The Final Hurrah

Well I've been a bit slack over the last few weeks. Instead of regularly updating my blog to let people know where I am and what has been happening I have instead been lying low. A lot however, has passed under the bridge since last I wrote.

I'm in Hobart now and not on the river for a start.

Yes thats right, I am literally thousands of kilometres away from my beloved rivers. Have I completed my odyssey? Well, yes and no.

My last port of call on the Murray was Wellington, which is where the Murray River pours into Lake Alexandrina. At least, it has poured into the lake in the past but in truth today it is in a sad state of events today. Not much more than one thousand megalitres a day flow over at Lock 1 at Blanchetown and the majority of this is destined to be pumped out of the river and piped to Adelaide before it reaches the lake. The lake itself, which is seperated from the ocean by barages, is typically 0.75 of a metre above sea level. Today, due to the ongoing drought it is minus 0.3. That means the level of the lake is 30 centimetres below sea level! The locals are, as you can imagine, up in arms. They are worried that their entire livelyhoods will go up in smoke simply because there is no water for them to live on.


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Even people who have water allocated to them and are allowed to pump water from the lake are in trouble. Why? Because the lake is so empty that they simply cannot get pipes to the water.

None of this is the reason why I'm in Hobart without having paddled to Goolwa, which is at the far end Lake Alexandrina and is where the lake waters interact with the ocean - not including the barrages that are in the way at the moment and preventing any mixing of the two waters. As I left Renmark a few weeks ago I had the flu and had to take a couple of days off from paddling at Berri. Up until reaching Renmark I have been remarkably healthy and I assume that on hitting a major town I was open and suseptable to catching any dreaded lurgies which happened to be lurking about.

After hanging around for a couple of days at Berri in a caravan park, I decided to head off. My cold was largely gone and time was a-wasting. I had a big day on the second day out and made Cobdogla with a few hours to spare before night fell. My shoulder however, began to feel a touch sore. Instead of giving it time to recouporate I haded out the next day - and the next and the next. After heading out each morning I would find that after about ten minutes or so my should would become increasingly sore. If I tried to look in one direction or exerted to much pressure then sharp pains would shoot through my neck and shoulder.

By the time I was in Wellington each stroke was a studied effort in pain. With a big day needed to cross the lake I was worried. Worse, the lake is renowned for being challenging and I was concerned that my body wasn't in any fit state to battle adverse conditions which may spring up at any time.

Now I'm in Hobart once more and giving my shoulder time to heal. It has taken a good couple of weeks for the pain to dissapear completely and I now shall be looking to testing out the shoulder by carrying out some explorative paddles around Hobart before making a decision on whether or not I should paddle the final leg I had planned - across Lake Alexandrina to Goola.

I shall keep the blog up to date to let you know how I go.


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Riding an Anabranch

Rather than simply following the course of the Murray River, I decided that it would be far more exciting for Tim, David and Marcel to enjoy a bit of variety by cutting of some kilometres and shooting down Anabranches...

And what is an anabranch? Well, I'm glad you asked. An anabranch is when a stream or creek branches off from the original river and rejoins it later downstream. The anabranch I had selected was Mullaroo Creek. This had been recomended to me by some people I had met on the Darling and I would have to say that they were right. It was a great route to take. Of course it did provide us with a few challenges....

as you can see from the picture above, there were many snags which we had to negotiate and the river - unlike the Darling which was also snag ridden, this water was flowing! Tim and I were in tghe double kayak and as I was in the front it was up to me to call out which direction we should go and for Tim to guide us in that direction.

"Left", I'd call out with some degree of authority. "Left", I'd say again as we began to get closer to a branch sticking out prominently directly in front of us.

"Left left left", I'd call in some distress as the kayak kept in a straight line.

"OK then", I'd say as the kayak began to veer to the right. "Right". Then of course the kayak would begin to move to the left. "No no. Left. Go left. No. Go right. Riiighhttttt. Argh!". Bang! The kayak must have hit snags every five minutes or so. It was great. I'd recommend it to anybody.


