Tom said 'we picked it like a dirty nose'.
High winds and rampant seas had wiped out the best laid paddling plans for two weeks. Christmas pud was stuck fast and walking the neighbourhood streets just didn't cut the mustard. The Calendar's Plan A was shelved as Moreton Bay was a white water haven and we went for the hills. Unfortunately that's where Plan B ended up too at Deep Water Creek. With Tom's recce we moved to Plan C - Barney's Rocks Bridge to O'Shea's Crossing. The BOM site reported this section of the Brisbane River running at 1.8m at Gregor Creek and was said to be in 'minor flood'.
It was scorching hot as we flattened the eye high grass to get to the waters edge at Barney's Rocks Bridge. The river was cool and turbid and flowing relatively quickly. Having read Sal's local knowledge about barbed and electric fences crossing the river, the possibility of a hasty garrotting perturbed me. Watching the river swallow or swirl around many small callestimons, the idea was to send the TK1 as scouts and have the canadian canoes trail behind and collect any remnants.
As it turned out, Ted and Ray kept out in front with Ted jumping around up front of their canoe to suss the run of the water and find any hazards, narrowly avoiding entanglement with one barbed wire fence. Along the way gravel races declared themselves on the bottom on the boats and you had to keep an eye out for submerged trees. The Brisbane Valley was looking lush and the bird life was prolific with a variety of ducks, shags, black swans, pelicans, bee eaters, kingfishers, swamp hens, and several birds of prey including a pair of massive wedge tail eagles. A boat on the river somehow morphed into a cow crossing. Unlike the cattle
further down the river, these beasts were unsettled by the kayaks and bellowed belligerently.
What was remarkable about this section of the river were the lung
fish. They frequently came to the surface and together with the occasional turtle were easily spotted from the canoes. For a long time they remained illusive to me, but part way down a small race, one kindly raised it's large olive green lizard like head out of the water showing its rubbery lips and large scales while
taking a look with those widespaced grey green eyes.
There are few trees close to the water's edge and morning tea was taken in the sun on a warm gravel bank. A search for shade for lunch had us scramble up a hillside for slim pickings afforded by some young gum trees on ant infested terrain. Geneieve, who on this trip had been travelling in the open comfort in the Canadian had sweet and tasty blood pink flesh. If Brian and Carol had made it they could have polished her off amongst these tame melon eaters. We thought we had our lunch place to ourselves but a 4WD soon made its way along the opposite bank then straight up the hill with a black working dog giving chase. Soon after a quad bike
made deliberate tracks down to the waters' edge this time with a
tan cattle dog in tow. The bloke got off and called out asking where we were from and where were we camping. The reply was slow and generic thinking this signalled a hasty departure. Funny, as nothing could have been further from the truth. Turns out he was genuinely interested. He owned the land and used to have people from the Ipswich and Indooroopilly Canoe Clubs paddle down, camp there for several days, go bush walking and generally have a
great time. We would be welcome to do likewise - put that offer in the 'things to do' Brian. Turns out 15 years ago when Wivenhoe was full our lunch area would have been submerged and this flow was the first in the past four years.
The skies started to become overcast and thunderheads loomed. Small planes and flying coffins (ultralites) buzzed and spluttered overhead. The flow continued at a quick pace through boulder strewn countryside and before long the concrete pylons of
O'Shea's Bridge came into view as we rounded yet another patch of bullrush.
By the time the cars returned from Barney's Rock Bridge a fierce storm was edging closer with a severe storm warning broadcast on ABC radio. With the last boat was secured the wind arrived. Tom's idea was to skirt the storm by heading for Esk for coffee. Instead the boats were washed as the roadside gutters became torrents spilling over the road. Driveways in Esk were floodways, teenagers were out with inflatable tyres catching a ride between the trees in the home paddock, and the locals were all out watching the spectacle of a town drowning. Channel Seven last seen heading out to capture this aquatic adventure created by 60mm in 30 minutes.
With Esk soaked and closed we continued on past some torrential runoff and pulled into a cafe at Fernvale which looked like it had only had a few spats. A good coffee and friendly service was had before the noise of the local jam and biscuit session concluded the day. This was a magic paddle which turned out a bit like the timing of the finish before the storm - pure arse. Who knows how many years it will be before the next opportunity to paddle this section of
the river, but if you get the chance take it.
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