Time on the river.

It had been a woesome week.
Depleted by a full body revolt brought on by bad food.
No paddling, surfing or sailing for days.

But today I was rewarded with time on the river.
A four-hour paddle in my new neoprene spring suit.
All against current: to rebuild stamina.

Early on, the turf farmers'  levees were all neat and clipped.
Then wildness arrived; weeping willows and shadey forest oaks.
A modern if sterile bridge spews faceless drivers overhead.

Short runs and bends, teal ducks, swallows and pelicans six.
The river; brown, swirling, chilled.
Men in caravans in camps established upon low banks.

Fatigue creeps up, drawing attention to technique.
More abdomen, less arms, twist and draw.
No orcas, sharks or high swells, just the beckoning blind depths.

We return to the site where budding artists paint Delft-style, the city opposite.
Upon brown sand banks once trod by the ancient Wonnarua people,  now by pet dogs on their weekly outings.
Sweet tiredness, a refreshing sponge down. A chocolatey reward.

I Paddle My Local River - Tick

Part 3: Sunday 5th, 2019:
After last week's effort I had just one leg to paddle in order to complete the entire river - well up to where dragging over sand bars or rapids is needed. Today we actually launched onto another river, a bigger one that my local river feeds into on their passage towards the sea.
I only had to paddle downstream a kilometre or so, before turning upstream again to complete my river. Today, due to the tide times and recent rain, I would be paddling against both an ebb flow and runoff. I found that hugging the shoreline and inside of bends meant we dodged the worst of the current. But it was still tough going with added complication of the weather! Fifteen minutes in, a squall hit us with localised gusts and rain. Normally getting wet can erode your enthusiasm, but I found that having a goal kept me going hard.

The scenery was quite different from farther upstream. The levees were lower for a start, this meant the river was brighter and the views were more varied. We were in flat alluvial soil country,. Most of it was highly valued, so the banks were almost clear of weeds. Grass was the most prevalent plant, followed by willows and casuarinas and river gums.

We passed out first timber tries bridge after 20 minutes, and a singularly acute bend at 50 minutes along.  From there it was fairly straight and exposed us to bouts of heavy winds, from our port bow, but also from that quarter. oing, but with strong headwinds at times.
We reached the turnaround mark at about the two hours mark. Another shower blessed us and I was reminded that I should carry a second water bottle.
But turning back bought massive relief as we shot of downstream on a hefty current I could ease up on paddling and rest my shoulders. My right knee protested; bending it through the cockpit opening helped, but Tiger Balm put the fire out. We flew on enjoying ourselves until reaching the main river again. There, we again fought the ebb and a stiff SW wind were against us. But Mother Nature relented quite strongly and the river glass over and the ebb didn't seem so bad.
I had now successfully paddled the extent of my local river,  a one-way distance of 30 kilometres +/- in 6 hours, over three Sundays. But of course, being an unsupported adventure, I had to paddle back to the car each day so the distance was double.
From my wobbly kayak beginnings a little over a month back, to this, is beyond my wildest imaginings.