While Not Working

  I had planned an early getaway. That didn't work. Instead my neighbours Glenda and Michael stuffed me full of tea, toast, and honey while the early morning ticked away. Eventually I rolled away along the Darling. Whereas I was able to stay beside the river on the Murray,  on the Darling I'll spend a lot of time out on the flood plain, with the river nothing more than line of trees over in the distance. There's a lot more fences to separate me from the water; there's a lot more distance between resupply points, and I have to think carefully about my water. But today I was just headed for Outback Almonds, a farm stay 40 kilometers up the river from Wentworth. I pedaled through Pomona, which proudly introduced itself as a community built by 'settlers working together'. It was obviously an irrigation community with armies of grapevines marching beside the road all dressed in their autumn finery. And just past Pomona I found a little gravel track to the river and s...

I bought a billy on  the way out of town, for the express purpose of boiling river water should that be necessary in the coming weeks. The downside to this was that now I'll have to listen to the billy rattle at every bump for weeks. On the way out of town I also visited Lock 11. Lock 11 was unusual in that the Lock and weir were separated by an island, thus the pelican action was all out of sight. I sat and appreciated the moment: I won't see any more locks once I leave the Murray. I still like SA's signs better. A shared pathway followed the river from the Lock toward Wentworth. It wound gently past tethered houseboats and day use areas, with wide shallow beaches of sand. The Murray was clearer here, without the load of fine, suspended silt that came with the flow from the Darling. Every so often long pipes anchored a pumping station to the river, taking water for irrigation or human use. Merben had a little lookout platform where one could gaze up the river to Mildura wh...

 I took my bike to Pedal Attraction for a service and to track down an annoying squeak that had accompanied me since Goolwa. Pedal Attraction did lots of things to make my bike run better, but the source of the squeak eluded them. "I tried everything," said a very frustrated mechanic. "I even thought maybe someone's tracking you with an air tag, but it's not that either." Looks like the squeak is coming with me all the way to Queensland then. Nothing else exciting happened, other than I surfaced from work, went outside for lunch, and found to my horrified delight that the Crime Scene squad was having a little Crime Scene party in/outside one of the motel rooms.   spent my lunch hour peeking through the gauze curtains of my motel room and googling crimes in Mildura, but was none the wiser by the time I had to go back to work. Tomorrow I'll take my final ride along the Murray.

  My little morning friend. Sunrise, Lake Victoria. I met Dave when he walked along the levee bank past the lookout as I was packing up my hobo camp and boiling water for breakfast to placate my complaining stomach. Dave had been coming to Lake Victoria from Stawell since he was 15 years old. He and his mates Craig and Tony still came once a year to catch fish, build camp fires, and practice their bush cooking skills. They were camped down by the outlet near the toilets and showers, and Dave raved about the showers which were a new addition to the campground. "The toilets are all cordoned off," he said. "But they work perfectly. We've been using them." I guess I'll add user-of-closed-public-toilets to my growing list of lawlessness then. Five minutes later Tony shouted up from his camp and offered me a cup of coffee. I was down there quicker than you could say "Kettle's boiling!" I even brought my own cup. And while I was there the fish...

Morning on the river at Fort Courage. The Happy band of nomads and fishers, stoking up the fire box in preparation for their communal breakfast. I knew I should've hung around a bit longer. Well, sitting around peaceful caravan parks fraternising with jolly nomads and eating all the food in one's panniers doesn't really achieve much in the way of forward motion. Eventually, the pedals had to go around again. "I can't believe you fit all of that on a bicycle!" said my neighbour, despite having with her own eyes watched me unpack two nights ago, and now reverse the process. Off I went, delighted by the rediscovery of how fast and smooth it was to ride on a sealed road. Just 6km in I stopped for my first snack break beside the Darling Anabranch, where I would have camped had I not been seduced by the hedonistic pleasures of Fort Courage. Water pooled beside the road, courtesy of recent rain. Excuse the thumb. Grand old trees beside the Anabranch. Anabranch bridg...