29/04/26 Menindee to Lake Malta Bush Camp

Sometimes I do silly things. Who thinks it's a good idea, when buying her lunchtime sandwich, to also buy a chocolate bar for later? Who then stuffs it in her snack bag where it joggles around in the sun for the next 4 hours? Who then decides to eat her chocolate bar, clocks that it's a bit squidgy, opens it anyway, and then attempts to stuff it in her mouth whilst still wearing a fly net? Do you know how tricky it is to wash chocolate out of a fly net when you're being very parsimonious about water use?

Alright, let's move on.

Another of Menindee's old stone buildings.

I visited the river on my way out of town. Before the installation of a bridge in 1927 there was no way to cross the river other than by private punt owned by a Mr Turkey Creek Smith, who lived on the river bank and kept a pet sheep to coax recalcitrant stock onto his punt for river crossings.  In 1882 the NSW Government installed a new punt which transported people and stock for free and put quite a dent in Mr TC Smith's enterprise.  What a shame, several weeks after starting the Government punt overturned and sank, and everyone had to use TC Smith's punt again until the river went down the the Government one was refloated.  I bet TC Smith made them pay for the privilege too.

The old punt site.  Menindee was also a busy river port, but no trace remained of the wharf.

No need for a punt now, either.

The first 20km of the morning took me north-west between Lakes Menindee and Parmamaroo, toward the Sunset Strip where tourists come to watch the sun set over the lake.  I dithered about pushing my bike up the hill to the lookout over the Lake Menindee dam wall, based on Motel Man's moanings about the lack of water in the lake and how it was practically dry etc etc. 

A bus load of tourists from Broken Hill wandered over the railway line to the dam wall, complaining about flies.  I could have sold my fly net 50 times over.  After they'd had a decent grumble they all jumped on their bus and drove away, and all was peaceful and quiet.

These pelicans had figured out how to lie there with their beaks open and let the fish swim in for dinner.  From what I could see it was quite a successful strategy.

Flight.

Synchronised swimming/diving.

Eventually I tore myself away from the lookout and turned right to follow the Darling to Wilcannia, riding around lakes I couldn't see. The road was good, hitting the sweet spot between mud (2 weeks ago) and sand. 

The land was wide and open, salt bush and sandhills, the occasional goat or kangaroo. I puttered along at a better pace than I had anticipated, and stopped under a tree for the Great Chocolate Debacle.

As the afternoon wore on I realised that with a bit of effort I ould make it to what promised to be a lake side bush camp at LakeMalta. So I put in the effort, and was rewarded with a sweet little spot under trees beside long stretches of grass where the waters of Lake Malta had receded.

I went to sleep to the sounds of cattle grazing and the distant howl of dingos.