For the big kids: Mildura

Hi everyone, its Fiona this time. Rod is good at filling you in with the nuts and bolts of what we are up too while I tend to ramble a bit aimlessly. If you feel like a ramble, then read on….

I like Mildura.

We approached from the east, travelling through low scrubby bushes of grey and straw yellow. The soil was sandy and parched. About 10 kilometres out, the landscape began to change. The Sturt highway sways to the left in a gentle curve and as it begins to right itself, a long avenue of Jacaranda trees appear. They were in full bloom. A surprising splash of colour in a landscape with such a limited palette.

Just for a moment, I missed Sydney and thought of how these beautiful trees would be dotting the hills from West Ryde to Thornleigh.

Then we were upon the intense green of orchards. The oranges hung ready for picking, we saw grapevines, almond trees, olive groves and melons and pumpkins all contrast against a rich ochre earth.

Mildura is camped on the southern banks of the Murray River. It is neat and historic; the streets are orderly and well planned. It has all the modern conveniences but is not a modern city. The city’s well preserved civic buildings and churches are handsome, robust structures from the early part of last century. It reminds me of Brisbane in the 1960’s but without the women wearing hats and gloves and without hills of any kind. And before they pulled down all the nice old buildings and built disgusting smoked glass and aluminium things that look like giant cigarette cartons.

We saw 30 or so beautiful grass tennis courts complete with players, young and old. Rod has always lamented the decline of grass as part of Australia’s great tennis heritage and here, literally an oasis in the desert, he finds lawn courts so magnificent that he was almost in tears.

I really like the Murray River.

In the coastal capitals, we just don’t understand the importance the Murray has to a large stretch of inland south east Australia. It is an impressive body of water and yes, it is brown and certainly not “pretty”. The Murray is a work horse, a poet’s muse, a dividing line between states and a resource unlike any other in the county. I recall a similar feeling when I first saw Uluru. You can’t explain what it is about a place, but you know it is special. We will cross the Murray again tomorrow when we head for South Australia and then not see her again for a few weeks until we are about to head back into Victoria down in the south east corner of SA.

As a family, we have survived nearly two weeks of living in close quarters. Andrew is learning his timetables and finally becoming more confident in the water. Rod is still mastering the art of relaxing. He really is so out of his comfort zone. I am still mastering the art of sleeping in the van, but it’s not a big issue, because I don’t have to get up at any particular time, except if we are moving that day. Georgia is driving us all crazy… but then she goes and makes me a cup of tea and we are all friends once more.

Andrew doing his times tables: