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.

Lowbidgee Day 6: coming into Balranald.

Southern Bell Frog community in the wetland behind my campsite. Wetland sounds and scenes. Once, the whole of the Murrumbidgee plains would have flooded like this every year. Today I got off nice and early again, but not before I had looked at the source of all of last night's noise there had to be a swamp somewhere up there from which the frog calls were coming. The area of environmental watering was much shallower than I had expected. It was at is deepest probably only about 15 cm deep and in many places only 5 cm. The frogs were loving it however and the forest and understory looked a picture of health. I took a few photos and was that impressed by the scene, I shared it straight away - including a short video to capture the frog noises which were few and quieter than during the night. Balranald is known for many things, but the symbol it has chosen to promote itself with is the Southern Bell Frog (also known as the Growling Grass Frog) which is listed as endangered in NSW due to habitat loss and the lack of regular natural floods.  The Southern Bell Frog (Litoria raniformis) has suffered a considerable reduction in abundance and distribution throughout NSW in recent years (Tyler 1993, Sadlier and Pressey 1994, Mahony 1996, Osborne et al. 1996, Ehmann and White 1996). Once abundant along the Murray and Murrumbidgee Rivers and their tributaries from the Southern Tablelands to the South Australian border, the species is now only found in scattered locations throughout their former range. Suspected threats to the Southern Bell Frog include loss or fragmentation of habitat through draining of wetlands and prolonged periods of drought, predation on eggs and tadpoles by introduced fish species, infection by pathogens, particularly Chytrid fungus, degradation of habitat from pollution, salinisation and chemical use. The Southern Bell Frog is listed in NSW as ëEndangeredí under the NSW Threatened Species Conservation Act 1995 (TSC Act). It is also listed nationally as ëVulnerableí under the Commonwealth Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999 (EPBC Act) and is listed as ëEndangeredí under the  (2000) Red List of Threatened Species. http://www.environment.nsw.gov.au/wetlands/WetlandSouthernBellFrog.htm One of the more interesting features of the Southern Bell Frog mouth). These teeth are used for holding Animals possess small vomerine teeth that are attached to a bone in the roof of the mouth and are situated between the choanae (internal openings of the nostrils in the roof of prey, which is then swallowed whole (Barker et al. 1995). Males mostly call while floating in water among reeds between August and April (Robinson 1993). The call is a growling ìwaaah waaah waaahî that is similar to the sound of a distant motor boat or motorbike and is usually of about one second duration.  http://www.environment.nsw.gov.au/resources/nature/recoveryplanDraftSouthernBellFrog.pdf Their original range included most of the Murray Valley and south to Tasmania, but are now listed to isolated pockets. In the NSW gov publication, they were only shown as being at the upstream end of the Barmah forest and ... One of the aims of environmental watering has been to increase populations of these frogs, with some success. http://www.mdba.gov.au/what-we-do/environmental-water/river-murray/TLM-water-delivery/2013-14-tlm-environmental-watering-actions In my boat once again and ready for the paddle to Balranald... wondering what the day would bring... grateful for the wetland treat and a world full of frog song. Morgen Stund hat Gold im Mund (Schwäbisches saying). Morning hour tastes golden. I love getting on the water early. Reflections. Morning light on the Murrumbidgee below Redbank. Reflections on a straight on the Murrumbidgee between Redbank and Balranald. Balranald has a thick sticky clay soil (try getting it off your kayaking shoes) which holds water well, so a little goes a long way. The area between Redbank and Balranald, especially on the Southern side of the river, is used for flood control. As you paddle along the river, you occasionally come across regulators which can allow flood water to escape and spill onto the plains, and to let it back into the river to drain them. This is the main reason that there are so few people on this stretch of the river, and also why there is so much wildlife. Murrumbidgee snags. Just after taking this photo I actually got