The new toy

Yesterday we finally had the chance to put our new toys to the test on the Barwon in perfect summer conditions - the kayaks we bought Sarah and me for Christmas. We'd had a couple of trial runs on Swan Bay while we were away but this was our first chance to get out on the river.

Sarah on the Barwon

My intention was not only to get a different perspective on the river, but to see those stretches which I can't access from the bank. I'm dying to know what I've been missing!
So, with Peter on hand to lug kayaks and do pick ups, we hit the river at Breakwater and headed downstream, behind the businesses along Tucker Street and out through the farms in Marshall.

Farm machinery on the riverbank at Marshall

We headed past a few of the remnant willows and 19th century chimneys of the tanneries which featured in some of my earliest posts.
In the reeds on the Marshall bank I spotted a fox which had emerged via track it had clearly used before to drink at the river. Predictably, it froze and watched us closely as I extracted the camera and then with perfect timing disappeared back amongst the reeds the second I attempted to take a shot.

The aqueduct and Goat Island

Next we had the opportunity to see the aqueduct and Goat Island from midstream before heading around the bend towards Wilsons Road. As we paddled this stretch of the river, I was very mindful that in the days of James Lister Cuthbertson and the boys from Grammar and College this was known as the "Long Reach", a broad, straight stretch used for informal races and training which I discussed in my post The Willows.

Looking down the Long Reach

I suspect that were the boys of the 19th century to visit the Long Reach today, they would find it somewhat changed. Many of the exotic plantings which lined the banks at this time have been removed and the Australian Tannery which Cuthbertson mentions is no more than a low bluestone wall as viewed from the river. Since 1961, the reach itself has been home to the Geelong Water Ski Club who have clubrooms at the end of Wilsons Road and the weather being what it was, there were two boat-owners who had taken the opportunity to get out on the water.
Sticking close to the bank and riding out the backwash, we paddled on into quieter waters, headed for Reedy Lake. I would love to say that as we rounded the bend, all was revealed and the location of The Willows camp which I spent so much time trying to locate became immediately obvious, however this was not the case. The river narrows at this point and in places there were some stands of non-indigenous trees such as cypress overhanging the river, but no willows and no obvious point at which to camp. Nor was it easy from this point to get my bearings with respect to the outside world (so-to-speak) in order to take a guess at the likely location.

Passing through Reedy Lake surrounded by a sea of Fairy Martins flitting around overhead

The river channel is quite defined and so tall are the reeds that it was difficult to tell where the boundaries of Reedy Lake were (they don't call it that for nothing!), however when we arrived at the lower breakwater some 3km further downstream, there was no doubting our location. What was not so clear was how we were to navigate the obstacle in question. The lower break is quite different to that at Breakwater and the water level seemed significantly deeper. Fortunately, Sarah soon spotted a break in the reeds on the south bank where other paddlers had addressed the problem and we were able (albeit up to our knees in mud) to drag the kayaks out and round and then drop them back in the river on the other side.
I took the opportunity whilst on land to arrange our pick up from Tait's Point and to grab a few shots of the lower break before we hit the water for our final leg.

The lower breakwater in Reedy Lake

Whilst the weather was perfect and "Cuthy" spins a charming picture of crews rowing under the twinkling stars, I wasn't keen to navigate my way across Lake Connewarre in darkness, so, with the sun threatening to disappear and an uncertain distance remaining we kept moving.

Gates used to control the flow of water through the break

The first thing we noticed about the river below this second break were the large numbers of dead carp lining both sides of the waterway. A quick Google search turned up a detailed discussion on the management of the complex of lakes and swamps which rely on inflow from the Barwon and recognised  the need to control carp but did not explain what we were seeing, so I am still unsure whether such numbers of dead carp are normal or the result of some "event".

Sunset below the break

Like most of the rest of the channel through Reedy Lake we were hemmed in on both sides by reeds which limited our view of the surrounding land/water until, about half an hour later, we emerged into the tip of Lake Connewarre in time to see the sun setting over Geelong and our ride home pulling up at the boat ramp.

