We have yet again found ourselves tucked away in a delightful bush camp, this time even closer to the shores of the Murray River which laps just ten metres from our doorstep. We remain happy in the knowledge that the forecast is for fine and sunny weather and will not consider that there may be inclement weather further upstream. I also continue to have faith in the series of locks and weirs, and horticulturists who pump cubic mega litres of water from the system, to control any possible floods.
I woke with mobility restored this morning, thankful for the chest of drugs we carry on board. We were soon on our way back toward Waikerie (pronounced Wake – iree) and drove into the river access there to watch the car ferry cross, and view the many large and lovely houseboats tied up to the shore waiting to be hired. There were also quite a few small fizz boats out on the water with skiers and sea-bisket riders in tow, and dozens of folk already set up along the shore having commandeered the picnic and barbeque spots. One thing about the Australians; they do get out early in the day to enjoy their leisure pursuits; none of this lying in late or spending the day tidying the yard!
Although we needed to shop for vegetables, we decided we would wait until we arrived in Berri. Last night we had seen advertisements on the television for shops there and it seemed to be more substantial than Waikerie.
East of Waikerie we passed through acres and acres of vineyards and some citrus orchards, the former apparently more lucrative. We pulled off the Sturt Highway in a couple of places from where we could see the river meandering this way and that, sometimes river-like and sometimes like great lagoons. We left the road just before Barmera and drove clockwise around Lake Bonney, said to be a mecca for all water sport enthusiasts, but surprisingly saw few.
From Barmera, we took the old Sturt Road to Berri which has a population about double that of Waikerie; it is poorly served by supermarkets. We chose from a poor selection of high priced vegetables and regretted not having called into the Woolworths back in in Waikarie. We did however find a lovely park area down at the river where we lunched on some lovely bread rolls from the maligned supermarket.
Around these two settlements we saw a great deal of citrus growing but there was also evidence of large vineyards. We discovered that Banrock Station wine is produced here; a great favourite of ours in years gone by.
It is strange to think of this land all about, arid and sterile, looking little more than a refuge for spindly bushes, can turn green and fertile, producing such a wealth of produce with just a little water regularly supplied from this winding dirty looking river.
We decided to find a camp for the night, spurred on with memories of how difficult it was to find a space much after two or three o’clock when we travelled up the east coast earlier this year. But here, despite it being the Summer Christmas Break, the travelling population is decidedly smaller than those encountered, or in competition for camp, then.
Our first stop was at Lock 5 on the river neat Paringa, just upstream from Renmark, but another caravan had taken the one level and solid spot. Chris did a few circles to find a good spot, just as a dog will go round and round before it finds that optimum place for a nap. We gave up and checked the map for another place.
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| Our camp at Murtho Forest Landing |
After dinner we walked both up and down river from our camp and found about half a dozen other camping parties, a couple of them teaming with great extended family housed in collections of camper trailers, tents and swags. And two rather smart houseboats tied up to trees on the shore. Now as I close, and dark has fallen, the fizz boats and skiers have come off the river and all is quiet, but for a distant generator and a few kookaburras late to bed. It is indeed a lovely place.
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