There was one snag which spanned the river. There was a low section on it and I directed Tim to charge at it - full tilt. The nose of the kayak slid up the snag and the kayak came to rest half way across and Tim had to hop out of his seat, lean against me and put his feet onto the snag and push with all his might before we came adrift. Great fun. We also had a bit of trouble negotiating a very low lying bridge. We had to get down to the same levels as the deck of the kayaks almost and drift slowly under.

There was also quite a few birds and we even came across some fishermen that took pity on us (well, mainly me really) and handed us a six pack of beer, which was very nice of them.

Of course the creek didn't run swiftly for long. Mullaroo actually bypasses a lock and drops around three metres over ten or fifteen kilometres or so and is geat fun whilst it lasts. Once the creek reaches the same height as the water pooled up in the lock below however, it becomes as placid as the Murray River and we camped that night on the banks of a placid Mullaroo creek. You would never know what fun could be had on the upper reaches of this wonderful little creek.
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Friends Reaching the Murray

Last Saturday I was joined by David, Marcel and Tim for a few days who have all managed to run away from their normal lives to join me for a few days paddling on the Murray River. Just getting from the daily grind to the Murray was an epic unto itself - let alone the paddle down.

After much umming and ahhing both David and Tim teamed up to come on up to the Murray and took the ferry (after a frenetic drive hoping that they would make it) to Melbourne where they picked up Marcel and drove to join me. I wasn't meeting then at a town or any other such simple place. Instead after much to'ing and froing we decided upon Neds Corner, a property once owned by Sydney Kidman. Unbeknownst to me at the time, there was more than one Neds Corner. The first - Neds Corner Island was a days paddle distant from Neds Corner homestead. in fact the original homestead had indeed been closer to Neds Corner Island but the homestead was moved when the original burnt down in 1959. This of course resulted in much confusion, with me trying to figure out just where the heck I had suggested we meet. In the end we met at the new homestead of the property. I arrived a good hour or so before they did and talked to the caretakers who let me know that the roads were a "bit dicey" and that most cars getting through to this area were all 4WD. Oh oh.

No problems for Tim, who just aimed at the mud, stuck his little Subaru into low wheel drive and floored it. It sounded a bit dicey getting through though... With rain forecast however, we knew there would be no chance of the car getting out. To make sure they lads could actually get back to Tas, Tim and I drove down to Renmark once things had been unloaded then came back as far as we could go in a taxi. Not unreasonably the cab driver went only so far before Tim and I had to hop out and walk. Tim, being the genius he is, managed to forget his shoes and had to walk for kilometres in bare feet on muddy ground.

so as you can see it can be a bit of a challenge just getting to the point of starting an expedition like this. Fortunately Tim, David and Marcel made it, and the expedition I'm sure was worth it. Or perhaps you should ask them that...
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Wentworth at Last

Well who would have believed it. 1,500 hundred odd kilometres of discovery has so far brought forth myriad adventures and challenges and I have finally reached Wentworth - the confluence of the Darling and Murray Rivers. I am writing this scarcely believing that I have indeed travelled from where the Barwon River turns into the Darling. The last leg - from Pooncarie to Wentworth was a kicker.


I guess I could have really guessed. The second last leg - from Menindee to Pooncarie was far more challenging than any other section. I guess I was just hopeful that I would find that the final leg would be a beautiful, easy finale to my journey down the Darling River. No luck there damn it.


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Within 5 minutes of heading out of Pooncarie I was forced to put my paddle down and hop out of the kayak to drag it over sand bars. The sand bars were quickly joined by some challenging trees which spanned the river. My first hour was slow but then the river opened up and let me pick my way carefully downstream.

"Ripper", I thought. "Hopefully it won't get any worse".

Hah!

A week or so into the leg from Menindee I made a comment in my journal about new weeds which were beginning to encroach upon the river. I thought that they looked like bad news and hoped that they wouldn't span the river, for if they did I could see it might be a nightmare to continue. Well guess what.

After a couple of days paddling a came across a virtual sea of the dreaded reed. A good couple of hundred metres of the stuff. It took me a good couple of hours to get through it all. Well - close to an hour of very hard work anyway. And that was a taste of things to come.