The tip of Lake Connewarre with the outskirts of Geelong on the skyline

Within a few minutes we had made the short trip across to the opposite side of the lake, had a brief chat to a pair of fishermen making the most of the weather, loaded up and made the somewhat longer journey home. All up, we covered about 11km in the boats during a comfortable 3 1/2 hour paddle, a distance by my calculations, a little over 3km shorter than the trip home by road.
The only question now, is which bit to explore next?

Tragedy of the Barwon!

And so to 1949, by which time, European settlement was over 100 years old and much of the Barwon River environment had changed almost beyond recognition. Many of these changes were unfortunately, for the worst - a fact which was recognised by those who came into contact with the river and who sought to find solutions to the problem.
However with the benefit of modern scientific method and the clarity of hindsight,the suggestions as to what should be done to address the problems of 1949 seem somewhat at odds with today's conservation and management methods. Without giving too much away, the prospect of what a freshwater Lake Connewarre would have meant for the local wildlife is alarming. I also note that a recent study aimed at determining the flood risk and stormwater requirements of the new Armstrong Creek development, points to increased flooding due to the loss of ephemeral streams draining into the Barwon. The loss of these streams has resulted from past farming practises in the area aimed at clearing and draining the land.
The following article therefore is an interesting example of the attitude of the time. For interest's sake and to illustrate conditions along the river at various times, I have included some historical photos. These were not part of the original article but will hopefully provide some extra interest.

And so to the article:

The Argus, Saturday, 14^th May, 1949

Tragedy of the Barwon
By GORDON WILLIAMS

Time was, before the precise balance and the impeccable mechanism of Nature were disturbed, when the Barwon River was a stream of rare beauty and high value, both real and potential. Now as it flows sluggishly around Geelong to find its loggy, turgid way to the sea, it has relatively little attraction, sharply limited use, and a murkily doubtful future.

The Barwon Bridge (Moorabool Street), 1861 looking West. Image held
by the State Library of Victoria

Barwon Bridge rebuilt in 1926 looking east (1925-1954). Image held
by the State Library of Victoria




Barwon Bridge 7th April, 2012

Around and above its mouth, where there are lands, it could be stimulating and for cattle it should be refreshing; it is – or was when I saw it recently – a rather dispirited stream, somewhat conscious of its own stagnation and futility… Now and then, however, it revolts against its man-made condition, swirls into flood, and sweeps across wide plains in revolt, and where it goes it leaves the scars of its passing.
Between Geelong, second city of a great State, and its point of union with the sea I saw a river ripped by snags, choking with weed, and so confined and contained as to be (in parts, at least) noisome.

Barwon River near Geelong c1900. Image held by the Victorian
State Library

Yet, there was a time… As Mr E.F. Guye, of Winchelsea, told the Parliamentary Public Works Committee about three years ago, the story of the Barwon is the story of every river in Victoria. Settlement and the clearing of forest lands he said, had upset Nature’s balance, and the result was the creation of problems.
Speaking of the higher reaches of the river, he told of the effect of scour, and of severe creek erosion; he drew a depressing picture of a stream choked with trees and logs, part-strangled by silt.
Around Winchelsea and Biregurra, the river in summer fell to a desultory trickle, most of that flow being provided by highly mineralised springs which “make the water useless when it is most needed;” higher up the river still, in the Gherangamate(sic) and Barwon Downs areas, blocking by refuse rendered useless thousands of acres of rich river flats. There the farmers have too much water. Lower down there is not enough…
Appeals Disregarded
The Committee heard a distressing story of development retarded, even arrested. Up and down the river, from mouth to source, there was a cry for improvement.
Broadly, those in whose lives the river plays its vital part asked for:

• Snagging of the east and west Barwon Tributaries of willows and logs which were ruining, by causing the flooding of, large areas of river flats in that area.
• Provision of a storage basin at The Fork paddock to allow release of water during the summer.
• The arrest of further creek or other erosion.
• The snagging of the midreaches, and the provision of weirs with flood gates to raise the summer level of the river flow.

