Day 17 (Sept 26) - Kerang to Echuca - 99k

It was a pleasant night in the van, although I was surprised to be rather cold in the sleeping bag. The night passed quickly, and I awoke to yet another near perfect day. I wasn’t in such a great hurry today – it was only about 96k to Echuca. I cooked the ALDI porridge on the stove, and I must confess it was delicious with the sultanas (no sugar of course in this van that has ‘everything’.



I rolled away about 8:45am, but got about 100mts before stopping at the Kerang Shire Museum. I was particularly taken by this magnificent tractor. Two retired farmers wondered over to meet me – then there were three – all over 80, but who commit their time and passion in collecting what I consider to be the greatest and best collection of old farm machinery, tractors, vintage home-made trucks, cars, drays, carriages…even bicycles, the pride being a 19^th century penny farthing in near perfect condition. They proudly showed me through their numerous large sheds. It was quite an enterprise, and a great credit to them.

I eventually dawdled into Kerang – a most beautiful, peaceful country town just coming alive on a Monday morning. I took the back way out of town, and eventually turned out on the Murray Valley Highway heading for Echuca. The wind was in my face which was rather annoying, taking the shine off the day.



The road opened up – it was flat, and rather uninteresting with the wind sweeping across the open fields into my face.

I must say the countryside, although open and bland at times, has other interesting features. It was a little sad to come cross this old church which had seen better days. Sadly, I have seen many like this. I would like to think it does not reflect the condition of the church in the rural areas, but I have a feeling that it does. My prediction is that within 50-70 years the dominant property for the church will be the lounge rooms of its members.

It wasn’t long before I rolled into one of the prettiest little towns with obvious huge civic pride – Cohuna. It was time for coffee. I quickly struck up conversation with one of Cohuna’s cycling fraternity – he proudly told me all about his bike and his huge dog. It was good to chat, and he certainly did not mind having his photo taken.

 

It was time to hit the breeze once more. Now and again the wind would come around behind me, and it was glorious cycling. As it was, I was maintaining a trip average of 21kph, but to keep that it meant sitting on 24-25kph. I was in the mood for pushing the bike today.

I cant resist the water shots. This is not the Murray, but in fact one of the waterways that service local irrigation, although would be connected somehow with the Murray. The sights were just as lovely, and again I was looking for ‘sticks that move’ as I got down close to the water amongst the grass, sticks and roots of the many trees.



The closer I got to Echuca, the more cows and dairy life became evident. Here was a cow that did not have any stage fright. It was almost as if she was standing on a box and wanting to speak to me.

The magpies were out in force today. Mostly, they were novices but in one incident a magpie hit me so hard in the helmet it almost knocked my helmet off. She caught me well and truly off-guard so it was quite a shock. Actually, I think it shocked the magpie too because she didn’t try it again!

After just 4hrs 30mins on the bike and almost 100k, I rolled into the incredible historic port of Echuca. I made for the port itself. It was like a time capsule had taken me back more than 100 years. The old port had been restored to something like it would have been in the mid 1800’s, including the beautiful river boats all lined up in the old port.

There is something really beautiful about these old river queens. Everywhere I looked there was a photo opportunity. I loved in particular the old ‘Canberra’.

It was now just after 3pm. I made my way up town to find the Motel that I had booked in to, showered quickly then made my way back with my camera. It was a funny feeling to be on the bike without all my bags, in fact I found the bike difficult to handle; it wobbled a lot and I found it hard to balance! This time I went down and around the wet river flats where I could get a lot closer to a lot more of the boats. I enjoyed getting these photos:

And some more. The gum trees are so magnificent. I think each gum tree is its own work of art. They are so majestic and beautiful, and a fitting complement to this the grandest of all Australian rivers.

I was really enjoying myself, but had to be careful as I walked on the wet muddy bottom of what was obviously the Murray river bed at low tide, if there is such a thing. I was already mud up to my ankles, and the bike was also filthy. I was beginning to think that I would really need a whole day to explore this place of significant heritage, but the sun was beginning to set and my plan was already locked in for tomorrow.

I think this boat takes my prize for the most beautiful - 'Billy Tea' gets my Murray River houseboat award. Having taken this photo, I turned for 'home' - my nice Motel room on the outskirts of town where for an extra $5 I was able to negotiate a full breakfast including bacon and eggs. I was already feeling sad that I would be missing my ALDI 3min Porridge, but thems the breaks!