stuck on it . It was much bigger than it looked. Snags keep me on my toes. Though there is not much current, you are forever looking for the best and safest passage through. Snags often reach from one side of the river to the other. It keeps the river quiet, provides habitat for wildlife and clean the water by bringing in oxygen. In many places only a canoe or kayak can slip through, making it an ideal expedition river. Today I saw what could be described as the cutest eagle I have ever seen. Most animals flee as any human approaches; this one just looked at me right up until the last moment when it took off and landed in a tree high above the river to watch from a safe distance. On looking up my bird app, I found that it was a little eagle and that they are vagrants, that is they move from place to place - of not fixed address. The Steve McQueens of the bird world. When this particular young adventurer looked at me, his face seemed broad and teddy bear like, though I am sure that is not the impression he was trying to give. Must have been a young one. When he took off and landed on what he took to be a safe perch, a pair of wood swallows dive bombed it, even to the point of pecking feathers from its head. Enough was enough, it wasn't worth hanging around for all this hassle - he flew off. Pumped to have seen a new bird, I rounded the corner to find around a dozen of them circling in a thermal. They seem to like Balranald. Kayak wash on a straight on the Murrumbidgee between Redbank and Balranald. Snags often reach from one side of the river to the other. It keeps the river quiet, provides habitat for wildlife and clean the water by bringing in oxygen. In many places only a canoe or kayak can slip through, making it an ideal expedition river. This one was easy. Negotiating snag in the Lowerbidgee... Balranald is a community that suffered badly in the drought and is only now coming back. Little things matter a lot. "The couple who run the caravan park are a blessing to the town," said the lady who owned the bakery. "What they have done in two years is amazing. They have put this place on the map". For $10 for a campsite, great location and plenty of facilities, its no wonder it is popular. But many other things are happening in town. There is the history walk, which compares streetscapes then and now and tells tories of the town. An environmental walk, including a hanging bridge across the Murrumbidgee has been built and all around town are metal frog statues. The statues were made by a local artist, who used to be a panel beater, then became a priest, then took to riding harley's and now is an artist. Most have themes. The one outside the hardware for instance, is pushing a mower, by the river two are sawing a red gum log and another is doing a bit of gardening. In two weeks time the town is hosting its third '5 rivers outback festival' and as well as fishing competitions, ute musters, etc. they also have some big name bands coming. The streets are being tidied up, footpaths widened and resurfaced and city gardens planted. In the middle of town sat a man from the government next to new looking blue van offering small business advice. By the looks of how far he was into his book, he hadn't had too many customers today. Balranald bridge. A welcome sight. Balranald has frog sculptures celebrating the Southern Bell Frog all throughout the town. This one was outside the hardware shop. Santa in a tinny (painted on the hardware store) A B&B in Balranald: signs of wealthy times. Balranald celebrates its history. Here of sustainable timber harvesting. Information board about the river trade. Keeping with tradition started by the Millennium Paddle and Mike Bremer's Murrumbidgee Paddle I had a meal at the Services club. Here I met a group of three cyclists who had cycled from Broome, Perth and Adelaide respectively. We shared stories. They were happy to hear about the wildlife on the 'bidgee, roads can be noisy places. Tomorrow I hope to get off early. The weir is in 17 km and I have another portage on my now well and truly dead trolley wheel. Tom the tyre man offered to pick it up from caravan park and repair it (how nice?) but he called to say that he would have to bring it back. he thought he had a tyre that small, but he did't and this one is well and truly buggered. Oh well, the buggered tyre is going to have to do one more portage worth of service. Only two days to go and I am in the Murray! :) This next section is meant to be one of the most beautiful.