It was emphasised that purification of the river, by the release of freshing and flood waters, was of necessity a first priority work.
At first glance, this seems a formidable list of requests. Compared with the importance of their object – the repair of the stream, and its establishment as a supporter of local and State economies – it is, however, relatively small.
But the Committee issued no report; made no recommendation. At the time both the committee and the State Rivers and Water Supply Commission were faced with greater jobs – the new Eildon project among them; the Barwon had inevitably , a low priority. Moreover, the Commission, harassed then and even more harassed since, by a shortage of expert staff, was incapable of tackling all the work it wished to do…
Both authorities, one can well imagine, sighed sadly, marked up a new frustration.
The Barwon preserved its status quo… Its promise remained only a promise. Its disabilities, and its power of destruction continued.
The river and all its tributaries rise in the OtwaysWhittlesea(sic) to Inverleigh, and lack of water there in summer.

Wool scours on the Barwon at Breakwater, 1937. Image held by the Victorian
State Library

Wool scour on the Barwon at Breakwater 7th April, 2012

Around the mouth, and upward from it to Geelong, there is almost tragic evidence of the main stream’s deterioration.
Downstream, there are two breakwaters across the Barwon, designed to prevent the sea from carrying its salt upward. The first is about 14 miles from the mouth, on the south-eastern fringe of Geelong; the second is about five miles farther down.
Once there was at the first “break,” about 20 ft of water. Yet a week or so ago, after the heaviest February-March rains in 20 years, only about 6 inches of water was passing over the barrier!

Dirty Waters
This insignificant flow means that the stream between the two breakwaters is almost completely stagnant, and stagnant streams close to cities have a way of becoming unpleasant – and dangerous to all living things.
“Rubbish of all sorts finds its way down here,” I was told by residents. “The breakwaters just hold the stream up, just prevent flow. We see dead cats, dogs, even bullocks, floating and milling about.
“The top breakwater should be removed immediately – both of them could go; another to prevent salinity could be built at say, Ocean Grove. It should have sluice gates through which a flow of water can pass to cleanse the stream, and relieve low-lying land from the menace of flooding every four or five months. The existing breaks are just walls; we’ll never get the stream clear or our land protected while they are there.”
This view is expressed generally, and the works involved seem trifling in view of the benefits to be obtained – trifling, even in present circumstances.
I saw plenty of evidence of what a stagnant, or near-stagnant, river can do. Swelling, it spreads, finding its level here and there in great and small patches. The water is often polluted; many paddocks bear its brand, great brown patches that seem to have been seared by fire.
“Twenty years ago this country grew some of the State’s best oaten hay. Now great spreads of it are dead under your boots. Even those indefatigable workers, the Chinese, could not make a go of it on the river flats. They were driven from their market gardens. Yet, if this stream were allowed to flow cleanly and sweetly, the lands from the mouth to Geelong would supply the city, and Melbourne as well, with all their market garden needs; Geelong could have its own local milk supply from its own district dairy herds… At times now that supply must be supplemented from Melbourne and Colac.”
This was the pattern of the stories I heard almost endlessly. I was shown, on St Albans, a reservoir that once held a quarter of a million gallons of sweet river water. Today, it is choked and ugly with weed.
The stock that should be watered from it now draw from the Geelong water supply, adding to the burden of that already overburdened system.
As we stood gazing over the lovely, rolling landscape that marches boldly up to the Leopold hills, Mr H.G. Raymond, bloodstock breeder, of St Albans and Mr “Chappy” Hinchcliffe, who farms near by pointed out to me paddocks where once fine heards of bullocks fattened. Now, they are wasteland, the sport of the river.
And all this within a few miles of the State’s second city.
It is true that here and there land is being irrigated from the river, but many farmers believe that the effort is doomed. The soil will not stand the water’s hostility, they say.
Yet, the quality of the country is revealed on the Hinchcliffe property. Here there are stacks of surplus fodder, taken from soil nurtured by water drawn from Reedy Lake, which is filled from the Barwon. Mr Hinchcliffe brings the lake water to his land through channels laboriously hand-dug. It is then delivered into “basins,” whence it finds its way to its destination.
This is river water – but in its transference from lake to paddock it passes through a process of filtration, and reaches the land clean.
“I would have been off my place but for that water,” Mr Hinchcliffe says. “A former Government planned to place a breakwater at Tait’s Point, then to bring a gravity channel around Reedy Lake for irrigation. If that had been done, another 10,000 acres in this valley would have been brought into cultivation…”
Other thousands of acres near by could be made cultivable too. The land has high reclamation value, as is shown by the fact that before the breakwater nearer the mouth was built the river was salted right up to St Alban’s. Now great stretches have been cleansed and brought into profit.
These are but a few of the features, and the facts, of that sadly neglected stream, the Barwon. There are others – notably the local contention that if the existing breakwaters were destroyed, and one, sluice-gated, built at Ocean Grove, Lake Connewarre would become a great freshwater stretch, with about 30,000 acres brought into higher production…
As I saw it, the Barwon around Geelong is a struggling, unattractive stream, performing only a fraction of its function.

