In 1942, Alex and Stephen Abrahams’ father, John, began a longstanding tradition: exploring the Clarence River and its tributaries. After the 45th trip on the Nymboida River in 2011, it appeared those who had participated over the years had “done it all”. That was until Alex came up with the idea of travelling the river’s entire length: from its southern source on the escarpment overlooking the Bellingen Valley to the sands of Main Beach, Yamba.
Alex Abrahams recounts this extraordinary three-week journey to Geoff Helisma.

It’s kind of like our spiritual home in a way,” says Alex Abrahams, 54 (pictured above right), of his family’s relationship with the Clarence River. Standing at the river’s southern source with his travelling partners, (l-r) Bob Wonders, 55, Dick Bennett, 59, and brother, Stephen, 58, (along with Shaun Walsh, who accompanied the men for the first week), Abrahams feels like he’s stumbled onto something rare. “The Antarctic beech forest that the river rises in is only 100 metres wide and it’s right on the escarpment and probably no one knows that it’s there. The remnants of the Gondwanaland forest are just amazing.”

Diary entry (pre trip): Alex gave thought to what we had not done and he came up with the idea to travel the entire length of the Nymboida/Mann/ Clarence River system, from the Dorrigo Plateau to the Pacific Ocean. A quick email to Steve about the idea … and 2013, A River Odyssey was born. Dick Bennett quickly came on board and we searched for a 4th to join us. Bob Wonders (after some arm twisting) capitulated, and instead of just doing the faster parts, he agreed to slog it out to Yamba. We also thought it was a good idea to make it more meaningful, by raising funds for local Maitland & Yamba organisations that do good in their local areas.

“We set out to make the most of this trip so we decided to make it a fundraiser. We picked two charities: the Maitland Hospital Foundation – my father was a Maitland GP for 49 years who was involved with the hospital, so there’s a strong connection there – and the Yamba Surf Lifesaving Club, because we’ve had a lot of connection with over the past 50 years,” says Abrahams.
Planning for the adventure over two years was meticulous and all consuming. “Our reconnaissance in late October 2012 told us the river started west of Dorrigo at a place called Barren Mountain, which is right on the escarpment that drops down into the Bellingen Valley. We also checked out Rob Roy Falls and the Nymboida and Dorrigo pubs.
“On the Friday morning, Uncle David and a mate from Coffs Harbour drove us up to the start of Barren Mountain – we actually trekked into this area from the last farm road we could go on. We were very determined to start at the start and finish at the finish, so we could uphold the source to the sea concept.”
A support team was organised, as was the participation of others, who joined the men during the adventure, many of whom had paddled sections of the river on previous journeys.

Diary entry (day 1): After a great meal at Dorrigo Pub on Thursday night, we set off at 6.45am, 15 minutes late, as Bob had to finish the cryptic crossword from the day before.
On his motorbike, Shaun, the manager of the Redlands property, guided the cars as close as possible to the escarpment. From there we trekked to the high point just north of the escarpment.
We collected our water from the source and set off with backpacks, and trekking gear. Some [of us] had full length gaiters, which was effective in hiding leaches inside. They were our number one pest on day one. It was mild weather, so very few flies.
The first section from the source was steep, but within 2km flattened out to farm country. The river was up due to recent rains, but even so, a farmer we met on a tractor said there is always water flowing, even in drought, due to natural springs feeding it.
The first 10km were fairly uneventful, except for some boggy areas where we went up to our knees, in mud and slush. The electric fences presented challenges as well.

On day one, the objective was to make it to Rob Roy Falls (about 25 kilometres from the source), which would involve overland trekking and floating down the river. “We had backpacks and our sleeping bags, as well as our night gear, a couple of billies, some pasta and lunch type stuff, like some cheese and salami. We probably only carried 10 kilograms each in our backpacks, and we had to make our backpacks water tight because we’d be doing a lot of floating down the river for the first two days,” says Abrahams. “In the upper reaches it’s dropping 30 metres every kilometre, 1,450 metres above sea level down to 800 metres in the first 40 kilometres. We were running down rapids on our backsides, having to get out before waterfalls.”
The men had done intensive fitness work for three months beforehand to prepare for the journey, but, Abrahams says, “nothing prepared us for how hard it would be, because the river had been in flood and we couldn’t be in the river as much as we wanted to be. We were constantly walking along the side – but at times there were no sides, it was like a gorge. We had to climb over cliffs … to keep moving [and] it was pretty dangerous in the river.
“Over the first two days, we had tons of leaches. We virtually got to the point where we didn’t bother too much about pulling them off. We’d get them off at the end of the day and have lots of bruises. There were a few ticks and snakes over the first few days.”

Diary entry (day 1 continued): We came across a series of falls which we thought were Rob Roy Falls, scouted around and then back into the river to float some more. Then ahead we could see the land drop away, a quick look and we could see the real Rob Roy Falls: a massive sheer drop off of 100 metres and impassable on the sides.
It was 3pm and we had hoped to camp soon, but we had to get around. We climbed the right side ridge and … then slid down 150 vertical metres or 400m to bottom of the falls. The whole side route took us one and a half hours. Trouble was the steep sided river valley meant there were no camping sites. At 5pm we came across a rock ledge platform. We set up the tarp and struggled to get a fire going, but we did and had delicious tuna pasta. Everyone was too tired to play 500 [a continuing card game the men played during the journey] so we just had tea and Tim Tams then sleep.

