HCC 2026 Report
Hawkesbury Canoe Classic 24-25 October 2026
The Hawkesbury Classic Paddle is a unique opportunity to pit yourself against the physical and mental hurdles thrown up by a 111km, overnight, paddle from Windsor to Mooney Mooney on Sydney's majestic Hawkesbury River. Lane Cove River Kayakers is a longstanding supporter of the HCC with substantial experience amongst our paddlers. The report below provides a perspective on the experience that was HCC 2026
| ..and some useful links |
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| *2026 HCC photos on LCRK Flickr (LCRK paddlers) |
| *2026 HCC photos on LCRK Flickr (all paddlers) |
| * Results (via webscorer) |
| * Hawkesbury Canoe Classic home page |
Above: Most of the LCRK contingent at Windsor
2026 LCRK Results
The table below summarises the webscorer results for LCRKers and associated paddlers.
Splits
The table below gives the times in and out of Sackville and Wisemans checkpoints, and the race times for Lane Cove competitors in the 2026 Hawkesbury Classic. Competitive category places reflect the fact that in many categories there was only a single competitor. The Overall column give places for that race. The table was compiled by Justin Paine, Wade Rowston and Stephen Wooden.
The table below gives sectional times for Lane Cove competitors in the 2026 HCC Classic events. Average speeds are based on actual paddling time ie time spent on the bank at Sackville and Wisemans checkpoints is not counted. Table compiled by Justin Paine.
Ando's pain is Arrow's gain - Brian Anderson - 15:36:09
My inspiration for taking part in the 2026 Hawkesbury Canoe Classic was the opportunity to be involved in something positive and meaningful while raising money for the Arrow Foundation. I wanted to use this physical challenge to support a worthwhile cause and share the positive experience with some amazing mates and family. I decided to make the fundraising a little more interesting with a campaign called "Ando's pain is Arrow's gain!" The idea was to start in the 30km category and let the amount raised determine how far I would paddle. If we raised $20,000, I would suffer through 60km, and if we reached $50,000, I would take on the full 111km challenge. I also planned to involve sponsors, display their logos on my kayak and share the journey through social media and training updates. With the generosity of everyone who supported the campaign, we ultimately raised an incredible $21,050 for the Arrow Foundation.
The eight months leading up to the Classic were a journey in themselves. There were some wonderful people I met along the way who shared their experiences of completing this enormous challenge. Training wasn't always easy. There were struggles to stay motivated, days when finding the time and energy to get out on the water was difficult, and moments when finding useful advice or knowing whether we were doing the right things seemed just as challenging as the paddling itself. Being new to the sport, I quickly discovered there was plenty to learn. Thankfully, I was surrounded by some incredibly generous and experienced paddlers who were willing to share their knowledge and encouragement. A massive thank you to Scott Seeho for his eight months of training, guidance and encouragement. His support made an enormous difference. One thing I have learnt through this experience is that anyone who completes more than one Hawkesbury Canoe Classic must be an incredibly motivated, gifted and possibly slightly crazy individual! I now have an enormous respect for those who return year after year.
The event itself was an experience I won't forget. Everyone at the checkpoints and all the competitors paddling alongside us on the river were so welcoming, friendly, fun and inclusive. Despite the distances involved and the physical challenges, there was a wonderful sense of camaraderie. It didn't matter whether you were an experienced paddler or a first timer like me. Everyone seemed happy to offer encouragement, share a laugh or lend a hand. One of my favourite memories was hearing the fun-loving dragon boaters singing as they paddled along the river. It was fantastic and really captured the spirit of the event.
Another moment that will stay with me happened at the 80km low-tide pit stop. I was trying to entice the boys away from the warmth of the fire and the brownies when Scott reminded me of what really mattered. He simply said, "We have time, it's all about the journey." It was a great reminder to enjoy the experience, appreciate the people around me and not get too caught up in the kilometres still ahead.
