As we packed up to leave our newly discovered gem of a park in Hay, we knew that today's stretch of highway was to be one we have both traversed many times before, individually and together. Our destination on this occasion was Mildura, where we planned a few days in the sun before coming back to what we expected would be the usual chilly Adelaide spring.
Nothing seemed to have changed along the stretch between Hay and Balranald. Cotton lint was scattered along the edge of the road, and the flat cotton and crop fields stretched endlessly away to the horizon in the rapidly increasing heat of the morning.
One thing did strike us as different however.....the condition of the road surface. This had deteriorated markedly from the time of our last crossing some years ago. It's rare that I welcome the need to negotiate roadworks, but here I was more than happy to do so. It appears that a major effort is being made to restore this critical interstate road link to good order.
Many folk we know hate the Hay Plains. "Boring, boring, boring", is the usual comment. We must be an odd couple. We actually enjoy the section between Hay and Balranald, where the apparent emptiness is not what it seems and the landscape is so different from most of the rest of the country with the exception of the Nullarbor. As we approached Balranald the option to turn south and make our way home through the Mallee country presented itself, but we have 'been there, done that'.
With Balranald in our mirrors we were soon passing what we have now decided will always be our resting point in this part of the country. We had stayed in the beautiful Robinvale Caravan Park on two former occasions, and nearly did so again this time, but opted for a new experience. For reasons I'll explain shortly, Robinvale (and possibly Euston) will resume its position of prominence in our choice of camp along this part of the mighty Murray.
When planning this leg of our adventure, we had both opted for a few days in Sunraysia, with one of the criteria being that we were on the river. There are a plethora of caravan parks in Mildura and the nearby area, fifteen or so in fact, but only a few are actually right on the river. One can be found in the little township of Gol Gol, not too far from Mildura. This had been one of our options, and we had often wondered what it was like as we drove past previously.
As it was we had chosen another park, right in Mildura itself. When we did go back to Gol Gol to check out the park there, we were happy that we had made a good decision.
As I am sure you know, the River Murray at Mildura separates the States of Victoria and New South Wales. Buronga is on the NSW side,
and just before crossing the George Chaffey bridge
to be welcomed into Victoria and Mildura itself,
we turned off onto the narrow road through the dry bush
which took us to our destination, the Buronga Riverside Caravan park.
We were very pleased we had booked ahead. Those who do not have two chances of a direct river view in this very popular park, of which 'buckleys' is one....you can guess the other!
Now I say 'river views' as opposed to river front. There is a difference, as this shot taken from the Mildura side of the river shows. This was not our patch, and, given the crowded sites here, we were glad of it.
We were sited much further along the river bank. Our allotted patch was a tad sandy but our trusty C-Gear flooring soon took care of most of that.
What we did have was plenty of room, almost constant shade, a good level slab and an adjacent area of lawn which was all ours.
And, although we too were a little back from the river edge, as this photo shows (that's us on the left side of the shot), it was but a very short hop the the water.
We did enjoy clear views across to the Mildura bank,
where a significant linear redevelopment project (you can see all the vans along the bank on the Buronga side)
has brought with it an unanticipated consequence.....bloody hoons.
Fortunately we had been warned, although that did nothing to enable us to reduce the problem and its most unwelcome outcome. Well into the night, the 'local lads', with little else to gainfully occupy themselves, parade up and back along the newly built roadway on the Mildura bank in their customised motor cars, all of which have at least one thing in common....noisy exhausts. And what's the point of a loud exhaust system if it is not demonstrated to all and sundry, especially when doing a burn-out off the back of a speed hump.
Friday night was the worst, although the racket did continue over the entire weekend. And you all know how sound travels over water! My enquiries with the park staff revealed that entreaties to the local boys in blue have gone unheeded. It is apparently not even considered a real problem.
