Untroubled waters: Commuting by boat to work

Millions of us are spending more of our time stuck in slow-moving traffic, jammed in on trams, trains, and buses, or dodging cars on bikes and foot.

But what if there was a better way? One where there was next to no traffic, no red lights, no pressures; just smooth motoring the entire way. Guess what: we found it.

It's called a boat.

Our journey starts a short walk from my home in Melbourne’s inner-northern suburb of Maribyrnong, where a Whittley CW 1650 sits bobbing gently against the jetty at the Edgewater Marina, formerly an old bluestone quarry alongside the gently flowing Maribyrnong River.

Our aim is to nose south along the river, meeting up with the broad, deep Yarra River where we will turn west, passing right through Melbourne’s skyscraper-fringed central business district on our way to a pontoon mooring at Cremorne in the shadow of the Carsales.com.au office, about 20 kilomeres away.

It will be a slow journey; the Maribyrnong and Yarra rivers are both five-knot zones (9km/h), which will turn what is ordinarily about a 30-minute trip by car into an hour-long one by boat.

Jumping on board the 5.4-metre Whittley CW 1650 that will provide our transport feels manifestly different to jumping into a car. It's less like transport and more like an adventure machine resonating wonder and excitement, all with a comfy seat and steering wheel.

Idling out of the marina and onto the stillness of the Maribyrnong River, lined with steep banks on one side and walking paths on the other, is wondrously placid – there's not a car in sight. Instead, we look upon expertly trimmed lawns, kayak storage sheds, old eucalypts and the odd pontoon.

The boat glides serenely through the water, the gentle motion a soothing contrast to the angst of road traffic. The Whittley’s 70hp Yamaha outboard engine, meanwhile, emits a gentle hum as it propels us forward.

Stop-start? Forget about it out here. There's only one speed and it's best-described as laid-back.

"This is surprisingly relaxing," carsales.com.au multimedia guru Rene Mitchell-Pitman, a bloke more used to the pace of capturing of high-speed sports cars, says from behind his lens. “Not having to worry about traffic lights, other cars and pedestrians makes it easy to take in the sights."

Cruising past Ascot Vale and the ubiquitous half-built town houses that one day will sell for squillions, people walking dogs, and joggers in their active wear turn and stare as we motor past and are met with a smile and a wave. The odd fisherman sits right on the shoreline, their line slack in the water. I've never felt quite this happy heading to work – it's bloody marvelous!

About 20 minutes into the journey we pass the flawlessly cropped topiary of Flemington Racecourse – home of the famous Melbourne Cup. At the height of the Spring Racing Carnival this part of the river is so packed with pleasure craft that a sheepdog could walk across them without getting wet. Today it's completely empty.

A slow turn of the wheel and the Whittley glides around a gentle bend in the river. All of a sudden, houses with multimillion-dollar views and prices to match make way for the grey industrial environs of Footscray.

The endless graffiti, rough corrugated iron fences and low warehouses backing onto the river have their own stark appeal. From our viewpoint low on the water it looks like a place where the cool kids would host warehouse parties.

Out of the factories looms the exotic-looking Heavenly Queen Temple, the largest Chinese temple in Australia. In contrast to the industrial setting framing either side of it, it's as though we’ve passed through a portal to a faraway land.

Next to the temple is a 15-metre statue of Mazu, the sea-goddess. Legend has it she could predict the weather, saving the lives of fishermen by advising them against heading out. Today she looks happy to let us pass, the overcast skies and just a whisper of wind providing ideal conditions.

Not everything here speaks industry. To one side is a wall used by urban rock climbers, while a buoy marks a navigation hazard; the slime-covered roof of an SUV, its glass all missing, pokes ominously out of the water.

Footscray Road passes overhead, the bridge choked with cars and trucks as we glide under it.

Ahead, what appears to be a Melbourne tram – complete with classic green and gold livery – heaves into view. It’s a tourist ferry, low and wide, painted to look like one of Melbourne’s old W-Class trams that once plied the nearby suburbs. Steering around it – the road rules of the water say you pass each other on the right rather than the left – is a lot less angst-ridden on the Maribyrnong’s wide expanse than it would be on the road.

