Mallee Cliffs National Park: Nangiloc - Karadoc

Friggincharlies Hut - In search of the Big Tree - Sandhills - Blackwater - Tree deaths - Bryan the Muso

Sheltered though I was at Friggincharlie’s Hut, my camp was not far above river level. Driven by the wind, the water was surging back and forth like a mini tide. I set two sticks in the bank, one for the lower level and one for the upper. Before going to bed and once in the night I checked the levels. All seemed ok. I tied my boat to the tent and placed it right next to the veranda, so that if it began to move I would know about it. At first light I checked again. The water level had risen about an inch and a half overnight. The amount the water rises depends on how far it can spread out in a place, so a rise of 2 cm in the forest, might be a half a metre somewhere else. It plays to be cautious.

The strong winds from the previous days had dropped, making conditions much nicer for paddling. The sun even came out occasionally. Today’s paddle would take me past the, apparently, biggest tree on the Murray, Mallee Cliffs, Iraak and Colignan. I had missed this last trip, and given the heads up this times determined to try and find it. Once in location I paddled slowly past looking through the bush. When I had no luck this way I headed in amongst the trees. It was fun paddling in the flooded forest, almost surreal, but something I was not game to do on windy days. I had heard too many trees come down. First you hear their cracking roots, then gradually they begin to move. It is usually not as fast as you might think, more of a gradual thing, but with 30 m of tree coming down, you really don’t want to be anywhere nearby. Today was wind-still. In the shade of the canopy, there was a stillness, a silence that is not present in the rush of water in the river channel. I wove my way in and out of the trees, avoiding floating logs and low branches, but could not find the tree. I did find a ‘big’ tree which I photographed in place of the famous one and enjoyed the experience all the same.

With good current and no winds I made good time. I hit 14 km/hr once and averaged 10 km/hr for 20 km. After that I slowed down. After a few cuttings (which I did not take) the Mallee Cliffs after which the park is named came into view. Here the river has cut into the base of an old sandhill, leaving a sheer 20 m high sandstone face. on top, mallee gum can be seen. At the base river red gum and river myall grew. They run for almost two kilometres along the river, but way longer in the background. Cobb and Co coaches used to run along the top of the sand hills as they did all along the Murray - perhaps because the tracks would not get muddy - but it must have been hard on the horses. Where they descended onto the flats was a winding tack called the ‘devil’s racecourse’.

Just after the Murray Cliffs a gentleman called out to me from a houseboat. Not seeing too many people I did not want to waste the opportunity for a conversation. I turned around and pulled alongside. Joe and Margaret welcomed me on board for a warming bowl of soup and a big cup of coffee and told me about their river and life on board their houseboat. They would not swap it for the world they said and they were always having visitors. the grandkids in particular loved being on the boat. Both keen fishermen, they told me that although the shrimp were gathering at the side of the river for oxygen, in the 2011 blackwater they all died. This was not so bad - so far. There has been lots of talk of debris in the river. I hadn’t seen so much until the winds had picked up, however Margaret had photographed a big old tree floating down the river just the day before. I found it caught on another snag about 500m downstream. Interestingly the one inch rise I had seen, had been 4 inches for them. Note to self: set campsite a little higher than planned. Heartened by the soup and good company I set off for the last 20km of the day.

The sun had come out, making photography a pleasure. The sand hills and flats gave way to low banks and distinct zones of vegetation. I was surprised to find that there had been many more tree deaths in this part of the National Park. Not just on the water’s edge, but well into the adjoining planes. It seems that the millennium drought was too long for the trees to survive. Deaths were not limited to red gum, but occurred through the black box communities as well. Even if viewed as a natural thinning event, it was still pretty devastating.

Coming into Karadoc, I drifted past all manner of houseboats and even a paddle steamer. Numbers were down on usual as many people had taken their boats up the Darling River for protection from whatever the flood might bring down. As I was passing a figure ran to the rivers edge to shout encouragement. It was Bryan, musician and engineer, living the dream alongside his friend Alan, deckchairs and fire pits under the stars and next to the river. Looking for a place to stay, I took up Bryan’s invitation to camp on his block and in the process made two new friends. Alan used to be friends with John Williamson’s family. He used to do their accounts. Whenever he visited Mrs. Williamson would have a meal cooked and would not take no for an answer. Both were mallee boys. Their stories are those of the pioneer families, of blockies who began with ten quid in their pocket and worked hard. Who faced life’s challenges and had now found peace by the river. Bryan showed me a tawny frogmouth who sat in his tree. His mate was calling from across the river. With the setting sun building silhouettes of mallee gums against a background of golden red, I climbed into my tent.

Tomorrow I make for Mildura and a rest day. I look forward to that.

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