A fortnight, a houseboat, two families (all running businesses) and plenty of time to think as we sit on the mighty Murray departing from Mildura. From the time we leave home until the time we return three weeks later, life goes on. Much transpires whilst we “holiday” our time away on this iconic river, stressing to fit in the relaxation we so crave.
The mystique of a houseboat on the river conjures lazy days sipping wine in the spa, moored against the river bank watching the world go by.
And still the rain tumbles down in torrents. Our convoy managers of brisk 60 kph at best in these conditions, staying well apart, not that the spray is any different to the rain.
I walk towards the dam past the accumulation of rusting machinery inherent to most farms and this one is no different.
Never one to be tied down for any great length of time Uncle Brolga suggests the boys meet this afternoon at a local pub.
Finally the fishing gear is unpacked and baited hooks cast. Success is almost immediate.
We are woken to the sounds of large engines on the water. A boat and water skiers are wandering up and down the river.
The results of the over consumption of red wine might be another matter.
Should have thought more about baiting the trap with bread – marvellous what clarity several glasses of red wine will do to fortify a plan.
Today was not going to be a pleasant glide on the glassy Murray like the days before. Today was going to be a day inside watching as Mother Nature unleashed.
But as much as I missed those days, I knew that I was making new memories that were just as special. I was building my own traditions and creating my own moments to cherish
