was told in the form of annotations from photographs posted on Facebook.

After thunderstorms for most of the night and 75 km winds predicted for the day, at 6am there was a window of calm, which I took. It did not take long for the waves to build however, and soon I found myself pushing through 1m high waves and 50 km hour winds. I made it around Sturt Point to Clayton Bay, where I stored the boat at the yacht club and waited for the calm weather predicted for the next day. 

My camp at Sturt Point was a true shelter in a storm. There is a small grassy area where you can pull in and a sandy spot behind the reeds. I camped up on the slight rise, which provided a lovely view over the lake and the thunderstorms that evening. 

Leaving Sturt Point, whilst the water was still calm at 6 am. It did not take long till I was fighting my way through 50km winds and 1m rollers and chop, which gave me a real workout. With the weather deteriorating I decided to stop at Clayton Bay and finish the journey the next day when the weather was predicted to improve. 

This old stone building had a 'secret entrance' below eye level. When the reeds grow high it would not be visible. Made me think of pirate stories and smuggler's caves. Arrrr... to be sure. 

All my gear packed and ready to take to where I am meeting my family at Sugar's beach. The last stretch can be done without gear - nice! I have had no equipment failures, but a few loses: the most important of which was my comb. I ended up looking pretty wild and woolly in the last month. I blame the lack of a comb ;).

It seems like almost everyone in Goolwa wants to live close to the water. How many places are holiday homes and how many were occupied permanently was hard to tell, but I appreciated the importance people placed on their relationship with the river.

Pelicans feeding along the edge of the reeds in a residential area on the outskirts of Goolwa. 

Oscar W, looking in great condition at the Goolwa Wharf. 

Goolwa barrage has a lock with sliding gates. It’s worth going through, even if it is for the chat with the lock master. I forgot to ring ahead, but they saw me coming and came out to see us. 

Coorong National Park and three cormorants who think the sign is a pretty good place to sit. 

t was a treat to have my son, Tim accompany me for the last 25 kilometres to the Murray Mouth. We took our time, enjoying the opportunity to see the wildlife so close. 

After being let through the Goolwa barrage, we entered the Coorong National Park. The water is shallow and full of bird life. I had the feeling that not many boats pass through here. It was the realm of wildlife. Within the space of 10 minutes, Tim and I saw 5 Australian fur seals, two playing with fish they had just caught and followed eagerly by small groups of seagulls. 

Paddling the Goolwa channel was a nice experience. First to see the civilisation and boat culture of Goolwa. Almost every house had at least one boat. They came in all shapes and sizes. And almost every house had a flag pole. The water's edge was thick with reeds, which water birds like black swans, purple swamp hens, cormorants, terns and ducks used to protect their young, or rest. We saw lots of pelicans fishing.

Many places have piers. They protect the shore, but from the viewpoint of this seagull, provide excellent places to sit. 

Just in front of the Murray Mouth. Wasn't sure about getting too close as the currents were pretty strong. Will check it out a bit more tomorrow. 

Paddling towards my family after reaching the Murray Mouth. Satisfaction, pride, relief and a sense of gratitude. 

Putting in a big finish as I paddle the last couple of hundred meters towards the mouth. 

Feeling euphoric on reaching the Murray Mouth. 2,224km and 36,000 photos later. Ruth, Anna and Tim met me there. Tim paddled the last 25km with me. Although it was a relaxed wind-down, especially after the heavy weather of the last few days, I could not help a sprint towards the mouth. You always gotta give your best at the finish. — in Goolwa South. 

Pulling out at Sugars Beach after paddling to the mouth. There is something special about following a river to the sea. Its passage affects so many people, so many environments and touches on history way longer than our own, and yet its importance is here and now. It connects communities, ecosystems and enterprises and each has the possibility to positively complement the other. You often see the best of people around rivers. I have seen wonderful things and met great people on this trip. You often get compliments at the end of these things, but really, it has been my privilege: a privilege made first and foremost possible by my family. 

