We’re back on the Hawkesbury again, this time on its lower reaches, and on the water with the Hawkesbury Riverboat Postman. Yes, it’s a cruise that also delivers mail to the river-only-access communities of the Lower Hawkesbury.
The cruise started and ended in Brooklyn, which has the honours of having a train station and a fully-fledged marina.
However it somehow still manages to remain a fisherman’s village. The harbour itself is more practical rather than pretty.
The venue for the reception was slightly out of town at Melross & Willow’s Estate, in a converted barn. By then the clouds were threatening to burst, so there wasn’t any croquet or skittles, but the view was still spectacular.
The estate is also a working horse and cattle property, but I’m guessing that it might have been a dairy as well at one stage. These days, it’s all about the wine.
The wedding was in the very quaint St Joseph’s Catholic Church, in Kangaroo Valley village.
Quaint because it was built in 1888 and as you can see doesn’t seat very many people – everyone really needed to squash in!
As with a lot of 19th Century churches, there are the obligatory stained-glass windows. These are modest but colourful, reflecting the farming community that it served back when it was built.
A lovely little country church.
We spent last weekend in Kangaroo Valley for my cousin J’s wedding. I hadn’t been in Kangaroo Valley for close to 15 years, and it’s certainly gotten busier in that time. I remember only the ice cream shop in the village before, and now there is a dozen places to eat as well as shops of all sorts. But one thing that hasn’t changed is Hampden Bridge.
Built in 1898, it’s still the oldest timber suspension bridge in Australia, still one-laned, and still stands high above the Kangaroo River.
I forget sometimes that autumn is also a great season for flowers as much as spring. At Jamberoo Abbey, the silhouette of this rose caught my eye one morning. It’s like one last hurrah before winter kicks in.
My visit to Jamberoo Abbey this year occurred two weeks after Easter. As usual, I wanted to capture the avenue of trees in all their autumn glory, but due to our very long summer this year, the leaves had only just begun to turn. Nevertheless, they were always a delight to walk through, especially in the early morning.
Well, the heat beat us. We wanted to stay three nights at Upper Colo Reserve, but after a 37C day, and with 41C predicted for the next, we decided to cut our losses at two nights and head back home.
On the way, we decided to go the long way home, and explore the lower reaches of the Hawkesbury. That’s where we found the car ferries.
We had been on the ferry at Wisemans Ferry, but we discovered others at Sackville, and the one pictured at Webbs Creek. All are maintained by the state and are free of charge. Makes any car trip bit of an adventure.
By mid-morning, the mist was long gone, and the river was turning into a warm bath. The air temperature was a maximum of 37C that day! The water temperature must have then be close to 30C.
Back at the campsite, we took advantage of every little bit of shade.
Bridie Beagle panting like no tomorrow. She enjoyed the heat, even if it completely drained her.
Even after a swim, she once again insisted on sunbathing. The saying about mad dogs (and some silly people) being the only ones crazy enough to be in the midday sun, is true where she’s concerned.
The Colo River that morning was misty and mysterious.
At Upper Colo, it’s hemmed in by sheer sandstone cliffs and dense bush.
By the water, it sustains more verdant species.
The river has its source deep in the Blue Mountains north of Lithgow in the valleys of Capertee and Wolgan. We visited the Capertee Valley a few years ago, and by road seems like a world away from Upper Colo.
The Colo eventually flows into the Hawkesbury, which drains in Broken Bay, so we’ve seen quite a few sides of this extensive river system.
In between, it flows wild through Wollemi National Park, until it emerges at Upper Colo, before meandering into the Hawkesbury at Lower Portland.
It reminds me of the novel The Secret River. Set by the Hawkesbury in the early days of New South Wales, it described the recreated the experiences of the first white settlers to the area. They saw the river and the bush as a mysterious, menacing creature that was just waiting to gobble them up. Sitting by the river that morning, I think I understood how they felt.
The next morning was a very misty one.
I was up before everyone else – I couldn’t miss this photographic opportunity.
The mist hung around for half of the morning, until the sun struck the hills.
It was however long enough for me to photograph the river, which we’ll visit next.
Static and Silence 