22/04/26 Mildura to Wentworth

I bought a billy on the way out of town, for the express purpose of boiling river water should that be necessary in the coming weeks. The downside to this was that now I'll have to listen to the Billy rattle at every bump for weeks.

On the way out of town I also visited Lock 11. Lock 11 was unusual in that the Lock and weir were separated by an island, thus the pelican action was all out of sight. I sat and appreciated the moment: I won't see any more locks once I leave the Murray.

I still like SA's signs better.

A shared pathway followed the river from the Lock toward Wentworth. It wound gently past tethered houseboats and day use areas, with wide shallow beaches of sand. The Murray was clearer here, without the load of fine, suspended silt that came with the flow from the Darling. Every so often long pipes anchored a pumping station to the river, taking water for irrigation or human use.

Merben had a little lookout platform where one could gazed up the river to Mildura while giant bits of leftover irrigation machinery lurked in the bushes.

It's about time we featured another Chas Sturt memorial.

A large winery was right next door to the lookout and, judging by the noise, everyone in the winery was throwing bottles around and beeping forklift horns. I'd have to wear earplugs if I worked there.

I followed the river path all the way to the Abbotsford bridge, thereby pedalling an extra 20km just to spice up my day.

Just like all the other river towns, Wentworth has preserved what it would of its glory days as a paddle steamer port. It was its own paddle steamer too, the 'Ruby', but she's safely tucked away undergoing renovations.

The Wanderers Rest Caravan Park gave me a discount for not using fuel, and offered me an ice bath and a sauna in quick succession. "I just want a tent site," I said.

I went shopping only to find that the Wentworth IGA had run out of gingernuts and I had to make do with butternut snaps instead. What am I going to do for snacks now? I need gingernuts. Life is indeed tragic sometimes.

I sat by the river and watched night bleed into the water. Pelicans and cormorants flew busily back and forth. Fish splashed and jumped and a man came with a fishing rod but didn't catch anything.

Wouldn't he have been opposite a lot of trees? Why this particular one?

My neighbour watched me zip open my tent. "Is that your tent?""Yes."

"Is that your bike?" "Yes."

He went into his caravan without a word.

I ate too much for dinner, and went to bed. I forgot to take a photo of my camp.