In t h e
BEGI NNI NG
ong ago, during the Aboriginal Dreamtime, spirit beings roamed the land
creating dramatic, topographical features. According to the creation legends
L
of the Yorta Yorta people of northern Victoria, the great Murray River
(Tongala) was born when Biami, one of the ancestral beings of the Dreamtime, had
a sudden inspiration. He performed a magnificent feat of hydrological engineering.
He sent his wife out onto the arid plains to dig for roots in the company of her
chaperone  a gigantic snake. His wife was a woman of exceptional abilities,
possessing an exemplary work ethic, so her search for roots took her and her
unusual guardian all the way to the sea. As the snake followed along behind her, it
left the kind of gargantuan, serpentine track one would expect a snake of such
proportions to leave in the soft sandy, loamy soil. Then, in a thunderous voice
accompanied by lightning, Biami brought down cataclysmic torrents of rain, which
filled up the huge snake's track through the outback.
above: A painting of the traditional story of the Ngarrindjeri people who lived on the banks
of the Murray River. Ngurunderi Dreaming by artist Garry Duncan and others, is situated
under the Berri Bridge in the riverside town of Berri, South Australia. The ancestral
Dreaming hero, Ngurunderi, is pictured, spearing Ponde, the Murray cod. It seems a pity that
such artwork is not placed in a venue where more people see it.
Biami's waterworks project occurred a long time ago. Now, about 20 million years later,
flocks of gaudy parrots and galahs, clad in a more tasteful plumage of grey and pink, and
snow-white cockatoos with sulphur-yellow crests, screech overhead on their paths above the
red gum forests. The late afternoon sun  nature's alchemist  transforms the giant red
gums to pure gold. They line the banks  silent sentinels to the Murray River's opaque
waters.
Steam-driven paddlewheels churn to foam the long shadows of the trees
projected by the slanting rays of the sun across the paddlewheeler's path down the
ancient river. The broad-beamed paddle steamer, its tough red gum hull born of the
mighty red gum trees which define and confine its route, carries a human cargo
which gazes at the unfolding scene of bush and forest, marsh and ochre cliffs,
sandbars and snags, and wildlife. Above it all, the sky, which has been an almost
unbearably bright, robin's-egg azure, melts into a restful, duck-egg green. The
attention of some of the more mechanically inclined passengers is focused on the
driving force of their quaint craft. A huge but remarkably quiet steam engine is
lovingly tended by the engineer and stoker. They provide for its every need, moni-
toring its gauges, anointing it with oil from an old-fashioned oil can and feeding its
voracious appetite with hearty meals of red gum logs.
Perhaps it is the mid to late 1800s. Perhaps these people are passengers travelling
up- or downriver for a myriad of reasons known only to themselves. It could be a
Sunday party boat carrying the families of river-boat men and other river folk back
from a day's picnic. It could be  but it is not. It is a scene from another time; it is
contemporary  it is happening right now. In fact, it takes place every day. The
clothes worn by the passengers are a giveaway; so too is the modern vernacular of
their speech. And, missing from the scene are the woodpiles and the woodcutters
with their axes and crosscut saws on the banks. Long ago, they cut the snags  sub-
merged boughs hauled out of the murky waters by the government snagging boats
 into firewood, providing fuel for the insatiable steam engines at one shilling per
ton. Missing too, are the grimy, blackened faces of the charcoal-burner workers on
the banks, although here and there, the old steam-engine boilers and fireboxes which
they used to produce the charcoal can still be seen. Charcoal was in great demand
then, as one of the three ingredients of gunpowder (among other uses).
Time has moved inexorably forward on the river, as it has elsewhere in Australia,
but very few places maintain one foot in the past as successfully. The river still runs
through life in the riverine regions. It is a cord which binds together activity
(agriculture, tourism, recreation) and connects present with past. Although most of
the old paddle steamers and people of that era have gone to their graves, some of the
paddlewheelers and even a
above: P.V. Avoca coasts on a liquid pewter river. The vessel's full title is P.V. Showboat Avoca.
few of the people who were privileged to witness the end of the river-trade era in the 1940s
still remain.
There exist enough antique paddlewheelers and old relics on the banks, for it not to be
too difficult for someone who has read a little of the colourful history of the river trade and
viewed the relics and old sepia photos in the museums of the river towns, to imagine the
river-trade past. You need only close your eyes and listen to the rhythmic slapping of the
paddle-wheels, the hissing throb of the engine and the churning water. Allow yourself to
drift back in time, perhaps to summon the ghosts of long-dead
Aboriginal people camped along the banks, ghosts of the first people to earn their
livelihood from the river in boats. The Aboriginal people's boats served their needs
as well as the later settlers' paddle steamers served theirs, even though the former
were extremely simple craft fashioned from the bark of the red gum. Unlike the
later, European settlers, these people left little trace of their presence other than the
canoe-shaped scars on ancient red gums, and hummocks or middens of freshwater
mussel shells beside the river.
Away from the small riverside towns, the scene often looks to the present-day
observer much as it would have appeared to a river traveller of the mid to late
1800s. The impression can be eerily convincing when a showboat, strung with a
multitude of coloured lights, glides past in the river mist of a dark night, to the
accompaniment of slapping paddlewheels and distant voices, just as the Chinese-
lantern festooned showboats did over a century ago. And there is a good chance
that the boat will, in fact, be the original showboat, Avoca, launched in 1877, and
still in business.
The riverine life of yesteryear has changed, as things must. This is the way of
the world. But so many vestiges of the past remain, that to spend time on the river,
along its banks, and in the museums of the old riverside towns, is a strangely
enchanting experience which is difficult to communicate in words. Hopefully the
images in this book will convey this magic.
overleaf:
P.S. Marions massive steam engine, kept
in beautiful condition by its doting
volunteer crew. Marion was originally
launched as a pleasure boat and still
performs this role for paying passengers
out of Mannum, South Australia.