It flows 344 kilometres into Moreton Bay from headwaters on Mt Stanley in the Brisbane Range about 25 km northeast of Nanango in the South Burnett region. The Brisbane drains a catchment area of 13,500 square kilometres and has numerous tributaries, including the Stanley, Cooyar, Lockyer and Bremer, and urban creeks such as the Enoggera, Oxley, Bulimba and Norman. It was first explored by John Oxley, New South Wales Surveyor-General, in 1823. He was looking for a suitable site for a remote penal station and navigated as far as modern-day Gailes, near the junction of the Logan and Ipswich motorways. He named the river after Thomas Brisbane, Governor of New South Wales. Allan Cunningham explored upstream of Ipswich in 1829.
It is a river for people, essentially, either on it or by it: for walkers, runners and fitness enthusiasts; skate-boarders, cyclists, rowers and kayakers; boaties, fishers and (unfortunately) jet-skiers; ferry passengers and sightseers; picnickers and partygoers; river police and coastguards; and all manner of workers on barges, platforms, tugboats, liners, tankers and container ships.
Its colour and mood reflect weather and sky. I never tire of looking at it: it is a joy to walk by and sail upon. Other cities' rivers look small and insignificant now by comparison. The Brisbane is mighty and mysterious, winding back on itself as it does so that newcomers become disorientated. Strangely, even at king tides, it is never menacing. And, as people gazed silently at its swollen waters (bottom of post) in the hours leading up to the flood peak, the power of inevitability was mesmeric.
Let's start with mood.
Then birdlife. In 'our' Weeping Figs we have Crows, Magpies, Magpie Larks, Currawongs, Butcherbirds, Noisy Miners, Figbirds, Lorikeets, Rosellas and a pair of magnificent Nankeen Night Herons (immediately below). We occasionally hear Kookaburras just across the river, and one evening a couple of months ago we thrilled to the eerie cry of a Bush Stone-curlew. Closer to the water you will see Herons, Egrets, Cormorants, Darters, Ducks, Gulls, Swallows, Magpie Geese, Striated Herons and, my favourite, Pelicans. There is rarely a dull moment.
The smallest craft often seem disproportionately noisy. The Cats purr soothingly; the tugs labour unmistakably; the cruise ships glide majestically – and almost silently until signalling their departure with a spine-tingling horn blast; and, rarely, yachts under sail pass peacefully save for the flapping of sailcloth.
And then there are the bridges. Where would a thriving city on a major waterway be without landmark bridges?
Occasionally there are unexpected visitors...
This post was last edited on 29 September 2012