The Barwon needs – demands – attention.

A hidden gem

Gateway Sanctuary, Leopold

Tucked away next to the busy Bellarine Highway is a sanctuary. I had driven past this place for years without noticing it was there, until a recent excursion landed me in its midst. Called the Gateway Sanctuary, it is located in Leopold on the corner of Melaluka Road and the Highway.
This little pocket of parkland consists of a series of shallow lakes and islands connected by wooden bridges with unsealed walking tracks in between.

Gateway Sanctuary, Leopold

Stormwater drains into the complex from nearby areas of Leopold situated to the north of the highway and - as is the case with other such wetlands - the flora and fauna which thrive here act as a biological filter, cleaning the water which passes through. Whilst this naturally swampy area is now a man-made rather than a natural wetland, it didn't take long for me to discover that water from the sanctuary drains into Reedy Lake and ultimately into the Barwon, thereby qualifying this hidden wetland as a suitable topic for this blog.

Like the Jerringot Wetlands and Balyang Sanctuary further up river, the Gateway Sanctuary is located at a distance from the river/lake but boasts the usual array of bird life. A quick count on a couple of occasions has so far turned up about twenty-four different species of birds, all of which I have seen on other parts of the river at one time or another.

Black swan and sygnets at Gateway Sanctuary

Possibly the most interesting inhabitants at the present time are a family of black swans who are by far the biggest birds around. Why they have chosen this small wetland as their home, rather than the much larger expanse of Lake Connewarre as many of their compatriots have done, I have no idea.
Due to its location, this park is a strange mix of urban and rural. Periodically and in sequence with the traffic lights, noise from passing traffic overrides the more natural bird noises which predominate in quiet moments, whilst a short distance away, the calls of sheep and cattle from adjacent farmland provide a further interruption to the sounds within the park.
Somewhat disappointingly, I can find very little information about the establishment or development of the sanctuary, so if anyone knows more please fill me in.

In the beginning...

It occurred to me recently that I knew very little about the geological origins of the Barwon River, so I set out to redress the issue, but found I was suddenly in some danger of having a great deal of information but very little in the way of understanding. I spent some time sifting through what I could find online and trying to put it in some kind of order. As I understand it, the geological evolution of the Barwon runs very roughly along the following lines:

Cretaceous rock formations at the West Barwon Dam
in the Otway Ranges

Several million years ago, the landscape surrounding the Barwon River looked rather different to what it does today. In fact, the formation of the Barwon dates back as far as the Cretaceous period (70-145 million years ago) when Australia separated from the super-continent Gondwanaland and dinosaurs still roamed Earth. During this period, sedimentary rocks were laid down which can still be seen to the south of the Barwon as rocky outcrops in some places. They also lie off the coast of western Victoria in the Otway Basin.
As recently as 40 million years ago, much of the land through which the Barwon now flows was covered by a wide sea. Early streams flowed from the higher ground of the Otways, northwards to the sea and limestone deposits formed along this ancient coastline.

Limestone outcrop forming the Belmont Escarpment

The Belmont Escarpment overlooking Barwon Valley and the Jerringot Wetlands is one such limestone outcrop, formed between 25 and 30 million years ago, which extends from a large deposit at Waurn Ponds towards Corio Bay.

