Murray River Kayak.: journey

Showing posts with label journey. Show all posts

Monday: 19/11

Torrumbarry - Lock 26 - Bush campsite 20 km below weir.
River markers: 1668 to1608 km to the sea.
Distance travelled today: 60 km
Total distance travelled: 104 km.

Kingfisher. You have no idea how hard it is to take a photo of one of these without a zoom lens!

On this day journey I saw massive changes in the Murray River. My camp was 46 kilometres downstream from Echuca. The banks were still high and there was farmland on the NSW side of the river. As I came closer to Torrumbarry Weir, the river banks seemed to get lower and lower -really it was the river that was rising, held up by the weir, number 26 of 13 with locks allowing boat traffic to pass through (14 to 25 were never built). The bush became lusher and billabongs more frequent. Cockatoos seemed to be in heaven here. Although not the numbers I remember from my childhood, those that I did see almost seemed to be playing. Whether it was how they came down to the water to drink, often hiding behind logs and then lifting the heads and raising their crest to take another look at this big red boat going past, suddenly unsure, or pulling bits of wood off soft rotting logs on the forest floor, curious as to what they might find. In the last kilometers before the weir, where the river bends are so convoluted that it is possible to see the river coming back on itself only a stones throw away, the banks are almost at water level.

The downside to all this beauty is that for the last 30 kilometres before the weir the current is as good as dead. It is hard paddling. You know that if you stop, well you stop. No free kilometers from the river here and if there is a head wind, you’ll go backwards. To take the focus off the current I skirted the tall reeds lining the sides of the river. These were pretty, full of unseen little birds and something I was not used to coming from Echuca.

Just above Torrumbarry Weir there is a strange collection of old buses and vans... 70's again?

You can hear the weir before you see it. Approaching it in my kayak I had the feeling that I was coming up to a waterfall - which is exactly what it is - only a man made one. Generally, boats and sane people don't go over water falls. I had to tell myself to keep calm and approach the lock. The lock was designed to allow safe passage for river boats whatever the level of the river and although built at the dying end of the river trade there had been dreams of a river transport network to rival road and rail as still exists in Europe and the USA.

The lock master Alan Williams, opened the gates just wide enough for my boat to squeeze through. I ducked to fit under the walkway (which is raised for larger vessels) and positioned myself in the middle where he assured me that I would experience the least suction from the 'plughole' at the other end and best ride out the waves that form when the water gets low. The plughole was an apt description. The whole thing is gravity fed, there are no pumps involved. Water is allowed in from above the weir to bring the water level up and drained through gates in the wall at the bottom end to lower it. You don't want to be too close either. I felt part of history, part of someone's dream of Australia that never was - and very small in that big lock. It was a privilege and an experience I can really recommend.

As I passed through the swirling water of the lower gates I was in the real Murray again. It was deeper and narrower than at Echuca and in contrast to upstream of the weir, the river banks were bare and caked in dry mud from the recent high rivers. The constant high river level upstream of Torrumbarry allow vegetation to colonise the banks, right down to the waters edge. Here the banks were eight metres tall, steep and barren. It took some getting used to. The river also seemed to take a while to settle, to work out where it's current should flow and to drop the mud picked up from the base of the weir and form beaches again.

Going through the lock at Torrumbarry is a bumpy ride. I felt pretty small in a kayak. The weir master said to keep away from the other end because that is where the plug hole is. "Don't want you sucked in there". Turns out he was not kidding.

YouTube video: Going through the lock at Torrumbarry Weir

This trench of river runs between the Barham Perricoota Koondrook forests. It is a natural and cultural icon, much loved and contested by people of many different interests and one of the most isolated stretches of the river in its whole course. It's many snags and clay bars make it unsuitable for the water skiing so popular above the weir, but God's gift to fishermen. Sitting on the high bank where I pitched my tent I have never seen so many fish swimming through the water, checking out areas where the water swells and behind logs for anything tasty. The banks may be barren, but the water is full of life... and clear.

The river downstream of Torrumbarry Weir until Murrabit is deep forest, the Holmes Glenn of river red gum forests.

