While the mud was firm it was slithery. Some granted it a blessing while others chose an involuntary embrace of another still standing whilst getting down the bank. After washing off what was accessible a colourful collection of eight chattered their way around the bend from Joseph Brady Park to the entrance
of the Bremer River.
Along the way the river revealed its past and present uses. The pylons of the Warrego Highway bridge were skirted by protective girders, presumably for the barges which transported gravel and earlier coal. A pervasive and distinctive aroma indicated the abattoirs were current. Strident rusted hulks were the remains of coal loaders. A large rusted steam driven pump retreated in the shade. Several boat projects of a lifetime remained high and dry.
Seeing dead bream was a concern yet people were still casting a line. Pipes for extracting water as well as pumping out were a regular feature, unlike the options for morning tea. This was eventually taken at Cribb Park in the shade of a pavilion. The
bench seats were well set back from the table, whether it was to cater for varying body habitus or table manners, it was not clear, suffice to say that the structure was sturdy and great for slurping Kevin's juice. We were quickly supplanted by those who
enjoy doof doof and could have scored well with a RBT.
Heading inland took us past the Riverlink project with the landscaping of the old wharf area on the opposite bank. After this the river started to narrow and fish jump. The flying fox colony was well back from the river with some hanging like leaves from eucalypts which otherwise looked disturbingly devoid. The distance covered was curtailed by the lack of water pushed by the
incoming tide over the rocks. Mark took a look and performed a pirouette when others thought the gravel races would have the better of the gel coat.
By the time we returned to Cribb Park, the doofers had deserted and we reclaimed our posies. After Kevin, the sweet and tasty pineapple, Katherine the melon was a pretty insipid affair who came to grief in the rubbish bin.
While strong winds swayed the upper branches of the magnificent silver gums, it remained fluky along the river. By now we had a good tidal flow and were making 8Kph with little effort. Thankfully the incoming tide had made our muddy exit less difficult as I don't think anyone would have appreciated an ignominious end to a great day.