My journey from the Hume to the Murray Mouth is over. Thank you to everyone who has been following me, who has shown their support along the way, be it sponsorship, words of encouragement, a cup of tea when it was needed most, a bed for the night, transport help, company on the water, a hot meal or shower, showing friendliness, even liking and sharing my posts. I hope that the results of my study will make a difference. Your support has made the world of difference to me. I will always appreciate it.

 

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 53 Tailem Bend - Point Sturt

Tailem Bend to Point Sturt

Distance to Murray Mouth from Point Sturt measured using Google Maps following the path I took to the Murray Mouth through Goolwa.

I set my alarm early so that I would be up before dawn and on the water as soon as there was sufficient light for photography. It was cold this morning, so I needed all the enthusiasm I could muster to leave the comfort of my sleeping bag. My tent was still heavy with dew when I rolled it up and put it in the hold. I hoped to at least make a start on a lake crossing, so a few things had to change today. I disconnected the battery, taped over the terminals and placed it in the hold. The solar panel cable was wound up and stowed. Today I needed a perfect seal on my deck covers, cables compromised those seals. I also wanted the least possible hindrance should I capsize and have to re-enter the boat on the lake. For that reason, my two spare water bottles also disappeared from the deck. I put the shoulder braces on my spray deck to keep it as high as possible. Finally I put my tucker bag on the deck: it doubles as a paddle float today. Despite having to do a few things twice because I had changed my system, I pushed off at 6:30.

The light was beautiful. A must rose from the water, as it does when the river is warmer than the air. It created polar-like photos. The mist moved on the surface of the water like sand grains on a sand dune. When the sun rose higher, the mist formed small chimneys into the warmer air. This only lasted for a short while, but caught my eye. I had never seen anything like that before.

It took longer than I thought to round Tailem Bend and longer than I thought to reach the lake. The bends down here make the seven mile straight near Berri look like a children's play set.

I thought I'd pull over at a boat ramp marked on my map for one last check. I also wanted to replace the bungee cords holding the solar panel and to shed a few layers as I was warming up. The boat ramp was either overgrown with willows , or a figment of someone's imagination. I changed my clothes on the water. Suddenly I was on the lake.

It looked good, even though the windmills at Wellington had had a fair spin on them. The winds were from the North, so a tailwind, which helps. I checked my maps and GPS. One last time and entered the ever widening lake. Reeds grew thickly on each side. I vividly remembered entering the lake in 2012. It was pitch black. I had navigated using google maps on my phone, which I thought was wonderful at the time. It was like a little aircraft radar screen and in the darkness the only way I knew where I should be going. The sounds of the birds was phenomenal. I at first thought they were waves on a beach, which unsettling me, as there should have been no beach anywhere near me. Today, there was no morning chorus, I entered the lake at the civilised hour of 8:45.

The advantage of going before dawn is that the lake is at its smoothest then. Some people do night crossings for the same reason. The light wind soon built waves. These were quite manageable at first, but by the time I passed Pomanda island, they began to intersect and grow. For the next 14 km I paddled in messy water. The waves reached around a metre in height, at times peaking, becoming sets of rollers, or just bounced around. They messed with my direction, my kayak ran like an egg. It took lots of concentration to keep on top of things, but I did, arriving at Narrung for a very welcome break at around midday. I was stuffed and spent a good amount of time first face planted in the lawn and then in an old armchair I found. Eventually the warming rays of the sun, lots of water and lunch did the trick and I regained my energy. A cup of tea provided by Alan and Ruth, touring from WA was the icing on the cake. I had considered camping here, but with the wind changing direction, the lake had almost flattened. I decided to make a break for Point Sturt on the other side of the lake and made it just before the weather change set it, building its own impressive waves in the process. This time I was headed into them, which I found easier.

I set up camp on Point Sturt, rather than risk the weather. Strong winds are predicted for tomorrow. If I see an opportunity to paddle, I will, otherwise Point Sturt it is for another day.

