Winter Cruising on the Clarence River

Bushfire smoke encased the air as we turned off the Pacific Highway towards Maclean in our motorhome, and crossed the single lane timber and wrought iron bridge that spans South Arm of the Clarence River. “We’re going to sail this river one day”, my husband announced as we followed this enormous waterway alongside Woodford Island. Fast forward 18 months and on a clear morning last July we arrived at the Clarence River entrance in a 43-foot sailing yacht, named Jobey-Doh. You know the saying, “There are those who make things happen….”

McFarlane Bridge, crossing the South Arm near Maclean. 
Summer 2019

McFarlane Bridge from the Clarence River
July 2021

We have owned and worked on many boats over the years. It was again time to get another one so we could explore this wonderfully diverse country further, complementing our land yacht, Delvy, a 1996 Toyota Coaster. In May this year we Delvied our way from Newcastle to Gippsland Lakes to view a boat that would be suitable for all season east coast cruising. After successful negotiations, we sailed out into Bass Strait and turned left for warmer weather, avoiding Covid-19 hotspots along the way.

Delvy, Paynesville
Winter 2021 

Winter sailing in Bass Strait

The mighty Clarence River, known as Ngunitiji to the Yaygirr people, was on the cruising bucket list as we sailed north. It’s the largest river on the eastern seaboard, with deep water access for masted vessels all the way to Grafton, some 36 nautical miles upstream. Indigenous peoples lived in this area for 60 000 years before an escaped convict came across great stands of cedar that brought white settlers to the fertile river flats. In the 1850s, as the region grew in commercial importance, the dangerous bar at the river mouth was subject to extensive harbour works to keep people and supplies moving in and out of the small townships of Yamba and Iluka on either side of the river entrance, and further upstream.

Crossing the Iluka-Yamba bar

While over the years the river training works have made the bar crossing safer, prudence is still always required. We timed our crossing perfectly on the last hour of the rising tide after a non-stop voyage of 48 hours and 220 nautical miles from Port Stephens. Seas were calm as we followed a couple of local commercial fishing vessels into the river and dropped anchor in Iluka Bay. After some well needed sleep we dinghied to the public pontoon outside the local historic pub and explored the township on foot, admiring the fishing fleet and other cruising vessels.  

Iluka fishing fleet

Iluka Bay dinghy pontoon outside the pub

Keen to sail on to new territory, we phoned ahead as requested to book the old Harwood steel truss bridge opening for the following day. As Pacific Highway users would know, there is now a new concrete bridge, located 20 metres east of the original. Its 36 spans align with the existing bridge pier layout, and its centre height is level with the existing bridge’s lift platform of 29.4 metres at HAT (Highest Astronomical Tide). Spanning 1.52 kilometres long, the new river crossing is an impressive piece of engineering, and many barges and tugs were used to transport and install the various bridge making components at water level. Now we get to sail, well, motor under it, after crossing over it in Delvy when it first opened. So exciting!

Sailing upstream on the Clarence River

The Harwood bridges 

Armed with the Clarence Cruising Guide plus navigational charts, we weighed anchor early on the rising tide at 9.00am. We wanted to take our time cruising the 11 nautical mile journey, but not miss our scheduled 12.30pm opening. It turned out we could have departed later. Not only did we have 3 knots of current with us as we sailed upstream under headsail at 6 knots, the bridge opening man forgot about us. Plenty of time for us to watch the traffic flow above and soak up the sweet molasses smell from the oldest continuously operating sugar mill in Australia. After a quick phone call, two hours later the steel central vertical lift span started to rise. Two minutes later our 14-metre mast passed easily underneath. We were in.

Harwood sugar mill

Finally we're on the move

Given that the tide was about to turn, we made the short journey to Maclean and tied up at the 24-hour free public pontoon right in the heart of this delightful Scottish themed town. A hike up to Lookout Reserve rewarded us with a fantastic view of the river and the Harwood bridges. We had come full circle: arriving by land and now by sea. Just as we do when motor homing about, we also appreciate the free ‘camping’ facilities offered to cruising yachties. It’s funny, one doesn’t notice motorhomes when on sea, and vice a versa, but really, we are all doing the same thing. Travelling around discovering new and exciting places, keeping within a budget. 