I couldn't tell you the number of times I had to hop out of the kayak to beat down the reeds and drag my kayak through them. I felt like Humphrey Bogart on the African Queen. At times I was waist deep in water - which was pretty darn cold I must say and beating my way threw. Still, in the end I managed to get through and once I was within a hundred kilometres or so of the Murray River the condition changed totally. The water became deep, houses became more common (sometimes I'd see two or three an hour!) and the obstacles became non existent. This was because the Murray river backs up the Darling for miles. I ws pretty relieved I must say. Of course it did feel like suburbia after the remote rigours with which I had been faced.


Dad and Anna joined me at a station called Sturts Billabong for a night or two, and Anna joined me for the final two days paddle into Wentworth, which gave her a real taste for the river and meant that I had somebody helping paddle (which meant I didn't have to paddle so hard).

Tomorrow I head off from Wentworth. Down a new river. A river where the waters of the Darling mix with those of the Murray. A river where house boats are common, the waters are broad and fast boats make their way from one town to another. A far cry from the river of little water, no people (let alone boats on the water) for days or weeks and remoteness unparalleled with towns a novelty rather than a regular occurrence. as such I am treating this river somewhat differently. No need to stock up on supplies for weeks on end. No need to ensure that I am self sufficient for weeks on end either.

The first leg from here - Wentworth to Renmark, is the longest leg on the Murray for me (about 250k's or so) and I am joined by a few people as I do it. Darryl Brander, a property owner whom I met on the Darling River will be joining me for the next couple of days and when he goes Dad will be staying the night before David Wanless, Marcel and Tim Larby will join me at a place called Neds Corner and paddle with me down an Anabranch and into - or close to - Renmark...


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Supplies and the route to Wentworth

Well, I've managed to reach Pooncarie, which is around 1,350 odd kilometres from where I started. A decent old paddle really.

What does this all mean? Well, it means I only have about 240 kilometres to go before I reach the confluence of the Darling and Murray Rivers. It also means reaching Wentworth, which is a decent sized town and a place where I will actually be able to buy a reasonable amount of supplies.

Imagine that.

I went into the general store here at Pooncarie to stock up on supplies but I wouldn't say that the selection was terribly extensive. I didn't see any eggs but I did get some bacon. A little bit of meat, some flour, chocolate, tea and some biscuits was all I was able to buy. This means no sweetened condensed milk to help me through. Tragedy!

I expect the river will be quite challenging from here for quite some way. There was today 72 mega litres going over the Pooncarie weir, which is very little indeed. Normally i would expect around 200. Apparently the reason there is only 72 is that I am now on a controlled river (since Menindee) and the government system is on the blink. The people in Menindee who open up the weir to supply water downstream know how much water is going through by looking but the metres show something different. In other words, the system is broken and as a result they are not allowed to let more water through until somebody from Sydney has been sent out and recalibrated the water metres.

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The Importance of Progress

One thing that I have noticed is that as I wonder down the Darling River, the towns through which I go vary enormously. Pooncarie, which is where I am at the moment is a ripper.

First of all, it is immaculate. Nice and clean and quite welcoming. Clearly the people who live here believe that it is important to ensure that the place looks and feels good. The camping area nearby is well kept, there is a golf course (which has no grass I might add) and the houses are generally well kept. It also has (joy of joys) a cafe where you can sit down and enjoy a cup of coffee. I'm actually sitting out the front of this cafe as I type now and it brings to mind the pub in Parachilna, South Australia.

The pub there has decided that instead of aiming purely at locals and being a place where travellers fear to tread, they would change the outlook and aim at the myriad types of travellers who love the Flinders Ranges. The pub, which from the outside looks to be the quinessential outback pub opens up when you walk inside. The bar looks like any other bar execpt that on one side they are selling ice creams and gourmet hot chocolate. They have a good art gallery for people to wonder and the dining area is clean. The food, rather than being traditional pub fair is far more cosmopolitan with wraps and falafals being on the menu. In other words, it is bringing a touch of wealth to the outback. A place where people can feel comfortable and don't have to feel that they have to drink alchohol all the time.



