While Not Working

The little girl had pink cowboy boots and carried a soft drink in a pink sequinned stubby holder. "Hello," she said.  "You're riding a bicycle." "I am." "Do you have a car?" "I left it behind.  I'm just riding my bicycle instead." She thought about this and discarded it as a train of thought not worth riding.  She held up her stubby holder, pointing to a gap in the sequins.  "One's missing." "So it is.  You'll have to find a new one and stick it on." She thought about that too, then turned tail and ran back into the beer garden of the Pooncarie Pub, where I heard her start a conversation with her mother about where one might procure a sequin and some glue.  Not wishing to meet a mother who had just been given a mission she most assuredly didn't want, I acted like the coward I am and slunk into the Pooncarie Pub by another door.  But that was at the end of the day: let's start at the beginning....

 I've got a little beef with the weather. It's meant to be Autumn, moving into winter. That means cooler temperatures and a comfortable little tailwind. Instead, a 'blocked high' hangs around like an unwanted guest, saying "I really should go" but all the while puffing out unseasonable temperatures and nasty little headwinds. Good morning from Outback Almonds. That fat moth from last night was a rain moth. The adult moths emerge after heavy rains in late Autumn. They only live for two days during which they do not eat and some of them choose to spend their time banging themselves against lights. Remind me not to be reincarnated as a rain moth. From Outback Almonds I followed the High Darling road which, true to its name, stayed above the flood plain. It was all gravel with occasional patches of sand, through which I walked. I'm being very conservative about sand: I figure my biggest risk is falling off in sand and breaking something, and then I'd have ...

  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...