This part of the trip is about finishing the journey. It was an odd, but satisfying feeling to take my last record of bank condition (before entering the lake). Now it's about honoring the river, and all who have made this journey. It's time to paddle to the sea.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 52 Mannum to Tailem Bend

Mannum to Tailem Bend

I had a lovely stay at the Mannum Riverside Caravan Park. I didn't realise how rough I looked until I went to take a shower. It's a wonder they took me in at all. The river is so wide it's like paddling on a lake. When a speed boat passes on the other side of the river, you can count minutes until the waves get to you. Mannum doesn't have a bridge, only two ferries which seem to operate 24 hours a day. It must hold back development, but since both sides are in South Australia, perhaps this is more of a solution than a problem, perhaps they prefer to keep everything on the same side of the river. I paid my respects to PS Marion, a proud passenger steamer, now restored and taking tours again.

Mannum lives and breathes its history. There are so many beautiful old buildings, it is as though they don't know what to do with them. Maybe the surplus of old buildings is because they are all made of stone. Even the local coin launderette is a lovely period building in great condition. The pubs looked especially inviting, however 8 am was a touch too early to be going on there.

I noticed that the oldest houses were amongst the furthest from the water. They knew about the 1956 flood. Despite our dams, it could happen again. Many people will be in trouble when it does. We won't be just looking at a few flooded 'shacks'.

Downstream from Mannum willows are common on both banks. There are many reasons why people planted willows. Planted on the corners of bends, they were used to guide paddle steamer captains along the main river channel. In this section of the river, it would have been very easy to choose the wrong direction, since the billabongs are old river courses and are often still connected to the main channel. The first firm of irrigation here was by building levees either side of the river, forcing the water level higher than the surrounding ground, then, when water was needed, gates were opened in the levees allowing the water to flow into the fields. The levees along the river still have these gates. The willows would have protected these community assets, by slowing down the current. Some people say that farmers use them to keep houseboat people off their land, however whilst Mannum does see itself as houseboat capital of the Murray (there are literally hundreds) and the South Australians do have a tendency to put the hose on unwanted guests, I can hardly see this as motivation for this type of landscaping.

Willows are becoming increasingly unpopular though. People remove them in front of their 'shacks' and commercial developments replace them with grass. Who does all the mowing? River users and managers are concerned about how they narrow the river channel. I have seen banks of willows that are 50 m deep. That is an awful lot to push through if you desperately need a toilet break after a morning coffee in Mannum. I have been told that it is possible to walk over them if you're separate. Thankfully I wasn't. Around Murray Bridge they have made removing willows and restoring native vegetation an art form. Large sections seem to have been sprayed with something, which, whilst it does not necessarily kill them, it weakens them to the point that they are easier to pull out. Large sections of river bank, nearly 15km, have been restored very well. Reeds, rushes, understory plants and the fringing red gums have grown astonishingly quickly and are forming thick, effective and much better looking bank protection.

The levee banks are an issue though. This area is densely settled, perhaps because it was so easy to irrigate by using the old billabongs. When a community on one side of the river raises their levee bank, it means that the other side will flood when the river rises, so they raise theirs too. If they could all agree there might not be a problem, however today I saw the big machinery working on one side, tip trucks and road compactors. Wonder what will be happening on the other side in the next few days? Levees can provide a false sense of security. If the river channel cannot hold the 80,000 megalitres per day that is coming, then they both will flood.

The cliffs which were such a feature of the past week are fewer and further between. Tailem Bend, which I will paddle past first thing in the morning, will be the last of them. The town is high above the river and is barely visible from the water. Where once river trade was crucial to its existence, it now focuses on the road that runs through it. From the lookout you can see how the river does one last big bend before it undergoes its last big change in character. In the Great Dividing Range the Murray behaved like a mountain stream, with rapids, and gravel races; hillslopes ran straight into the river. Around Corowa, it began to meander within its ancient channel, which was dammed to form Lake Mulwala. From Tocumwal it enters the first of two giant river red gum forests, formed when earthquakes blocked, split and changed the Murray's course. The second redgum forest grew on an ancient delta, where the Murray entered Australia's inland sea 30 million years ago. After this comes the arid zone, sandhills and salt left by the inland sea. Finally the Murray Gorge, where the river carved its way through uplifted limestone, leaving great cliffs on either side. Lake Alexandrina and the Coorong are part of today's delta. The lake and the Coorong are shallow because the river drops its sediment there before entering the sea. If there is not much flow, then the mouth closes up because of that sediment and sand washed in from the sea. This year this should not be a problem.

