Here we are at the end of our first calendar year in Australia and we are once more set up on the side of the Murray River, a little before dinner and the thermometer still reading 40 degrees. I started this year remarking on the unladylike manner of perspiration. This will not be spoken about but remain in the imagination of the reader. Thank goodness we are organised enough to have many changes of clothes before requiring laundry facilities. One may well ask why we don’t swim in the river; hundreds of others are doing so. However, when we were at Murtho’s Forest Landing, my other half lovingly washed the caravan with water from the same river, albeit further upstream and the dirty water marks are enough to convince me that I will stick with my one litre shower in-house.
We left our camp this morning before the bus residents had stirred, even though we delayed with a round of Sudoku and all the household chores being attended to. Chris had already tried the hacksaw he had in his toolbox; but this had proved inadequate. We checked out the Fire Station at Renmark, hoping they might have a spare set of bolt cutters, but it was closed as was most of the town. We found a Mitre 10 and Chris purchased a hardier version of the disappointing tool, while I hunted out some excellent French bread and the day’s newspaper. After the padlock on the gas bottle was sawed through, we had it filled, topped up the water tanks and set off to our next destination.
We travelled back west along the Sturt Highway, turning south not too far out of Renmark, down to the ferry across the Murray at Lyrop. This little settlement was established by the South Australian government during the 1890’s when economic times turned badly, and still even today operates as an old fashioned community. It does, as an tourist bonus, have a nudist resort to compliment the holiday park in Barmera. Perhaps it is the climate that encourages such enterprises? And yet we were told today that the temperature gets right down to minus 7 degrees. Ohhhh! It doesn’t bear thinking about!!! But then this whole business of public nude exhibitionism is outside our realm of thought. In fact, I am so naive that I had to be informed today by my husband what a “sun-farm” was. I am however able to imagine middle age to older people being patrons of such establishments; not pretty!
Moving on…..
As we travelled south of Lyrop and west across to Loxton, the horticultural lands were lush and dense. I read in the newspaper subsequently that there is an absolute glut of oranges this year and that Riverland orchardists are leaving their crops to rot on the ground rather than go to the expense of harvesting. Had I read this earlier, I would have had no compunction at all in stopping and collecting some of the neglected fruit near the road.
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| River views |
We called in at Lock 5, just upriver from Loxton and spent more than an hour watching boats being brought through, chatting with the locksman and then subsequently having our lunch at the very pleasant park there. The locksman works twelve days on, two off, acts as caretaker to the grounds and buildings in the environs when the boats are few and far between. I asked him if there was ever any bother with the lock users and he told us about inebriated houseboat “captains” turning sideways in the lock, tying up to the side when entering and then not loosening off the tow rope when the water level is lowered and a few other frustrating matters. He said the hardest part of his job was diplomacy rather than any physical effort required. He and his wife had spent months at a time doing as we are, and he was looking forward to retirement in four years so that he can pursue the dream fulltime. Obviously he has not been a diligent saver as we have been, or should I simply say, as tight as we are.
This camp site, again advertised in all our literature, is on the north side of Loxton, so we thought it wise to check it out before pressing on in to the centre of the town. The directions from the northern end of the town were poor and we ended up driving in circles for some time, until entering the co-ordinates into Tomtom. We came down over the riverbank, across rather unattractive scrubby swamplands and finally reached the river bank already packed with more punctual campers. In fact later examination discovered many hundreds of tents and caravans along the shore, all having found the very best spots.
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| Our camp at Thiele's Sandbar |
Needless to say, we found this spot which is acceptable, set up and have not dared moved since, despite having discovered a couple of more attractive spaces since; all too much of an effort. Our view of the river is partially obscured by stumps and broken cassuarinas, but still enough to observe the comings and goings of the skiers and thrill seekers. Just up river, very closeby, there is a houseboat moored with a fair contingent of holiday makers on board enjoying drinks on the rear deck. “Kiwi Oz” stands out in big lettering on the front. It is a hire vessel and we do wonder what kind of creature these tourists are. We will observe quietly and discreetly from afar.
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