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Clearly, the Cafe here in Pooncarie is trying to do something similar - though on a slightly smaller scale. Several locals look askance at this new venture by out of towners, yet those out of towners have clearly taken to a clean, airy cosmopolitan area like bees to honey. Well before I hit this place I had heard about it. First at Bindara, then later as I met travellers camped on the banks of the Darling River.

No, this is not an advertisement for this cafe. Rather it is an endorsement of bringing a touch of class to what has recently been seen as a rough place to be - the Outback. Whilst some people may be attracted to a rough and tumble lifestyle, many people love the bush but also enjoy quality as well - and quality means cleanliness, open spaces, welcoming people at the very least. Often these elements are brought about when new people hit a town. People entrenched within a town often have difficulty in seeing what can be done to life a town. Pooncarie, like Parachilna, has been given a new lease on life thanks to John and Pauline.

Now if only the Tilpa pub where visitors are a little like creatures from alfa centauri.

Christo
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The People You Meet

Breakfast this morning, was superb. Huge as well, which was good. And all because of the great people you meet on a journey like this. Wonderfully tender steak, onion, exquisite tomatoes and a couple of eggs is a great way to start the morning.

A few days out of Menindee and after some pretty tough days paddling - or to be accurate - dragging - meant that I was pretty keen for at least one easy night and it was with this in mind that I was keeping a lookout for Bindara homestead. As a way of supplementing their income. Bindara has opened its grounds to people for accomodation and after a couple of long days in the saddle (figuratively speaking of course) i was keen for a touch of luxury.

I reached the homestead quite late - 4:30 or so - and wondered up to find somebody and see if I could get a bed for the night. In the end I found Barb and Kanga (Barb's tree climbing dog), and she offered me a bed for $25 a night or $30 if I wanted fresh linen. Fresh linen! Who could say no to such a proposition? In the end I was given the old boundary riders quarters. The grass was nice and green all around, I had my own kitchen to do with as I wished and the showers were excellent. In fact I liked the place and my hosts Bill and Barb so much that I stayed an extra night.



Asides from the kitchen, there is a well organised area for a campfire and sitting around the campfire for dinner and solving the problems of the world a perfect after dinner job. Bill is mad keen on home grown energy solutions and has solar panels, wind generators for the house and he powers his car with fish and chip oil.

When I did finally leave it was leaving friends behind whom I would like to see again - not as it is when normally you leave. I also left well stocked, with many tomatoes, mandarins and capsicum freshly picked from their garden. The only problem was that I didn't get far after setting out. No more than five or six kilometres down river I ran into Karl and Gay. brand new grey nomads - though Karl proclaims himself to be a bald nomad - not grey.

I came across Karlas I rounded a bend and he was seated next to a fishing rod, hoping or preying to catch a fish. after a few minutes down came his wife and before you know it I was invited to lunch which was a fantastic salad sandwich. It had to be one of the best lunches I've had in a long time. One thing led to another, meaning I ran out of daylight and camped the night next to (well within 100 metres anyway) their decidedly flash 4wd camper van.

Very gernerously, they shared their dinner with me - steak bacon, chops and potatoes wrapped in foil and thrown in the fire not to mention several galsses of decent red wine. Who could ask for me? When I left the next morning Karl went to the fridge and ripped out four vacuum packed sides of beef and a side of bacon for me. his parting gift to me.

So you can begin to see why I dined so well this morning Last night I ate two of those steaks with onion, garlic and roasted capsicum (coming right out of the Bindara gardens of course). Its all positively decadent. Now I relate this all not to show the largese of Karl and Gay, Bill and Barb, but rather as an example of the wonderful people I've been reading. This last few days is just a part of the continuing story. Whether its Graham and Kerry, Barry and Irene with their Irish stew for dinner and samples of yellow belly and yabbies or the manager of Wienteriga putting on a BBQ with Johnny Cakes on the side and ample bread and baked beans for a week or two, or Izy, Steph and Tracy inviting me to dinner then lunch and dinner at Kallara station or any of the others I've met as I've travelled the river.

All the station owners and property owners have been great as well, offering to fill my water with fresh rain water and offering plenty of cups of tea and views on life. These are the reasons - or at least some of the reasons this journey is turning into such a wonderful odyssey.





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