Tomorrow, if the weather is suitable, I will have a go at the lake. Strong winds are predicted in the coming days, so a bit of a head start would be good. I'll push off at first light to complete the last official part of my study; the 16 km into Wellington. I've taken around 35,000 photographs, recorded 800 videos commenting on tree condition, what we can tell from it and how historical land use, current practices and river management may have influenced their condition. I have met many, many people keen to tell me their story, that of their community and why the river is so important to them. It's been an awesome experience. Way better than I could have imagined.

Tomorrow I will make my last record of tree condition, because the Murray River Channel, the most forgotten and taken for granted of its six icon sites, ends there. From that point I will concentrate on Lake Alexandrina, Goolwa and the Murray Mouth. I want to go via Goolwa because that is where the paddle steamers went. It is right and proper to honour those that went before you... and after all, I'm a river man. It's in my blood.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 51 Walkers Flat to Mannum

Walkers Flat to Mannum

The first part of my paddle today was rather short. I packed my boat, slid it down the steep bank into the water, found that I had a good ledge to stand on, hopped in and paddled to the Walkers Flat Shop. The shop was the real reason I camped there. It has been praised for its chips, its coffee, its ice-creams and its hamburgers, but really, it’s just really nice to experience a bit of civilisation. Covering my bases, I ordered a coffee and a hamburger (which although not really a breakfast food does have eggs, so it sort of counts). I also bought some biscuits, as my Anzac bikkies had run out about a week ago and a hat which said ‘Love the river - Walkers Flat’, which the shop owner had embroidered herself. Apart from food - which, let’s face it, is pretty important - the shop is a real hub of the community. The town history, and especially the story of the 1956 flood’ is told in photographs on the shop wall. There is a ‘buy, swap and sell’ notice-boards and a ‘community events board’ as well. Once a week, locals meet in the shop to share a glass of wine and some nibbles and once a month the owner provides meals for the community fundraisers in the local hall. All profits go to whatever local cause is being promoted. Outside on the lawn is a large, well maintained plaque to the ‘Ferry Dog’ who died on duty some time ago. His bowl is still under the plaque, for other dogs to drink from. I topped up my fresh water supplies and then pushed off.

Walker Flat is right in the middle of the Murray Gorge area and a large part of my day was spent paddling from cliff to cliff. The low areas in between usually included old passages of the river (visible as lagoons), river levees and floodplains. There is not much room for the river to move around, since the ancient river gorge walls are often less than a kilometre apart. The result is that the ‘valley’ floor is a place where multiple ecosystems meet and from which species can spread out to recolonise other areas following drought, or the likes. The lagoon landscape was probably the only thing stopping people from erecting more ’shacks’. Every bit of accessible ground is covered with these inland beach houses. Many will get wet feet with the rising flood waters.

Scattered amongst the mansions is the occasionally little old original home. They look as if they only has one room. Typically, everything is made of corrugated iron. wall, roof, and window shutters. I even found one which looked like a paddle steer, complete with round paddle boxes.

I am now just over 150 km from the sea. The river is getting wider. It has a lake feel about it. Even the smallest of winds drives rolling waves down the straight and around the corners. Many times today, it looked as if a paddle steamer was ahead of me. A steady southerly wind blew waves which broke over my bow. If not for the collection of water bottles I carry on the ‘for’ deck I would have been soaked. I had arranged them like a battering ram.

The river is widening and slowing down. I measured the current several times at 2 km/hr. The reason for the slow down is that we are almost at sea level. In its last 100km, the Murray only drops a few centimetres. Compared to normal flow for this are, 2 km is fast, normally it is around half a kilometre and hour. The slow current drops my overall speed, so I am finding that I have to spend more time on the water, or less time on breaks. In 8 hours of paddling today, I only had 10 minutes break. Originally I had planned to pull into Younghusband, however the caravan park is up on the side of a hill and looked a little neglected. The shop from which it is managed had a large ‘for sale’ sign too. I decided to move on, I had no desire to unpack my boat and carry every item up a hill. Eventually I made it to Mannum Caravan Park and enjoyed the best shower on the trip far, a magnum ice-cream and tuna and egg macaroni cheese on the Trangia.