Well, believe me it is. Add loud 'duff duff' music from the parade of 'hoonmobiles' (in addition to that which occasionally would blast out of moored houseboats on the opposite bank) to the bark of hotted up motors and the shriek of rubber being ripped from tyres and left as a black deposit on the roadway, and a peaceful evening by the river is far from assured!
The park itself, its amenities, the effort to which the owners have gone to ensure that there is as much lawn as possible,
the gardens, the quirky statues
a good pool and surrounds,
and all the other little things which go to make for a really good caravan park (such as hand washing facilities at the dump point), were all overshadowed by the continual noise from the Mildura town side.
I have to confess that by the time we had hitched and backed up on our site on the evening prior to our departure, I did manage to cook our modest evening meal in relative peace and quiet (or had I by now, just become inured to it all?)
By now I am sure you will understand my earlier comments about returning to Robinvale as our port of call in the future when in this neck of the woods. There the park is equally well maintained and attractive, absolute river bank sites are available to most who want them (Liz prefers the row back) and riparian peace and quiet is assured.
Having said that, fairness demands that I note that the park here at Buronga was streets ahead of all the others we saw in the Mildura area.
We wandered about the Mildura CBD on a couple of occasions and took the opportunity to drive out to nearby Wentworth for a quick look around. Here we saw the famous Wentworth Services Club, the weekend Mecca for pokie fans from South Australia before those wretched things were introduced in our State.
Old Wentworth itself had real appeal, apart from the roads which would challenge those in Orange, but we really came over here to check out the local caravan park for a future stay. Seeing we were so close, we did take a quick peek at the junction of those two mighty Australian rivers, the Darling and the Murray, where the sign proclaiming the location was considerably more colourful
than the junction itself (or what little I could capture of it).
The Wentworth Caravan Park itself was somewhat rustic, but it is right on the river and some of the sites showed promise, certainly adequate for a short future stay whilst we 'do Wentworth' properly.
So, after a breather of a few days and a scout around Mildura and its surrounds, it was time for the penultimate leg of the trip home. Once beyond the vineyards of the outskirts of Mildura, the Sturt Highway took us through the flat cropping and grazing country between those two large river town, Mildura and Renmark
At there it was at last.....we were back in our home State.
The fruit fly roadblock at Yamba is not far past the border. By now we are old hands as far as the quarantine lurk goes, and the inspection of our van and vehicle went smoothly and quickly.
We were back in very familiar country. Before our caravanning days we had spent many years house-boating on the River Murray. This stretch upstream of Paringa was not our favourite reach, but it did bring back many memories.
Likewise, the narrow traffic lane across the old Paringa Bridge was something we had traversed on many occasions, although I have to say it is significantly more challenging when towing a large van. It's not often I applaud a 30 kph speed limit!
Waikerie, our destination for today was now well within striking distance. The highway took us past the Renmark CBD and on to the junction where we turned right to travel though Monash and Barmera
before we pulled up at the entrance to the Waikerie Caravan Park.
The sites here are unusual in that they are mainly drive-thru, are angled to make things easier, have a firm, gravel surface and are all fitted with matting to act as a floor under the awning or annex. We were amazed to find that our allocated site was the same one on which we had camped many years go in our first van....a real touch of nostalgia!
One town to go. Like most South Australians, Port Wakefield, at the head of Gulf St Vincent, is a town through which we had driven innumerable times. This time we decided to spend the night here.
Our route from Waikerie to Wakefield took us cross-country on a few roads we have rarely travelled. We lined up bright and early at the Waikerie punt,
crossed the wide expanse of the River Murray, grey and misty in the early morning light
and hauled up the steep bank on the other side.
We were now on the back road to Morgan, the 'town on the bend' of the river. Traffic was almost non-existent at this time of the day and the road surface was surprisingly good. All was well with the MobileMarshies.....for now.
