Issy had a restless night. As predicted, she bumped her head on the wooden case around the fluorescent tube above our bed every time she sat up. I think she might have sat up quite a few times; I hope she doesnt have concussion. I wonder if shell remember who I am. Given that I snuck outside to knock on our window last night after telling her that the hotel was haunted, it might be better if she doesnt.
Im very careful to follow the detailed instructions on how to use the shower to avoid setting off the hotels fire sprinklers. I hope that the water I can eventually feel on my head is indeed from the shower head, and that the whole building isnt instead currently getting a drenching because I missed a step.
The Murray looks more like a lake than a river in daylight, and the Renmark waterfront is lined with a good array of houseboats. We cross the river via the State Heritage listed Paringa Bridge. We read that it was built in 1927, and until 1982 also carried trains. Its central span apparently still lifts twice a day to let river boats
The Paringa silo artwork is perhaps slightly underwhelming relative to some of the others weve seen, but as we continue south this is more for by spectacular views of the River, and its cliffs and fringing wetlands.
We head south from Loxton away from the River towards Bordertown. The contrast between irrigated and dry land couldnt be more stark. It looks like someone drew a line on the ground - seemingly endless rows of green irrigated fruit trees on one side and parched brown paddocks on the other.
We very quickly run into yet more glacial speed restrictions on the premise that someones working on the road. However as seems to be usual here in South Australia theres very little evidence of any works actually being undertaken. On the rare occasions that there are its usually only on a few hundred metres. This doesnt however stop them from imposing the speed limits on the roads entire length, even if thats several hundred kilometres. We stop at a set of temporary lights for nearly half an hour, and are then directed to follow an escort vehicle through a very short stretch of actual roadmaking.
up with three possible options to explain the Crow Eaters bizarre approach to working on their roads. The first is that every road in South Australia is currently being worked on. I decide to dismiss this option on the basis that I think the residents would probably have overthrown the government by now if this was the case. The second option is that were really unlucky, and that the only roads that are being worked on are those we want to use, and then only on the days we want to use them. This also seems a bit implausible - surely no ones that unlucky. This leaves only one other remaining credible option – someone knows in advance which roads were going to use, even before we do, and arranges for roadworks to be undertaken on those roads on the days were going to use them. This feels both spooky and discriminatory in equal proportions. I resolve to write to the South Australian Roads Minister to lodge a Im not sure this is going to do much good – Im a Victorian so hes for my vote. I also think I should probably wait
until were safely back in Victoria again before I put pen to paper – if theyre following our progress this diligently, goodness only knows what other horrors they might be capable of inflicting on us.
We stop at Pinnaroo for lunch. Most of the clientele at the caf we go into are road workers munching away on sandwiches. I cant help but wonder why were being forced to motor along at glacial speeds when the people who are supposed to be working on the roads were on are instead in here filling their faces. I tell Issy that Im going to go and ask one of them. I think shes sensing that this mightnt be a particularly sedate conversation, so fortunately she manages to drag me out the door before the situation has a chance to escalate.