Lowbidgee Day 5: Redbank towards Balranald.

Maps showing this section of the Murrumbidgee River (from Mike Bremer)

There is a steep bank with a clay ledge at the base of it, just after the Redbank weir reserve fence and before a series of water height measurement poles. It is possible to slide your boat down this bank. This activity would be easier with two people.

Balranald is 17km before the weir. The first you see of the town is a new bridge and a boat ramp. From this boat ramp you can walk into town. Around the corner is a good camping ground with a bank which is good to pull up on. 

Ready to leave Redbank, now just a slide down the steep bank to the river.

The day began with a steep slide down the river bank to the Murrumbidgee. Because the ground has sharp edged limestone in it which may scratch the boat, I lay down branches to slide my boat across, keeping it a few centimetres above the ground. It seemed to work, however I needed to hold onto the boat tightly to make sure it did not slide down into the water and continue the rest of the journey without me. 

Once in the water, I had just long enough to take in the beautiful morning sunlight spilling over the weir wall, bathing everything in a golden light, before the current took me so close to a snag which stretched from one side of the river to the other that I had to paddle to avoid becoming tangled. After this, the river opened up and paddling was good.
A few kilometres downstream from Redbank weir is a high red bank, where the river cuts through a sandhill; aptly named 'red bank hill' it is a great spot for a photo. Unfortunately just at that spot my GoPro which has 3000 photos left decided that it was full. I suspect the batteries are low and should have charged it last night, but didn't as the indicator said that it still had a full charge. It's getting a bit old and temperamental it seems. I should have charged. So no photo of redbank hill in the morning light. I recommend being there at that time though, and have your camera ready.

On the first corner below Redbank Weir is a snag which completely blocks the river; there is enough room for a tinny or canoe to slip through though.

The first ten kilometres were through river red gum forest. There have been at least 8 trees which stretched from one side of the river to the other. With most I could find a way through by zig zagging between the fallen trees as they stretched first from one side, then the other. Once I had to punch through some smaller branches. It is a good thing that everything is tied on securely. I think I have been lucky with the water levels. Even though Mike Bremers managed to get through at much lower water, I doubt that would have been possible with some of these trees.

Wedge-tailed eagle: wikipedia

There have been lots of wildlife, I have sighted sea eagles eight times already this morning, as well as a wedge tailed eagle and a kangaroo which had come down and I drink. The welcome swallows, so long my companions on the Murray trips are back. They are like little friends.

In the next ten kilometres I saw four fishing huts, one of them had a family camped nearby. It was made a timber off cuts, literally a slab hut. The roof had long since fallen in. Nether the less, a piece of history. I enjoyed a short chat with them and they enquired as to how and where I was headed. The last one was Breer Hut. This is marked on the map, but although it looks in good condition, seems a bit abandoned. Next to the hut, right on the river bank is the remains of an older hut, which has been converted into a stockyard.

Breer Hut. The original hut seems to have been converted into a stockyard. The water was more of a brownish colour, rather than the green that it looks in this photograph.

I saw two sacred kingfishers, returned from their northerly migration to the rainforests of Northern Australia and Papua New Guinea to breed in there'd gum forests of the Murray Darling Basin.

Sacred Kingfisher: Photo: MDBA The sacred kingfisher breeds in the river red gum forests of Australia's inland rivers before returning to Papua New Guinea, New Zealand and the Western Pacific Islands. It is called 'sacred' because the Polynesians believed that it had power over the waves on the ocean (wikipedia). What a mighty effort for such a small bird!

In the still low sun of morning restless flycatchers and willy wagtails forage for insects in the leaf litter. An emu sees me and first ducks behind the trunk of a large gum, but is curious, takes a peak and the follows for a short while. Not sure what made it more curious, the colour of my boat (bright red) or the occupants attempt to make emu noises.

Willy Wagtail: Photo: Climate Watch

Restless Flycatcher: Photo: Birdlife Australia Although they look similar to willy wagtails, they have a small crest, no cross looking eye-brow and a blue sheen to the feathers on their backs.

11:30 and I've already done 31km. Benefits of an early start. The river is quietening down as the day warms up. The trees are still full of bird call though: kookaburras, tree creepers and a bird with a call similar to a whip bird. On the river, the snags continue, but beaches are also starting to appear.

