Raftwalking in the South-West VII: The Spring River to the Narrows

“The possibilities for the future are infinite. When we focus on the unfortunate possibilities, that’s called fear. When we remember the other possibilities, which are usually more likely, that is called freedom from fear.”
-Ajahn Brahm

The Port Davey Track below the Spring River! Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

The Port Davey Track from the Spring River towards Melaleuca deteriorates rather rapidly.

We waded through knee deep water for about twenty minutes while trying to find the track immediately after the Spring. We never did. We just pushed through the scrub, the beautiful rainforest with all its tangles, and eventually emerged onto the plains where we could pick up the track once again. We soon reached a creek crossing that was a fast flowing river. We used the rafts and our ropes to set up a ferry system to get ourselves and our packs across. In hindsight, it would have been faster to paddle across with our packs in the front of the boat. This is what we ended up doing later in the trip when we got to the Solly River on day 10 and that was a lot more efficient. Still, it was good practice at the rope work and I think we would do it a lot more efficiently next time!

Gabe on the Spring River. Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

In the end, we put in on the Spring a couple of kilometres below where the Port Davey meets the river, where there is a fair campsite. I was tempted to put in straight from camp in the morning, but Gabe was worried about log jams, and to be fair I was concerned about puncturing the rafts among all the sharp tea trees that grew in what’s effectively a large creek at that point. We did not want to be delayed as we had a rendezvous with Grant the next day at Claytons Corner, so we went with the safe but slightly annoying option of walking those extra kilometres to put in on the Spring where it is nice and wide like in the above photograph. Those two kilometres took us over two hours, after we lost the track in the scrub, after we faffed around at the creek crossing, then climbed and descended a steep buttongrass ridge. Nevertheless, we made it to the Spring before lunch time and we put in where the river does a big U bend. We knew it would be a long but straightforward paddle to Farrell Point. At our put in, the water was already a bit brackish.

Calm evening looking over the Bathurst Channel. Pentax MX, Portra 800.

We met quite a few swans on our winding paddle on the Spring River. They kept trying to swim down the river to get away from us and we had to paddle hard to overtake them so they could relax and stay where they wanted to be on the river. It wasn’t long before the river opened up into the estuary and we found ourselves in the spectacular Joe Page Bay, with Mt Berry, Mt Rugby and the Erskine Range rising up around us. It was misty and drizzling, adding to the South-West ambiance.

It was a cruisy paddle to Farrell Point, about three and a half hours from our put in on the Spring. Farrell Point is where the Port Davey track reaches the Bathurst Narrows. This is the notorious boat crossing that so many people have epics with. The Bathurst Narrows drain Bathurst Harbour so when the tide is flowing out, you definitely know about it! As we approached Farrell Point, it became obvious we were paddling against an outgoing tide, so we abandoned any aspirations we may have had of paddling on to Claytons that day.

Melaleucas in golden light, Farrell Point, Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.

We set up camp at the beautiful and somewhat elevated campsite and enjoyed a calm evening as the rain finally stopped and the sun came out. We were beneath some ancient Melaleucas and had a clear view of the Narrows and the Channel. The currawong’s gentle kooing kept us company. As the sun set, the tide slackened and the wind dropped and the water offered perfect reflections. It was a magical moment, one I will foster and remember for years to come.

Evening reflections, Bathurst Narrows, Pentax MX, Portra 800, Nov 2025.