Day two dawned and the men donned their wet clothing and trekked or jumped into the river (when it wasn’t too dangerous). The steep-sloped river gorge extended for about six kilometres and the going was slow – it took two hours to travel the first kilometre.

Diary entry (day 2): After two hours we came across a series of grade six rapids (the most dangerous rating.) Dick took the lead and we headed up the mountain to get around the rapids, it was hard going with gullies and creeks cascading down. After an hour we headed back down the river to the beautiful site of Silent Pool. This 100 metre diameter pool has a small crack at one end in the rock face that the river comes out of, apparently right inside the gorge the water falls down but exits quietly into the pool; it’s an amazing site that probably few people have seen.

“The river just drops into this massive chasm one hundred metres down,” says Abrahams. “It’s the most fascinating geological thing. The river runs into a chasm and disappears into the ground. The water is just bubbling up from underneath and it’s silent, so there’s no sound of water running – it cascades into the rock well before the silent pool and I can’t find much research on it. I’ve been Googling it and trying to find stuff on it, but no one’s written anything about it. The Silent Pool is really worth seeing.”

Diary entry (day 2 continued): From there the landscape flattened out and we travelled at three times the speed. A feature of the day was the floating down the river. We went at 6km per hour and it was a lot less effort. We had to jump out when we came to falls and big rapids. Bob and Alex got startled by a six foot yellow belly black snake slithering down to the river. At 4.30 we reached Harness Cask Bridge, where Geoff and Fay Smede met us with camp set-up and our canoes. Dinner is eye fillet on the bone, beers and red wine. [Now we had] dry gear and a sound sleep on the larger blow up mattresses.
At 8 pm a huge bloke with a big beard (the property owner) dropped in and asked what we were doing (bit obvious). We turned on the charm and we were all friends. His name was Carl, and he owned up to near Silent Pool. He was an ex raft guide, so he could tell us a lot about the river. He warned us of the dangerous bits and where to portage.

Light rain during the night made it impossible to get a camp fire started in the morning. The men missed their warm cup of tea to start the day. They bid the Smedes goodbye, saying they would meet them at the Nymboida pub on Friday.

Diary entry (day 3): Alex and Dick’s canoe, the Odyssey, had a spill on an innocent rapid, and over she went. The flow was too hard to hold [onto] the bow of the canoe, so Alex was forced to swim down with it and eventually let it go, floating upside down, with 3 drums and an Eski. As the river was running at 5km per hour, there was no way Alex could catch it. He got out and ran by the river for 800m and just managed to spot the canoe lodged in the middle a large rapid/waterfall, with fast current both sides of it. After 30 minutes the others turned up, relieved to see we at least could see the canoe.

“We had to figure out a way to get it out,” Abrahams says. “Two of the guys got down there and tried to rope it out and could not achieve that. We needed more manpower, so one of the other guys got down there and they managed to dislodge the boat from the rock that was holding it.
“We tried to get it to the shore and empty it out, but it got caught on another rock. It took about three and a half hours all up. The boats are quite indestructible; when they get wrapped around a rock they have a memory and spring back to where they were.
“My brother was pretty heroic in what he achieved, and Richard, too. We lost a couple of paddles, and Richard’s left Croc [shoe], so otherwise there was no harm done. We were hoping to get to Tyringham Bridge by the end of the day; but we didn’t get a quarter of the way. We did come across Richard’s Croc a few kilometres downstream.”
Exhausted, the men made camp at 6pm and cooked up a beef rouget stew before falling into deep sleeps – a day behind schedule.
The men made it to Tyringham Bridge at 4pm the next day, where they met Geoff Smede who picked up the canoes. Shaun, who had lost a big toenail during the day’s travels, left with Geoff – he wasn’t up to making the next day’s 20 kilometre trek to Platypus Flats and would rejoin the journey when the white water rafting section began. That night, the men spent a night in relative luxury, generously donated by the nearby Whispering Pines bed and breakfast.

Diary entry (day 4): The past 2 days of canoeing were the hardest we have ever done, and they say that is the easy part, hence the change to plan B, to trek to Platypus Flats instead of canoeing.

On the fifth day the men made the 8 kilometre trek to Marsden Bridge on Moonpar Forest Drive, which had been washed away [presumably by the recent flood rains], “so we had to cautiously wade across the fast flowing water to the remaining northern side of bridge, where we had a lovely morning tea”.

Diary entry (day 5): Then a 4km constant hill trek to the top of the ridge through some fabulous temperate rainforest, with Blackbutt, Tallowwood Brushbox, Sydney blue gum and a carpet python that Dick almost trod on. We came across 3 stray horses that were happy for a pat. Gentle rain and an 8km downhill [trek] to the Nymboida River, where extensive flood debris abounds. We then trekked on to Platypus Flat, where a large camping site has all but been wiped out by the recent flood, see photos. It was like a tsunami had hit the place. Thirteen days to go.