Day 2 camp.

More about Torrumbarry Weir

Instead of opening the rivers up to round the year river trade, the weir enabled the development of land along the Victorian side to intensive farming through a system a delivery channels. These channels linked previous river courses, existing streams and billabongs, building a network that could deliver water on demand to 1000's and 1000's of farms. They effectively created an inland delta. People found that with more water, they could farm intensively. Dairy farms became popular and the area attracted new settlers. Small towns found that with roads and water, they did not need to be linked to the river, nor depend on its ebbs and flows and grew. Torrumbarry, Cohuna, Leitchville, and Kerang developed into proud communities.

LOCKING THE MURRAY.
TORRUMBARRY WORKS BEGUN.

'Part of £5,000,000 Scheme.'

(BY OUR SPECIAL REPORTER.)

About 24 miles from Echuca by road, and between 40 and 50 miles following thedevious downstream course of the Murraythere is a U-shaped bend in the river that is a mile around but only an eighth of amile in width at the neck. Across thisnarrow neck a new channel is to be excavated

so that the river can be diverted and the Ü bend "cut out." Within thenew channel a lock and weir are to be constructed and they will be the most

easterly of the great chain of river works,that will make the Murrnv navigable for1,000 miles of its course. The turning of the

first sod in connection with the Victorian -New South Wales section of this undertakingon Saturday by Mr. Gloom, Common wealth Minister for Works and chairmanof the Murray River Commission, was madethe occasion of an interesting ceremonythat was joyfullv celebrated by residents,and marked a definite stage in the develop ment of a great project.

There are to be 26 locks and weirs onthe Murray and nine on the MurrumbidgeeThose on the Murray will be roughly 40miles apart. Primarily the locks and weirs are to secure a navigable river but theyare also an important step in the conservationof the waters that for so many years have been allowed to run to waste.

The Torrumbarry} Works will bank up sufficient water to give a depth of 6ft at Echuca. They will also make it possible to fill the Gunbower irrigation channel bygravitation, and so keep the Kow SwampReservoir supplied, and, in addition, willsave the pumping into that channel forCohuna. To lrngationists in Victoria and New South Wales however, the chief advantage

from the liver works which the Murray River Commission is constructingwill be conferred by the great reservoir at the junction of the Mitta Mitta. The workis to begin almost immediately.

The Argus 16 June 1919

Everything has a cost.
Irrigation and river regulation have provided much to the local area, but not without a cost.

The timing and extent of floods has changed - winter flows have been reduced and the summer flows increased.

The frequency, duration and extent of the floods has reduced, causing changed to the forests' system of natural channels.

Water quality has declined - increased salinity and nutrient levels are washed into the river from the catchment.

Murray Darling Basin and Goulburn Murray Water are working to remedy these serious problems by:

Restoring the natural forest channels.

Allowing controlled seasonal flooding of the red-gum forests.

Catchment management assistance to landholders.

Community education and involvement.

Source: Torrumbarry Weir Information Centre.

The old weir was built in 1923 at a place where the river looped. It was made of a red gum planks resting on a steel framed trellis, which could be pulled into the river, or back out of it for repair on a set of railway tracks set into concrete in the bed of the river. It is hard to see how such a structure could hold back the force of water backed up for 100 kilometres (all the way to the Goulburn junction 18 kilometres above Echuca) but it did. These wooden planks were moved by hand, using a long pole. The structure was freed from snags in the same way.

Frustrated with the amount of carp in the Murray, lockmaster Alan Williams invented a fish cage which only trapped that pest species. Now in its fifth version and on fish ladders at weirs along the Murray, the cage takes advantage of the tendency of carp to jump when they meet a barrier and of native fish to dive. The native fish find a passage out of the trap when they dive, whereas the carp find themselves in a big steel cage. When carp were at their worst, Alan was pulling out the cage three times a day, a tonne at a time. The carp were passed onto 'Charlie carp' for a new life as garden fertiliser.