More recently, during the Miocene period (7-23 million years ago) a series of plate movements and volcanic eruptions saw the coastline extending as far inland as the town of Meredith and the estuary of the Barwon located at Belmont Common. At this time, much of the present course of the Barwon lay under the sea with only a few nearby features such as the ancient granite of the the Dog Rocks at Batesford protruding above the water's surface to form small islands. It was this sea which deposited the limestone which can be found in the Batesford-Fyansford area and which was quarried for use by the Fyansford Cement Works throughout the 20th century. At around the same time, clay and other materials laid down combined with the Batesford Limestone to produce a band of sedimentary rock running down as far as the eastern fringes of Lake Connewarre. This is known as the Fyansford Formation.
Continuing plate movement throughout the Miocene period affected the various fault lines around the Geelong region such as the Bellarine Fault, causing the Bellarine region to lift and then around 20 million years ago, the sea to withdraw, uncovering the land and the current course of the Barwon.

Plioscene basalt rock formation beside the
walking track to Baum's Weir

Subsequent sea movements in the early Pliocene period (3.5-5 million years ago) resulted in the formation of a shallow bay between Torquay and Ocean Grove, covering the lower reaches of the Barwon once again and led to the deposition of shell beds which now lie under this part of the river including Lake Connewarre and surrounds. Sedimentary deposits across the region including the Bellarine Peninsula at this time produced what is called the Moorabool Viaduct Formation. In places it lies over the top of the Fyansford Formation.
It was also around this time that the movement of fault lines pushed the Cretaceous rocks of the Otway Ranges to their current height, giving the Barwon the strength to carve a path to the sea through new lava flows which occured in the later Pliocene era.
It was at this time that volcanic activity around Mount Duneed, Mount Moriac and Mount Pollock led to further changes in the river and the landscape. Until about 2 million years ago, the Barwon followed a course which saw it flow through a gap in the Barrabool Hills south of Lake Modewarre, then down a valley adjacent to the hills before reaching Fyansford. Around 2 million years ago, lava flows north of Inverleigh blocked this course, causing the inundation of the land to the west of Winchelsea before the river once again carved a new path to the sea. The lava flow followed the old riverbed, leaving a deep basalt deposit in this area and contributing to the wide basalt plains which extend across the region, providing extensive farming land today.

Newly-arrived European settlers were quick to see the material value of these basalt deposits, establishing bluestone quarries along the banks of the Barwon. It is this rock which can still be seen in the stonework of many historical homesteads and buildings across the region - the Barwon Paper Mill and its water race being a prominent example. Naturally, this quarrying made a lasting impact on the river surrounds. This is particularly noticeable along the walking track to Baum's Weir where the quarrying exposed the pliocene basalt, leaving high, rocky escarpments which tower over the river below, whilst a number of quarries were located along the river through Newtown which today have been converted to parkland.

Disused bluestone quarry at Baum's Weir showing
pliocene basalt deposits

At the same time, these lava flows extended out into the bay with three branches forming which dammed the lower Barwon in several places and created a number of lagoons - including a lake at Queen's Park, with another blockage below the Belmont Escarpment.

One of these flows produced the basalt ridge line which runs between Tait's Point and Fisherman's Point, separating Reedy Lake and Hospital Swamp from Lake Connewarre and Salt Swamp. As a result, Reedy Lake was fed by fresh water from the now-dammed Barwon whilst Lake Connewarre and the swamplands below the ridge were filled with seawater.

In time however, the barrier at Queen's Park along with that at the Escarpment eroded away, creating alluvial flats downstream. Likewise the lava flow at Tait's Point and another between Sheoak and Pelican Points which had obstructed the river flow were eroded away and water from the upper Barwon and Reedy Lake once more flowed into Lake Connewarre and the lower reaches of the river. This reconnected watercourse now ran alongside the third lava flow which extended to The Bluff and Ocean Grove, establishing the present course of the lower parts of the river and location of the river mouth.

