Telling the Story of a River — and Letting It Speak
When I first began this project — paddling, running, and following the Hunter River from its source to the sea — I thought it would simply be an adventure. A chance to test myself, to see how far I could go, and to honour my dad’s story, which began on the riverbanks at Greta Migrant Camp many years ago.
But as I moved deeper into the planning, the writing, and the first days of filming, something shifted. I realised the film isn’t about me at all. It’s about connection — to land, to water, to history, to one another.
The opening of the film begins not with me, but with the wisdom of Aunty Theresa, whose words cut straight to the truth of what this story is about:
“The river and water are our life source and our oxygen — they carry our spirit, stories, and strength. They hold the voices of our Ancestors and guide our future. Caring for the river is caring for ourselves.” – Aunty Theresa
It’s a powerful reminder of how deeply intertwined we are with the natural world — a truth we often forget as we rush through life.
After her words, the screen fades to mine:
“But now we just drive over them on our way to the next best thing.”
That small line captures a quiet heartbreak — how something so vital, so sacred, has become background noise to our busy, convenience-driven lives.
Part one of the film, Connection, follows the early stretch of the Hunter River as it winds its way from Barrington Tops toward the valley. Along the way, I’ll collect water samples with the team from Healthy Environments and Lives (HEAL) to test for pollutants and microplastics hidden beneath the surface. It’s a small act of curiosity and care — to understand what’s really flowing through this river and what that says about us.
There’s a line in the film where I reflect:
“When we don’t spend time in nature, we stop enjoying it — and when we stop enjoying it, we stop protecting it.”
That, I think, is at the heart of the journey.
This isn’t about preaching or perfection. It’s about noticing. About remembering that the rivers still run — even when we’re too busy to notice them. And that maybe, by slowing down long enough to listen, we might rediscover something we’ve lost.
The film will premiere at an environmental conference in November — part one of a larger story that flows through themes of connection, disconnection, and ultimately, reconnection. Each part will explore how rivers mirror the state of our inner and outer worlds — how we treat them, how we rely on them, and how we might learn to care again.
At the end of the day, this project is about more than a river. It’s about what happens when we stop long enough to ask simple, honest questions — who owns the river, who cares for it, and what kind of world are we borrowing from our children?
The tide still moves. The river still runs. And tomorrow — so will I.