Autumn
is here although in our minds it arrived earlier... After withering heat waves
followed by torrential downpours have come mild sunny days with a definite nip
in the air particularly at night. Makes us a little nervous with another two
months around South Australia to go, perhaps we are too close to the Antarctic.
First day of the month we decided to head back to Lake Alexandrina for two
nights in Milang – 19 kms away to give us a change of scenery and walking
routes. We ended up staying only one
night and returned to Mt Barker for a week.
March
became a month of living in limbo for the following reason. In late January
George received an unexpected e-mail from an ex Durban colleague working on a
project in Pakistan, involving a severely degraded river. A few exchanges took
place. February calmly passed on by until suddenly the possibility of George
flying to Lahore became increasingly likely. Mt Barker was well suited as a
town for ‘stand-by’. A Travel Agent in close proximity; relatively easy access
to Adelaide airport; work plans and dates were being agreed upon; copy of
passport requested for visa arrangement – contract being formalised; everything
looked very positive. Heightened excitement, at the thought of consulting work
arising on the eve of three score years and ten... Clothes! We pulled together
a wardrobe for a working man and as smelly sandals wouldn’t do so- George
invested in a smart pair of brown shoes in readiness for a flight out of
Adelaide in less than a week. Instead of
funds being deposited in the bank for the flight, George received an email
advising that a faction in Pakistan trying to cut corners, were resisting his
appointment and all unravelled.... Lea found a very current magazine in the
park laundry and laughed heartily when the ‘Arian’ horoscope advised “to factor
in a state of flux in the first three weeks of March” as that is exactly what had
occurred...
Anticipation and challenge had provided a
wonderful change of pace and, despite coming to nought, we had enjoyed three
weeks in Mt Barker; a most attractive caravan park central to everything we
required. Staying still, uninterrupted by travel or flat computer batteries had
allowed Lea to progress with family histories. SKV gathered dust and leaves as
we walked everywhere and discovered different parts of Mt Barker.
The
Laratinga Wetlands was a spot we were
to visit on numerous occasions. They lay about 4km south of the Mt Barker
caravan park at the end of a very pleasant walking / cycling trail that ran
alongside a small creek. The Laratinga Wetlands served as a good example of
what are known as “constructed wetlands”; of what can be achieved using
re-cycled / reclaimed water (from the town’s sewage works) and of how a bit of
swampy ground on the edge of a town can be turned into a valuable recreational
asset. The diversity of habitats deliberately created within the wetland by
building structures to impound water at different depths, as well as berms and
islands to act as refugia for the many water birds; the complex has an attractive
network of paths, carefully positioned seats, boardwalks,
bird hides and picnic grounds. All were of particular interest as one of the
key challenges of the proposed Ravi Riverfront Urban Development Project in
Pakistan in which George could have become involved, concerned the
environmental sustainability of the river as a major natural feature in
Lahore’s landscape. The Laratinga Wetlands so happened to provide a perfect
example of how to meet the requirements of biodiversity protection and the
conservation of sensitive environmental characteristics in an urban area – so
hats off to the local Council of Mt Barker.
Senior
morning at the cinema each Wednesday gave us a film to enjoy. ‘Nebraska’
drew us for no other reason than it was Oscar nominated while Michael Caine
pulled us into ‘Last Love of Mr Morgan’.
Both were thoroughly enjoyable. We’d eagerly awaited the third film, as last
year we’d read Robyn Davidson’s incredible story of her 2,700 km trek with her
dog and four camels walking from Alice Springs across the deserts of Western
Australia to Broom during the 1970’s – ‘Tracks’
as a film certainly didn’t disappoint us. A local medical centre fixed us up
with our annual flu shots as media warns of a bad flu season ahead. And, while TV
bombarded us with both Tasmania and South Australia State pre-election
‘propaganda’ we became aware a date had been set for a re-vote as a result of
the ‘LOST’ Western Australian Senate seat ballot papers during the
Federal Elections of last September. How one metre long ballot papers were lost
is a confounding question! The Electoral Office in Adelaide was our easiest
option. Once the State election was over, we inquired at the Caravan Office
about an Adelaide city bus. What a pity we discovered the wonderful convenience
of this bus service in our final days. The terminus tucked just outside the one
end of the caravan park; an area we’d not ventured into, provided an express
bus into the city, free for Senior’s. It was blissfully easy, voting was
equally so. On completion, we walked to Adelaide’s Rundle Mall and wandered
through enjoying the sights and sounds of buskers before hopping back on a slower
bus which exposed us to other quaint villages hidden amidst the Adelaide Hills,
before reaching home. (Sorry George didn’t get to Lahore Lea would have enjoyed
exploring the city more often!).