It wasn’t such a long day today. As I rolled in to the Motel, the bike registered 99k on the clock. Tomorrow the goal is Yarrawonga, approximately 125k before the final run into Albury on Wednesday.

Just finally….I travel most days without a map. I might look at it in the iPad the night before, commit it to memory, then simply follow the signs along the way. Most of the time this is fine, except when I want to cut across country, or take country roads that are not clearly marked. Then it can get a bit tricky, and I may end up having to take instructions from a local.

Someone drew Psalm 25 to my attention overnight. Reflecting on life itself, I related to the verses that say "Show me your ways O Lord, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Saviour".

Life is much more complex than following a road or a marked highway. I need a wisdom beyond my own to keep me on the right way. I am glad that in the 'ride of life' I have a divine hand that shows me the right way.

Until tomorrow

KRA

Day 16 (Sept 25) - Boundary Bend to Kerang - 148k

The sun dawned over the beautiful Boundary Bend, revealing a near perfect blue sky. Again, it was hard to leave. I had fallen in love with this magnificent jewel of the Murray. Last night I met Stan. We stood chatting as we gazed out over the Murray. He told me some of his story. I was up and dressed early, wanting to be on the road soon after 7:30am knowing it was going to be a long day on the road. I wanted to see Stan once more before I departed. He had just sold his houseboat, and purchased this ‘mobile home’. He was travelling to north coast NSW to be closer to his 23 yr old daughter and his new granddaughter. His wife….she committed suicide some months earlier. We had struck up an amazing friendship. I wanted to say goodbye. He was outside his ‘mobile’ sipping on an early morning cuppa.

I wished him well. I told him he was doing the right thing. His precious daughter needed her Dad. His granddaughter needed her granddad. I am not ashamed to say that as we said our final goodbyes, I expressed the blessing of God on his life, and he on mine, two grown men were fighting back tears….at least I know one of us was. As I rode away, it took a while for me to begin to see clearly, such is the impact of friendships made on such a pilgrimage as this.

I said goodbye to the Murray for many hours, and the countryside became very flat and very open. It was 4 degrees when I left the Bend, so I had all my winter gear on again except my long tights. I knew it would eventually warm up. The k’s slipped by slowly but surely. My first main stop for lunch was to be Swan Hill at 90k. There was a solid breeze from the south east, straight into my face. It was worth about 3kph (without the wind, the bike easily lifted 3kph). I was making reasonable time, and actually maintained an average all day of 20kph.

Boundary Bend is not only famous for the Caravan Park. I discovered as I pulled away from the ‘Bend’ that it is Australia’s largest olive farmer (Boundary Bend Ltd) and producer of extra virgin olive oil. As I rolled past the processing factory, it was bigger than a Qantas hangar, and the fields of olive trees were as far as the eye could see at times. This photo does no justice to what I saw for mile after mile, on both sides of the road.

At the 45k mark I pulled in to a small ‘rest area’ where the Murray had come back to touch the roadside again, about 1k from the tiny intersection and general store at Piangil. It was a good time for morning tea (a muesli bar and a drink of water). I find the Murray simply enchanting. I cannot stop taking photos of this most magnificent icon of Australian geographical history.

While I was there, it was too much temptation to take some ‘studio’ photos of the Murray, given that I probably will not be back here for a long time to come.

I was not alone in the ‘rest’ spot beside the river. A vehicle with caravan attached was parked to the side but there was no sign of life. I assumed they had driven in and gone for a walk. However, suddenly ‘Jim’ emerged from the caravan to say hello. He was older, friendly and seemed to like to chat. He explained that he was several days too early for the Mildura music festival (country and western) and decided to pull in to this beautiful spot. He was 70yrs of age, but looked ten years younger. He asked my age and said he admired people like me who ‘have a go’. I was invited to share a ‘drink’ but sadly I had a long day ahead, Jim insisted on using my camera to take some photos. He was a very decent fellow, and I was also sorry to not have more time to share friendship with him. He took a reasonable photo. He wanted to make sure the backdrop was just right!

