Paddling the Noosa River

The sun gets up early in Queensland. We rose at dawn, hoping to make the most of the morning stillness, but already at 5am there was a slight ruffle on the waters of Lake Cootharaba. It seemed we would miss the glassy reflections for which the lake is famous. So, after a leisurely breakfast surrounded by paperbarks and with a few campground wallabies standing sentinel, we carried our boats down to the gently lapping water's edge.

Lake Cootharaba is a broad shallow lake which forms the entrance to the Upper Noosa River. Despite a length of 10km and a width of about 5km, it is never much more than a metre deep. The winds that whip its surface, especially in the afternoons, make it a popular spot for sailing and windsurfing. A short paddle across the northern perimeter of the lake soon brought us to channels lined with mangrove swamps and scatterings of remnant rainforest. As we began to negotiate the twists and turns of 'The Narrows' we found ourselves transported to another world.

The river itself is a magical place of dark tannin-stained waters, reflecting the twisted paperbarks and bloodwoods which arch so gracefully over its reed lined banks. The sheltered waterways were calm and tranquil as our kayaks sliced through the black water. At times the reflections were so perfect I had difficulty telling where truth ended and imagination began. I felt as though I was flying, with the tops of the trees 50m below me.

Occasionally the stillness was broken by other groups of paddlers. Greetings were shared with foreign tourists in hired canoes, and blokes fishing from aluminium dinghies as they put-putted upstream. We were a novelty in our wooden kayaks. Every second person commented on our craft and wanted to chat about their construction. It felt like I was paddling with a celebrity - Joel, the wooden boat builder! And although offhand in accepting praise, I think secretly he must be pretty chuffed at all the looks of admiration.

We had intended a leisurely morning of paddling followed by an afternoon spent lazing in the hammock, but on reaching our turn-around point at 9am it felt as though the day had only just begun. We resolved to continue upriver for another hour or so and walk to the Cooloola Sandpatch.

Already feeling a bit stiff after four hours paddling, it felt good to stretch the legs again. Leaving the boats moored to a small landing, we wandered into the coastal heathlands separating the river from the sea. The loose sandy soil gives rise to a short scrubby kind of vegetation which readily draws blood if you happen to brush against it. We were thankful for a well marked path leading to the low sandy ridge and up towards the dunes.

On reaching the sandpatch we were greeted with a panoramic views extending from the sea to the mountains, taking in the lakes and meandering tributaries of the Noosa River. The huge sand blow-out shimmers like snow on a clear blue day and makes it virtually impossible to get a sense of scale. With the early afternoon sun beating down on us we were satisfied with a brief exploration of the dunes, before a welcome respite under blackbutt trees where we enjoyed the leftover rogan josh from last night's dinner. And thus, with a growing sense of urgency we realised that another 25km by foot and by boat separated us from the comforts of the hammock at Elanda Point.

Retracing our steps back down the ridge was quicker than expected and we gratefully cooled off in the tea-tree coloured waters. Without stopping to take photographs, the paddling distance seemed shorter too. Feeling strong, we were back at Kinaba and the entrance to the lake in less than two hours. A brisk breeze blowing off the ocean had picked up quite a swell on the lake by late afternoon. The surface was covered with whitecaps but I innocently wondered, how bad can it be? We soon found out...

Heading in a south-westerly direction we were tormented by a powerful cross-wind which tossed our rudderless boats in all directions. I knew it was only 4.5km to our lovely campsite. I knew that the lake was no more than waist deep and I could wade along the shore if needs be. But I didn't want to give up now. The waves were so close together that my kayak would sit in a trough with a crest at either end and appear to be completely stationary. It took all the power left in my tired shoulders to correct the line of the boat and keep it on course. Within sight of the sandy shore it all got too much for me and I succumbed to tears and fury. The blustery wind continued undisturbed by my frustrated cries and ineffectual paddle strokes.

Then, all of a sudden I entered the sheltered bay at Elanda. The breeze became gentler, the water smoother and my temper calmed. We made it! After dragging the boats up the beach I collapsed into the water, exhausted and happy. It was a much bigger day than I'd anticipated. In total, some 38km of flatwater paddling, a 12km walk, and memories of a wonderful day on the river. I was left with the well-earned pleasure of flopping into my hammock with a good book and thus enjoying the last of the evening light.