Visual Survey & Mapping Of The Herbert River Gorge

October, 1979

VISUAL SURVEY & MAPPING OF THE HERBERT RIVER GORGE

WHAT O'CLOCK, SIRIUS ?

We began our survey with a ride on a raft; consisting of two Lilos, one atop the other, much string, a fishing net, a rope and four pieces of driftwood, we paddled our contraption across to a narrow gap between two great buttresses that we jokingly referred to as the "Jaws of Death". Our excitement was intense. We entered a vast chasm – imagine an immense, grotesque cathedral, without a roof, the choir a reverberating thunder of falling water, the incense a mist of blown spray, and all bathed in the mysterious eerie light from above the sheer walls. Complete exploration, for surely no one had trod this hallowed ground! The going was too severe to get our raft into the next, 2nd, pool, so we had to be content to swim to a ledge, that, hopefully, would give us a picture of the 2nd Fall, about 60ft high. J. swam round a corner and reported an impassably smooth, wet buttress that prevented access to the 1st Fall, 300ft. high.

J. began the mapping from there, whence started* a series of up-and-down river procedures through familiar places – R. & K. Falls, Sugar-lump Alley, B Castle, Tumble Stones, and a new camp, Box Iron. L & L. Falls – now both Hyland – and then our biggest suprise – the Canyon was NOT where it should be! At least, it was not where we had put it in our previous map. So alterations – no, not to the Canyon, that is 4 kms. of immovability – but to our survey maps. We found the Fall that Alan noted in his expedition and hope he will accept our nomination of Watson Fall.

We had a delightful interlude – 5 gingery dingo puppies playing gleefully on a sandbank. Mamma, who looked like a dark Alsatian dog, tried to lure us away, and, when we went closer, the pups fled into the dark lair between the rocks.

To J's joy, and my consternation, we used flotation instead of climbing round every difficult corner - quicker, but I have never been so washed up in my life, although we did revel in the hot midday sun and the passably warm water. We did find some alteration in the river bed, for, where last year we waded across, we now had to swim.

Piece by piece, naming and mapping, we descended the Gorge, camping on soft, sandy banks, night after night, often under a wide path of blazing stars, past Point C, Two-dog Corner, Three Sisters, Great Corner, Howling Gates (dog howling) to our lovely Sandy Camp – all new places to us. Going for firewood I was confronted by two dingoes – cheekily, the first one almost said, "What are YOU doing here?", but when I "sang out" to tell J. he did not like my Lancashire accent, and turned tail. Another camp Shady Tree, and Long Pool – must be about 2 kms of placid water;

down to Sandbank Corner. We had previously mapped, earlier this year, from here, through Bloodwood Pool to Curving Pool.

Only two "baddies" – once when we stepped into some stinging trees, and the other when I made a horribly wrong decision. At an impasse, J. swam across the river whilst I elected to climb over, to meet round the corner. Little did I know that the cliffs continued for some kms. The "climb" was wicked – stones held together by dry sand – and I soon found myself spreadeagled on four contact points, all of them shaky, struggling to keep myself from high-diving 100 ft. into the pool, or being a demonstrator to one of Galileo's Laws – Falling Bodies! I really was "hanging on by my eye-lashes," and even these tended to fall out! Great exertions, and I found bigger stones – but I had climbed up to where I could NEVER DESCEND – a bad maxim, without ropes; and, though I did not find out until later, I was in trouble. Further east, up and over, getting hot, exhausted and dry, and still I could not get down. Many times I fell and slid – had many bruises and blood spots, but, above all I was terribly thirsty. I turned back – now I had to go over it again – oh! for a rope – until I found a heavenly gully and licked a smear of moisture from its rocky bed. At its foot I managed to slide and climb down: down to the lovely limpid river, and gulpingly slake my raging thirst.

The title? Sirius? Whether or no it makes us "healthy, wealthy and wise" we had decided to be up and about all our daylight hours. Then my watch began to play up. So, back into pre-history we went – to a shadow stick and the apparent motion of the stars. After midnight, Orion, the Mighty Hunter, cleaves the eastern heavens. (There is no truth in the story that it is an Irish constellation, by name, O'Ryan) with the glittering point of Sirius, the Dog Star, at the end of the Sword, and when directly overhead - 5 a.m. time to get up. The Jewel Pageant passes over: the diurnal spiral urges the diminishing Sirius towards its zenith, and Time takes a hand. As Omar Khayyam reminds us in his Rubaiyyait it is time to...

Awake,
For Dawn into the Bowl of Night,
Has thrown the Stone
Which puts the Stars to Flight.

J. & H.

Conclusion:
I cannot sum up the Herbert River Gorge better than a member of ... TEXT CUT OFF

Alan's party, just arriving at Bloodwood Camp after such a gruelling journey. Weary as he was, to my unsaid query, he breathed, "Magnificent! It's all you said it was!" More people with the Herbert Obsession! But, it is really wonderful, "Down in the River"; it is a delight to camp by the riverside, quiet and peaceful, only the gentle lapping of the deep green water, or the distant murmur of a rapid, looking up and down the almost white "dish" of the riverbed (the flooding), exclusive to the Herbert? The harsh challenge of its rocky places, the brush colour of the pink granite, contrasting the new foliage on the trees. On our "rest days", which were really easier ones bracketted in between harder days we lived a glorious tranquil life - swim in the river when it became too hot - plenty of firewood for cooking and on evening comp-fire - complete privacy - and the panorama of the changing hours of day in this beautiful valley.

Going down to and coming up from the Gorge can be a tiring and sometimes dangerous trip; so, for safety's sake ALWAYS CARRY A ROPE.

We learned with dismay, that, despite our pleas, and also that it is against National Park Laws, our two finny friends at Bloodwood Pool have been taken and eaten. The rape of the Herbert River Gorge has begun!

We find it very hard to condone, especially when they are Club Members, such "sportsmanship" - or is it gluttony? We also heard, that, after plying many times, no more victims were landed - does it occur that Bloodwood Pool is now out-fished? - that no more will trusting, graceful acquaintances glide gently from the deep to see the human beings that disturb their pool. What has happened to the National Parks Maxim - "leave nothing but footprints and take nothing but photographs"? Our grief is greater when we reflect that some of the responsibility is ours - had we not told of Bloodwood Creek Pool, our lovely friends would still be swimming gently in the limpid water. Accordingly, except for the dingoes and dogs (meat too tough to eat, I hope) no mention of fauna of the Gorge is unfolded. Also, there is no indication of points of access, on the assumption that, if he ferrets out his own route, the "sportsman" may have less time to begin the vandalisation of the wonderful glories of the Herbert River Gorge.

We are making a booklet of the aspects of the Herbert River - not only of your trust, Blencoe to the Falls, but also down to the Top-of-the-Road, and we hope to present a Club Copy when we arrive back to Townsville next year.

J. & H.