Today, and certainly the morning was filled with the strong aroma of the smell of bush flowers, and the rich pollens of the flowers and the trees. The bush is alive with flowers – the yellows, purples and whites making the bush a kaleidoscope of colour and smell. As Swan Hill got closer, these small bush flowers became more prominent. They grow wild, but appear as if they have been planted professionally.

The k’s gradually climbed. The day was still cool, probably due to the strong southerly wind. I stayed in my arm warmers all day, but discarded the jacket late morning. Eventually Swan Hill came into focus, and as my computer registered 88k, I was rolling into the township of Swan Hill, and back to the edge of the Murray. I ventured off course fractionally just so I could photograph the bridge over the Murray that crosses in to NSW.

It was a day for people wanting to talk and take my photo. This very lovely young lady saw me about to take a photo of the river, when she asked if she could take one with me in it. She was lovely, even showing me how to take a self-photo. She was cute and cheeky at the same time – asking why I am cycling when there are buses and trains. She walked away with a lovely smile.

I enjoyed lunch at Swan Hill, and then faced the final 60k to Kerang. It was now 2pm. I was knocking the k’s over consistently at 20kph, but I have to confess the enthusiasm was not there in the legs all afternoon. It was sheer discipline that kept the legs churning out the k’s, still into that wind. I was working on three lots of 20k stints, broken into respective 5k segments. I passed the meritorious 100k south of Swan Hill as I approached the lakeside community of Lake Boga, famous for the Catalina flying planes developed for use in WW2. Sadly, no time to stop in at the Catalina Museum.

There is something about bumping over train lines. I have done this countless times. This time I thought I should record it for posterity.

As I got closer to Kerang, I approached a similar crossing. Just as I hit the crossing and bounced through, the alarm bells started and the railway gates dropped just as I bounced off the crossing. Within seconds, the train came through, giving a toot on his horn. I only just made it through literally by seconds. It happened all very quickly. The car behind me was stopped at the crossing.

The magpies were back at it today, with a vengeance. I must give it to them today. I scored one with a 10 out of 10. She was persistent, and ‘clapped’ me on both ears with her wings. I gave her my congratulations. Yesterday was a magpie free day, but I had my first encounter with a ferocious farm dog, a kind of ‘staffy/kelpie’ cross. I was idling out of town, when this dog came at me at ‘100mph’ from the farmhouse gate – its ears were pegged back and coming at me like a train. I was otherwise enjoying the morning sunshine, but in the seconds it took for this dog to clear the naturestrip and come flying at me, I cranked up the bike despite all its load, and it was a real contest. The dog in its ferocity came around the back of the bike and was in biting distance from my left pedal as the bike gathered enough speed now to just keep out of his way. He knew he was beaten. He came second. It took several minutes for my heart rate to get back to normal, and for the bike to settle at cruising speed again. Kelvin 1, farm dogs 0!

I calculated earlier in the day that it would be 5pm by the time I would make it to Kerang. It was within minutes of this when I rolled over the bridge spanning the Loddin River, and sighted the signs to the Kerang caravan park on the entrance to this lovely Victorian country town. The sights of the Loddin were just as attractive as I have seen in parts of the Murray. Another irrisistable photo....

The lady at the caravan park was funny. It went like this. Me “I have a booking for an on-site van”. Her “We don’t have on-site vans. We have cabins, we have vans, but not on-site vans. Everything is on-site”. Me “ok, I wont argue….but that’s what we call them where I come from”. Her “where are you from?” Me…..I lost interest. Me “does it have a kitchen”. Her “yes, it has everything……but do you have a sleeping bag and pillow”. Me ”well, yes”. Her “Fine, because we don’t supply bedding”. Me “what else doesn’t it have?” Her “It has everything…I told you that”. I gave up, wondering…..

Okay – it’s a lovely ‘cabin’ – but no towels, no bedding, no soap, no tea and coffee…..but it has everything! Actually, it is great – it is just fortunate I have my own small towel, a fraction larger than a face flannel! It will be a sleeping bag tonight, but in a double bed with an improvised pillow. The lady - she was actually a gem. She walked me to the 'cabin', talking all the way, just wanting me to be comfortable, showing me with pride where I could best put the bike, where to buy food, how to get out of town tomorrow. Yes, she was big hearted....just a character.

After showering, I went for a walk to town. It was just on dusk. I delighted in this photo!

