Week 3: Hitting the 500km mark at Echuca!

From Tocumwal to Echuca

Sitting in a launderette in Echuca, with my trusty $1 coins now my new best friends, I finally have a moment to breathe and reflect on the past week.

Cy and I have completed eight consecutive days of rowing and paddling—280km, averaging an impressive 35km per day! It’s incredible to think about what we’ve already accomplished.

Now, Cy and I are taking a well-deserved four-day respite in Echuca. The river itself has become a battleground, teeming with Malibu boats and wakeboarders whose lack of consideration for non-motorised travelers has transformed these waters into something far less tranquil.

Despite the chaos, these moments are just a small chapter of a week brimming with new experiences.

River Challenges

Life on the river presents fresh challenges every week. One early morning, as the wind rushed through my tent in the dark, homesickness crept in. Other days were consumed by thoughts of securing a new campsite, keeping an eye on the weather, or navigating the “narrows”—a particularly tricky section of the river, littered with tree trunks, snags, and fast currents. My seven-meter oar span posed unique challenges, and I often found the process of setting up and packing away both camp and boat to be tedious.

We rise at 5:30 a.m., aiming to be on the water by 7 a.m. Our rowing/paddling sessions last a maximum of five hours daily, ensuring that our camp is set up by 2 p.m. at the latest—allowing us to relax in our chairs with a well-earned cup of tea. While we could push ourselves to cover up to 50km a day, it wouldn’t leave enough time to rest or truly appreciate our stunning surroundings.

Adjusting to the Bush (and noisy Koalas)

Adjusting to the sounds of the bush has been one of my greatest initial challenges. Upon spotting a koala near our campsite, I anticipated serenity—not the peculiar grunting noises (akin to wild pigs) that filled the night air. The rustling dry forest, inhabited by emus and kangaroos speeding past like quick-footed cartoon characters, also kept me alert. Thankfully, I’ve grown accustomed to these sounds and can now sleep peacefully without being startled awake.

Strangers Who Feel Like Friends (and the Duck)

One morning, as we cautiously approached the daunting narrows, we paused at a mudbank to rest at a campsite occupied by a family. What began as a brief stop turned into a lovy encounter. Cy must have looked like Oliver Twist as he was offered a bacon and egg roll! I enjoyed a nice cup of tea and a lovely conversation with Reinhard, Susan, Tom, Gaile, and Samantha. Turns out that Reinhardt was born in Osnabrück - I lived and studied in Osnabrück!

The generosity of strangers has a remarkable ability to rejuvenate weary travelers.

Later, Cy saved a duck tangled in fishing wire. He carefully freed the distressed bird while holding it in his lap, showcasing yet another example of the unexpected and moving moments this journey offers.

Entering the Narrows & Beyond

At the 1778-kilometer marker, we discovered a hidden gem of a campsite, complete with a boat ramp. Kevin and his children, Hazel and Ezra, welcomed us and they brought fruit, muesli bars on our farewell. In the distance, we heard a massive cod frolicking in the water.

The narrows—a very tight section of the river with fast currents—posed some challenges.

However, with Cy’s assistance and my zigzagging skills (including “skying” my oars, typically considered a rowing weakness but exceptionally helpful in this case), I successfully navigated around snags and overhanging trees.

As we exited the narrows, Barmah Lake unfolded before us, we saw emus and pelicans. We couldn’t resist rowing across the lake and getting a closer look at the emus.

Beyond Barmah Lake, the riverbanks were crowded with campers, caravans, and dogs. We ended our day at the 1750km marker, at a sandy beach campsite, where we shared the evening with James, Kaylie, and their one-year-old daughter, Wynter. James proved to be quite the adventurer himself, as we discovered later.

Rolling into Echuca

The final stretch to Echuca felt like the Wild West—wake boarders churned the water into treacherous waves. At one point, reckless teens in speedboats deliberately sprayed us, trying to skim my oars and even attempting to capsize us. A fleeting thought of owning a flare gun crossed my mind as I navigated these deliberately cruel nitwits, or raising my oars to see them propel across the water.

Arriving in Echuca was a tremendous relief. Coming under the bridge felt special, with paddle steamers in view. Thanks to Peter Philipps, we were able to store our boats at the local canoe club! Deb Evans welcomed us as we arrived and helped unpack our gear at the canoe club and guided us into town, where we enjoyed lunch together before Deb drove us to our motel! Thank you Deb & Peter!!!!

The week ended with a delightful surprise—the Easter Bunny visited our motel, courtesy of Tim and Beverley! We explored the Moama markets with Deb and took a leisurely walk and in the afternoon, we had apple pie with Peter and Ruth.

Reflections

This journey has been equally relentless and rewarding. The river continually tests our patience, courage, and endurance, while giving us moments of connection—with nature, with strangers, and with ourselves. Through every muddy bank, grunting koala, and chaotic wake, the river’s unpredictable beauty keeps calling us back—and with 1712km still ahead, there’s much more adventure to come.

Once more, I wanted to thank the Murray expeditioner group for just being there supporting us, for all those strangers who have shown us kindness and generosity and a real interest in our journey, and the Easter bunny! ❤️