29/29/03/26 Moorook to Loxton

 

I have a confession to make.

I was pedaling along the road, bursting for a wee and looking for a suitable private pee spot with somewhere to lean my bike.   Coming to the conclsion that I would have to lean it at a property gatepost and disappear into the bushes, I picked a gatepost with a sturdy pole and a suitable thorn-free approach, trundled to a stop, and leaned my bike.

The whole thing fell over.  I kid you not, the deceptivey sturdy post was in fact a hollow shell, eaten out by white ants and just waiting for a heavy bike to cause collapse.

Disaster!  I hauled my bicycle from under the log and looked around.  A family of white-winged choughs laughted at me.  There was no one about to whom I could confess my sin.  I mounted my bicycle and pedaled away in the fastest slow motion possible on a fully loaded bicycle.  a few kilometres down the road I found a sturdy stone wall and attended to all necessary needs without further destruction of property.  What can I say?  I commited a lean and run, please don't dob me in. 

Back to the beginning. 

I packed up camp and experimented with the public BBQs in the day use area.  Can one use a BBQ as a stove top on which to cook one's museli?  Yes, the result is quite a nice porridge.  Can one use the BBQ as a stove top on which to boil water for one's morning cup of tea?  Yes, but one will die of old age and thirst before the water boils.  Can one use the power point at the day-use BBQ?  In theory yes, but in reality no because one brought a stupid multi-point plug which clashed with the weather cover on the power outlet.

Huh.  I'll just have to conserve power today and plug my little power pack in to my dynamo hub as a just-in-case.

Off I went.

In no time at all the river delivered a sweeping view of Wachtel's Lagoon followed by a short hike to a lookout with even better views of the lagoon.

I proceeded at a leisurely pace, stopping for snacks, to watch birds, to take photographs, to check the map, and to appreciate farm gate creativity.

The turn off to Heaven Lookout on the outskirts of Loxton was too enticing to resist.  Even better, Loxton had provided proper picnic tables with shade cover.  I ate snacks and dreamed of kayaking in the river below.

A comfortably built couple visited in their camper van.  "We were going to holiday in Esperance," they said. "But the cost of fuel on the Nullarbor!!  And we were worried that wewould getstuck over there if the petrol stations ran out of fuel.  So we've explored the Eyre and York Peninsulas instead.  And this!" He waved his hand at the river looping below, fringed with houseboats, the call of whistling kites drifting up from the trees. "We had no idea this existed!"

I skipped a debate about how you could be unaware of the existence of the Murray when you came from northern Victoria and the Murray was the actual border of your state, the only barrier between you and the wild New South Welshmen to the north.  Instead I complimented her hat, which sported a swagman's collection of corks.  She was very proud of it. " I made it myself, couldn't stand a fly net.  Everyone comments on it.  Someone offered me $100 for it in Port Augusta!"

There you go then, there's a market opportunity for cork-fringed hats in Port Augusta.

Down the hill I went to the Loxton Riverside Caravan Park, where I checked into a freshly cleaned cabin with an ensuite.  Now I felt fancy; I hadn't had the pleasure of an ensuite since Mannum.  

Home for 3 nights: Loxton Riverside Caravan Park.

I took a shower just because I could, and then walked into Loxton through the arboretum which was nowhere near as grand as it sounded.  A little bush track wound between a half-dry lagoon and the cliff, layered with bushes coming into flower and blankets of garland and darling liles.

Loxton was a town with an abundance of space, so much in fact that a whole park was built in the median strip of the main road, complete with playgrounds, picnic areas, and a trail past ruins of previous Loxton buildings.  

There was even a tree sculpture park, a joint effort between Loxton High School and the local Rotary club.  I walked the long way home just to see it all.

Back at the caravan park I bought laundry detergent at reception and asked the receptionist what she recommended to see and do in Loxton.  She was thoughtful, and took her time answering.  "Well," she said.  "There's the historic village."  No good to me, I'm sure it's lovely but I'm working when its open.  She thought a little harder.  "Well," she said.  "There's Woolworths?"

I've got two days in Loxton.  I shall try to expand my horizons beyond Woolworths.  I might even walk up to Heaven.

I'll leave you with a picture of a bee fly on an emu bush. I didn't know such a thing as a bee fly existed, but it does and here's a picture to prove it.