“A land bridge connected Minjerribah (Stradbroke Island) to Kombumerri country (Southport) and Goories also came in canoes to Minjerribah trading bunya for eugarie, amongst other things.” – History Life and Times of Robert Anderson, Gheebelum, Ngugi, Mulgumpin

Reading this four years ago, I realised I knew nothing of the Indigenous history of my home on the Gold Coast – the land of the Saltwater people. I felt a responsibility to my young son to learn the story of the place we live, so that when he grew up I could teach it to him.

Clockwise from top: Cottonwood poles are inserted to prise the sapwood from the heartwood; a hand checking the bark of the tree; Bijang Slabb focuses on his next incision; Josh Slabb helping out and Bijang makes the perilous climb to cut the top of the canoe outline.



Above: Kyle Slabb braiding bark into rope. Below: Malachi Urquhart, Banahm, Sabelo, Shekwaza, Uriah and Tyron.



But who was going to teach me?

So I embarked on a voyage of discovery that carried me further than I ever expected, into a cultural story that is rarely offered to outsiders. What started as an attempt to educate myself became something far bigger – The Saltwater Story.

Anderson’s account gave me an idea – why not make canoes and re-establish these ancient routes of connection?

Clockwise from top: Jarulah jumping in the dam and Sabelo having a swim after working all morning in the heat.

Clockwise from top: Uriah takes a swing as it’s time to build the canoes, he takes a break from the heat, Kyle Slabb demonstrates the first stage in bark canoe making, crafting stone blades.

The Bundjalung, Yugambeh and Quandamooka were accomplished seafarers with complex maritime routes plied by bark and dugout canoe (gundal) – the former for short trips, the latter for longer voyages like the one described in Anderson’s book. The bark canoe in particular illustrates how to sustainably take what you need from your environment – the bark is removed but the tree remains alive and over time new bark grows.

Tyron and Shekwaza take a break.

Very few still possess this knowledge – thanks to veteran paddler Mark Matthews I met Bundjalung canoemaker Kyle Slabb, who does. We quickly realised that this was more than just an opportunity for a whitefella to engage and educate himself – it was a chance to ensure cultural continuity in the next generation of Saltwater people. We decided to document the experience in a film, a book and an exhibit of David’s amazing photographs.

Clockwise from top: A crowd gathers to farewell the canoe paddlers; Uncle Bob welcomes the paddlers; Surfers Paradise in the background with the Saltwater Boys in the foreground: Kyle ‘Smitty’ Matthews, Malachi Urquhart, Bijang Slabb, Jarulah Slabb and Benjamin Allmon.

As it happens, there was a suitable bark canoe tree in my backyard but the year was too dry to make a viable gundal. Nevertheless, Kyle’s demonstration of the crafting techniques to the younger generation was invaluable. We then made dugouts from hoop pine and paulownia; the latter wood repels seawater, which prevents it from becoming waterlogged. Even when the temperature rose to 45 degrees, the young mob were interested in chipping in with (and away at) the canoe.



We departed from the middle of Surfers Paradise on Australia Day weekend, surrounded by huge modern vessels and glittering towers. Maori, Dragonboaters and the general boating community joined us on the first leg in a wonderful flotilla – a celebration of all maritime histories in this country.

Over the next three days and 70km through shark-infested waters we watched the young men grow into their roles, assume the mantle of leadership for the voyage. When we reached Dunwich (Goompi), a lot of the Quandamooka welcomed us. It was an emotional experience for many, especially as Robert Anderson himself, 88, was the elder who welcomed the paddlers … and with whom we exchanged bunya for eugarie. It had been 150 years since this journey had been made. There is talk now all along the Sea Eagle songline of canoe making, of connecting through the canoe over the saltwater again.

Clockwise from top: Canoeing at dawn; Malachi empties out one of the canoes; Benjamin Allmon and Bijang Slabb embrace after making landfall; Yulu Burri Ba Dancers welcome the Saltwater Boys; the Saltwater Boys carry the canoe to the Quandamooka in Dunwich; Bijang cools off; Banahm and Smitty fish the shallows of South Stradbroke Island.



So what will I tell my son?

A story of connection – between the Saltwater people, between generations, between black and white, between land, sea and sky.

A story of collaboration – whether it is made from bark or dugout, no one makes a canoe alone.

A story of co-operation – paddlers working together to get to their destination, through rough seas and shark-infested waters.

A story of continuance – of ancient knowledge held by just a few, of ensuring that tomorrow’s elders are brought along for the journey today.

That is the Saltwater stories