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Away in the heights of the eastern plateau a few
miles from. Bredbo, mountain springs and swamps form the headwaters
of the Shoalhaven River, that giant of mountain streams which meets
the sea near Nowra well over a hundred miles away. Foremost amongst
our mountain rivers, the Shoalhaven drains a vast watershed
comprising some of the finest scenic country in the State, and from
its source to the still waters of its estuary the stream traverses a
variety of country. It passes from upland swamps to open pastures
and sunlit plains, through which its waters meander gracefully, and
at length, after passing by the town of Braidwood, it plunges into a
gorge below Oallen Ford, at which point the Nerriga-Bungonia road
crosses its course. Henceforth its waters, pure and swift, are
supplemented by the Mongarlowe, the Corang and the Endrick, streams
of never-failing flow taking their rise in the coastal divide which
bounds the eastern wa tershed.
Sweeping down the gorge, the Shoalhaven makes the
little Horseshoe below the heights of Touga, and then passing around
the big Horseshoe it tears headlong through the churned-up strata in
which it has cut a canyon of awesome proportions. Half a dozen miles
downstream the river meets the core of the hard ordovician rock
which flanks the valley sides, and through which it has carved a
narrow channel. At this point, known locally as the Block-up, Nature
has run riot ; the valley sides, rising sheer from the water like
the buttresses of Gibraltar, grey and gaunt, leave little harbour
even for plant life, and the river, fiord-like, glides motionless
between these iron gates which are closed to all but the canoeist.
Beyond this point the valley opens out a little and receives the
waters of Bungonia Creek, where limestone cliffs, towering far
above, form sheer walls to the valley. Here the river, thwarted in
its northerly pursuit, turns almost at right angles to flow
seawards, still collecting the waters of its tributaries, the
Bundanoon and Tallowal Creeks and the Kangaroo River.
EARLY HISTORY.
This gorge, stupendous in its grandeur and terrible
in its wildeness, has resisted the thrust of civilization for over a
century, and is virtually still an unknown quantity. When discovered
in March, 1818, by a party under Surveyor Meehan and Charles
Throsby, it was described as impassable, and, although numerous
attempts were made to cross, it between Tallong and Nerrimunga
Creek, they all had to be abandoned. As the years progressed,
settlement spread to the very brink of the gorge near Tallong,
Bungonia, and Inverary Park, but only the most venturesome settlers
penetrated the recesses of the valley, and then only as necessity
demanded, in search of straying stock. From time to time since these
early days the valley has been explored and surveyed at great hazard
by geologists and others, including the great W. B. Clarke and
officers of the geological survey staff who confirmed the existence
of gold in the district.
In the late 'fifties, after the gold rush, many
miners made their way into the rugged confines of the valley
seeking- traces of the precious metal, and prospecting was carried
on there intermittently for the rest of the century. The puny
efforts of the miners, however, have never availed against the
river's will, and many a miner has escaped from the valley with
nothing but his life, while to others such a fate would have been a
stroke of good fortune. For suddenly and without warning the river
rises in flood, and camps, plant, machinery, and worldly belongings,
caught in the deluge, are swept away for ever. The banks bear
witness to the ferocity of these floods by the piles of driftwood,
the extensive silt flats, the boulder-strewn stream bed, and the
wrecked plant which can be seen at places along the river. The old
timers tell of anvils, blacksmith's gear and other ironwork being
swept away and located miles downstream lodged in the tree tops,
while at one place an old steam engine, rusted and battered, has
been cast unceremoniously on the bank far above normal river level.
No doubt the river holds gold—probably in unlimited quantities—but
it guards it with a jealous care from the miner who seeks to
desecrate its virgin precincts.
Apart from sporadic attempts at prospecting during
the depression, the Shoalhaven has seen little activity since the
late years of last century, and nowadays it is deserted—as barren,
awesome and unspoiled in its gorge as it was a century ago. Only an
occasional trace of civilization can be seen—a few old huts in
ruins, with scraps of old gear, tools and ironwork scattered around.
There is no track
—indeed there is barely a negotiable route—along the
boulder-strewn banks, but a few sheep, no doubt seeking and scenting
water in the dry spells, have ventured into the gorge, where their
only food ' is scraggy shrubs, a few blades of lank grass, and the
young river oaks "which have grown up since the last flood.
SCENIC ATTRACTIONS.
Yet, despite its inhospitable nature, the river
presents an irresistible attraction to the walker and canoeist,
particularly those who seek new fields and to whom the obstacles of
Nature are a relish. It can best be approached from the Southern
line, Tallong and Marulan being the most convenient points to
commence a trip. Several good tracks lead to the river down the many
ridges which link it with the uplands, many of them having been cut
and used by the miners in past years. On my first visit to the
valley, many years ago, I chose one of these from Marulan down the
Barber's Creek ridge and up to Tallong—a short trip, but an
excellent one to reveal some of the wonders of the valley, and to
introduce the newcomer to the Shoalhaven atmosphere. Those of us who
revel in the valleys of the Cox's, Wollondilly and Kowmung Rivers
must not expect to find open grassy flats, shady casuarinas and
picturesque
-wild apples. Instead the ground is barren, hard
even to distraction, and the soil gives life to but a few sparse
shrubs ; the casuarina fuberosa, a different variety from the Blue
Mountain river oak, grows plentifully, but there are few large
specimens, most of them having been uprooted and destroyed in the
1926 flood. Moreover, walking is laborious at times—jagged rocks and
upturned strata tire all patience when the only relief is to be
found on beds of gleaming white sand in which the feet sink to the
ankles.
The way out of the valley on this trip was to
Tallong over Badgery's Crossing and Lookout, probably the best known
of the Shoalhaven tracks, and an excellent route by which to
commence a jaunt into this country. If desired, excursions can be
made from the Crossing both up and down the river, and, above all, a
trip up the southern valley slope to the head of Tallowal Gully will
repay the walker who wishes to see the Kanangra of the south. From
Tallowal a round trip can be made over Touga Trig, where expansive
views extend over broken country to a distant horizon, down to the
Horseshoe and back to Bungonia.
No trip to this part of the river is complete
without paying a visit to the Block-up, of which mention has already
been made. On a recent trip we determined to trace the river
downstream from the Big Horseshoe with this object. After two or
three hours of difficult walking down the river, we rounded a sharp
bend, and I beheld for the first time the magnificent steeps which
make the Block-up. In the grey light of the late afternoon the
beetling rocky slopes and sullen waters of the river made an
ensemble which held us spellbound, and so as to relieve the mental
stress with which the scene impressed us we camped up a side creek
whence this giant accident of Nature could not be seen. On the
following day, relieved somewhat of the reaction we had experienced
the previous evening, we explored the Block-up more closely and saw
it in all its glory, the early sun pouring through the rents in the
eastern cliff and contrasting with the sombre grey of the shaded
buttresses. For over 1500 feet these solid walls rise on each side,
and between them the river for half a mile is murky and silent,
startlingly reminiscent of the old adage that "still waters run
deep." Our excursion completed, we gazed in wonder at this scene of
wild grandeur for the last time before making the ascent up a nearby
ridge on our homeward journey. The sun rose higher nearing its
zenith, and ere long the dust haze and summer heat brought us out of
our reverie to the realities of life. We trudged silently along the
track to the old Bungonia Road en route for home with a memory,
though a vivid one, of Nature's greatest masterpiece in the
Shoalhaven Valley.
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