Since cod fingerlings have been released into Murray and snags left in to provide them with shelter, the numbers of carp have decreased dramatically. Alan says that he only has to empty the trap once a week when the carp numbers are climbing and has removed it totally for much of the year. As well as maintaining the weir and operating the lock, Alan and the other two weir masters manage the National Channel (which provides irrigation water for farms almost as far away as Swan Hill) and the regulators which allow water to flood into the forests, filling the wetlands and improving the health of the river red gum forests - still suffering following a decade of drought.

It is surprising the range of fish that Alan finds passing through the fish ladder at the weir: occasionally he even finds a rainbow trout - but only in the cooler months. He says that the murray cod numbers have not really dropped despite the black water event of 2011 when many large fish were seen floating down the river. he thinks that where it was possible for the fish to swim up tributaries like the Campaspe and Goulburn, then they were able to escape the low oxygen water and re-populate the river.

Free poster from MDBA:

Beach café, campers, cockies and forest kingfishers.

Our camp last night, protected from the evening sun and not far to pull the boats. It was easier to pull up the boats than unload them. We sit on the boats when we eat, so they are our communal area as well.

Last nights camp in the Cottadidda State Forest was beautiful and secluded. We set up our tent in the shade of some young saplings and across a kangaroo track. In the middle of the night its owner came bouncing along it and must have got a rude shock. We heard the kangaroo pull up and stamp his feet. The kind of stamping that rabbits also do to warn others that something is amiss.

Morning light in the grasses at our campsite in Cottadidda Forest. I took these photos to try and catch the gentleness of the mornings. Everything seems slower, kangaroos who haven't drunk their fill in the evening come down to sait their thirst. They will not visit the river again until the mid to late afternoon, or later if people are around.

Between Yarrawonga and Tocumwal a good bush track runs along the river connecting the magnificent beaches every few kilometres along this stretch. This makes them great places to camp. There are also opportunities on the NSW side where there is state forest, less people know about these places and those that do are keen to keep them a secret. We met Andrew, who had been coming to the same spot in the same week for 18 years. His kids have grown up and now bring their friends. They fish or watch the river roll past for most of the day, and in the afternoon, once it has cooled off a bit, do a few ski runs.

Early morning reflections.

This is the domain of the sandy beaches. Almost every one is postcard pretty. I think it might be because most of the banks are made of sand. They erode easily and are deposited on the following corners.

Despite the snags there are lots of speed boats. We snuck past most during the long sleep the morning after, the fishing time and during the midday shelter from the heat. They graced us with their waves for about 3 hours in the afternoon though, which was enough to almost turn Ruth into a nervous wreck. I did my best to guide her along safe passages.

We aim to get off early again tomorrow and sneak past the flotillas whilst they are still in their beds. We covered round 66 km today. Tomorrow should bring us into the Barmah Millewa forest, with its low banks and comparative isolation.

River landscape approaching Cobram.

We wonder if the big flocks of cockatoos which we saw today will continue into that forest. I remember huge flocks of cockatoos as kids on the Murray at Echuca. They used to fly ahead screeching and repeat the process bend for bend, before eventually wheeling back to their original location. In recent years, the cockatoos have been replaced by long billed corellas around Echuca (and I found by short billed corellas for most of the Murray downstream). I don't know why this happened, but I was pleased to see them at home in their hundreds on this stretch of the river. Some of the cockies were proud and brave, staying on their snag until we were quite close. When they eventually did fly off to their mates, they would raise their crests as if to say, "did you see that! I wasn't scared. I have just come over here to check that you are all ok." They are such characters. Do you think Leunig's 'Mr. Curly' might be modelled on a cocky?

This magnificent tree was on an old corner of the river - now a quiet billabong full of birdlife.

Sheep grazing on the edge of the river. The frequent snags show two things: that the river is shallow and that it changes its beds regularly. On the outside of banks sometimes whole rows of trees were in the water. This was often the deepest and fastest water, but at good water levels (summer irrigation period) best avoided. I couldn't resist weaving through the snags for this mob of sheep however.

Beach sand covered with kangaroo and wallaby tracks. The way they hop leaves different footprints: wallabies tend to hop on the tips of their feet, whereas the prints of grey kangaroos are much longer. Here, two greys are moving on all fours, or in the case of one, on all fives - it is using its tail to push off the ground as it moves its rear legs forward.