Crossing the finish line after completing the full 100km was an incredible feeling. I'm feeling very blessed to have shared the challenge with such amazing mates and family.
A HUGE thank you also to our amazing support crew – Ben, Blackers, Mark, Andrew, Laiza and Angela. Your support and encouragement were fantastic and made such a difference throughout the event. Thank you to everyone who donated to the Arrow Foundation and supported us along the way. Raising $21,050 made the achievement even more meaningful.
The Classic was about much more than paddling a kayak. It was about friendship, teamwork, pushing personal boundaries and contributing to a cause that means a lot to me. What a journey and thank God it's over! Well, perhaps not quite over.
I also want to acknowledge John Duffy for his help, encouragement and support throughout my introduction to LCRK and the Hawkesbury Classic. From making sure I was recognised as part of the club to sharing information, offering encouragement and helping me feel included. His support has been greatly appreciated. It was fantastic to have people taking the time to make you feel welcome and part of the paddling community. Thank you for helping make my first Hawkesbury Classic experience such a positive and memorable one.
I'm incredibly grateful for the welcome I've received from everyone at LCRK and look forward to becoming one of those slightly crazy people who complete multiple Hawkesbury Classics and many more of the fantastic events organised by the club.
(Brian was 'top fundraiser' for the 2026 HCC - and by a significant margin, and was awarded the HCC's Spencer Township Shield highest individual fundraiser trophy. Thank you Brian - you're a class act!)
Crystallised Ginger & Musk Sticks - Naomi Johnson - 9:24:45
Memory is a beguiling thing. My memory if the lower reaches of the Hawkesbury is now stitched together from so many fragments of days and nights spend out in its flow; a familiarisation paddle where the club’s Bettong K1 was pitching and rolling in half-metre swell; one year with my sister where it was so black that one couldn’t make out bank from river from sky; navigational buoys that seem impossibly placed in the darkness; the much-anticipated gentle sparkling of water. And the night in 2019 where I felt superhuman, careering down the river from Wiseman’s to the finish with tides and speed and energy that felt too good to be true. The memory of that night, and the thrill of my first-ever solo 100kms, remains so very visceral, and yet distant, with COVID and so many major life events in-between.
Following fast but not-quite-so-fast solo races in 2023 and 2024, then last year’s demolition derby of a 70km effort in the XK2 which ended a bit early at Checkpoint K, I needed a 2026 Classic goal to see me through a whack of solo distance training. The last year has been a bit of a level-up year for me, spending a lot of time hanging on to training packs with the Div 1 boys - there’s nothing that develops a propensity for suffering quite like red-lining it in zone 5 just to hang on when everyone else is in zone 2. When the final piece fell into place and I read the 2026 tide charts, the question became not whether my 37-year-old self could beat my age-30 record with all that I’ve learned about paddling and distance since 2019, but by how much.
Which sounds rather like putting a lot of pressure on myself.
Anyway, training happened, so did a ripper of a Morison 50, a windy slog of a Myall and then long biked rides and more time in the boat. I got myself to Macquarie Park fitter than I’ve ever been, and audacious enough to share a goal time of 9h20. Honestly, I thought I could paddle faster.
I set off in high spirits in the 4:30pm start, hopping onto the back of the (somewhat briefly formed) leading wash pack with Jason, the QLD double of Amanda/Mark, Mick and Brendon from SA. That lasted about as long as Mick, Brendon and I convinced ourselves that heart rates in zone 4 were acceptable, then groups began to split and reform. The first 2kms of knowing I wouldn’t feel comfortable extended to 5kms, then 8kms.
