Warburton River / Lake Eyre

The Warburton Creek is the bottom channel of the Diamantina River, where it exits the

vast Goyder’s Lagoon Swamp in Northern South Australia and meanders between the

Simpson and Tirari Deserts, to empty into the North East corner of Lake Eyre (Kati

Thanda).

It is normally a “river of sand”, but when there are large or numerous cyclones in the

Gulf of Carpentaria, the so called “Warburton Creek” becomes a magnificent wild river,

and there are few of them left in the world.

In April this year (2024) I operated my 35th trip down the Warburton (and back!), a

distance that varies depending on the size of the flood, but averages about 400km

down and back to where I put in. We take approximately 8 days.

This was a big volume of water with not much behind it, therefore my time was limited.

We were due to leave in early April, but a downpour of around 7 inches in my departure

location meant the date was put back 2 weeks. This rain increased the volume of water

on the upper Warburton where I depart, but the “tail” of the flood was about the same

distance as before (Birdsville region).

The party of 8 left mid April on high water and “high spirits” (always!), in two of my 14

foot heavy duty tinnies. The Warburton banks are lined with Coolibah and River

Coobah, with Lignum present around a quarter of the distance.

Bird life is the ever present floor show, the quantity of, and number of species is largely

determined by whether or not recent rain has fallen. In this case, it hadn't been

consistent, or heavy, down river. So, our bird count was around 60 species. We have

had up to 110 in a good season when the sandhills are covered in wild flowers and the

river flats with meter high vegetation.

The other great wild life attraction are the dingoes, most of which would have never

have seen a human being. (Except for some of my erratic parties over the years). Our

major land predator, they are survival specialists, their prey ranging from blowflies to

buffalo. Sometimes they swim the river in front of the boats, or approach quite close

on shore with curiosity. Intelligent, fast and deadly hunters, loved or hated by various

of the population. In the last few years many cattle stations, particularly in Western

Australia and Queensland are “living with them”, with the population of red kangaroos

normalising, and ferals such as goats, pigs, foxes, cats and rabbits effectively

controlled. This story is just beginning so will not dwell on it here.

Unseasonable wind prevented our usual lake activities so we camped at the mouth of

the Warburton before returning up river. Our return was a bit more exciting than usual

as the flood was literally running out like the last of the bath water. We had left in water

over the crossing around about 3.5 metres deep and returned with less than a foot

over the rocks.

This meant I had to drag the loaded boats out the last 50 metres over rocks to the

shore. One ruined prop, but the heavy duty boats undamaged.

REFLECTIONS....(On a very different trip

The reason for that sub heading is due to an email from Frank Jackson, who was the

Sunday Mail journalist writing up our crossing of Lake Eyre in 1974, 50 years ago. I’ve

written that great adventure up in various of my books and this column, so will not

rehash it here – except for this synopsis. Our party comprised two small 12 foot flat

bottomed punts carrying a party of 4 people. The late Vincent Serventy (famous

Australian naturalist), the late Jim Dorward (a shearing contractor from Hawker) and

Frank Jackson. The journey down the massive flood of ’74, where only a metre of the

tops of the Coolibahs were out of the water on the upper Warburton, took 3 days with

land often completely out of sight.

Frank was being towed in the rear boat, with a little 1 1⁄2 hp Seagull emergency motor

on the back (later required). During the night we spent in the boats in the shallow top

end of the Lake, bailing out water – due to an unceasing South Westerly blowing up 2

foot waves – Frank didn’t have the luxury of a bottle of Bundaberg Rum as we did! I

had to periodically throw billy’s of water over the poor bugger to keep him awake to

bail, or his boat would have been swamped! We were “anchored” ... tied up to a steel

post driven in to the mud of the “Warburton groove”... unsure whether we were drifting

or not. A night to remember (or forget!), particularly for Frank, a very lonely one.

We survived that, and after a snake (King Brown) in Jim’s swag later that hot March

afternoon on shore, spent a perfect next evening navigating by the Southern Cross,

eventually landing on an unnamed island several kilometres from the South Eastern

shore. After lunch and a wildlife survey of the island, we headed off with confidence

(after what we had been through) in to 2 foot waves. Long story short, (read the book!)

my boat was swamped due to Jim Dorward’s heavy weight in the bow and my over

confidence. Floatation in the boats prevents them sinking. Frank, alone in the rear

boat, was our saviour. We were in nearly 50 feet of water, with radio transceiver, tools,

cameras (still and movie) all heading for the bottom. I swallowed a lot of water

observing what Vin’s and Jim’s were prioritising in saving. Serventy, his bird books and

Jim, cans of beer!

The little Seagull motor got us to shore where we dried out what we had left. Next

day, Bluey Hughes from Muloorina Station flew over us before dropping a message to

my mate (Gerry Day) at Level Post Bay at the bottom of the Madigan Gulf, that we

were okay and on our way.

I’d lost contact with Frank after that trip, as he had been sent overseas on various

assignments. He recently emailed me out of the blue and we have caught up after 50

years. Seems like only yesterday!

Ps the photographs in this column are a couple that survived in Frank’s waterproof

case.