Carolyn Tate is a writer, river-swimmer and the 2024 Birrarung Riverfest Producer. On the three-year anniversary of her first swim in the river and the launch of Riverfest, she reflects on her journey of connection with the Yarra, Birrarung.
To swim or not to swim?
7 Sunrise interview. The answer to your questions about whether it’s safe to swim in the Yarra.
My first swim in the Birrarung
Standing at the waters-edge at Deep Rock on the Yarra, Birrarung river, I wistfully watch a German Shepherd retrieve a stick.
‘Oh, to be a dog,’ I lament to the dog’s owner wishing I could jump in too. ‘People swim here too now,’ she responds. ‘Can you believe it? There’s a group of women swimming most days.’
I’m shocked. Since moving to Melbourne in 2010, I’d always believed the Yarra to be polluted and unsafe for swimming and that if you fell in, you’d get sick.
Disbelieving yet hopeful, I rush home to post a message on our local Good Karma Network. ‘Who are the crazy, courageous women swimming in the river at Deep Rock? Can I please join you?’ I beseech. Three minutes later, I receive an invitation to join. Three days later, I’m in the drink. Yes, the Birrarung is ‘the drink’. 70% of that last glass of water you enjoyed is from our river.
The lock-down made me do it
It’s Sunday, 8 August 2021, day-three of what is becoming a 77-day lockdown, the sixth and last lockdown in Melbourne. A dystopian, yet not so distant dream for many.
As a pool swimmer, ocean lover and ex-lifesaver, I have a long-held love affair with water. With the pools closed and the beaches off-limits, even an icy cold, dirty and unsafe river will do.
I meet Katie and Kimi down at Deep Rock for my induction. I’m wearing my oldest swimmers under many layers of clothing, a beanie and thick explorer socks under Birkenstocks. It’s a weird look, but who cares when I’m about to swim in water that is just eight degrees.
Preparing to take the plunge.
Stepping tentatively forward up to my waist, I take a gentle swan-dive to submerge my body up to my chin. A few uncontrollable expletives reverberate across the water. What the hell am I thinking?
‘Breathe out. Breaststroke is best. Don’t put your head in. After a minute, your body will acclimatise and you’ll love it,’ Katie reassures me, swimming alongside.
I frog-kick my way through the water, a little fearful of the creatures lurking beneath. My hands and feet are turning numb, and I’m almost hyperventilating. The words ‘the only way out is through’ are playing on repeat in my head.
Soon my breath becomes more even and I observe the magnificence of this sacred place. The sun’s rays rippling across the fifty-metre-high cliff. The two snow-white geese scavenging for insects. The glorious golden wattle casting its pollen across the water.
In the river at Deep Rock. Beanie’s keep the heat in!
The first swim is like a baptism
Eight minutes later (rule of thumb is one minute in the water for each one degree of the water temperature), I return to the steps and climb out. My whole body is lobster-like, red and tingling from head to toe. I feel alive and euphoric.
And there’s another feeling creeping in too. For the first time, I understand what it’s like to be intimate with nature, to be a part of her, not apart from her.
This first swim is like a baptism. It’s an initiation into nature, a homecoming to a world I never knew I was missing, and craving.
Every day the river calls, and I return. There’s no going back. Like Alice down the rabbit hole, I’m gone.
Greeting the river in a new way each day
Soon, a new life with the Birrarung emerges for me.
At first, the river washes away the grief at the end of a relationship and loss of hope for love. Then she, and the Yarra Yabbies community, are there to soothe the loneliness of lockdown. And then she is there to inspire my writing and get me over the finish line of the first draft of my book, Brave Women Write.
Yarra Yabbies photo courtesy of story by Margaret Paul at ABC.
And, I hope, she knows I am there for her too.
Every day, I greet her as I step into the water. ‘How are you today, my friend?’ I ask, if not aloud, at least in my head. She always responds with a ripple, a breeze or a flock of rainbow lorikeets. Sometimes, I hum a tune with her. On other days, I sit on the rocks to just listen and watch. No words uttered, yet everything understood.
New love and a new project
In April 2022, I’m set up on a blind date by a new friend and fellow Yabby, Amanda. Ric shows his keenness for me, if not for the river, by taking a plunge with me on our third date — and now we share a life together. The Yarra, Birrarung it seems, has the power to connect humans and bring new love after dark times.