I hung onto Mick’s wash through the 10km photo, aware that one of my drink tubes was dragging in the water on my right (hasty re-arrange to allow me to carry a bit more water, in hindsight a silly idea), that my leads were both not a full km and rather average, and that my heart rate really was too high. The tide was certainly going - every other straight we’d be up close to 12kph - but so too was the wind, dragging at our speed and sapping our energy. My carb mix didn’t taste great, then made me feel decidedly nauseous. In an effort to fix my drink tube, I fell off Mick’s wash, regrouping a straight later with the Keg/Brad and Steve/Greg doubles, with Brendon and John D wisely tucked into the wash behind. Keg has to be the person to have around when you’ve got the shits with a race; all care, realised as top-class give-back and a bizarre sense of humour.
I went straight through Sackville, as did Brendon on my tail. Thankfully, wind subsided as the tide turned; the trifecta of incoming tide, blustery conditions and eyes adjusting to the darkness was never going to be appealing. The kms through to Lower Portland Ferry were focused on trying to problem solve without losing too much speed. Getting food in became the top priority, and with liquid mix still turning my stomach, I forced myself every 5kms to ingest one of the roasted potato pieces tucked under my shorts. I regretted seasoning them beyond salt. I paddled with John for a while, though I can’t remember where beyond that it included a phantom jetty that appeared out of the otherwise brightly moonlit night.
At the ferry crossing I caught up to Mick (reporting Brendon was now up ahead and looking strong) and team Yates, with Richard and Alex in excellent spirits and making good time. If Keg’s secret superpower is to make one laugh at the absurdity of life and paddling, Rich’s is a sense of understanding, sensible calm. I (and possibly John? And also Mick?) were absorbed into the gentle shepherding of paddlers down the river towards Wiseman’s; oh, there’s a jetty; you feeling ok? (Not really); watch out for the sandy bend. A few more bends, the always-enthusiastic cheer squad of checkpoint H (seriously, how much coffee are they drinking?) and all of a sudden Mick and I were together and headed for the lights of Wiseman’s Ferry boat ramp.
Andrew is a brusque and yet deadly effective landcrew. With no time spared for pleasantries, he received my frustration over the drinks hose and set to work, while I ate the entire bag of crystallised ginger and musk sticks that I had packed as a Wiseman’s taste break. I was somewhat behind my target time, though not as far off as I had thought, and then the (rather large quantities of) gaff taping my seat down failed, resulting in my estimating where to put it back in when I got back on the ski. All up, I still managed to get out in the planned six minutes, catching back up to Mick at the ferry. The outright women’s record might be out of reach, but if I could keep forcing carbs down, I might still be on track to crack the women’s ORS1 class record.
Round the second ferry, and we realised that two was in fact three; Brendon had “faffed around” a bit at Wiseman’s and was part of the pack. In the next five minutes, my night did an about turn.
Either I genuinely need to stop underestimating myself in the back end of an ultra race, or crystallised ginger and musk sticks are the ultimate super food, because I was suddenly feeling great. I headed to the front, taking my first really enthusiastic lead of the evening around the same time as the tide turned. Up past 11kph, Brendon came to the front and we somehow dropped Mick. Another few kms and the speed climbed past 12kph. I still hadn’t turned my navigational GPS on; my memory of the river by night, especially in the moonlight, felt so very clear, reinforced by the bike rides Andrew and I had done along its banks. I felt strong, finally the paddler that I had seen in training. Strong enough to push hard, acknowledging that the only person who cared about the arbitrary time of the outright women’s record was me, and if I wanted to beat my 30-year-old self then I absolutely needed to fight for it.
And so I fought, flying round the bends past checkpoint K (not stopping there again), L and the alluring bonfire of Pitt Stop with Brendon on my tail calling out splits as the speed climbed. I was finally getting in liquid carbs with ease, my heart rate was in the range of acceptable, and even the accidental adjustment to my seat position seemed to be in my favour with powerful leg drive coming easily. 15kms from the end I dropped Brendon; with 11kms to go I saw a light dancing in the distance that I suspected belonged to Jason.