Remains of basalt flow from the late Pliocene era
 forming Tait's Point (right)

It is believed that much of this erosion occurred during times of high flooding - such as 1995 - and as a result of seismic movement. The returning flow of water along with fluctuations in sea levels during the late Pleistocene period (c18,000 years ago) resulted in the build up of sand dunes along the southern basalt flow. In very recent times, with European settlement, this natural rate of sedimentation has been greatly increased by land-reclamation, farming, tree clearing and for a short but intense period, mining in the catchment region of the Moorabool River. All these factors have contributed to sedimentation, causing in-filling which has affected the depth of water in the lakes complex, turning Reedy Lake from an open water system to the swampy complex it has become.

In addition to the various geological and environmental events which shaped the course of the river, across millions of years, continuous erosion and subsequent sedimentation have also influenced the soil of the region, forming the land we see today.

What's in a name?

As European settlement spread along the Barwon River, through Wathaurong territory, the new arrivals needed names to identify their surroundings and the new structures they were building. Sometimes - as in the case of the Barwon River - they used derivatives of local Wathaurong names such as Barre Warre N Yallock or  Jillong (Geelong). Connewarre is derived from the Wathaurong Koo N Warre meaning mud oyster.

The edge of Reedy Lake

These names were descriptive. Sometimes descriptive names were given in English too; Reedy Lake is indeed reedy, Salt Swamp is salty, a breakwater was constructed at Breakwater and the Barwon Bridge on Moorabool Street in Geelong was so named I presume, as it was the first bridge built across the river, however it was also known as Kardinia Bridge. Kardinia is an indigenous word meaning sunrise.
Often, the colonists named their places and structures for important colonial or European figures. As I have mentioned, the current bridge across the river on Shannon Avenue is the Princes Bridge - named for Prince Albert, consort to Queen Victoria and shortened from the original Prince Albert Bridge. Queen's Park and its bridge were named for Queen Victoria herself.
It seems that there was some dispute even at the time these structures were being built, over the adoption of names. There were those who favoured the "Old Country", preferring to use familiar names which reminded them of home and the people there, then there were those who preferred the use of traditional aboriginal names such as Balyang for the bridge at Shannon Avenue or other names of local significance such as Levien's Bridge for the Bridge at Queen's Park. (B.G. Levien was an early settler who operated a punt on the site.) This article published in the Geelong Advertiser on 12th December, 2011 gives a great description of the passions which were ignited amongst the locals when it came to the battle over naming rights, with the Addy leading the charge against the monarchists. 150 years later and history clearly shows who was the winner of that particular battle!