Our
extended stay in Mt Barker came to an end. On a cold, wet, windy day we dragged
ourselves away. Although we were very ready to resume our ramblings – ‘DRAG’
became the operative word. As fate would have it, a passing word with our
neighbours alerted us to accents and we became acquainted with Desiré and
Douggie Broberg. They immigrated from Somerset West three years ago and live at
Avoca Beach – Strange they came from Lea’s one sister’s domain to another! We
exchanged contact details as we felt a strong sense of connection. Taking to
the road we pulled south, along what has become a most familiar road, back to
Milang on the edge of Lake Alexandrina for.... believe it or not, George’s JAM!
Take note of this aberrant behaviour because there are times Lea fancies going
to a Farmers Market and he protests to a waste of fuel and time! Whilst In
Milang, earlier this month, he couldn’t resist the look of whole fruit jams and
bought a jar each of apricot and fig from Milang’s Railway Coach Home Industries.
It proved to be the best he has tasted in decades and eked it out daily for lunch!
Haunted by the flavour he returned for more...
Our
intentions had been to follow the Murray River upstream until it veered east
and we’d go west only we couldn’t resist ducking back to Langhorne Creek for a couple
of days. Our regular site was busting with campers. We chose a lovely spot in
the less crowded adjacent area closer to the village. Amazing how much
patronage this free camp receives. The man with his Dulux Paint look-alike dog
“Bong” is still camped here all these many weeks later. Lea fell into
conversation with Trevon and discovered that his first rig caught fire in Mt
Barker’s Caravan Park when fire spread from another caravan to his during the
night - 18 months ago. A frightening story! Insurance paid him out for an
unusual van created out of recycled material and environmentally friendly with
an expandable side, all very smart.
Using
the ferries that so delight us, we leap-frogged the Murray River to take roads
un-travelled previously to enjoy the different look-outs as we wended our way
upstream. A night back in Bolto Reserve opposite Mannum had us recalling the
family time in January as our evening walk found us striding down the river
berm between dairy cattle grazing on rich green flood plains and the rich bird
life inhabiting riverine backwaters.
.JPG)
Forster’s
Lookout above Walker Flat
Unfortunately
our criss-crossing speeded up thereafter, as despite our early hour of arrival
the best sites along River Reserves were all taken... we certainly hadn’t
expected that at this time of the year. Far busier than the Christmas
Holidays!
Eventually
we were forced to look away from the Murray and found the John S Christian
Reserve along the Mannum-Swan Reach gravel road. This was a most attractive
site set in the valley of the Marne River. Our surrounds amidst the gums
provided pleasant parkland while further down the dry river bed was thickly
choked with reeds and dead trees. Barely a soul passed along the road and it
was incredibly quiet... What at first seemed a small nuisance factor were tiny
black ants and the odd horsefly.
However, we soon realised the ants infested the ground giving no peace
as they rapidly crawled up our legs with occasional nips. Slapping at these
irritants became annoying... especially at evening time when mosquitoes joined
the throng!
George
produced the stir-fry that night as Lea could no longer tolerate the wretched
insects!
The
insects doomed this lovely site for any further nights and we moved on to
Punyelroo Caravan Park, where we stayed for the weekend after hearing Swan
River was besieged by visitors attending a music festival. There were a number of things that had drawn us
to this region of the Murray – legendary tales of the Punyelroo cave for one. The Park
Manager knew nothing about it so that is a place we are yet to find. Sunday we
moved on up to Swan Reach early in the day hoping to strike lucky with Festival
folk vacating the popular Tenbury- Hunter Reserve. Our hearts dropped at the
congestion but as we looked across the narrow reserve we spotted a motor home
pulling out and we quickly slotted into its space. As the day wore on no one moved yet more
caravans, motorhomes and campervans squeezed in.
.JPG)
At
least we had a good river frontage and looked across at some of Swan Reach’s
towering cliffs for which it is renowned for.
We
are posting this unusually short blog the last day of the month - before walking
into Swan Reach to find the VIC where we hopefully gather further details about
a cave system that interconnects Swan Reach and Overland Corner (178 km
upstream) and, the fascinating story of “Tartangan Man” - a skeleton of a 12
year old Aboriginal boy, discovered in 1929 on Tartanga Island. The boy proved to be a relative of the
Tasmanian Aborigines (known as negritos
due to their much smaller build) who, in time, were destined to be wiped out by
the Aborigines of the Lower Murray. The youngster dates back 6 – 7000 years.
