30 December 2011 - Plush’s Bend, Central Riverlands, South Australia

Yet again we are camped beside the mighty Murray, this time between the river and the Nelwart Swamp. I read earlier that a disease carrying mosquito, peculiar to the Murray valley is on the rampage again. The symptoms and ultimate suffering does not make for pretty reading so we shall be vigilant and generous with our fly spray. In fact, last night the bugs arrived after dark, and although not as numerous as those we encountered crossing the Barclay Tablelands, enough to send us to bed early. We have pulled out the zapper and inverter in preparation for this evening.

The mighty River Murray

We left our camp beside the river soon after 9.30 this morning and found the steep road up to Headings Point as corrugated as when we came down yesterday. In fact more so, because I subsequently found items in the caravan that had come loose as never before, however no permanent damage was done. We paused at the top of the cliffs and climbed the steel lookout from where we enjoyed expansive views over the wandering river and the lands all around.

The largest of the eleven known black stumps is on display in Paringa, so we thought we had better check that out too. The character who found it in the river some thirty years ago, chain sawed the lower part of the trunk off leaving just the flange of roots and with great effort and drama, brought it along the river and up to his residence in Paringa. Now it stands on its side at the end of his house, with a panel explaining the story of its discovery and journey, along with an invitation for donations. The guy, aside from being a woodturner, otherwise earns his living from busking at Country and Western shows, so is not averse to trying it on if he thinks he just might earn a quid. We would not bother to recommend this as one of Renmark’s attractions as the brochure does, but then the world is made up of all kinds.

We found our way to the dump point which also operates as a water refill station. We do not usually use the same tap as that used to clean up the dump point, however it was obvious from the council notice that this was meant so. Out came a bucket, the 99.9% hospital strength germ-killer disinfectant, and a few moments of attention to the tap with the potent solution and we were prepared to compromise this hygiene rule of ours.

Once back into the centre of Renmark, we called into the Information Centre, which houses an excellent centre of information apart from being an agent of commercial attractions which most simply are. We spent time reading through the history of the town and region, and admired the restored paddle steamer moored on the shore outside. The “Industry” was a work boat on the river, originally built down at Goolwa, near the mouth of the Murray, and now serves as a static museum, taking tourists for a slow jaunt on the river about twenty times a year. We were intrigued to see that the trip scheduled for New Year’s Day had been cancelled due to the expected high temperatures. In fact, it is appropriate to mention that the temperatures here are quite high: 34 degrees last night after dinner, 36 expected today (and actually is here in the shade) and 39 degrees forecasted for tomorrow.

We walked about the town, actually surprised how modest it is. Renmark combined with Paringa, has a combined population just short of 10,000 and is not lauded for more than being Australia’s oldest irrigated settlement. It was founded in 1887 (quite late for this area) following a joint agreement between the South Australian government and the Chaffey brothers, engineers from Canada. (These guys were cousins to Chaffey of Golden Bay, New Zealand fame. Co-incidentally, when we were back in New Zealand for a month in September last, I read a book about this Chaffey who lived in the wopwops with his wife, near the asbestos mine in the Nelson Marble Mountains.)

Anyway, back here in Renmark, these Canadian Chaffeys were enormously successful, and the rich horticultural land that surrounds us here is testimony to that. Today, Olivewood Estate, the original home of the Chaffey’s is open to the public and the farm surrounding it is still producing positive outcomes.

Next we headed for the Recycle Depot, the place where one has gas cylinders refilled if you are averse to the Swap-a-bottle as we are. Alas, Chris could not open the cunning little padlock arrangement he has to deter gas bottle thieves and so after half an hour of trying to saw through the padlock and finding the Recycle people had mislaid their bolt cutters, we gave up and came down to this lovely camp, full of others doing just the same.

We wandered along to the end of the point, where the swamp seems to join the river and came upon a pleasant chap quietly contemplating the scene with his can of whatever, discreetly camouflaged in a foam wrap, as most here in Australia seem to do. Close by was moored a hired houseboat and on it his seven houseboat companions. He had just taken a breather from the “continual buzzing”, but seemed happy to engage with us in conversation.

A little later, after we had consumed some of the cask wine purchased in town, our neighbour in the large bus motorhome nearby came to the door and went through a long drawn out courteous palaver regarding his generator. We welcomed the fact that he had approached us rather than the normal situation of someone simply starting it up and being oblivious all night to the fact that anyone else existed. We asked if he had bolt cutters or a heavy duty hacksaw, explaining our need whereupon  he was most accommodating and agreed that he would be happy to oblige in the morning if the can of WD40 had not been enough to free the obstinate lock.

Dinner over, too much pre-New Year’s Eve wine consumed and too many mosquitos on the rampage, we retired early and were gently lulled to sleep by the equally gentle croaks of swamp frogs, indeed a different variety to other we have encountered on our travels thus far.