Sydney – cruise the Hawkesbury River on a mailboat for a perfect day trip – Scotland on Sunday Travel

Just an hour from Sydney is one of Australia's most glorious waterways

The Riverboat Postman cruises the Hawkesbury River, an hour from Sydney, delivering the mail.

Pic: riverboatpostman.com.au

By Tom Adair Published 24th Dec 2023, 04:55 GMT The Riverboat Postman

Believe the hype. Yes, Sydney scintillates. Its picture-postcard landmarks appear more awesome the closer you get, the more you stare.

I've toured the Opera House, climbed the Bridge, done Paddy's Market, been up the Sky Tower and cruised the Harbour with Captain Cook. I keep returning.

The Riverboat Postman stops along the way to deliver mail to residents along the Hawkesbury River. Pic: riverboatpostman.com.au

But even I, bank balance dwindling, footsore from pounding the sun-spanked pavements, after three or more days of ferry boat rides, funfair rides and visiting the zoo, or dipping a toe at Bondi Beach, am up for a gear-

change, an Aussie away-day with a twist. I've done it before. So, I head for Long Island by way of Brooklyn.

Yes, those American sound-alike place names really do grace the edge of the hidden Hawkesbury River, one of Australia's most glorious waterways, just an hour by train north of Sydney's throbbing business-focused hub. I take a 'quiet' carriage for uninterrupted views, and soon I'm relaxing, leaving the city's packed outer suburbs, weaving through densely wooded slopes, glimpsing creeks and the nose-diving waterfalls until, suddenly - the

Snacks, meals and drinks are served to tourists taking the mini cruise along the river. Pic: riverboatpostman.com.au

money shot - the dazzle of sun-kissed water - a stretch of silver contained in a bowl of zig zag hills. Above its tree line, brushing the rim and lifted by thermals, I spot three ticks, circling with slow deliberation.

Home- dwelling hawks? Since the 1960s hundreds of Aussies have made this semi-reclusive, eco-conscious setting their Shangri-la--one that's served every day by the famous Riverboat Postman, ferrying mail, essential provisions and latterly scores

of (possibly not so welcome) mini-cruising tourists here to gawp at their water's edge bliss.

The Riverboat Postman ferries mail, essential provisions and mini-cruising tourists along the Hawkesbury River.

Pic: riverboatpostman.com.au

I've set out early, leaving Sydney's Central station at 7.45, to beat the rush and grab a fortifying breakfast at Homer's Cafe near Brooklyn station. There the bacon and egg toasted bap is an institution: "Best blooming tucker I've had in ages," says Denny from Adelaide, wiping egg yolk from his stubble.

Like me, Denny's here for the double indulgence of boat ride and bap. By 10 o'clock we're fully loaded and the Postman slips its mooring at Brooklyn Marina, sailing due east. Generations of timber hulled post boats have plied this route since 1910.

Now the post run on the Hawkesbury is the sole surviving mail boat run in Australia. The timber-hulled vessels, alas long gone, live on in nostalgia, now replaced by sleek modernity.

Our craft is a two-deck catamaran, swift, manoeuvrable, more buoyant, and on a

The cargo of post sacks for delivery.

Pic: riverboatpostman.com.au

mission to deliver - whatever the weather - providing its passengers with a sit-down tea or coffee, (plus Anzac biscuits--"to Granny's recipe"), the moment we step on board. Soon there's the buzz of excited passengers sharing tables and conversation and plenty of wandering space; introductions are made. Most are Aussies.

Some are old hands on their fourth or fifth trip. "We call it our luxury cruise," laughs Marlene, a second-timer, up from Melbourne, "it's cheap as chips". A pair of Canadians, nibbling biscuits, are loving the warmth. "Back home its 25 below!" They squint through sunlight.

The bar is open and drinks are ferried from wheelhouse to stern; the boat stays steady. A running commentary from Bob, the vessel's skipper, keeps us amused as well as informed about what to look out for along the shoreline or on the hillsides.

And as we veer towards Marlow Creek - heading for drop off spots at Bar Point, Spectacle Island, Kangaroo Point and Milsons Passage - into shot glides the motley straggle of habitation along the shoreline, tiny figures growing clearer: someone fishing, another digging, observed by a cloud of swirling gulls. This is the ancient Aboriginal land of the Guringai and the Dharug peoples.

Aboriginal rock carvings can be seen from the boat at Eagle Rock near Broken Bay on the Hawkesbury River. Pic: riverboatpostman.com.au

"They hunted, fished and foraged along this stretch of the wide, deep river, or the 'Deerubbin' as they named it," Bob is saying, and then he points to something more recent - the listing hulk of Australia's first warship, the long abandoned HMAS Parramatta. "Her stern and bow have been cut asunder and moved to far flung parts of Oz," says Bob, "so from tip to tip, she's easily Australia's longest vessel."

My new, table-sharing 'mates', two couples from Hornsby, a suburb of Sydney, crack open a bottle of something sparkly, pink and cold. It's not yet midday. "It's midday somewhere," quips Steve, as he raises his bottle of grog while Kim, his wife, starts blitzing the bubbles.

Glasses are clinked, wandering staff replenish tea cups, the bar keeps humming, and Bob by now has started his fishing spiel, describing the river's abundance of mullet, leatherjacket, snapper and yellowtail kingfish. The cliffs are home to circling sea eagles, mostly seen near the sandstone ridges.

Milsons Island, now happily settled was once a quarantine station and hospital. Peat Island has been a mental asylum.

This is a river stocked with wildlife and tales of ghosts and abandoned wrecks. The locals, as they gather on their wharves to exchange the mail, take time to trade the latest gossip and to wave at passengers. Just about anything and everything essential for daily life will find its way here including, household goods, pet food and on the sly, the odd case of whisky.

Some houses seem little more than shacks while others are multi-storied, grand, with view-grabbing panoramic windows, set in gardens of blue Jacaranda, tea trees and gums. Soon the multi-tasking crew are serving our lunch, a simple Ploughman's affair with salad. Chatter concedes to the growing clatter of forks and knives; the barman gets busier.

Bob, the skipper is suddenly quiet. The boat glides on as though it is steering itself.

I see Denny, tucking in, chatting to another passenger, probably saying in between mouthfuls, "Best blooming tucker I've had in ages." Then a kookaburra flutters down beside them to perch on the rail. The mobile phones come out for a snapshot. It's all pure Oz.

Pure serendipity recorded for posterity.

All we need now is a jolly swagman.