The day dawns and the men are rejoined by Shaun and another man, Tibor Kovats, as well as three other people who came with the white water rafting guides. “It was an exhilarating ride,” says Abrahams. “Everybody should do it. The river was big and it was dropping a lot. There were quite a few four and five metre waterfalls that the rafts went over. The gorges were incredible: there were pink granite gorges, the most magnificent scenery through that area.
“We finished at the Little Nymboida River on the Thursday night, camped, and the next day trekked to the Coaching Station.”
Friday night at the Coaching Station was a reunion, where 24 people, many of whom had participated in previous river adventures, joined the party and shared their stories.

Diary entry (day 9): A spectacular sunset on the river side lawn looking up the river.
Twenty-four Odysseans and past canoeists and friends and family enjoyed the view and a few drinks before dinner. Other pub guests joined in wondering what all the fuss was about and we got 3 more donations, as they could appreciate the effort and spirit.
By 11pm people were tired and turned in, in readiness for big send off the next day, on the Nymboida to Jackadgery phase, adding Geoff Smede and Graeme Turner to the crew (saying goodbye to Shaun and Tibor).

The next two days were spent canoeing through a section of the river the men “normally canoe every year”.
“We know it like the backs of our hands; we know every rapid and rock, although the river was higher than normal at 1.8 metres – it’s normally 1.2 metres – there were six of us at this stage in three boats,” says Abrahams. On Monday the men made it to Jackadgery.
Diary entry (day 11): At Jackadgery the food was ordered and we met the new [Mann River Caravan Park] owner, Lee Scarlett, no relation to Vivian. Lee is very friendly, and later on brought us some beers at our evening campsite at Cangai and sang us some impressive songs of his creation on acoustic guitar.

Diary entry (day 13): On Tuesday, we headed for the Clarence Gorge and waterfall excitement. One decent spill by Graham and Bob on a very large pressure wave, and Dick and Steve were to the rescue. The Clarence River enters from the left. As at the Mann junction, the Clarence is certainly the junior river, but takes over naming rights from here. I wonder who could get it so wrong?

Abrahams ponders the enormity of his group’s adventure. “I don’t think it has been done,” he says. “We’ve heard of a bloke who’s gone from the Nymboida township down to the ocean and people have done the upper ridges, but nobody’s actually put the whole thing together in one concerted effort.
“We researched and found a guy called Brian Cork who had done the upper bit, and we ran into a guy who said his brother canoed from Nymboida down to the ocean, but no one’s actually done the whole lot. People have tried to do the Clarence River, which [starts] right on the Queensland border. The Clarence River in its total length from the Queensland border to Yamba is actually shorter than the Nymboida, Mann and Clarence [route].”
On Friday March 22 the men made it to Copmanhurst, where they spent an afternoon relaxing and playing cards. The flat water basically starts at Copmanhurst, about 100 kilometres from the sea, Abrahams says.
On Saturday they paddled the 45 kilometres to Grafton. That day they’d scored a mention in Peter FitzSimons’ Team of the Week in his regular Sydney Morning Herald sports column.
The next morning, after a night at Roches Family Hotel, Richard had an on-air, 10-minute chat with Macca of from the ABC’s Australia All Over.

Diary entry (day 16): The phone rang hot, with people saying they heard us on the radio. Our media centre was working in overdrive, so Dick could not paddle much. Many residents of Grafton came out to the riverbank to wish us well.

It was relatively easy going from Grafton to Yamba, with incoming tides the only element to battle against. “We thought that would be boring,” Abrahams says of the flat section of the river, “but we stopped every two hours and met up with Uncle David, who would bring some iced coffees or some cakes. It was really interesting to see the river from the water and to see the houses from the other side and the properties and also see yachts washed up from the floods, it was really quite fascinating. A lot of people came out waved to us and gave us support all of the way.”
There were notable stops at Lawrence, where they sheltered from a storm, and Maclean, where the Maclean Hotel publican provided a free room for the night – and the cleaner made a $10 donation towards the fundraising.
Then it was on to Main Beach: the final day, Monday March 25.

Diary entry (day 17): Alex made contact with Alan Schofield, president of the Yamba Surf Life Saving Club, to advise we were near the middle wall. He was sending out the rubber ducky to guide and ensure a safe passage …to Main Beach.
We rounded the southern break wall, and paddled south west to Main Beach. We headed straight for the sand, rode the waves like a true surf boat and pulled up to the bewildered crowd of surfers (never seen Canadian canoes surf at Yamba).
We had media and surf club members and family to meet us and regale in our stories and take photos.
We ceremonially released the bottle of source water onto Main Beach as a symbol of our 390km journey.
We are often asked what next? Well, a rest would be nice.
But the river is special, and the Odyssey is more than about our physical effort, it’s about the RIVER, and what it does for the people who live on it, or use it for sport and adventure to celebrate its power and grace. There will only be one Odyssey.

As far as the fundraising is concerned, the men exceeded their $20,000 target (more than $25,000 raised at the time of writing).
To donate or see what the total is now, go to: http://www.mycause.com.au/page/54157