In the morning I plan to go for a early walk to find a bakery in town and then push off. Haven’t decided where I’ll get to yet, but the closer I get to Lake Alexandrina, the more time and options I will have for that crossing. 

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 49 & 50 Rest Day then Blanchetown to Walker's Flat

 

Day 49 & 50: 212km Walker's Flat 4th Dec 2016

Blanchetown Hotel - Ski Club - Expeditioners - Flood wave attenuation - Floodplain - Fisheries - Cliffs - Cockatoos - Rain - Shacks - Gorge - Travellers

Rest Day then Blanchetown to Walkers Flat

Sometimes the unexpected happens. I found myself a guest at the ski club table at the Blanchetown hotel. Rob and Sally, my neighbors at the caravan park, had invited me to join their family for dinner. Rob told me that in South Australia there has only recently been limits set on how much water can be pumped from aquifers for irrigation and that the underground streams that run through the limestone beneath the farms are beginning to run dry. No wonder with so many centre pivots and few controls. Rob and Sally are from Mt Gambier. They come to the lower Murray to ski because the river is wide and it's not crowded, and because the ski club has great programs for kids.

Earlier in the afternoon, I met Warren, a Murray Expeditioner from 1991 - before there were mobile phones. He would find a payphone in towns he passed through to let his wife know all was ok. He couldn't look up the weather, or use google maps... Although it was not all that long ago, much has changed.

Warren gave me a hand to carry things down to the boat and at 8:30 I was off, ready for the Lock opening time. Barry, the lock master saw me coming and had the gates open by the time I was there. He said the peak was predicted to arrive in a few weeks, but that by the time the water reached Blanchetown only about 80,000 megalitres a day was expected, the rest being used by irrigation pumps, or absorbed into the flood plains. Barry was upset about the Murray cod deaths from blackwater upstream and asked why more water could not be released from the Darling (Menindee Lake) to provide a safe place for the fish to shelter in until the black water passes. We talked about investing in the health of the river. Barry told me that there is only one fisheries officer for all of the South Australian rivers. That person is expected to patrol the whole of the South Australian Murray, the Onkaparinga and the Torrens rivers.

The weather was calm when I left the caravan park, but by the time I left the lock chamber it had begun to drizzle. The drizzle stayed with me. By the afternoon, it had turned into a soaking rain. I pulled out my wet weather gear and continued on, toasty warm, despite everything around me being so wet. I had looked forward to the predicted 38 deg C and strong Northerly winds. It would have been the first time I would have had a day of tailwinds in the whole trip. Neither happened. The overcast skies kept the temperature down and the wind continued gusting from the southwest - straight into my face. Waves crashed over the front deck slamming into my water bottles, my second line of defence.

The cliffs downstream from Blanchetown are the biggest on the Murray and where the river runs alongside them, they have vertical faces. Big Bend is made up of two curves, one curving west and one curving east. Each runs for about 5 kilometers and both were filled with cockatoos. The cockatoos occupied small hollows and when I approached flew noisily into the air. At first I thought that they were after minerals from the cliff face, but on looking more closely, I saw that they were in pairs. They appear to be nesting in the rock rather than tree hollows. The cliffs do not have the thick sandstone layers that those upstream have, making them harder and more resistant to erosion.

Once the rain cleared for the last hour or so of today's eight hour paddle, the colors had a new crispness and depth. It was as though someone had hit the enhance button. When the sun broke through the clouds, it became steamy and hot. I shed my rain jacket and applied sunscreen. People began to get out into the water again. A ski boat zoomed past, followed by a traditional clinker hulled river launch. Interestingly the rear waves from the older boat went on for kilometers. I think it had something to do with the hull design.

Farms and properties along the river continued to be developed as shack areas. These holiday homes are called shacks because their original purpose was as places to fish and hunt from to help city people out during the depression years. The right to maintain a 'shack' is written in law. A few original shacks remain, little more than corrugated iron bush huts, but most shacks are a far cry in both design and purpose. Newer shacks are usually 2 story, with verandas and lounges from which to enjoy the river. Many modify the bank using terraces and retaining walls. All have removed the understory vegetation and replaced it with lawn.

