Our first hotel (the rest have been motels which I didn’t think existed any more). It was good to stay in one of these majestic icons of the outback and these flat planes seem to be their roots. The motels have no majesty, in fact they’re mostly not pretty at all, but are practical especially with lots of luggage. We are breaking out, taking unnecessary items, a response to our minimalist ways on a camino.
Back onto our narrow two-lane pre-motorway road, straight enough and long enough to overtake a ‘double dog semi’ (with its additional trailer) – fifty percent of the time with their help – (a right hand blinker). I also get help from these drivers with directions; one told me they are safer to drive than without one. But when I see the back sway a little, I decide I’d rather be in front. For some time now these trucks have dominated the roadscape, with a few local utes and even fewer tourists.
As we pass these extensive flat green fields that venture far off into the distance at times, we see very few buildings or station entrances as properties are still very large. We meet the very shallow Murrumbidgee (a tributary of the Murray) mostly in small towns along the way, but still the appeal of the mighty red gums (with a potential lifespan of 500-1000 years) still remains.
Narrandera provided us with our second river walk today and also our first picnic. While no-one else was in this delightful setting, we were joined by three magpies and one kookaburra; high above were flocks of cockatoos, while the sounds of a few unknowns could be heard. We had our normal town street walk, and as in Hay, these towns appear to be thriving, with no obvious businesses shut down.
Our evening walk along the Murrumbidgee in Wagga was yet another very different one. Its lower capacity reveals more of the beach in Wagga and while the beach is attractive (helped by the gums), I didn’t think it would rate number nine on the top twenty beach list.
It still surprises me that each walk is different: some tracks hug the waterways; others are high above; today’s had a middle path; the undergrowth varies as does the wildlife; the waterways meander dramatically with some circling for nearly 360 degrees; and to my great surprise, the gums (mostly red) vary more than any other tree I know, so each river walk has its own distinct personality.
My poem below referred originally to a particular European tree, but in the last few days I have seen similar characteristics in our gum.

A tree can talk to us in many ways
Its trunk is always there for us to hug,
The branches, they reach out to us unfazed
The twigs will feed our fire when there’s a shrug.
The leaves will come and go if that’s their way
Others are always there, they never go,
While flowers do show an optimistic spray
The fruit will nourish us and help us grow.
But there’s a twisted tree unlike the rest
Its branches never seem to have direction,
However it is perfect for a nest
Its folding arms show nothing but affection.
It may not look the way it’s supposed to be
But this is not some ordinary tree.