First Lock, Second Bridge.

- March 22, 2026

South Australia had elections and I was up bright and early, complimentary weetbix all eaten, ready to do my democratic duty on the way out of town.

"I don't think you can vote in Swan Reach," said the other woman staying at the pub. "My daughter works here and she's voting in Nildottie." Which I found surprising because of Nildottie's general closed-ness, and because the AEC assured me that I could vote at the Swan Reach Town Hall.

The AEC was right of course.

Democratic duty done with ease and alacrity, I took the ferry over the river again (same ferryman, still not chatty) and turned off the bitumen into a quiet world of birdsong and the crunch of gravel under my tyres.

I followed the tracks of someone else's bicycle along. They'd gone through s few days before me when it was still muddy, and had quite the slippery time of it.

Not my road, but a pipeline from the Swan Reach water treatment works, delivering water from the Murray to thirsty people. Or people who would be thirsty if they didn't have the pipeline.

All the way to Swan Reach.

It was one of those days where everything felt right. The breeze was cool, clouds hid the sun. The river curled along on my right, hidden in large part below my ground level, the only clues to its presence the pelicans that regularly soared on wind currents above my head. The rain of the last couple of weeks painted everything in bright, unseasonal green. There were enough interesting things to see that time passed quickly.

Easy winner of the farm gate competition today.

Paddock decoration.

I was in Blanchetown by late morning. Blanchetown was special because here I got to see the first (if you don't count the barrages) of the locks on the Murray. Lock 1 did not disappoint. Water poured through the weir where a veritable navy of pelicans waited for easy pickings. Every hour or so the lock opened to disgorge a flotilla of small pleasure craft, all of them heading downstream.

You mean I've pedalled over 300km and only a shade over 3m above sea level? Life is cruel.

I spent an hour or two contemplating it all, and then moved up to the pub for a little more contemplation.

There was a pressing question to answer: did I stay at the Blanchetown Caravan park or did I go on while I felt strong, to bush camp and knock a few km off the next day in to Morgan?

I went on, and the day got even better. First was the bridge, with views back down to the lock or upstream to the drowned forest. Tick bridge #2 off the list.

I went on the new bridge. The old bridge would have been more fun.

After a wee bit of pain on the busy highway I followed Murbko road along the cliffs, and for a little while I followed a track even closer to the edge, where little lookouts popped up at regular intervals, each one with another spectacular view.

After 20km I began to think about where to camp. The lookout over Murbko Lagoon tempted me, water like glass and the call of birds drifting up from the trees. But it was very exposed, very close to the road, and im getting a little wary of thorns given the proliferation of goatheads after the rain.