On this section of the river, the ancient Murray Gorge, through which the current Murray flows is very narrow, little more than a kilometer. Old river beds form billabongs running parallel to the river, resulting in a rich and varied habitat for both animal and plant life, all the time contrasted by the arid hills beyond. Bends run for up to 10 kilometers and the river is wide. It doesn't take much for the wind to whip up waves to test a weary paddler.

Coming into Walkers Flat I found a spot next to a German couple, Carsten and Christiana, who have been traveling the world in their expedition grade camper for 4 years. Over a few beers I told them things I thought would interest of the Murray and listened to their stories of South America, Asia, Antarctica and Australia.

Tomorrow I make for Younghusband, after making time to resupply at the Walkers Creek Shop. All the time I am getting closer to the sea. Not many more days now.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 48 Morgan to Blanchetown

 

Day 48: 276 km Blanchetown 2nd Dec 2016

Apostle birds - Morgan - Houseboats - Fellow kayakers - Blackwater - Floods - Murrumbidgee River - Itldoo Station - Shacks - Crooks Landing - Halvorsen cruiser - Murray Gorges - Ecosystem dynamics - Mosaic - Ted the boat dog

Morgan to Blanchetown

A big thank you to Kev who put me up for the night, laid on dinner, beers and breakfast. Kev is planning to paddle the Murray in Aug next year. He has read all the trip reports he can get his hands on. He has even seen what the trip can do to you... (Clarkies' unique finishing photo may never be upstaged)... and he's still keen to do it. Kev has a backyard full of chooks and apostle birds. There is a constant argument going on as to who’s boss. The apostle birds have adopted Kev, they come up and sit near him and eat from his hands, even though they are wild birds.

Morgan is full of houseboats. The shores are busy places. Sounds of angle grinders, hammers and lawn mowers in preparation for weekend and summer holiday guests. Prime real estate is down by the waterside, with even a shed going for around 300,000. In a twist on the past, places up on the hill, built of solid stone, symbols of wealth in the paddle Steamer times era are a fraction of the price now.

I paddled out of Morgan with Rordon and Dale, two Cairns based paddlers who had come down to paddle the Murrumbidgee River from Gundagai to where it meets the Murray near Boundary Bend. They had to call off their trip at Hay because the black water and the amount of dead stock in the river had made it unpleasant and potentially unsafe for their dog Ted. Ted is a true boat dog. He sits on a mat between the front and back seat of their kayak. Their kayak is the best appointed that I have ever seen. Rordon made it himself from a kit. It is wooden, with fiberglass internal and external layers, roomy and cuts the water beautifully. We paddled the first 10 kilometers together until the appropriately named 'Itlldoo' Station, where they turned around and made their way back to Morgan. Rordon and Dale hope to continue their bidgee paddle once the high water has passed, but enjoyed sharing their memories of their full distance Murray paddle in 2014.

After about 15 km, the shacks (as even the luxury riverside houses are called) finally gave way to bush. Patches of development continued around high ground, which usually still had the historical name of the property whose Landing Paddlesteamers had stopped to trade at in bygone days. Most shacks have lawn down to the water’s edge and many have sprinkler systems set up. I suspect these are to discourage campers and unwelcome boats and their passengers mooring on their property. Looking for a shady place to pull in for lunch, I eventually decided to brave having the sprinklers turned on on me and pulled into Crooks Landing at Ridgeway Station for lunch break. Above me cockatoos are nibbling the seed pods of the River Myalls. A cool breeze was blowing and I soon drifted off to sleep.

There weren't as many boats to photograph today, however there were a few notables. One was a Halvorsen Cruiser, every bit the battleship in pocket format. Another was a modern version of it, with similar lines, but twice as long. There were also little gems, home built paddle steamers and 1920's excursion boats and almost every shack had a tinny.

