Bhundoo Dreaming – cruising the Clyde River

10 February 2023
It rises in the Budawang Mountains 220 kilometres (137 miles) south of Sydney and 50 kilometres (30 miles) inland from the coast. The Aborigines call it Bhundoo, meaning Big Water, though most Australians know it as the Clyde, and up there in the Budawangs at first it’s no more than a trickle.

It begins a bit north and east of the Sassafras National Park campground in a barely inhabited land thick with forests. There are no roads in to the river at this point. It flows undisturbed beneath a lush canopy, home of woodland birds and animals. There’s a lookout from the Mount Bushwalker trail that allows glinting glimpses of it on a sunny day, way down below beneath the trees.

Pushing relentlessly towards the sea the river has sculptured a land of remarkable features, and has been given names to match its majesty: Monolith Valley, Shrouded Gods Mountain, Byangee Walls, and the Ettrema Wilderness.

It flows generally south, more or less parallel to the coast, picking up speed and volume as one by one it is joined by nine tributaries, each of which has its own beginning in those same lush mountains. Almost 100 kilometres (62 miles) later, and after descending over 600 metres (1970 ft), it turns east and drowns a wide valley. By now a tidal estuary, after 125 kilometres (78 miles) it finally meets the Tasman Sea at Bateman’s Bay on the south coast of NSW. It is one of the few major rivers in eastern Australia that has not been dammed.

This river has no polluting industries or sewage outflows in its catchment. It is one of the cleanest, least polluted waters of any major river in Australia. It flows first through Budawang National Park. Meandering now, it continues through several State Forests and then Clyde River National Park. Here there are numerous swimming holes providing cool relief on hot summer days, and here too are platypus and native bass in the same cool water. It is an idyllic place.

From Nelligen, about 20 kilometres (12 miles) inland from its mouth at Batemans Bay, the river is navigable for larger craft, and historically the settlement of the area depended on water transport between the two towns. Except for the oysters, which I’ll get to in a bit, river usage today is all recreational: sailing, river and ocean fishing, cruises, sailboards, outboard motor boats, jet skis, and house boats.











It’s a mizzle-grey day, low brooding clouds fill the sky, but we are not discouraged. The six of us have been to Batemans Bay more times than we can count, but we’ve never experienced a cruise on the Clyde River. Today is the day. Who cares about a few clouds? Or even a little rain.

But first food! There’s an iconic Batemans Bay fish-and-chip shop called the Boatshed, right by the water, that sells river cruises along with fish, prawns, oysters, and of course chips.





So we order lunch and head to The Escapade docked right outside, for an escapade up the river to Nelligen.





Everyone finds a seat,





lunch is delivered,





and the captain gets us underway.








There are occasional homesteads,








and in the 1.5 hours that it takes to reach Nelligen we see a few fishermen hoping to catch flathead, bream, or estuary perch,








but much of the journey is a slow lazy meander through the untouched wilderness of Clyde River National Park.








The village of Nelligen is a sleepy place on the bank of the river, both town and river hardly noticed in the mad dash on Kings Highway from Canberra to the coast. By road, once you cross the bridge at Nelligen, you’re only ten minutes from Batemans Bay. By river it’s a whole other world.

The town’s history is rich; gold prospectors, bushrangers, and steam ships have all called it home. Now it’s all empty streets, hundred-year-old weatherboard “heritage” houses,








and a church converted into a home.





We eat ice cream at The River Cafe, and climb the hill for the view.





The tranquillity of the river is matched only by the soothing silence of the surrounding forests. Except for this!





The best entertainment in town, this teenage girl shows off her trick-riding skills and teaches her younger brother to do the same. What a swell party this is! In swelligant elegant Nelligen!











And then, after crossing the grassy bank, rejoining the boat,





and heading down river, there’s this! A couple of mad men trick-riding on jet skis.








After a while a new captain briefly takes the mike for the return journey. He’s pretty tickled by the opportunity.





Now back to those oysters. The tidal estuary of the Clyde is the home of “the best oysters in the world”, a claim based on the quality of the water and the breed of oysters – the Sydney Rock Oyster. Apparently connoisseurs attest to this; I’m no connoisseur, but we’ve never been to the coast without having oysters at least once, sometimes buying huge bags and shucking them ourselves. I don’t know whether or not they’re the best in the world, but I know for sure they’re really good. And definitely better than the oysters we had in Croatia that made us all sick – never a good recommendation. Way back when I was a teenager and lived in Sydney my sister and I would eat fresh natural rock oysters, literally off the rocks.

With an annual production of over 6 million dozen oysters worth Au$50 million, oyster farming is the oldest and most valuable aquaculture industry in NSW.

As we travel on the river signs of oyster farming are with us almost the entire way – the small work sheds right down by the water,





the rows of stakes that allow the trays to rest in the water,





and farmers harvesting from a flat-bottomed boat as they pole between the lines to collect the trays.





And then we see the jellyfish! The correct name is Jelly Blubber; an alarmingly prosaic name for such beauty. As we cruise slowly along they drift by the boat surrounding us; hundreds of them!





They’re the most common jellyfish on the Australian east coast, and unlike other species, their sting is not serious. They absorb nutrients through their short, fat tentacles, and they’re usually found on the ocean floor. Pre-dawn or when it’s cloudy they often rise to the surface. They arrive in huge numbers in what seems to be a couple of days, and then can disappear overnight.

No mouth. No brain. Cannot communicate. Feel no pain. And yet here they are swarming around us in the hundreds and thousands, many at the surface, many a little deeper down.





We go to the top deck

to look down on this drifting delicate grace, this swirling floating dance. They colour the water in a translucent salmon-pink shimmer, pulsating or drifting in what feels like an eternal simple bliss. Magic!








We continue on, and now, with the bridge coming into view





we know we are getting close to Batemans Bay, and to the end of this three-hour gentle cruise up the river and back again. The whole journey has been kind of dreamy, a tranquil exploration on calm waters. But the jellyfish! That feels like a miracle, and it’s only later, in researching about them, that I realize how lucky we were to have had a cloudy day.







Budawang National Park, Clyde River National Park, and Batemans Bay are situated on what was and always will be Aboriginal land; the land of the Yuin Nation.





All words and images by Alison Louise Armstrong unless otherwise noted
© Alison Louise Armstrong and Adventures in Wonderland – a pilgrimage of the heart, 2010-2024.