Beyond Morgan we travelled south-west through the farming country of the mid-north towards Eudunda, a town with which I have a special connection. As you can see, we were now on the Thiele Highway,
and the highway sign at the entrance to Eudunda proclaims this town as the 'Birthplace of Colin Thiele....Author and Educator'. So what, I hear you ask....what's the connection? It's simple. My father and Colin were teaching together at Port Lincoln High at the time of my birth. Our families were the closest of friends. Colin's wife Rhonda is my godmother, and until Mum's death last year, she was her best friend.
I probably don't really have to mention that Colin, apart from becoming the principal of the Wattle Park Teachers' College, is well known throughout the world as the author of many fine children's books, including that marvellous yarn about life on the Coorong, 'Storm Boy', later to become a feature film.
Our families spent many, many Xmas days and other major occasions together, both in Lincoln and beyond when we all moved to Adelaide. I have had the extraordinary pleasure of sitting back time after time as Colin would down his knife and fork, lean back and begin to yarn, spinning tales of his boyhood at Eudunda, his life in Lincoln, and many other topics. It was like listening to books such as 'Sun On The Stubble', 'Dew On My Boots' or 'Blue Fin' being presented as oral history. Spellbinding stuff.....but enough of my reminiscences of an incredibly privileged aspect of my youth.
We climbed out of Eudunda and continued on through the delightfully green, undulating country around Marrabel and Sadleworth.
The hills of the southern end of the Clare valley were soon on the horizon,
and at the lovely old Clare Valley town of Auburn we set our head to the west,
and climbed up to the rim of the valley where the plains and farming lands of the Balaklava district lay before us.
As we drove out through the western end of this prosperous farming town (now sadly the scene of such frightful bush fire devastation), our destination was nigh.
We had never before travelled this road between Balaklava and Port Wakefield and were more than pleased to find that it is being upgraded.
We were, by now, far less pleased with the weather. A northerly wind, which had been stirring into life as we made our way out of the Riverland, was venting its full fury across the northern Adelaide plains. By the time we reached Port Wakefield, we were engulfed by a hot, howling gale, a screaming banshee which was hurling dust and debris at all who ventured outdoors with a real malevolence.
The caravan park at Wakefield is right on the edge of the eastern shore of the Gulf, totally exposed to the northerly, which was now lashing us unmercifully as it shrieked across the open flats at the head of the Gulf. We scuttled onto our site, which fortunately was a drive-thru, and did nothing more than connect our power and water, before hunkering down for the rest of the day, reflecting on the fact that when we had left Adelaide all those moths ago to head across the Nullarbor, we did so in exactly the same weather. Welcome Home!
Fortunately the winds moderated in the late afternoon and we spent an unexpectedly pleasant evening wandering between the two highly competitive town pubs, where those staying in the caravan park can cash in on drinks vouchers provided to all new arrivals. We were more than happy to have our custom solicited in this way and felt obliged to respond!
We made full use of this unexpected gift, enjoyed a very good pub meal in the company of a group of Brits who were 'tenting' their way across the country, and wandered back to camp thinking that life on the road was not that bad after all. But believe me, throughout the day it had been bloody awful. Given the wind, and the fact that we plan to spend a few days here in the future (it's a fascinating little town with quite a history), the camera remained firmly pouched during our Port Wakefield sojourn.
With the morning came the final 100 kms. We had been invited to spend our first night back in Adelaide at the northern suburbs home of an old work colleague of mine. Mark, his charming wife Sue and their totally engaging imp of a son Mitchell, welcomed us royally. With the rig parked in their front semi-circular driveway, it was time for pre-dinner nibbles and drinks
under the back verandah and a very long, and animated 'catch-up' on all the local gossip and news. Dinner was an equally lively affair and it was with considerable embarrassment I had to admit to the onset of serious fatigue well before I would have wished to and 'retired hurt'.
As we lined the van up again in the street the following morning, refreshed and raring to go, we were still adjusting to the fact we were back in Adelaide after an absence of two and a half years.
It was an odd feeling. What could we expect? How much had changed? Irrespective of anything which lay before us, we could not have wished for a better home-coming than our night at Globe Derby Park....many thanks Sue and Mark!