Probably the most notable thing today was that the river headed due South, with little deviation East or West. I had a 25 km/hr headwind, which kept me on my toes, but as it was not constant, was not too bad. The valley the river runs through is actually the path the ancient Murray. A much bigger river than today's Murray. Geologists have determined that the gorges it cut were 80m deep. The ancient Murray, at first held back by the uplifted land, formed a huge lake, which in spilling, found and enlarged its original path. The deep gorges formed by the ancient Murray are mostly filled with sediment from today's river, creating the gentle gradient we are familiar with in the lower part of the Murray today. At some points, the original gorge is little more than a kilometer wide. Too narrow to meander, the river moves from side to side, leaving billabongs and sand dunes parallel to the main stream. Where the river has not changed its path for thousands of years, flood plains gradually build high enough to support black box. Where it changes more frequently, it erodes these high flood plains, creating low country ideal for red gums with their requirement of frequent flooding. In this way the two habitats can be seen to be competing within the one environment. The floodplain is both building and eroding at the same time. In these narrow gorges this creates a mosaic habitat which is a stark contrast to the arid zone either side.

I reached Blanchetown just after 5pm, half an hour after the last passage was allowed. I could almost have ducked over the barrier rope, however if my kayak had gotten stuck I could have been in real trouble. The better decision was to turn around and return to the caravan park I had seen about 1 km upstream.

The manager had just settled into the pool when I found her. She gave me a nice shady spot with plenty of green grass, near the entrance. I packed my gear into duffle bags and walked it into the park, following eventually with my boat.

Murray River Paddle 2016 Day 47 Waikerie to Morgan

 

Day 47: 338 km Morgan 1st Dec 2016

Leaving the Murray River Queen - morning light - birds of prey - Big Toulca Flat - Woodcutters Reach - Lock 2 - Undercurrents - Bartels Landing - Floating seeds - Riverleigh Station - Tree health - Tipping points - North-West Bend - Morgan - Paddlesteamers & Wharf

Waikerie to Morgan

I left Waikerie early, before anyone else on the boat was up. The sun was up, it had risen about 5:30 and I had gotten up not long after that. Keeping breakfast simple, a couple of muesli bars, some fruit and a cup of tea, I was ready to push off at 7:30.

The light was beautiful and clear. That together with the smooth surface of the water and still flow out a real spring in my step. Morning light is not as harsh as what it is during the main part of the day. The colours come out. It's when you see just how amazing the bark on red gums can be. Paddling out of town, I passed a long row of houseboats waiting for their next outing, their next passage of discovery.

Whistling Kites have been the most common bird of prey along the river this year. There never used to be so many when I was a kid, but there were more Wedge-tailed Eagles. I don't know what has changed, perhaps they benefit from having fishermen around. Once the cliffs begun, Falcons started to appear. They like to sit at the top of trees on the cliff face and swoop down on their prey, which I imagine, could be any small bird or marsupial. All the more amazing when I saw a Fairy Martin chasing a falcon. It was swooping again and again on the falcon, pecking it on the back. While the falcon tried to get away. Brave little bird.

Again today they were great names like what coverage and Big Toluca Flat and Woodcutter Reach. I guess I shouldn't of been surprised when there weren't very few old trees on Woodcutters Reach.

All along the river I can hear the sounds of people raiding their pumps in preparation for the high water. Occasionally i can hear the voices of fruit pickers drifting down from amongst the orange orchards, however I can rarely see them.

Approaching Lock 2, the navigation pass is open. I can see that the water is at the top of the weir. It splashes up in the air ominously. To go that way would be very dangerous. At Wentworth weir, a tinny was caught in the turbulence behind the wall. The back end went under first, filling the boat with water. Soon the whole boat disappeared, only to resurface 100m downstream. There are signs which slow you where to go to be in the safe passage. You keep right of the green triangle (when going downstream) and left of the red squares. There are some pretty big swirls for the first 200m. If you keep under power (keep paddling) you come through it without too many involuntary course changes.