In August 2022, a year after my inaugural swim, I notice how many people feel like I did about the river before I got to know her. As I swim one morning, an idea emerges to combine my passion for writing and community with my love for the river. The result is Love Stories of the Birrarung, a storytelling and community engagement project aimed at inspiring Victorian’s to connect to our river. For what we connect to, and love, we take care of.
My first day collecting Love Stories from passersby.
Finding a home along the river
My river home extends from Deep Rock in Fairfield, past Dights Falls to Collingwood Children’s Farm.
My trek to the Birrarung takes me down Roseneath Street Clifton Hill and over the bridge across Merri Creek, under the Eastern Freeway, past the sad and ugly stormwater drain near the confluence of Merri Creek and the Birrarung. Straight ahead is the Koori Revegetation Garden.
It’s here that I have my sit-spot where I journal, imagine the Wurundjeri Woi Wurrung people gathering in ceremony and observe four white-faced Heron chicks being raised by a brooding and protective mother over spring.
The grief of plastic pollution
If I turn right here back over Merri creek, Dights Falls awaits. During the floods of October 2022, the falls are indiscernible and the river bursts its banks, the path to Collingwood Children’s Farm inaccessible. When the waters recede, the trees are full of plastic and the muddy banks are littered with debris. It’s heartbreaking to witness the devastation humans wreak on our river.
Plastic festooning the riverbank trees.
The floods also sweep away the picnic table at Deep Rock and so I go on an adventure to find it and return it home. It’s found smashed to pieces high on the Wominjeka wall past Dights Falls and with the help of the Yabbies and Parks Vic, it’s eventually restored. Even Sammy J takes an interest in the story Listen here.
Ian, Meg and Tim helping recover the picnic table.
After the floods, the grief is genuine. I feel more connected to the Birrarung than ever. Love and grief, it seems, are intertwined.
Turn left at the confluence of Merri Creek and the Birrarung and you’ll meander along a path hugging the river towards Deep Rock. A large chunk of the river was cut out in the 70s to make way for the Eastern Freeway, yet still the river flows in defiance. Arriving at Deep Rock, you’ll see a plaque commemorating this historical swimming hole where Solomon Islander, Alick Wickham dove 60 meters to a crowd of 60,000 people in 1918.
Alick Wickham once dove from this cliff at Deep Rock.
Humans connecting at the Birrarung
As my connection to the Birrarung grows, so too does my connection to the many individuals, communities and organisations who are working towards a healthier Birrarung, in particular the Yarra Riverkeeper Association (YRKA).
The then Riverkeeper, Charlotte Sterrett offers me the opportunity to share my Love Stories project with a wider audience on the YRKA website. At the inaugural Birrarung Riverfest in 2023, I host the first storytelling night.
Throughout this time, I also connect with Janet Bolitho, the President of YRKA and attend numerous YRKA events to discover just how much Victorian’s do care for the Birrarung.
Find your river home on the Birrarung
All this leads to today, this very moment where I find myself in the role of 2024 Birrarung Riverfest Producer. It’s a joy to be working on this project and I’m grateful for YRKA’s trust in me.
If I had never stepped into the Birrarung on that perfect freezing day in August 2021, I would not be in this role.
The river knows what humans need, but do we know what the river needs? Are we listening?
Many Victorian’s want to feel more connected to our Birrarung, to use their skills and talents in service to the river. To clean-up, plant trees, paddle, swim and float. To be activists and advocates, to change policy and laws to ensure the river is healthy and protected.
And that, at the heart, is what Riverfest is all about — getting us all connected to the life force of Victoria that is our Yarra, Birrarung. There’s something for everyone at Riverfest. Jump in and join us!
Join me at Love Stories of the Birrarung
Share your own story of connection to the Birrarung at the Love Stories of the Birrarung storytelling evening on Thursday 5 September at Fairfield Boathouse, Book Here.
Explore the full program at Riverfest
I acknowledge that the lands and waterways of the Yarra, Birrarung catchment, are the unceded territories of the Wurundjeri Woi-Wurrung and Bunurong peoples. We pay respect to Traditional Owners, who have, and continue to, care for Country. We acknowledge that the river now called Yarra has always been known as the Birrarung by its custodians. Wilip-gin Birrarung murron. (Keep the Birrarung alive!)