Tomorrow is a shorter day – 96k to Echuca. I plan to take it easy, enjoy this town before I leave, and then roll nicely to Echuca. Today I have reached 1641k, and estimate a mere 408k to home. Today was a long day on the saddle – 9 hours on the road, 7.5hrs of actual riding time sitting on that tiny seat.

I am grateful to those who have made contact, and given words of encouragement. It is much appreciated. The legs are weary, but otherwise I am doing well, feeling fine, certainly happy within. I’ve lost a few kilos. Today the wind cut my eyes rather badly. I look like I’ve been in the surf all day. Nothing that a night’s sleep won’t solve.

And just finally….I have seen many beautiful sights today. The Murray is enchanting....but then there are the flowers, the birds and especially the beautiful gum trees by the thousands, each one a work of art.

Incredibly though, it is people who have impacted me greatly today. I mentioned Stan this morning, there was Adie last night who just seemed to delight in serving the most magnificent dinner to this stranger. Today a lady passed me, turned around and came back to me to just chat. She shook hands and then turned and drove away again. There was Jim at the Piangil 'rest' spot, the lovely girl at Swan Hill bridge, and of course,...the big hearted lady at the caravan park. The magnificence of Psalm 8 suggests that despite the sheer beauty of all of creation, God sees the greatest beauty and magnificence in....people, human creation. "What is it about 'man' that you are mindful of him"...the Psalmist enquires, having just described how God at creation put all the splendour of the Heavens in place, yet seems more preoccupied with his creativity in human creation above everything else.

Whether people put trust in God or not, there is no mistaking that each of us bear something of the image of the creator himself. All of us have something of His beauty, something of his character, something of his goodness, and much more of His grace and love of which we will ever be aware.

I think its worth reflection....just as I have captured the reflection of the windmill in the water (above), all of us at least in a small way bear some kind of reflection of the creator Himself. It is important not to overlook the beauty and reflection of the creator in the lives of those with whom we connect from day to day. 

Until tomorrow....

KRA

Day 15 (Sept 24) - Mildura to Boundary Bend - 130k

I felt rather sad to be leaving Mildura. However, the day dawned and I had to face the inevitable. I was up early, got myself organized and sat down to my own cooked breakfast all before 7am. Cooked breakfast entails boiling the water in the jug for my ALDI 3 minute oats, something I will never eat again after I finish this trip! I must confess it tastes better if it is cooked over a stove, but often I can’t, or simply can’t be bothered. To ‘beef’ it up, I load it with sultanas and lather it with milk and sugar. I also make my own ‘café late’ with Woollies coffee saches – I started the trip with 40, and have worked down the bulk nicely.

I rolled away from my Motel into the main street of Mildura, went 2 blocks and couldn’t take the intense cold, so stopped to dress up in my winter riding rain jacket, which with my arm warmers remained on for most of the day. It was a surprisingly bitterly cold, cloudy, windy day.

I steered the bike out over the magnificent Murray River to the north via the enormous bridge that takes the Sturt Highway into New South Wales. I understood from the boat cruise yesterday, that the ‘bed’ of the Murray belongs to NSW. The Highway then turned Sth East, tracking with the river for several kilometers, through the small villages of Gol Gol and Trentham Cliffs, before opening up, tracking with the river but far enough to the north to be out of sight for the next 90k.

It was cold, and windy from the SE which meant mostly in my face. It was also very harsh, almost uninteresting country.

It was a matter of keeping the legs turning. I knew I was in for a 130k day, which is not so bad if the wind is favourable. My feet were already ‘frozen’ and I was uncomfortable into the wind. Nevertheless, the bike kept rolling and the k’s gradually climbed. I was chasing 88k to Robinvale, which was the first chance for a coffee stop. It was a long, morning leg.

I was impressed however with ‘rest stops’ every so often which were very well kept, thanks now I guess to NSW administration. This was a very clean toilet in the middle of nowhere. It was so cold, I suspected it might even snow! People are lovely – other travelers on the road like to wave, beep their horns etc. People stopped here at the loo and easily engaged in conversation. Lots of caravans for these past many days – it is caravan highway!

It is amazing to see signs to Broken Hill, even Sydney and also Balranald. This was now Balranald country, but testimony to the remoteness of this part of the country.

