Day 546 | Heron Bend Reserve: finally camping out by the river

58 km | zzOz total: 17,536 km

Seems there’s no bigger conversation killer than saying, casually, I’ve biked from Perth.

Most people from the east have never been out west, whether by plane or driving, it’s simply a foreign country, as remote, illusory, as Samarkand.

No further questions.

I’ve set up camp right on the edge of the Murray, finally, actually one of my more remarkable riverside accommodations, comparable to the Jardine River, a real favourite maybe it was the prospect of seeing a floating croc, or the Gilbert River, this time without the night time fireworks.

15 feet at 45º to the water’s edge, River Red Gums across the Murray with the usual assortment of squawking Corellas, a profusion of snow white fruit among the foliage, an ancient boat ramp a few hundred metres upstream which beckons as the spot for a refreshing swim in the heat striated water, it’s 34ºC today, can cope with that, a strong easterly.

Not long after bathing I notice a solitary kayak which beaches a little further upstream, and later, interested in the water option, I go to introduce myself. It’s the grinning Peter, three quarters of the way on his Echuca to the Sea paddle, also enthusiastic for some sympathetic conversation of a fellow traveller.

We head up to the pub, that’s the total of civilisation at this isolated spot, for my first beer since, well when, maybe Birdsville 10 weeks ago. The Overland Corner pub has been operational since 1860 although possibly not continuously when I note the 1956 flood level marker up near the eaves. We’re told of evidence of an even mightier flood, a stranded gum tree trunk that floated down about 1780 and is way above where you might expect, but instead of inspecting thet we are looking into our glasses of Summer Beer from a local micro brewery.

The current owners have been in residence for 78 days with their startling dog, an untrained Pharaonic hound, that specialises in killing feral cats and bringing live birds into the pub, just needs to be trained to bring the customers in.

It’s an obscure part of the country for a pub but Phil, explains it was the end of the summertime navigable river prior to the weirs being built, passengers decamped here and made their way east on the Old Coach Road.

Pete let’s me have a look at his 500+ images of his 23 day to date paddle, he came 78 km with that huge tailwind today although it’s deceptive with the wiggly woggly snake of a river. A totally different perspective, old wrecks, the huge trees and camping night after night on the sandbars, I could cope with that, just as long as I didn’t have to sit in the massively uncomfortable kayaking position, he did over 8 hours today.

One beer is all it takes for my eyelids to start to droop, we wander back to the water’s edge, for once the air is calm, reflections of the trees with a Lake Mathieson clarity, you could turn a captured image upside down with no loss of clarity, another glorious sunset, clouds reflected, the screech of parrots, I’m in Heaven.