I didn’t for a moment believe I’d catch Jason, but there is something wonderfully motivating about the chase. Checkpoint P told me there was six minutes of river between us; Bar Point was a veritable mill pond with just the one moment of gentle nudge from the eddy. Through Milson’s Passage, my brain beyond the maths of records, and I made perhaps the stupidest decision of the evening by trekking straight across the sand bar to get into the flow of the main channel. My little ski with its mini rudder made it by about 5cm – a bit too close for comfort – then it was the long drag to the boat ramp. I crossed in 9:24:45 at a full-tilt sprint.
Every year that I take on the Classic I learn something about myself and paddling, and even in finishing 2nd outright with a new women’s record there is plenty to reflect on. My memory of 2019 is of a night that was almost too easy, working with Tony in near-perfect conditions to Wiseman’s and then riding a pumping tide down to the finish. This year’s hard work and preparation didn’t earn me a repeat of that. Rather, it offered the wherewithal to keep trekking down the river when things were tough, then the fire and fitness to go hard when the night turned around.
Sprinting to Sackville - Peter Avery - 2:31:56
I was a little nervous sitting on the start line of the Sackville Sprint for a second time, wondering how I would go in the 30 degree heat and headwinds, trying not to cook myself. My race plan was to get a clean start and try to form up with Aidan Shipton (the pre-race favourite) and Don to share some leads and hopefully stick together for the first 10-15+km. At the start, Aidan took off like scalded cat and I was trying to stick to my race plan but that went out the window after 15 seconds as he was accelerating away from me tracking down the other side of the river. I pushed harder and harder and ended up finally catching up to Aidan after about 600m and jumped on his wash to try to let my heart recover, but he had no intent of slowing down…at all. Don caught up a few mins later and it was the 3 of us in a wash pack, all good and on plan. The pace was relentless in the heat and headwinds. Don took a very strong lead and lifted the pace with my heart in the red zone; I took a lead then Don again then Aiden. The only time I was almost comfortable was when I was leading and there was no rest on Aidan’s or Don’s wash, more like hanging on for my life and constantly slipping back and working hard to get back on. My mind (and heart) was thinking that I had zero chance of holding this pace for 10km, let alone 29km.
I ended up falling off the lead pack about 6-7km in and slipping further and further behind Aidan and Don who were duking it out with strong leads and powering ahead. After a while I managed to regather myself and hold their pace, but I was stuck in no man’s land tracking about 70-80m behind them in their wash for the next few kms. We passed Ian about 9km with me still 70m back then I decided to make an ambitious effort to try to reel them back in. I For the next few kms I had to get out of their wash on the turns, take a different cleaner line on flat water and cut the corners carefully to not run aground and not get any of the treacherous weed on my rudder – it was a challenge that I was up for. After a final push managed to claw my way back on to Aidan’s wash about 12k in, I was thrilled but had cooked myself in the process. Thankfully, they didn’t try to drop me and I recovered after a few mins and then managed to take a lead. Soon after Don slipped back and it was just Aidan and I at the pointy end sharing leads, battling the headwinds and enjoying the beauty of the Hawkesbury on the turns when the wind disappeared and the magical flat glassy conditions materialised. We saw a group of kangaroos on a sandy beach, and they hopped along the foreshore trying to keep up with us.
However, running my heart in the red with an average of 163 since the start was catching up to me and the first signs of concerning fatigue crept in about 18km in and at the 19.5k mark I hit the wall hard and fell off Aidan’s wash for the last time. I was toast and going backwards from being 10m behind to 50m to 200m behind as Aidan powered off into the sunset. I was feeling really fatigued, starting to tank and my sore bum was absolutely killing me. After plodding along in pain, I needed to get out and stretch my sore bum and have some solid food, so I had a quick 90 second stop at 22km mark to reset. I jumped back in my ski quickly, determined not to let Don and Rob & Kim Beilharz catch me. I plodded on then things started to improve markedly for me with only 5km to go, the heat dropped and the headwinds reduced, my paddling mojo starting coming back and got my mind back into race mode and got back on race pace and started to feel good again…..could I hold onto second place with fast finishing Don and Rob & Kim reeling me in?