The beach where we pulled in for a morning break.

The Julie Fay: built by Bill Dunn's son Danny.

It was very comfortably set up inside and had herb gardens, air conditioning and, of course a BBQ.

At this beach camp, we came across a father towing his son along the beach with a mini-bike. The son was doing his best to ride a boogie board. A moment later the kid yelled "look at me dad, look at me!" He had managed to stand up.

A small commercial paddle steamer near Cobram. The hull and rails are stainless steel.

Coming into Cobram and the long anticipated coffee at Thompson's Beach Cafe.

Coffee at Thompson Beach in Cobram is one of those luxuries rare at this end of the river - and not to be missed if you get the opportunity.

Tocumwal's foreshore has just been redeveloped. This wharf area was a popular place for locals to swim. Just downstream there is a new boat ramp and bank protection. This could be a good place to pull in if you need supplies, as it is on the same side and not far from Tocumwal's shopping precinct.

Tocumwal bridge with a light breeze tickling the surface of the water.

Another bit of excitement today was seeing forest kingfishers for the very first time... And then seeing more and more, this is part of the southern most top of their range. They do not occur much west of this location. They are a beautiful emerald green, with a buff chest. According to the field guide I have, they mostly eat lizards and insects, however the ones Ruth and I saw were all near the river. I wouldn't put it past them if they did a spot of fishing... At least for the sake of their name.

Other avian treats were provided by rainbow bee eaters, soaring open winged as they searched for insects in the riding air near the banks. Families of sacred kingfishers hunting together - something I have never seen the orange breasted azure kingfishers do. They seem to prefer to work alone. A snow white egret resting on a snag near a lush bed of reeds in a flooded billabong. A stretch of river with hundreds of brown kites - the trees were full of them. We wondered if the fishermen could ever catch enough carp to feed them and if not, where did they get their food from?

We have also just begun to come across our first cormorants, since the Hume Dam their niche seems to have been filled by egrets. Perhaps the water is deep enough now.

On the downstream edge of Private Beach 1.

The wind is quite blowy tonight, however we are well away from trees. Our campsite even has drop toilets. It is some kind of time share arrangement, however there has been no sign of anyone. It could just be empty because the Christmas holidays are nearing their end, or because the weekend has passed, however it looks like an idea which may well have had its time too.

On the map they are marked as private beach 1 and 2, but from the river no sign was visible. We used expeditionary privilege. Almost as time honoured a tradition as camping near automated sprinkler systems ;).

Links for more info and other blogs:

Peter Phillips

Travelling home to bury Chloe.

Corowa is the birthplace of federation. The leaders of NSW and VIC, as well as the other colonies, met here because it was on the Murray and close to halfway between Sydney and Melb. It could well have become our capital. I wonder why it didn't.

Cover of ‘Official report of the Federation Conference held in the court-house, Corowa’, 1893. NAA: R216, 298

http://constitution.naa.gov.au/stories/quick-steps/pods/corowa-conference-1893/index.html

Corowa Main Street.

http://www.murrayriver.com.au/event/182-australian-billy-cart-championships/

According to a taxi driver, the shops in the main street (Sanger St.) are empty because there are two supermarkets, Target and two big clubs. It is hard for the others to survive.

The expensive homes that Ruth and I saw are from people who live in Albury and Wangaratta - housing is cheaper here and they get to live on the river. According to the taxi driver, who picked me up at the camping spot and took me to the bus stop, it's less than 40 minutes to both places.