Tied alongside the Maclean public pontoon

A stroll along Maclean levee banks

As a famous poet said, “time and tide wait for no man”, so again on the incoming tide, the following morning we slipped the mooring lines to continue our Big River discovery. Winter is not the ideal time to be cruising in the southern states; because it’s winter, I guess. However, there is no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing. Our merino thermal undergarments gave us the comfort we needed when a 30-knot westerly breeze whipped up in the afternoon. The river turned from a shiny, blue glassed surface to a choppy brown mess, and it was freezing. It doesn’t look like that in the brochure! The breeze was so strong on our bow we were barely making 2 knots with the tide, and not surprisingly we were the only boat underway. We were unperturbed though as we have a fine seaworthy vessel, and there are plenty of places to drop the anchor to wait out the not so ideal weather.

Broadwater Creek junction with a strong westerly blowing.

The sea state didn’t take anything away from the scenery though. The river is surprisingly expansive in places and the bird life kept us entertained. Soaring white bellied sea eagles teaching their young how to work the breeze, dive bombing terns and gulls, stalking long necked white egrets on the river’s edge, low flying squadrons of pelicans, and teams of black ducks playing about.

We spent a windy night on anchor watch around the bend from Ulmarra. Oh, the beauty of a motorhome: taking turns to sit up all night in case the anchor drags is not a requirement. We’d be in a whole lot of trouble if it was! As the calm returned in the morning, we pulled alongside another courtesy jetty for another land excursion. The smell of freshly brewed coffee lured us up to the historic village, and an unexpected array of classic cars lining the main street kept us lingering. By this time the tide had turned, so there was no point in going against it to reach Grafton a further 6 miles upstream. We’ll visit another time: perhaps in October or November when the landscape colours purple with flowering jacarandas.

Ulmarra public pontoon

A much quieter road now that the Pacific Highway bypasses the village

With bright sunshine we thought we were on a different river to the previous day. Drifting back downstream we slid past vessels tied to river bank trees and ramshackle jetties, and green pastures dotted with cattle. Sugar cane fields were under the watchful eye of brown kites, circling above the low drone of a harvester, waiting for lunch to break cover. A cluster of retired wooden fishing boats lined atop the river bank, their final resting place, as if in memoriam of days gone by.

Plenty of room to tie up along the river bank

Now that we were retracing our wake, and the weather was kinder, we relaxed into the tranquillity of the river. There’s nothing quite like seeing the world from an on-water perspective. It’s like window shopping really; keeping everything at arm’s length. That soon changed as we approached the old wooden wharf at Lawrence, dispersing local kids and fishing lines, we were quite the spectacle. “Wow, that’s a great boat!” “Where have you sailed from?”. Tying up alongside, there were lots of questions and chatter from the Sunday afternoon crowd as they stopped to admire the Jobey-Doh.

Lawrence wharf, after the crowds have gone

We took advantage of the free public BBQ for an early evening cook up, and at sunrise I walked around the point to take a boat ride of a different kind; the Lawrence – Bluff Point ferry, a 3-minute river crossing. Apparently, it is the busiest vehicular ferry in New South Wales, and made even more so with the Ulmarra ferry out of the water for its 5 yearly service. One less hazard for us to negotiate. Vessels travelling up or downstream must wait until the car ferry has docked on either side, as the cable that pulls the car platform across must be completely slack and drop to the river bottom. Given we draw 2 metres, it’s wise to time it right, but we needed to be quick as the ferry doesn’t muck about on either side.

Clarence River sunrise

After lingering over a brunch BBQ, we reluctantly departed Lawrence wharf on the next tide as Queensland was beckoning. We had to get across the border before it slammed shut to southerners due to another Covid-19 outbreak. We planned another night at Maclean before exiting the river as we had a rendezvous with a bloke selling his 15hp outboard motor. Our 2 hp Yamaha just doesn’t cut it when dinghying about in more than glass out conditions, so it will be relegated as an emergency spare. As we sailed downstream, we passed a couple on a hired houseboat, then caught up with a 24-foot vessel who had sailed solo from Lake Macquarie. We both spent the night alongside the public jetty enjoying each other’s company, and together booked the bridge opening for the following day. No waiting this time; we sailed straight on through on the dot at midday.  

BBQ brunch at Lawrence

Dawn line up for the Bluff Point ferry

Sailing downstream with Sea Peace

New friends at Maclean, big and small.

Waving our goodbyes further downstream, we turned the motor on so as not to run out of tide for the outgoing bar crossing. Sweeping past the Ballina-Iluka ferry we quickly stopped for fuel at the Fishermen’s Co-op, ensured everything was lashed down that needed to be, then motored towards the river mouth. It sounds a cliché but dolphins did accompany us as we rode the slight swell into the open ocean, turned north and hoisted sails for the 24-hour journey to the Gold Coast Seaway. 

Big River, we’ll be back.

Jobey Doh cruising downstream on the Clarence

Back out to open sea