Patagonia NZ

Word of mouth spread about the Rivers Run, and a group of committed, concerned people from right along the coast put themselves on call. The event was slated to take place on the first weekend in August, when the weather would gift us a southerly flow; a kind tailwind to help us all on our way north from the Richmond to the Bruns.

The group slowly grew in numbers. Stories were shared about people’s relationships with their home waters. The dire state of our river systems were discussed, and plans were hatched about how to tackle the 46km self-powered journey.

RUN Richmond River to Lennox Head, 10km
PADDLE Lennox Head to Broken Head, 11km
RUN/PADDLE Broken Head to Wategoes, 9km
SWIM Wategoes to Byron Bay SLSC, 2.3km
RUN/PADDLE Byron Bay SLSC to Brunswick River, 13km

One leg wouldn’t start until the last person had arrived from the previous leg. It wasn’t a race but instead a collective effort. An opportunity for personal challenge. Aptly, the motto for the day was ‘no one left behind!’ Meanwhile, a committed bunch volunteered to run ground crew and keep tabs on everyone. A local fisherman ran safety in his boat for the paddlers and swimmers.

On Saturday, August 30 a small crowd assembled on Nyangbul Jagun in Ballina, where the Richmond – a river that drains over 7000 square kilometres of the Bundjalung and Githabul Country – meets the sea. People with a vast range of backgrounds, interests and skillsets stood together, connected by water, ready to tackle a day of adventure.

Dave borrowed a line he’d learned from the Slabb family of the Tweed River, that to walk Country is to know it; to understand it in a new way. As all of us would learn over the course of the day, the physical challenge was only one facet of the Rivers Run. Ultimately it was a more nuanced understanding of this place – and our place within it – that revealed itself during the day as we ran, paddled, and swam.

The day delivered clear skies and beautiful blue water, but Country had gifted us an extra challenge: a strong north-westerly wind promised to build throughout the day. We’d be running/paddling/swimming straight into it.

Joined by a few local running clubs, the group set off for the first leg amid a light breeze and a group filled to the brim with energy and a few energising snacks from Craig the Byron Banana Man. The keen runners cruised through the first leg, admiring whales breaching and brahminy kites soaring overhead. The ocean had decided it was the day to put on a show. The spectacle continued as the group traversed the coastline, crossing the many small tannin-soaked creeks and lagoons that flow into the ocean between these two big rivers, often remaining out of sight and out of mind.

Paddling past the beaches south of Broken Head I shared a special moment with a large bird of prey. I watched as the resident white-bellied sea eagle weaved its way around the headlands, diving down along the beaches before banking high in the sky to effortlessly glide over the next rocky outcrop.

As the Rivers Run crew rounded the continent’s most easterly point at Walgun (Cape Byron), we pointed ourselves directly into a headwind that had been slowly strengthening throughout the day. By the time we all set off with goggles to swim across the famous bay, the chop made for a difficult swim. I found myself struggling for rhythm, stuck in a trough when I thought I was in a peak, gaining a giant mouthful of seawater for my troubles.

By the time, the group made it to the Byron Bay Surf Club, the wind was whipping through wetsuits and dropping core temperatures. A hardy group of seasoned runners followed the yawning bend of beach through Tyagarah and kept their legs moving to reach the Bruns under their own power. Many – me included – decided to forgo the final paddle leg across the bay into a 50km/hr headwind and complete the final leg behind the wheel. Dave meanwhile made the crossing with another paddler named Elliot – later recounting that a giant tuna had propelled itself from the water right in front of them – and when they finally arrived as the first paddlers into the Brunswick River, the sky had been painted a purple-orange as the sun set over Mount Chincogan. The river shimmered in the golden hour.

The Byron Banana Man, unconcerned about his lack of training in the lead-up to the day, was the final paddler to arrive on the beach on the south side of the Brunswick River. After requesting a cold Coopers Green and a few slices of pizza, he made his way up the beach and dropped his paddleboard on the ground. “Clean oceans and clean rivers for all!” He declared to the crowd on the beach who whistled and applauded his arrival.