Snags frequently cross from one side of the river to the other.

Kangaroos, keep an nervous eye on what is happening down on the river.

Did you know that cormorants regurgitate their fish if they are too heavy to take off? To get it out their long neck, they shake their head violently until the fish flies out. I've seen black corms taunts do it twice now. The first time I thought it was trying to catch a fish that was just too big. It took a second time to work out what is actually going on. I saw a pelican do it yesterday too. They both can swallow surprisingly big fish - but can't fly with them.

Great Cormorant: found throughout the world. They regurgitate their fish not only to feed their young, but also to distract predators, or to allow them to escape them. I was amazed by the size of the fish they were able to swallow - sometimes as large as the bird itself.

Between the last paragraph and now I have spent my time improving my turtle spotting skills. They are elusive little fellas. After witnessing many splashes I had to conclude that the turtles were faster than I was: considering the relative sizes of the turtle to human brain and you can understand that this led to some degree of frustration. To become a turtle hunter I had to think like one. What would they naturally be afraid of? What would eat them? In a world Undisturbed by humans (the conditions they evolved in), threats could come from the sky. If I were a sea eagle, turtle would be like rump steak. So as a turtle I would have to always be watching the sky and the water in case they came in a low attack. The turtles were spotting me from 50m away, so I had to look further ahead than that and drift in. I also found that they prefer logs with a dark colour like themselves, that lie at a low angle to the water. I started to have success, eventually even being able to photograph one little fella. To be fair, I am no Harry Butler or Steve Erwin: the turtles are everywhere. I saw three on one log. Sometimes there just aren't enough logs.

The Murray Short Necked Turtle (Emydura macquarii).
Its shell is the size of dinner plate and does not have a snake like, or long neck.
Identification guide.

For the last 30km I haven't seen any Pelicans. The river has been very windy and I have noticed them struggle with short runways. One bird, in an effort to make good an escape resorted to flying through the bush. It looked like it was about to crash at any moment. What I have seen is more sacred kingfishers, some quite loud and ferocious in their alarm at having a threat near their nest. I also saw my first peregrine falcon flying powerfully through the trees.

Fsihermen's shack.

Old steam engine that used to drive the irrigation pumps. 

This bridge was not marked on the map and has a gate at each end, making it look provate. I think that it is made using army technology.

Hope to make ten more km today which will make a short run in to Balranald tomorrow. Camped at 62 km mark (Glen Avon Regulator), just off a fisherman's track (which I hope will keep the shooters in the distance away - they never like to shoot near where they know people to be). The banks are grey clay. I found an improvised boat ramp and ran my boat as far as I could up onto this before climbing out for a well earned break. Surprisingly, I had two bars reception. This would make it more likely that I would be able to update my blog, the photos from the day and let Ruth know that I was ok. I ate next to my boat to save carting all my food and cooking equipment to the top of the bank, where I had found a place safe from the many trees that lined the bank in this location. Dinner went down very well, and as the sun set for the evening, I retired to my tent to lie flat, rest and move out of reach of the mosquitoes that usually come out as night approaches. 

One of the unexpected highlights today was finding the paddle steamer turning (or passing) bays on some of the narrow stretches of the river. One, near Redbank, was particularly well preserved with no signs of silting or erosion. Almost worth a pilgrimage Peter Garfield? I have never heard of these before, but have no better explanation. They are not the beginnings of channels, or beginnings of the construction of regulators (as they are too big and in the wrong spots: not where the wetlands are) and they happen to be near stations where the river is narrow. I can just imagine in the old days how the steamers would have sounded their whistles regularly to let other boats that they were coming. If I remember the rules of the river correctly, the boat travelling downstream has right of way, because it is more difficult (or impossible) for them to stop. The paddle steamer coming upstream would have had to wait in a wide section. Sometimes these are many kilometres apart up here, so there would have been a lot of steam being blown. It would have sounded magnificent. What a loss when they were replaced by trains!