Vineyards and citrus plantations appear frequently, but otherwise there were no other signs of real life apart from the regular but courteous traffic on the road. I was hanging out for Robinvale, but all signs pointed to Euston, a NSW town on the Sturt Highway and north of the river. Euston came at about 83k but I couldn’t stop – I had to concentrate to make sure I took the left turn highway (to Balranald) then watch for the quick turn-off to the south again on the Murray Valley Highway that would take me into Victoria (ie over the Murray) and into Robinvale. It was 90k and time for lunch. But I couldn’t pass over the magnificent river without paying it the credit it was due.

Robinvale was a tiny little place but I was surprised to note that it was predominantly Tongan and Asian population. Apparently this is influenced by seasonal demands for ‘pickers’ which brings families from both Asia and Tonga in particular. I felt among friends at the local fish n’ chip shop.

I was now riding ‘blind’ looking for the famous Boundary Bend, once I left Robinvale. All road signs pointed to towns a long way past Bounday Bend, such as Swan Hill. No mention of Boundary Bend at all. I was assuming it would fall at about 130k, but had to keep on my toes because I definitely didn’t want to ride past it! My mind was filled with the lady’s words at the Information Centre at Mildura “Boundary Bend…Oh Gaawd, why would you want to go to Boundary Bend…there’s nothin’ there". She had me worried. I had an onsite van booked – Boundary Bend was just a caravan park. Would I have to lock myself in all night? Was the van park full of rough seasonal pickers, who drank all night? The Motel owners words “Kelvin, it’s a funny place, that’s all”. Meanwhile, I was passing some beautiful sights….a farmer collecting up his hay….

I also noticed, that the bush had also begun to come alive with colour. There were lots of yellows and whites, and then I sighted this field of purple in and amongst the natural bush. It was spectacular.

I passed 125k and still wondering about Boundary Bend. At 129k I turned a slight bend in the road, I could now see that the Murray had come up alongside the road again, and then I saw a most welcome sight – welcome to Boundary Bend.

It was lovely. There was a beautifully clean and well organized roadhouse and caravan park. Across the road, the magnificent river sparkled in the dimming light of the lowering sun through the clouds. This was an oasis, a jewel in the crown of country Victoria, and not a sign of a ‘picker’ anywhere (there is nothing wrong with ‘pickers’ by the way).

Here was the Murray at its magnificent best. I pulled in to the roadhouse and was greeted by Addi (sorry to Addi if I have the name incorrect) “You didn’t take long” she beamed as I walked in, feeling like I had been on the road all day….in fact I had. She was lovely, warm, friendly and remembered my phone call the previous evening. She told me she lives at Manangatang, has several children…and she is married to the bloke I saw collecting the hay way back down the road. They also raise goats…hundreds of them, and the hubby also shoots birds with approval that otherwise eat the farmers crops. It’s the country life.

I showered, and delighted in exploring the rough surrounds of the Murray (all the time keeping my eyes pealed for unfriendly browns in the grass). How do you like these photos?

I came back from my exploring. Boundary Bend could not be lovelier. I could not be more impressed. The shop was spotlessly clean. The small caravan park was neat and organised, and certainly no signs of anything about which to be worried. Addi cooked dinner for me - chops, mash and vegetables. It would feed an army - I suspect she took much pride in doing it personally - she gave me four chops, a jug of gravy and more fresh veges than I have ever seen on a plate. She grinned all over when I told her it was the best I had eaten on the road since Melbourne. All for $12!

                

 I met an elderly couple who set up tent/trailer next to my van. They are Scottish, from Bateman’s Bay and know Pete and Rebecca Gott, our Salvo Pastor’s there. They passed me today on the road. My van costs a whole $55 with its own facilities and bigger than many Motel rooms. It is heated, has digital TV (mostly works) and a full kitchen….maybe I can cook my porridge properly tomorrow! This is home for the night…

I enjoy taking lovely photos. We are surrounded by beauty in this country. Just next to my van is this lovely little English type garden that also displays something of the rugged farming history of Boundary Bend. I am glad I made my bed here for the night. There are four days left of my pilgrimage before I pack the bike on the train at Albury. Tomorrow will probably be my biggest day yet on this tour…..probably 150k. I need to get to Kerang by tomorrow evening, which then leaves 3 days of 100-130k’s each. I will track with the river for about 90k to Swan Hill, then we will part company until after Kerang.