Aidan was still pulling further and further ahead on and was a tiny spec on the horizon in the long straits. Then I could see the Sackville Ferry lights and kept the pace on and fluked the perfect timing to go straight across the ferry cables, across the finish line and pulled into the beach at Sackville. I was absolutely ecstatic to be second across the line, although I was completely wrecked, I turned around to see Rob & Kim in their V8 double and then Don cross the line right behind me with 38 seconds separating the 3 boats although I was more than 5 mins behind Aidan was a machine and just far too strong, too fast and too good on the day. Another terrific race done and I am looking forward to next year, hoping (ambitiously) to finally stand on the top of the podium at my third attempt at the Sackville Sprint.
Running on Empty - Geraint Jones 13:49:07
As I approached Sackville, I was worried that I wouldn’t have any interesting tales from this year’s Hawkesbury Classic. I needn’t have worried as I soon managed to self-inflict some drama into my evening!
My first bit of excitement, occurred as I fortunately timed my run to the Sackville Ferry to perfection, allowing me to shoot past all the stationary paddlers who had been patiently waiting for the ferry. I briefly felt like I was in a race and was leading the pack (any small victory to help me through the night!).
As darkness fell on my way to Wisemans, I commenced a game of chicken with anything poking out of the riverbank. My dodgy night vision meant that I seamed to have a steady stream of immovable objects magically appearing around 2m directly in front of me:
- Tree number one: I was able to duck my head and burst my way through the twigs.
- Tree number two: sturdy enough for me to grab hold of and come to an abrupt halt.
- Concrete jetty: I have no idea how I didn’t see this coming! Hit the brakes but still hit the wall head on. Surprised I didn’t split my ski in two.
- Tree number three: branches of an anti-goldilocks size that ensured I went for my first swim of the night. Just before hitting this tree, I remember thinking: “I really should be paddling a bit further out from the ban…”
The last time I had capsized, was at last year’s Hawkesbury (some troublesome teenagers, one fishing line & a couple of swims at Bar Point). Therefore, the week before this year’s Hawkesbury, I decided to practice some self-rescues on the Lane Cove River. Unluckily, I forgot to take my car keys out of my pocket. On balance, I’m still glad I got some remounting practice in before the event.
I arrived at Wisemans soggy and just before my kayak turned into a pumpkin.
With no regrets, I once again succumbed to the sirens at the low tide pit-stop. As I left the pit-stop I purposely didn’t secure my drinking hoses to my life jacket, as I wanted to mitigate any risk of entanglement in preparation of probably capsizing around Bar Point. I admit that this wasn’t ideal psychological preparation!
As the km’s were finally starting to tick towards zero, I thought that I had successfully crossed the mirror-like Bar Point without incident, only to then realise that I’d only crossed the wider section of river just before Bar Point. So, steeling myself all over again, I set my sights on Milsons Passage. To be fair, I don’t think the water could have been calmer, but the tiny side-on ripples still proved too much for me. I slowly wobbled to a stop and spent a few minutes practicing my brace stoke before I inevitably toppled in. I then spent about 10 minutes doing gymnastics from one side of my ski to the other. A big thanks to Adrian Clayton, as I remember him recounting his troubles crossing Bar Point last year – or ‘Bull Shark Alley’ as he described it. This vivid description was the motivation I need to keep trying to remount and inch my way across the channel.
As the finish line came into sight, I picked a particularly direct but unfortunately shallow route. So, I spent what felt like an eternity paddling through treacle as my paddle bounced off the riverbed. Not knowing if turning left or right would be better or worse. I stayed true to my heading, as going in a straight line appealed to me at this point.
Hearing the beats blaring from Mooney Mooney was literally music to my ears. As my requested song kicked in (Running on Empty), this was all the encouragement I needed for one final push to avoid the indignity of the DJ having to put my song on repeat!