As we near the Maribyrnong’s junction with the Yarra River, passing Coode Island, our view changes again as we come into the busy Port of Melbourne. To one side are the endless geometric shapes of shipping containers, piled up as neatly as giant Lego bricks against the banks.

This area is a working part of the port, with trade ships tied up alongside. Up close, you notice the sheer scale of some of them, with some towering up to 10 storeys high above us. The Whittley is an insignificant speck on the water by comparison.

We meet the juncture of the Yarra, and turn west to head into the heart of Melbourne. In the distance, giant car carriers tied up at Webb Dock offload the vehicles that will soon make their way into new-car showrooms ready for the next batch of tyre-kickers.

We’re just off Port Melbourne now, and the significance of this isn’t lost on us. Where tugboats wearing overtly large exhaust stacks and waiting for the next big ship to arrive in port now tie up, car-maker Holden once had its base where it shipped Aussie-made products to the world. The factories are silent, the workers long gone, and Holden now imports all its cars.

Passing under the gargantuan Bolte Bridge, its twin uprights reaching skyward like a pair of giant goalposts, light rain starts to fall. We’re well protected behind the Whittley’s bimini and soft plastic window "clears", but even the precipitation can't dampen the awe-inspiring views.

After the industrial grunge of Footscray and Port Melbourne, the city is mesmerising. Pedestrians pack the riverfronts on both sides as buildings reach upwards all around us.

One woman takes a photo as the Whittley glides past Southbank. Another, a bloke, is trying to say something to us. We can’t hear him, and move on slowly.

"It’s kind of fun observing people looking at you so strangely," Mitchell-Pitman says. "Whether they're curious as to what we were up to or envious, I'm not sure!"

We pass Ponyfish Island, a small café built into the foundation of the Southbank pedestrian bridge. We circle around hoping that one of the staff will notice us and we can order a coffee, but no one comes.

Right in the heart of the CBD we throttle back and come to a stop. It’s a chance to do something quite out of the ordinary; cast a line and hope to snare a snapper or bream in the guts of Australia’s second-largest city. We don’t get a nibble, but it’s given us a good yarn to spin one day.

As we move on, overcast skies suddenly give way to gorgeous sunshine. The Victorian Arts Centre spire appears on one side, the iconic French renaissance-styled Flinders Street Station on the other, and the Whittley draws up to one of the oldest overpasses in town, the Princes Bridge.

Built in 1888, the bridge is like many of Melbourne's oldest structures, wrought of iron and bluestone quarried out of rock just down the river. Passing underneath its low spans, you'd never guess the riveted ironwork is more than 130 years old. Empty stubbies of beer resting on its girders hint that there’s a bit of larrikin in the average Aussie boater.

The 19th-century bridge acts like a gateway as we shrug off the city’s intense vibe for the verdant vista of the Royal Botanical Gardens, Melbourne’s sports precinct and a more relaxed ambience.

Black swans ply the river’s edges, ducks forage in the reeds and a couple of water taxis stream past. Rubbing salt in the wound, a gaggle of joggers on the riverbank slowly overtake us.

The lovingly manicured banks of the Yarra look pristine as the sun bathes them in autumn warmth, the river acting as a natural valley through the city's lush gardens.

The art deco Hoddle Bridge at Cremorne soon comes into view, carrying the heavy Punt Road traffic and marking the end of our journey. It's a shame because this commute has been a delight for the senses and a salve for the soul.

Mooring the Whittley in sight of the carsales.com.au office on the opposite bank – to get to work I just need to cross the Hoddle Bridge – it has taken 95 minutes to get here, with a number of stops along the way to drink in the sights and sounds. However, I’m now convinced that commuting to work via boat is a viable alternative to driving.

But the best part is yet to come. On the return journey, I can choose to stay on the Yarra and head out into the expanse of Port Phillip Bay, where I can again wet a line and try and catch dinner. Just the thought of it has me smiling like a Cheshire cat.

I can’t wait for the commute home.