Baum's Weir in Flood

The area a little upstream of Baum's Weir was known to the Wathaurong people as Boonea Yallock meaning a place to catch eels. Whilst I know that the weir was built to supply water through the channel which runs to the paper and flour mills downstream of Buckley's Falls, I have not been able to discover who the weir was named for. And of course, the falls themselves were named for the escaped convict William Buckley who lived in the area with the Wathaurong people for many years.
 Likewise, Pollocksford and the bridge now located there, were named for an early squatter in the district.
This tradition of naming structures and places after people of significance or using Wathaurong names, continues today. But who were these people? The McIntyre Bridge is named for John M McIntyre, Engineer-in-chief of the Geelong Water Works. The Yollinko Aboriginal Park and Yollinko Wetlands directly across the river take their name from the Wathaurong word meaning yesterday.
This site was of particular significance both to the indigenous population who harvested plants and hunted in the area and to the European settlers who took their water from a pump on the west bank of the river between Yollinko Park and Prince's Bridge.
As the walking trails were developed along the river's edge through Geelong, a number of other names were adopted. Beginning near Yollinko Park is the Stan Lewis Walk. It extends along the west bank of the river as far as Queen's Park. So, who was Stan Lewis? Stan was the superintendent of maintenance - I presume for either Barwon Water or its precursor, the Geelong Water Works.
On the opposite side of the river, downstream of Queen's Park is the Rotary Walk, which recognises the contribution of the Geelong West Rotary Club to the development of recreational facilities for the community along this part of the river. Upstream of Queen's Park and on the same side of the river is the Zillah Crawcour Park. This space recognises the contribution made to the City of Newtown from 1957 to 1977 by Priscilla Crawcour who held a seat on the council and was also elected as mayor during this period. Upon her death in March, 1977, she was serving her third term in the office. Zillah recognised the importance of women in government through her role on the Victorian Branch of the Australian Local Government Women's Association (ALGWA) which was established in 1963, following on from a similar earlier organisation.
Heading back downstream, we come to Landy Field - the major athletics venue for the region. The facility is named for John Landy who was the most prominent Australian athlete of his day. Born in Melbourne, Landy was educated at Geelong Grammar after which, he joined the Geelong Guild Athletic Club, of which he became a life member in 1958. It was here in 1949 that his running career really took off. In 1954, Landy was the second man in the world behind his toughest rival Roger Bannister, to run a sub-four minute mile which he did in world record time. Landy Competed at both the 1952 and 1956 Olympic Games, taking the Olympic Oath on behalf of the athletes at the latter games.
In addition to his running, Landy held a number of positions, including his appointment as Governor of Victoria on 1st January, 2001. He held the post until 7th April, 2006. Fittingly, he is a keen naturalist and served on the Land Conservation Council of Victoria during the 1970s. No doubt he approved of moves which were afoot to develop public open spaces along the banks of the Barwon River.
The development of the trail which now links Baum's Weir to the Breakwater, was in no small part due to the efforts of one man - Wal Whiteside, whose name is remembered in the "Wal Whiteside Walk" which stretches down towards Breakwater from Landy Field.
Wal Whiteside (or Wally Whiteside as I always heard the name as a child) was chairman of the Geelong and District Water Board from 1971, being re-elected in 1979 and 1983, having previously worked for the Board as a senior engineering assistant, prior to being elected as a commissioner on the Board in 1959 with one Len Sprague (more of whom later). Whiteside and Sprague were part of a new wave of up and coming  commissioners whose enthusiasm and skill drove the development of many of the projects established during the 1960s and beyond, which secured the water supply for the Geelong region. The largest and most far-reaching of these projects was surely the construction of the West Barwon Dam which was completed in 1965 after more than 14 years of planning and construction at a cost of 2.5 million pounds. The dam today provides the majority of Geelong's water and was the largest project undertaken by the board to that point in time. Another important project was the overhaul of the Black Rock water treatment plant which occurred in 1988.

End of the Wal Whiteside Walk at Breakwater

They were also at the heart of controversial issues such as the decision as to whether Geelong's
As time passed, the public became more interested in the recreational opportunities provided by the river and also the various water storage facilities. This was reflected in the introduction of public amenities at West Barwon Dam and various other sites. In recognition of his contribution to the Board over many years, the picnic facilities at West Barwon Dam were named the Len Sprague Reserve.
Along the length of the river in Geelong, significant effort was produced to buy back land which would be used as a public facility. It was this initiative which resulted in the walking trail which today extends from Baum's Weir and Buckley's Falls to Breakwater, including the reclaimed and re-vegetated section of industrial wasteland which now bears his name.

The Lakes Complex

Following on from Tuesday's walk, I decided it was time to move further afield and investigate parts of the river I hadn't seen before. I'd been curious for some time as to what became of the river once it disappeared from view past the breakwater, so Wednesday night I researched the best way to access the system of lakes which lie downstream of Geelong.
As far as I can tell, the answer is that until someone spends the tens of millions of dollars required to build a continuous trail from Geelong to Barwon Heads (I believe the quoted figure was somewhere in the vicinity of $44 million), then the only real access is at specific points around the edges of the various lakes and swamps which together form the Lake Connewarre Complex.
At this point I had no real experience with this part of the river, with the exception of a single trip last January to Tait's Point on the south side of the river where Hospital Swamp meets Lake Connewarre. This time, I decided I would approach my subject from the north bank, entering at various points along the edge of Reedy Lake and Lake Connewarre where local roads provided access at isolated points.

Black Swan on Reedy Lake.

