Morgan to Cadell: Dreaming of Salad Sandwiches

Well, I'm not exactly speeding up on this ride.

I woke to grumbling thunder and splattering rain: not a lot of either but enough to be a bother. I killed time by buying snacks for the journey in the Morgan IGA, which wasn't the most inspiring of shops. "I'll buy lunch at the Cadell General Store,"I thought, dreaming of a juicy salad sandwich. In the mean time a group of us stood patiently at the till waiting for the proprieter who was nowhere to be seen. An old man of questionable moral fibre sized up the situation, grabbed a newspaper and a chocolate bar, and scarpered without paying at all.

Rain still fell.  I sat under shelter at the Tourist Information centre and played the Easter Accommodation Treasure Hunt. South Australia's school holidays started at theEaster long weekend and and I didn't have enough arms and legs to pay for accommodation anywhere near the river. Every man, woman, their children, the dog, cat, and chickens were coming to the Riverlands to swim, waterski, and generally make the most of the last gasps of summer. The caravan parks and even the National Park campsites were full and prices had risen with demand.

The rain stopped and I gave up on the search. Maybe I'll be homeless for Easter. At least I'm on a river, I'm sure I can find a bridge.

I caught the ferry back across the river and ambled through the rest of the Morgan Conservation Park, and then it was just a boring stretch of bitumen until I turned off to Cadell and went straight to the General Store for my juicy salad sandwich.  A couple of  grey nomad sat outside at the picnic tables, scrolling their phones and slurping on iced coffees.  We exchanged pleasantries and then he followed me inside and I realised that they were the very lackadaisical proprieters of the Cadell General Store.

"Can I have a salad sandwhich?" I asked, looking at the handwritten menu that listed, amongst other things, salad sandwiches.

"We don't do sandwiches.  You can have a pie."

I thought of quibbling and quoting the handwritten menu, and didn't do it.  With a sigh I accepted a slightly dehydrated potato pie, which I ate at the picnic table while chatting with the proprieters. "We moved here 5 years ago," they said.  "We love it.  Such a change of pace, nice and quiet."  Yes well, it would probably be more exciting if you made a salad sandwich every now and then.

Don't get excited. There's no sandwiches.

Cadell was very quiet.  I stopped off at the Heritage Centre (closed) and took bicycle pictures in the central roundabout downtown. 

 Then I took gravity down to the Cadell Community Caravan and Camping Reserve, which was the town football oval in disguise, with a caretaker (Kate) living in what had been the canteen.  For the grand sum of $15 I got to pitch my tent on soft green grass next to a luxurious camp kitchen, with access to grand showers (ex changing rooms), a laundry, and both indoor and outdoor clotheslines.

Home for the night: Cadell Community etc

Best women's bathroom yet.

There was a 7-night limit on staying at the Cadell CCCR, but it was evidently flexible.  Of the 5 of us camped there 3 were long stayers, washed up at Cadell through unfortunate circumstances of ill health, advancing age, and nowhere else to go.  The rest of us were fly-by-nights, just passing through.   The long stayers shared their local knowlede which was how I got to spend a couple of hours in the Cadell Wetlands bird hide, where I saw no birds, failed to take effective photos of dragonflies, and watched a pretty sunset.  Everyone was gratifyingly impressed by my astounding bicycle feats, even if in reality I had barely pedalled 20km down the river from Morgan and arrived well before lunch time.

Tiny flowers coming out to bloom in the wetlands.

I cooked lunch and crawled into bed with a good book from the laundry library.  Maybe I'll get a salad sandwich tomorrow.