Mixed feelings about the river

Visiting the Wilsons River in Lismore, my hometown in Northern NSW, always stirs up a mix of emotions.

I remember a time in my childhood when the river was a true hub of activity, alive with people actually swimming in it, especially down at Simes Bridge – the one that links Lismore and North Lismore. Kids my age would fearlessly leap off that bridge, a thrill that seems incredibly reckless now, but back then, it was just part of our summer. You’d also see swimmers near the Ballina Street Bridge boat ramp.

And it wasn’t just swimming; I have clear recollections of water-skiers gliding across the surface, and the unique charm of the floating restaurant. Now, apart from the occasional boat, the river feels strangely empty.

That vibrant connection stands in stark contrast to the “complex relationship” Lismore now has with the Wilson’s River, a consequence of the massive and catastrophic floods of recent years – 2022 being particularly devastating, as I’ve written about previously.

It’s funny, growing up, we always called it the Richmond River. The name changed at some point, a detail I’ve read about a few times, but the exact reason escapes me now. Anyway, it’s the Wilsons River that now flows through Lismore today, meeting Leicester Creek. That confluence, that joining of the two waterways, is a significant factor in our ongoing flooding challenges.

I also remember a time when you could simply walk down to the river from either side. Now, in many areas, that’s impossible due to overgrown trees or other obstructions.

The extensive planting of bamboo along the banks created a physical barrier, and the river began to feel increasingly cut off from Lismore. The construction of the Berlin Wall-like levee bank only reinforced that separation, creating a tangible distance.

It’s a far cry from the past, when houses actually lined the riverbank, homes to families, often those with fewer resources or from the local Aboriginal community. The floods washed most of that history away, and even the riverside RSL Club is now gone. There was so much life happening down there once.

Now, a ride along the river reveals that nice park, a spot where people can picnic and enjoy the quiet atmosphere. You see dog walkers and people using the path. It’s a lovely area, but it’s one of the few places left where you can truly get close to the river in Lismore.

After the all the floods, and with increased mobility – you can easily go for a swim at the beach or the pool, not in the river – people aren’t as inclined to head down to the river any more.

The only time people look closely at the river, these days, is when they’re driving over the bridge to see how far up the floods waters have come. Or to park their car in one of the riverside carparks, such as nearby the rowing club.

But despite the trauma, despite the flooding, it remains a beautiful river in my eyes.

Lismore was built where it is because of things like the timber and dairy industry. But even before European settlement, I’ve read Aboriginal people lived close to the river, except when it flooded, and they would relocate to higher ground. As many of the houses of North and South Lismore, the divide between those living on one side of the river and those living right up on the hill will increase, with fewer and fewer people less likely to have any daily contact with the river.