Usually at this time of year my favourite afternoon activity looks like this:
paddling along one of our inland rivers. However this year I am being thwarted.
Two of our closest rivers (the Severn and the Gwydir) lie below dams (Pindari and Copeton respectively) and possibly due to the dry (drought) conditions in our area, more water than usual is being released. This makes canoeing in our small plastic noos somewhat hazardous – just ask Brian who ended up in the drink last weekend. White water rafts they are not.
Another river that we frequent is the Macintyre, which, also due to the dry conditions, is suffering at the other end of the spectrum. It has no dam to feed its flow and at the moment is low and choked with weeds. A dead cow on its banks did nothing for the ambience the last time we visited.
All of this thwarting makes me wonder why we left our last property, Braeside, which had a river 50m from the house – a beautiful stretch of water called the Mole River, which looked like this:
Back then we didn’t have flash plastic noos. All I had was a decrepit fibreglass shell with half paddles and a persistent leak. It was named S.S Minnow – the S.S standing for “slowly sinking”. Plenty of fun was had though. In this photo Pep, Bonnie and Clyde are my crew while Bo provides the auxiliary motor. Any time we let Bo climb aboard the whole lot ended up on the bottom of the Mole.
The Mole was also a pristine spot for fishing and we often supplemented our diet with Murray Cod,
Yellow Belly or catfish.
So as I sit here at Rocky Springs in a drought with no summer rains but stinking hot days and bug-filled nights I wonder why we don’t live on the banks of a river. But then I remember …..