Difficult! and Colo! (Packrafting the Colo River)

Packrafting the Colo River in NSW has been an idea that has appealed to me for some time. The Colo is largely a wild river snaking its way through the Wollemi Wilderness, northeast of Sydney. However for logistical and safety reasons I needed a group to do it with. Plus the river is variable in it's height.

Sometimes it's a lazy shallow river , but at other times it's a raging brown torrent. Recent heavy rains had caused the river to rise to at least 4m (or more) and although not as high, it was definitely runnable. A group from SUBW had run it the week before with some spectacular (and hair raising) results. A few weeks later Paul Griffiths from SUBW announced he would do a trip from Canoe Creek to Upper Colo, a journey of almost 40km. 

So with packraft in hand, I signed up with leader Paul and other members Glenn Tim, and Dean.

The entry into the Canoe Creek was through some very rugged country, past some rock orchids and a wonderful looking camping cave and into the depths of the Upper Colo Gorge.

 It felt remote already.

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

Our craft consisted of 2 Microraft Systems packrafts, my Alpacka Scout, an Intex Seahawk fishermans boat, and the “mighty” Zambezi, an oversized pool toy boat with Boston Valves (much easier to inflate and deflate).

With boats inflated and packs and drybags lashed, we set off. The river alternated between lovely calm sections alive with bird song under towering cliffs, to short but intense rapids.

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

We soon found out these varied greatly from Class 1 to Class 3 rapids. My boat was only rated to Class 1 and I soon found out what that meant.

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

The first rapids were run without incident, but a few rapids later I ran into trouble. Other members had already capsized in some of them, and it was to set a pattern for the rest of the trip. 

I entered (not by intention) a “stopper” where the river ran over a smooth rock then came back on itself as a wave. More about these holes or stoppers is here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Whitewater

My boat literally was sucked backwards then filled rapidly with water. Being so small it then was pushed underwater, along with me.

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

All I could see was brown bubbly water as I struggled to fight the current, and though I managed to get to the surface as I was wearing a PFD, it was a battle to stay upright as the river took me downstream, bashing me through rocks down the rapids.

 I had helmet on as well as the life vest and after this experience, will not go river rafting without either one… ever ! 

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

Somehow I ended up on a rock holding my paddle, but was marooned by two strong currents around me. I decided to chuck the paddle and re-enter the maelstrom. More bashing, gasping, attempts at swimming(I am a strong swimmer but I kid you not, the river will always beat you), and I struggled to the shore at the bottom of the rapid.

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

 Although my boat and pack were rescued the paddle had gone missing.

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

 I was quite shaken from the experience but our most experienced member Glenn decided he knew where the paddle had got stuck and roped up to wade into the torrent to find it.

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

 After some tense moments, victory! He found it! I was quite amazed, and had not been looking forward to some 20km of paddle free boating.

All credit to Glenn…he proved to be the "River Master"!
 His $67.00 Seahawk ran all the rapids without incident, much of this due to his experience in river running skills.

Once this was all sorted we progressed. I could make the smaller rapids but had to resort to rather painful portaging through thick water gums and other scrub on the nastier rapids. So the pattern was this ...blissful paddling down the calm sections, then gradually hearing the rushing noise of a rapid. Quick assessment of the rapid, then either taking a deep breath and running it or the pain and torture of portaging.

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

 The bigger MRS and Seahawk certainly did OK on many of them but Dean's Zambezi and my Scout had to avoid a number of them. No mind, I had expected this, but it was very tiring by the end of the day. 

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

On one rapid Paul snapped his paddle so now we were nobbled yet again. 

We limped into a thin sandy ledge opposite the Wollongambe River junction by about 8pm. It had been a long tiring day. It was obvious we would be just as slow the next day so we opted to exit at Bob Turners Track some 17km up from our planned exit. 

Overnight the river rose another .4 of a metre before beginning to drop again. This is the delayed effect after rain, it had been a few days since a deluge but the river was reacting to this a few days later. 

More of the same the next day , and I had my second tumble in a rapid, in a stopper again. Despite the magnificent job my little Scout does in a river it was no match for these rapids when weighed down by me, plus a pack. I had tried putting my pack in Tims raft . This aided my buoyancy a bit but I couldn’t do this all the time, so I ended up with the pack in my boat again.

Again I felt the backwards rush of the stopper then blub blub blub, under I went. My gear had to be rescued and on I limped. On one portage  I found a diamond python near my open sandalled feet. After that I swapped to sneakers! 

We passed the mighty King Rapid, un-runnable by all but the most brave. None of us felt that stupid to even try! 

Photo courtesy of Paul Griffiths

A few more large rapids kept the going slow, less than 2km from Bob Turners. I was starting to feel the pain yet knew we must be able to make it by sundown…

Finally the last 900m gave me a gorgeous calm tranquil run. It was like a gift…late afternoon sun, bird song , tall trees and a calm river. Mind you, it was flowing swiftly so you could not ignore that fact as you approached a rapid.

We exited via Bob Turners by 5pm . What a weekend! 

Me, Dean and Paul at Bob Turners Track. Glenn and Tim had gone ahead to organize the cars.

A wild dog approached us on the way out, it seemed very curious, but we resorted to throwing a rock at it to get it to stop following us. 

It's a trip I may not do again in a hurry in such conditions but I'm glad I did this time. Although I feel I may have pushed my safety envelope just a bit, I’m not sure how close I was to drowning but that was close enough. 

On the return drive home, once I reached a place with mobile reception my phone lit up with lots of missed calls and messages. My 81 year old stepfather John, had passed away on the Saturday night, in Tasmania. I had been warned of the fact he was not well late on Friday, so I knew this sad outcome may have eventuated. There was no point in me changing my plans, as I wouldn’t have made it to Tasmania fast enough to have any benefit, but all the time I was wondering if he would make it through the weekend. Sadly this was not the case. I think that the Colo River will now always remind me of John, who was a keen fisherman and a lover of boating and the water.

In memory of John Lindsay Lord