Thanks to Christine who did a sterling job as my landcrew and who’s whooping and cheering I could hear from what seemed like about 2kms from the finish line. Thanks also to the LCRK team who helped me stagger out of my kayak at the checkpoints.
I had a fantastic time paddling down the river under clear skies and a perfect full moon. As tough as the event was, I’m already starting to think about next year... #1 on my to-do list: get some practice on choppy water.
back to top...
A few of my favourites tunes - John Duffy - 12:38:39
I have a lot to do with running the HCC, so much so that paddling it is almost secondary for me. However I couldn’t really use the administrative side as an excuse for not paddling it; that would have been a valid but weak “out”. So I approached my 22nd HCC with the same nervousness that is customary for me although knowing my chances of another finish were pretty good given a trouble free Myall Classic in the lead up and a few 40km paddles the month before on Lane Cove River. However we all know that things often go wrong for paddlers, hence the healthy trepidation. I knew speed, PBs and even sub-12 hour times would not be factors and regular stops would be the order of the night for me.
I was solo the whole night except for 90 minutes with Richard Fox after Sackville; being solo detracts a bit from the night but on the other hand leaves me alone with my favourite tunes and makes the stops with landcrew (Wade) all the more welcoming. The swirling section between F & G wasn’t a complete surprise as I had paddled it in the daytime the week before, although at night it seemed more intense and unsettling and after that I had to pull over on a beach for 2-3 minutes and collect my thoughts. My legs were starting to ache coming into Low Tide Pitstop so that 15 minutes rest was very welcome. I was hurting considerably for the last 15km and it was a matter of collapsing over the line. I was fine mentally but the leg drive was absent and consequently the balance was compromised. Thankfully the crossing after Bar Point was like a millpond except for one decent swirl that suddenly turned me 30 degrees. I have my late Dad (a proud supporter of my paddling who was looking over me) to thank for getting me to Mooney Mooney dry. Thanks to Wade for his efficiency with landcrew duties at Sackville and Wisemans and his encouragement throughout, and Steve Wooden and Chris Thompson who helped me in/out of my boat at Wisemans; the depth of tide there was just a difficult height to exit and re-enter myself. So onwards to 2027 but maybe in a double.
Ticking boxes - Brendon Grail - 9:25:37
As a fan of long distance paddling, there are far too few decent events in this country to choose from. The best events internationally all involve night-time paddling, but unfortunately there’s only one event in Australia that ticks that box, the Hawkesbury Classic. This event has been on my To Do list for many years.
This year was my 2nd attempt, having made a bunch of mistakes on my first attempt in 2025. I came back determined to not repeat those mistakes, which included:
a. not having a ski that was in perfect working order, which is always a risk flying from interstate and using an unfamiliar boat
b. not jumping on the right pack off the start line for a wash-ride during the hot first few hours
c. stopping 3 times instead of once
This year I hired a Nitro 600 from Matt at Pro Kayaks, and the ski was immaculate with zero issues.
This year I knew who the top 3 individual paddlers were, so I made sure I was onto 2 of them from the start.
And this year, I stopped just once at Wisemans.
Combined with cooler conditions and a more favourable tide compared to last year, I was very pleased to take an hour off last year’s time, finishing 3rd overall in 9:25.
If I’m honest, I desperately wanted to be first chick. I tried my hardest to beat Naomi, but she was too strong.
Paddling at night is so much more fun than during the day, so I’m now pondering whether I could tackle MR340. The thing is, paddling for 45 hours non-stop is a far cry from 10 hours, so I may need to do a 40 hour non-step test on the Murray to see whether I can stay awake and upright for that long. If anyone’s mad enough to consider joining me for a non-stop 400km on the Murray next March or April (perhaps with 4 or 5 meal stops, and maybe one or two 15 minute naps), please get in touch oh-four-nine-seven 840 855.
A huge shout out to my spritely young support crew (Adrian Clayton) who was the best support crew a paddler could hope for.