Just finally...it could have been so easy to pass by Boundary Bend. I have been thinking about this for most of the day. So many people do, I suppose, not having any idea of the natural beauty and the lovely country hospitality that exists here. I can still hear that lady "Oh Gawd...why would you go to Boundary Bend...there's nothin' there". She was so wrong.

We need to be careful about who/what we pass by without care or thought. I often think of the account of the blind man, Bartimaeus. He was aware that a large crowd was passing by where he spent his life begging. He was even calling out, anxious to get the attention of Jesus. But the crowds (it was a religious crowd) just yelled at him, telling him to 'shut-up' as they thronged passed him. They were thronging to Jerusalem for one of their religious festivals. They passed him by, in a sense pushing him aside...they were on more important business.

Jesus stopped though....said 'call him'...and of course it was then a different story. Jesus healed and restored his sight, and the Bible simply says "He then followed Jesus".

This story hurts me. These were 'church' people passing by an otherwise marginalised, insignificant individual, a member of a minority within society. The church of the day were on religious business, and pushed him to the margins where they obviously felt he belonged. He was an insignificant, just like a 'Boundary Bend'...until Jesus stopped and gave him the priority he rightly deserved.

The story hurts me because I feel the church of today still passes by too many who are otherwise on the margins of life. Refugee ministries are popular these days, but building friendships with say, the homosexual community is not. I would like to think that we the church revive the mission heart of Christ in prioritising our mission of love to the least, the lost and the lonely. They are our 'Boundary Bend', the undiscovered treasures that we may otheriwse simply pass right on by.

Until tomorrow.........150k to Kerang

KRA

Day 14 (Sept 23) - Rest Day - Mildura

Today has been a well earned ‘rest day’ in Mildura. There is a lot to be said for paying respect to the ‘rhythm’ of creation; the six days of labour followed by a day of ‘rest’. I was really tired when I went to bed last night, thinking I will enjoy a ‘sleep-in’. However, I was up early and feeling ready to explore this most marvelous place.

There are many nice church buildings in close proximity to the centre of town. These I suspect speak of a strong Christian heritage that may not necessarily be the case today. The Anglican church took my attention.

I met the lovely ladies at the Information Centre to check out a few things to do, and also prepare for my trip tomorrow. When the lady asked ‘where are you headed tomorrow’ I replied ‘Boundary Bend’ (about 120k down the river). Her response was wonderful “Gawd, why you goin’ there…there’s nothin’ there (with much emphasis on ‘nothin’)”. This filled my adventurer’s heart with a diminished  sense of wonder, hoping I was doing the right thing. Just tonight, the Motel manager knocked on my door…”I understand you’re going to Boundary Bend tomorrow. Just thought I’d tell you it’s a funny place….I hope you’ll be okay. It’s a rough place, you know”. I chose to defend Boundary Bend “Well, I’ve spoken to the caravan park people….they sound human enough, and they said they would sell me a hamburger”. “Alright”, he said, but I wondered if he was shaking his head as he walked away.

I explored the river. This is the bridge over which I will leave for the notorious Boundary Bend tomorrow. The river can tell a million stories. The history of this entire region is wrapped up in the heart of this magnificent river

I noticed a lone fisherman not far from the bridge. We got chatting. He was a chef at the local club. He was early for work, so decided to try his ‘luck’. The fish weren’t biting, but it was good to chat. I took his photo, and he obliged by taking a rare photo of me. I was basically killing time because I had decided to take a boat trip down river on the vintage (1880) ‘Rothbury’ which was not long away now. Everywhere I turned, there was a photo. The scenery is breathtaking, and I must say that I am proud of my little camera which has taken superb photos.

I particularly love taking photos where the natural environment creates a natural frame. Risking stepping on an unfriendly ‘brown’, I like to get amongst the trees to get a photo that sets the river in its most startling context

The wildlife is also startling. This was a little family of ducks just enjoying the morning sunshine. This was the second family I encountered in a matter of minutes.

Our beautiful ‘Rothbury’ came down the river like a Queen arriving in court. She performed a most graceful u-turn in the river before coming in to dock to pick up her happy load of passengers. In remarkable condition, she too could tell a thousand stories. She was built in 1881 originally as a 'tow boat', but has the reputation as one of the fastest paddleboats on the Murray River. There was a surprisingly large crowd suddenly appeared from nowhere to board the old-time lady. I sat in the very front, and it took no time for those of us who were there to make friends and enjoy fellowship together.

