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  Jottings in an Oarsman’s Journal. (Man in a rowing boat..Henry Scott Tuke.) Jottings in an Oarsman’s Journal..#5. The approach to the hamlet of Black Hill by skiff on the Marne River was over a flood plain of vast proportion. Since the heavy rains of this year of 192*, a huge volume of water descended down stream from the Eastern Adelaide Hills sending the waters of the river to lap against its widest perimeters..all roads and tracks were flooded or at least sections were made impassable and diversion roads were hurriedly cut above the flood line so as to facilitate access to the isolated farms and hamlets along the river…Black Hill was no exception. So it was with trepidation that I wound my way across the wide flood plain that lay before the village. As I came near the collection of houses and buildings that formed the hamlet…I cannot in all honesty call Black Hill a “town” as it is too scattered and too small a gathering of peoples to call i...
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  Jottings in an Oarsman’s Journal. Jottings in an Oarsman’s Journal #4 Gunta and Harold. The Roman historian, Tacitus, in his recordings of the different Germania tribes and their mores, made note to the effect that the further one went out into the wilds and unknowns away from the centres of civilisation the more barbaric did the tribal living conditions and social behaviour become..In my travelling further and further down stream on The Marne River, getting further and further from the town of Cambrai, humble as it is, with its focus points of civilisation of church community, school, civic hall and council, plus that melting pot of what keeps so many men sane whilst battling the endless combat of mother nature upon their cropping and livestock..the pub..these small but vital elements form the basic requirements of a civilised community…take them away and it is not long before any person left in an isolated state will move closer to a survival nat...
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  Jottings in an Oarsman’s Journal. Jottings in an Oarsman’s Journal #3. Harriet Fairclough. The realisation that the next stretch of river has a series of rapids that would demand my utmost attention to the steering of the craft and will take much of the day with such labour. I decided to first make a stop at the small hamlet of Rhine Villa, now renamed “Cambrai” to go to the store and refresh my supplies just in case of spillage or damage whilst traversing those rapids..for one cannot be certain of what forces will take hold of my being whilst under the power of the river…so best “be prepared” as is the scouts motto. The hamlet of Cambrai consisted of a scatter of houses in an ordered grid survey, with the usual central points of post office, soldiers memorial hall, church and manse along with several well-constructed houses along a main street that led toward the river bridge just to the west of the newer railway bridge of the Sedan railway li...
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  Jottings in an oarsman’s journal. Jottings in an Oarsman’s Journal #2. John Esau. I confess to a certain delight in giving myself some luxuries of comfort in this venture down The Marne River. I have equipped myself with many of the little extras that make the experience of “sleeping rough” a kind of soft comfort. The fact that I can carry so much more than a walker with a knapsack venturing into the bush, lets me include such items as extra socks and warm under garments..a change of boots to shoes…cutlery and cooking utensils that would otherwise be considered too weighty for one person walking. I could store the more perishable food items in a cooling box under the prow of the skiff..this cool-box was sold by our company to keep those special dishes cool and preserved for several days with a double lined box with cork between the lining and a tight fitted lid also so insulated..it worked quite well for my purposes.So I was in the here...
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  Jottings in an Oarsman’s Journal. (Some of you may know that The Marne River I describe in this idyl could not in most years float even a cork from the hills face all the way to the Murray river..but then, if a moth  can dream of flying through space to visit a star, why not row a skiff the full length of this gentle stream?…”…For men may come and men may go . . .”) Jottings in an oarsman’s journal. My name is Ambrose Quint. I come from a long line of ships chandlers. Now, in my fifty first year, I have passed the oversight of the company, formed by my grandfather in the early days of the province, and sited at Port Adelaide to service the Line ships and public of this state, to my younger brothers who have greater enthusiasm for the trade of chandlering, while I take time to pursue an ambition I have nurtured in my heart for many years of travelling by rowing skiff down many of the delightful rivers and streams of the state.. ...
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