Corowa doesn't have the tourism success of Rutherglen which is just down the road and only has a population of only 1800. However, the population is growing; currently 4000. There are six functioning pubs (and quite a few that have closed down). One is the Globe Hotel which was where the heads of states met to decide that Australia would become a federation. The Globe Hotel is currently for sale. Asking price 360,000.

http://www.rowinghistory-aus.info/club-histories/corowa/01-1.php

The community seems an active one, the two rowing clubs 1, 2 (with sheds as big as those on the Yarra) train everyday on Lake Moodamere (where there have been regattas since 1860). Corowa has the Australian Billy Cart Championships, where kids race down the hill on the Main Street and there is a triathlon coming up. In the Main Street is a really good bakery and as I sat there getting a morning coffee while waiting for the Albury bus, tradies came in and ordered gourmet sandwiches, always a good sign of health in the community. So, despite the empty shops, things are happening in Corowa and perhaps the empty shops are an opportunity for something really creative to happen. The town just needs to get a strategy going like in Rutherglen where apparently something is happening every week, attracting the tourists. More shade in the Main Street would help. As the lady in the bakery said, "it is going to be a lovely day, nice and hot."

No more posts for now. Have had to postpone the rest if the trip. Just had word that our lovely dog Chloe died of a stroke last night and am on my way home on a Vline bus to pick up the car. This trip is to be continued. More photos and posts then. Thanks for following and sharing in our appreciation of the beauty of the river and the people that live along it.

Chloe in the front, Harry in the back. He sat by her side when it happened.

Sometimes we need the quiet.

Watching the river change and spending time reflecting on Chloe's life with us while waiting for Peter to return with the car...

7am Sun kisses the trees. All quiet.

8am

Noisy cicadas, chatty ducks, the first boat and neighbours still asleep.

Ducks silently swimming in a row into the current, keeping their position and grazing off the surface.


9am The wind has picked up. Not sure what it would have done to us on the river, a bit of head wind, a bit if tail wind, I guess...I can hear cockatoos screeching in the trees across the river; however, only just... The cicadas dominate the morning chorus presently other than that all feels quiet as if nature knew that a hot day was coming... It's good to be still and to think of Chloe and thank her for her life that she so loyally and lovingly shared with us. I'm not sure we did her justice but she accepted us how we are graciously. A gust of wind must have pushed a sleeping moth off its perch in the tree. It flew clumsily about the tree, bumping into leaves until it found a vertical branch where it could continue the interrupted sleep.

10am.

Cicadas have swapped to the other side and I can hear wrens twittering around our tent.soon the sun will hit the tent.

11am

Ducks have disappeared. Leaves are falling off the trees - elegant in flight, twirling and turning like a ballerina; quite in contrast to their plump thud when they meet the water surface only to be carried downstream by the current. Yesterday, I saw a Christmas beetle holding on to a gum leave in the big water. I wanted to rescue him but went past too fast and also did not feel confident enough to pick him up with my paddle... Sorry.

12pm

Just had another swim and also cooled down the boats with a bucket of water. I have moved my mat about three times already, trying to stay in hen shade. Made me remember the bungle bungle afternoon in 1989 where I thought I had moved my towel in anticipation of shade to come. I was mistaken. I had the northern hemisphere in my head

1pm

I have had lunch. Same lunch as on paddling days except I have swapped my boat for a sleeping mat today. Coo koo s echoing on both sides of the river. Where do they get the energy in this heat to sing and the actions connected to the bird song? Peter will be on his way soon...

2pm

More speed boats, more heat but I feel safe and cool under my mighty gum.

He has seen it all before.

3pm

Time for another float. I have the yellow floating noodle tied to a little flooded red gum. We are working well together.

All is quiet except for man made noises and cicadas, this time back from the Victorian shore.

Journey's are a risk. They take you away from support networks, often out of the reach of medical help and there are limited opportunities to repair gear. In addition, unexpected situations can arise, a cutting could have dangerous currents and snags, not apparent as you paddled into it. Fuel stoves can easily cause burns. Sparks from campfires can damage tents. You may become injured, or fall ill. Part of good planning is to minimise the risk of these things happening, or to be able to cope with them when they do. However, it is important to realise that whilst you can plan, you can't stop some things from happening. Life is a risky business. When you take on a journey with periods of isolation, as much as others are not there for you, you are not there for them. You must accept this. Ruth's family is in Europe, mine is in Australia. When someone close dies, one of us is always far from home. We do our best to support, to be there to help, but in the end it is your personal strength that gets you through and helps us to support others. Journey's like these build resilience and surrounded by so much beauty, they give us hope.

Peter Phillips