My first stop was the end of Moolap Station Road which runs down to the edge of the very aptly named Reedy Lake. The ground was quite swampy and very reedy, however there is access by foot through clearings and along a narrow track for several hundred metres towards Woods Road. Various places provided a view out over the lake and the birdlife both on and off the water was prolific.
Most obvious were the Ibis both on the ground and overhead. They were everywhere and in quantities I haven't seen elsewhere. All were Australian White Ibis, no sign of the Straw-necked Ibis I saw a couple of months back on the Belmont golf course. Off the water and in the scrubby ground cover, Superb Fairy Wrens were everywhere as were White-plumed Honeyeaters. Out on the water I even discovered a pelican, but I also made three new finds for the day.
The most impressive was probably a pair of Swamp Harriers, swooping low over the reeds at the edge of the lake and the water beyond the shore, constantly on the hunt. Some distance out, a lone Black Swan (also the first I'd seen on the Barwon), paddled in and out amongst the reeds. Back on land, I spotted a rather larger honeyeater than I had seen to that point. It was, I later discovered, a Spiney-cheeked Honeyeater.

Lake Connewarre

Having skirted around the edges of the lake as far as was practical short of a pair of waders or a boat (an option I may yet have to investigate), I left to find another point of access - this time at the end of Ash Road in Leopold. Here, the council or some other management authority (perhaps even Parks Victoria) had kindly installed a viewing platform and several pannels of information informing visitors about the ecology and history of Lake Connewarre which I was now overlooking. Great for panoramic views and photos, however rather too distant to photograph at close quarters any of the dozens of Black Swans and their sygnets which were distributed across the lake.
Fortunately, there was a track of sorts - actually more of a wide strip of knee-high, reedy grass - which led down to the water's edge and so I was able to take a closer look from there. Unfortunately the swans were still a reasonable distance offshore, but I can't really blame them, as the smell from where I was left quite a bit to be desired. I snapped a few more shots of the swans and the panoramic surrounds and braved the long grass to return to road level. I didn't like to think about what other wildlife I might not have seen. What I did see however, were several locusts. It would seem that they are indeed on their way.
By now it was time for lunch which I ate a little further round the lake at a picnic spot at the end of Brinsmeads Lane. I have discovered that dotted at various points around the lakes are lone picnic tables accompanied by a rubbish bin. There are no other facilities just the table, the bin and a small area for parking - which I did.

Noisy Miner.

It was at this point that I discovered my fourth new bird of the day - several rather precocious Noisy Miners. They are apparently not uncommon, however I have not seen them at on any other part of the river. At first glance I mistook one for a Common Myna, which I gather is not an uncommon occurence, however where the Myna is mostly black and brown with yellow, this bird was black and grey with yellow beak and legs.
The view of the lake from this point was not dissimilar to that from Ash Road. The swans were here also, but the unpleasant smell of rotting vegetable matter was not. Whilst there were plenty of birds on Lake Connewarre, there did not seem to be the same numbers or diversity of species as I found on Reedy Lake.
One source of disappointment was my failure to see ducks. From what I had read previously, it is breeding season for the ducks and several varieties including the Pacific Black, Chestnut Teal, Grey Teal, Blue-bill and Australasian Shoveler can all be found within the lake complex. I saw not a single one. On any given day in the section of river in town I would expect to see Australian Wood Ducks, Pacific Blacks and probably Chestnut Teal - occasionally even Grey Teal. I am yet to see a Blue-bill or Shoveler at any point on the river.
On my way home, I stopped at various places overlooking Reedy Lake and the river itself as I got closer to town, including Tanners Road where I was able to get my first real look at the ovoid sewage aqueduct which crosses the Barwon downstream from the Breakwater.
This structure is listed as being of historical significance, however it has been allowed to crumble into a dangerous state of disrepair, with the result that no-one is allowed to approach it and water traffic is unable to pass under it. The aqueduct was built between 1913 and 1916 to carry sewage to the outfall at Black Rock and was in use until 1993 when it was replaced by more modern technology. The structure was designed by Edward Giles Stone and his partner Ernest J. Siddeley, based on the rail bridge which spans the Firth of Forth in Scotland. Its 14 trusses are made entirely of reinforced concrete and cover a distance of more than 750 metres. In its day, it was the longest structure of its kind in the country and remains one of only a very few reinforced concrete truss structures in the world.

Ovoid Sewer Aqueduct, Breakwater.