We headed downstream for basically a 2 hour explore of the river, including the experience of the river ‘loch’. There are 13 of these along the river, which serve to hold the river like a dam at certain heights. This controls the flow of water and also preserves water supplies for the various needs of the communities all along the river that are fully dependent on the river for water. Within minutes we were in the ‘loch’, being lowered to the level of the river beyond Loch 11.

I made friends with a wonderful couple who live on a station of some 150,000 acres about 100k north of Broken Hill. They were incredibly lovely and we made natural conversation for the two hours. It boggles the mind to think that they own and manage such a vast property which they say has come absolutely to life with the end of many years of drought.

There are literally hundreds of these beautiful houseboats just at Mildura alone. At least half of them are available for hire. I find this staggering because it only requires a car licence and the boat is yours to sail up the river for your own holiday. The boat in the photo though is a different story – it was purchased privately, and as far as I know, the owners live on it as a their private residence. It is one of the old historic ‘Queens’ of the Murray.

Before we knew it, the two hour ($27!) cruise was over. For a further $5, you could buy a coffee (with free refills) and cake, which I think was the best bargain for a long time. It was a little sad to say our goodbye’s to people on the boat. We had shared a wonderful experience together; the weather was perfect; we had experienced new things and discovered new insights not previously known. We went our separate ways.

My mind then turned further to the history of Mildura. I walked several kilometers back upstream to the original ‘Mildura’ homestead. This is where it all began. Apparently ‘Mildura’ comes from the local aboriginal language ‘mil’ meaning water and ‘dura’ meaning rock. In 1847 a squatter Francis Jenkins swam 900 cattle across the river from NSW. Believing he had settled in Sth Australia, he travelled to Adelaide to register his selection. He returned to discover his claim had been taken by Hugh and Bushby Jamieson who obtained the first depasturising licence for a lease they called ‘Yerre Yerre’, but changed to ‘Mildura’ in 1858.

The river became the highway of the mid-1800’s. In 1854 ‘Mildura’ grazed 10,000 sheep. ‘Mildura’ fell into bad times, but in 1887 enterprising Canadians George and William Chaffey took over, and brought with them irrigation schemes that they had pioneered in Canada, at the invitation of Alfred Deakin, future Prime Minister. The gold rush had ended, and Deakin believed that irrigation would prove to be the solution for a new beginning in agricultural enterprise for hundreds of families now in the Riverlands. The rest, they say, is now history!

I’ve had a truly wonderful ‘rest day’. I feel physically and spiritually refreshed and rejuvenated. Tomorrow begins my final five days of solid cycling to Albury. The original plan was to finish via the Snowy mountains, but it is still snowing, and for that reason along it is taking too much of a risk to take a bike through. I also feel that it is pushing the boundary to consider hauling my 48kg bike over Dead Horse gap, so it will have to wait for another day.

Next Thursday I will catch the train to Yass, sleep at Murrumbateman at my brother Peter (and Lauren’s) house, and then ride home into Canberra on Friday 30^th September. The plan is to call at the office for morning tea, and enjoy my first cup of tea in 3 weeks.

I will ‘tackle’ Boundary Bend tomorrow. I am sure it will be okay.

Just finally, I was thinking about the squatter Francis Jenkins who in 1847 went to a lot of trouble to swim his herd of 900 cattle across from NSW to begin a new life and possibly a financially assured future. But he went the wrong way. He went to Adelaide to register his ‘find’ rather than to Melbourne, and while he was away, the Jamieson brothers had legally taken what could have been his own, for want of going the right way.

These have been good days for me to reflect more deeply about life. We are faced with decisions about ‘right’ directions on most if not all days. Tomorrow I will find my way to Boundary Bend by following the sign as I leave Mildura. If Jenkins had had a sign to point him in the right direction, he would have ended up in the right place and taken his rightful place in history.

The Bible gives many signs, but one of the best comes from the mouth of Jesus, regarding direction for life “Seek first the Kingdom of God, and all other things will be added to you”. I will never regret that a long time ago I followed this direction. Unlike Jenkins, I have no regrets.

Boundary Bend…….tomorrow, an early start. Until then….

KRA