A decision was made by Lily and Tim that resulted in them going on holiday together

Day 7. 16/9/11: Ramco Point to Burra Gorge

A fish embedded in the road at Ramco Point!

Next morning, again beautiful, the arch of Lily's foot was sore from treading on a stone, so she opted for some study time, while Tim went for a run. Did three rounds of our 10min-walking-30min-running and covered 17.5kms before breakfast, and managed to snag an orange out of one of the orchards (which he ate on the run) and an avocado that must have fallen off the back of a truck! After breakfast we packed up - go the teamwork! - then Tim went off for one last paddle before we leave the Murray, and Lily put the headphones back on for some more study.

We had to catch a ferry
to cross the Murray

After a good hour of solid paddling and study: Tim had decided that paddling the length of the Murray might actually be pretty boring - but that paddling is overall still pretty ace. And Lily had learned about the prejudice our education system has towards people who tell stories in an interesting, logical and natural fashion. (This was specifically about the difference between verbal and nominal writing styles. Verbal = "Tim and Lily decided to go on holiday together." Nominal = "A decision was made by Lily and Tim which resulted in them going on holiday together." And the survey says: nominal = more words, less information, the illusion of accuracy and better marks at school. Result: kids, don't go to school.)

Anyway, once we'd exchanged lessons and Lily had packed up her study area - i.e. the hammock and cushions - and we'd put the boat on the roof, we were off again!

Cafe in Morgan.
Nice tea towel exhibition.

Northwest almost to Burra then down into Burra Gorge. Burra Gorge is actually a little valley with a very small creek running through it and a gorge section that's probably only a few hundred metres long, but the trees there are the most amazing I have seen anywhere. Ancient gum trees with bases the size of cars. Gnarled old lumps which look like massively oversized bonsai trees: their trunks are so fat and stumpy, and they have lost so many limbs over the years, that they seem unnatural, or artificially super-natural: gum trees on steroids, but old. So old that when I saw the hollows in them I couldn't help thinking that they'd been homes for everything from hundreds of generations of possums and birds, to Aborigines, to the kids who left a pair of underpants inside one!

We camped pretty much under one (to the consternation of the fat old buggers who drove their 4WD past to mention that they hoped we knew that gum trees drop their branches "regularly". It makes me grumpy having condescending fat farts who can't even get themselves out from behind their steering wheels be right - but only half-right - and then drive off like they're pitying us folk who they think are going to die one day because we didn't listen to them. It pisses me off principally because I would like to be a better listener, but just have to find a better way to meet people!)

Tim inside the underpants tree

Then we went for a walk along the gorge and saw a roo bound up the side of the gorge/valley. If you want a good leg workout, try being a kangaroo for about 30 seconds: that looked like hard work! More amazing trees, then back to camp.

For dinner, Lily conjured up a fabulous beetroot risotto. (We'd been carting the beetroot tin around for ages, so it was a special occasion to say goodbye to it.) As night fell, the mozzies intensified and we tucked ourselves in pretty early, and listened for rain. Earlier in the afternoon, we'd both looked up at the clouds and smelt some coolness, maybe some moisture in the air. We thought we were such outdoorsie folk, with our senses sharpened by living next to nature, running, riding and eating muesli. It is true that after having lived at The Church in Franklinford for a month, I could smell it if a single car went past. And it is true that there were high, dark clouds moving over the hiltops. And so we set up the tarp-extension for the first time. It was great: we were ready for rain.

What we got was wind. Heaps of it. And what we'd done was put 20 square metres of sail on the side of the van. For most of the night it rocked and swayed and jerked and was buffetted around every time this big sail snapped full. Eventually, in the middle of the night, we got up and pulled it all down in a swift, underpants-free operation. It was good going up and easy coming down, so that was something of a win.