19/04/26 Fort Courage to Mildura

Morning on the river at Fort Courage.

The Happy band of nomads and fishers, stoking up the fire box in preparation for their communal breakfast. I knew I should've hung around a bit longer.

Well, sitting around peaceful caravan parks fraternising with jolly nomads and eating all the food in one's panniers doesn't really achieve much in the way of forward motion. Eventually, the pedals had to go around again.

"I can't believe you fit all of that on a bicycle!" said my neighbour, despite having with her own eyes watched me unpack two nights ago, and now reverse the process.

Off I went, delighted by the rediscovery of how fast and smooth it was to ride on a sealed road. Just 6km in I stopped for my first snack break beside the Darling Anabranch, where I would have camped had I not been seduced by the hedonistic pleasures of Fort Courage.

Water pooled beside the road, courtesy of recent rain. Excuse the thumb.

Grand old trees beside the Anabranch.

Anabranch bridges old and new.

The Perry Sandhills lay 20km further on, just off the road outside Wentworth, begging to be explored. There was even a shade shelter and picnic tables where I could lock up my bike.

I spent a happy hour wandering around the sand hills, taking photos and slithering up and down the shifting slopes. The colour of the sand came and went with passing sunlight and shadows, and from the top of the tallest dune I could look out to the floodplains across which I'd ridden that morning.

Apparently the sand is red because it oxidises in the sun, therefore the older the sand the redder it is. I don't know if that's true, though.

Eventually I tipped a bucket load of ancient sand out of my shoes and trundled in to Wentworth which was full of surprises. I rolled past the Old Wentworth Jail and what I can only imagine is the beginning of a Big Yabby.

Big Yabby playground, maybe?

Here at Wentworth the Darling River joined the Murray at the pragmatically named Junction, and I'd be back here in a couple of days to leave the Murray and head north along the Darling. In the mean time I climbed the Junction viewing tower and took photos of the (slightly underwhelming) junction.

Darling on the left, Murray on the right, Junction Island in the middle.

Just downstream of the Junction lay Lock 10 and how could I not visit that even if I still felt guilty about cold-shouldering Locks 7, 8, and 9? For a heart stopping moment I thought there were no pelicans but phew, they were all just taking their midday naps on the piers near the Lock entrance.

I like SA's signs better.

I followed an off road shared pathway almost all the way to the Abbotsford bridge across the Murray. I'd been getting all kinds of stressed about the bridge, which was single lane and apparently notorious for vehicular impatience when everyone had to wait while the bridge raised for river traffic. In the end it was a doddle and there I was in Victoria without so much as a 'Welcome to...' sign to greet me, and no photos due to having to pedal my heart out to keep up with the cars.

Fat raindrops fell as I followed the river in to Mildura and checked into my motel for another two days of work. Mildura had the last bike shop for a thousand or two km so you can guess where my bike is going tomorrow.

Beautiful Mildura building.

Home for a night or three: gear explosion at the Boulevarde Hotel. Mildura.