At Bartels Landing were two old farm houses and in front of them, an eclectic collection of boats. Both farm houses had orange groves behind them as is the old tradition in the area. A little further down stream is a vineyard. In the 1980s when the Australians discovered that there were other beverages besides beer, the Riverland wine industry boomed. It expanded till it seemed that everyone wanted to get into wine. In the late 90s and 2000 the wine industry crashed and with so many suppliers, prices plummeted. Now with quality assurance, interesting boutique wines evolving and export markets established, the wine industry is picking up again. Although there were only two houses there were about 6 boats. I love seeing people's boats, there is so much of their character that you can read in them and each boat has its own story as well. At Bartels Landing was one which looked like it had a proud history. Long and sleek, it's wooden hull looked more at home in the ocean then on the river. Seeing ocean boats is a common thing down this end of the Murray, it is so wide and deep and we're not all that far from the ocean. I now have around 360 km to go - that's a lot less than 2200 and I can feel that the end is getting near.

Approaching Riversleigh Station I can see the cliffs curving away to the North. The land in between them and the current river channel is low and beginning to flood. There's a lack of trees on that flat what trees I can see seem to be dead. On the edge of the river young red gums have sprouted following the 2011 flood. This high water event is predicted to be much higher in this area so all of that low land will get a drink, indeed the water is well on its way to flooding the whole area already. It will be interesting to see how it responds in the years to come. Red gum and black box seeds are carried by water over the land from parent trees. You can pick the extent of a high water level from the line of red gum saplings at its edge. The thickness and height of the saplings and later trees gives you an indication of when that flood happened. The rule of thumb is a centimetre a year. A four centimetre thick tree germinated 4 years ago (2012), a 50 cm thick one, about 50 years ago.

I camped opposite Riversleigh Station in 2012, above the beach and under some study black box trees. It had been really hot that day, thunderstorms were building and I chose what I thought was a safe campsite. I had just set up camp and had a cooling swim when the thunderstorm hit. With it came wild winds. Lightning flashed continually and my little tent was buffeted in all directions. When it hit nearby, it left a strong smell of ozone in the air for a while afterwards. It was gone soon after it began. I remember a cockatoo screeching as it flew. From the noises it was making it sounded like it had scored a direct hit. The poor thing had been scared out of his wits. After the thunderstorm, the sun set over the now flooded lowland across the river, turning the sky gentle hues of pink and purple. The trees at the beach campsite, despite four years of good rain, did not look any better than they did in 2012, if anything they seem to have declined further. If trees experiencing prolonged stress reach a tipping point from which they can no longer recover, it is all the more important that we ensure that the young trees and saplings are growing to replace them - otherwise we will lose those habitats entirely.

There are several more straights on the run into Morgan, those opposite cliffs had a single row of old trees as magnificent as any you'll see anywhere on the Murray. With cliffs on one side and old trees on the other, this channel had not changed for hundreds of years. In other areas there was almost a total loss of trees. Saplings thrived, forming a dense layer of green, but the older trees were all gone. I couldn't work out why.

For almost all of it's journey so far, the Murray River has taken a North-Westerly course. This changes just before Morgan, where, defeated by the same uplift of land that built the Flinders Ranges, the Murray changes its course and heads South to the sea. On the river, this place is called the North-West Bend. When the current slams into these cliffs, it swirls around and even flows in the other direction. If you don't keep your eye in the water, you can be spun around.

I paddled past Morgan's old Wharf, second only too Echuca's in size. There are said to be 6 wrecks in the deep water in front of it. As the railways expanded, the paddle steamer trade evaporated. Crews waited for jobs that never came, eventually abandoning their boats.

At Morgan I pulled in a grassy bank. White floats tied together a rope and some small white signs pointed out that this was a kids swimming area. I sailed over and beached high enough to keep my feet dry. I met a couple who had travelled down from Cairns to paddle down the Murrumbidgee, but had given up because of Blackwater, the number of dead livestock in the river and difficult to predict currents. They had already paddled the length of the Murray in their beautiful home made boat. Their dog always travelled with them. It sat on a mat between the two cockpits, resting its head on their solar panel. We traded experiences and stories until Kev, my host for the night arrived. Kev is planning to paddle full distance in 2017. Now he had three people he could talk too about his ideas. I think he is going to have a great trip.

Tomorrow I will head towards Blanchetown and the last weir on the Murray; not sure where I will camp yet.

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.