26/04/01 Loxton to Renmark

Leaving Loxton.

A path led along the river from the Riverside Caravan Park to downtown Loxton, and along the way I met Loxton's big pelican. First introduced to Loxton in the Mardi Gras of 1979 , it appeared in subsequent Mardi Gras atop a houseboat before being abducted by a heinous gang of youths and floated down the river, an outing which destroyed its paper mache body. In 1985 it was resurrected and attended the Adelaide New Years Eve parade celebrating South Australia's 150th jubilee. In 1998 local businessman Peter Mangelsdorf successfully lobbied Council for funds to reconstruct the pelican with fibreglass and, after much debate as to a suitable resting place, parked it down at the waterfront. He even had an axle added, to facilitate rescue in inevitable future floods.

I love a good Big Thing.

I headed northward on Bookpurnong road, expected a pleasant pedal along a country road but nope: trucks roared and all the riverland was determined to take the shortest route possible between Loxton and Berri, along Bookpurnong road with me.

Meh.

I'll spare you the tedious details of Bookpurnong road, let's concentrate instead on the detours, which was where the magic happened.

Detour #1: Lock 4.

Oh the relief of a long sweeping road through almond (I think) orchards, with entertainment provided by the purpose-built machinery busily buzzing around the trees. 

The lock was the usual: pelicans and cormorants feasting; water roaring; green grass and a covered picnic area where I sheltered from an apathetic rain shower. Alas, there was no chatty lock masters and no lock activity to entertain me, but the requisite signs reassured me that i was gradually clawing my way further from sea level.

Detour #2: Berri and the once-.was ferry. 

I eschewed the trauma of navigating the bridge into Berri and just rolled down to the site of the old ferry. The magic here was leaving Bookpurnong road behind and following Gurra road out across the floodplain all the way to Lyrup.

Detour #3: The Lyrup Ferry.

Lyrup was the final ferry across the Murray in South Australia. I wanted to savour the moment so I sat and at the SS Ellen day use area and RV park while I watched the ferry trundle back and forth. 

Every ferry was named after a local riverbird. Being quick on the uptake, I just figured this out on the last ferry.

There was a surprisingly consistent amount of traffic given Lyrup was a teeny tiny community with, as far as I could see, no more than a Community Club, a Bowls Club, and a smatter of houses that blended into vineyards.

Not open.

It was a bitter-sweet moment to push my bike up the last ferry exit ramp. I wanted to go back and do it all again.

Detour #4: Lyrup Flats, Murray River National Park. 

A gentle gravel road meandered veside the river, whilecup oncthe escarpment taffuc riared on the Sturt Highway. Down at river level little paths wandered off to secluded waterside campgrounds. Oh, all the places I could have camped!

Avoiding the Stuart Highway for as long as possible, i took another detour down a track with enough soft sandy patchescto encouragecwatching. Two fat kangaroos and a large black snake took themselves elsewhere before i could photograph them. The tracks of another bicycle rolled out in front of me, along with the meandering footprints of an emu family. I stopped periodically to soak up the silence.

Emu footprints.

Right at the point where my little track rejoined the highway I met Peter, who was doing a little loop around the riverland and whose tracks i had followed for the last couple of hours. He had had enough of Renmark and was heading back to Lyrup Flats to camp. We held a shouted conversation in between truck pass-bys, where we just paused the conversation and rolled our eyes until the noise had passed.

Peter travelled a lot lighter than me.

Detour #5: Lock 5.

How could I resist the opportunity to tick off two locks in one day, even if from the gantry side? I discovered Renmark's wonderful wetlands, following beautiful little paths past lagoons where egrets hunted for their dinner.

A whole bunch of cormorants burst into terrified flight when I arrived at the lock, and alas the gantry side did not have a sign to tell me how much altitude I'd gained.*

The Final Destination: Hotel Renmark.

I took a final detour along the waterfront past the PS Industy to the Hotel Renmark, a grand old lady of Art Deco heritage, with her own museum and a history dating back to the days of servicing the crew and passengers that traded and travelled on the river.

I put my bike to bed and trudged up two weary flights of stairs to my room, and then trudged down again to walk along the river front and find some dinner. And then, smart cookie that I am, I trudged all the way up the stairs again to discover that the lift could have delivered me directly to my door without a stair having to be trudged. I almost went all the way down again just to catch the lift up, but that would be silly, wouldn't it?

Full moon over the river.

Hotel Renmark at night.

I went to bed instead.

*16.2m!