River Rendezvous

Here I was in the dark, alone, 6.30 am on the brink of a River Murray Billabong, 
listening to the world around me wake.

Sound romantic? Perhaps not. But being a country boy, the sounds of wild geese, water hens, ducks, and Kookaburras uttering their first call for the day, was music to my ears.

The sky, gradually becoming lighter by the minute, revealing tinges of pink clouds silhouetted by a pale blue sky, another bonus to being awake at this hour while other members were tucked away in their beds, eyes wedged closed in an attempt at not waking.

Or others dashing, grumbling, across the lawns to a relief from the cold morning chill.

Hoping the sack would still be warm on their return.

This was Sunday morning. The final day of our River Rendezvous. A great outing, that originally, in it's conceptional stages, was to have been planned by the committee.

The two Peters set to the task, and after much planning, got the show on the road.

Initially it seemed not too many would be joining us on this run, but when the dust settled, we had fourteen happy little campers in the bunkhouse, ten in cabins, and four in the motel.

Our (Pat, Lawrie and I.) trip started close on 2.30 p.m. when Lawrie swung his little red Ser. I Roadster in to View Street. I was ready and raring to go. Having packed my Minor in readiness the night before.

The weatherman was telling of coming rains, even chance of hail. At this stage, all was fine.

Up the freeway, through the tunnels, what a slog! Turn off at Verdun, still hills driving, but undulations giving us a chance to build up revs and run up to climb the next hill before us.

Looking in the rear view mirror as we climbed the hill on the outskirts of Mount Torrens, the sky was black and threatening. Would those clouds catch up to us?

Fortunately, no.

After one and a half hours driving, we arrived safely at our destination to find most of the gang already settled in, an some going for their first stroll of the town.

Unpacking can wait. I'm for a walk too.

For those who haven't visited Mannum before, the main shopping and accommodation area are nestled at the foot of limestone cliffs, lawns running down to the redgum lined banks of The River Murray, make it a worthwhile place to visit.

A short walk, and a couple of vanilla slices later, found we strollers returning to our accommodation for the weekend.

The name suggests somewhat spartan accommodation, but it boasts a really functional kitchen, all cutlery, crockery, and cooking utensils.

Dormitory sleeping quarters, eight rooms each sleeping four people. Floors carpeted, as was the dining area.

The dining room was our social area, the others of our group using alternative accommodation, joining us there for meals and laughter.

Friday evening saw us sharing our food, curries, rice, pasty slices, quiche, party pies and pasties, deserts, what a nosh up!
 

Saturday most explored the street. Craft shops, antiques, and bakery the main target of attention.

Three of us, two Trippies, and the writer, soon tired of this activity, climbed into the silver Ser. II Morris Tourer and headed out to explore The Mannum Falls Reserve.

The weather cold and threatening to rain. We intrepid little Vegemites pushed on up a Granite strewn gorge to the foot of the falls. Nothing spectacular as falls go, but the ruggedness of the gorge spectacular.

Saturday's lunch saw us cleaning up the leftovers from the night before, and then we were off to visit an out of town private museum. "Olde Days, and Olde Ways."

Owned by Wally and Arlene Budarick, was started in 1955 with a few old engines, and has some say, developed into one of the finest displays of old treasures and machines one will ever see.

The men folk gathered around the oil fueled stationary engines, ( so many now, filling a really large shed) while the ladies were led to another large shed containing just about everything we, or our parents may have used or seen, in earlier years.

From there we set off once again to visit the water fall park., but now with the other members in tow,

Once there alas, the weatherman unleashed a sudden shower of rain driven by cold winds that sent the explorers scuttling for the cover of their cars, and returning to town.

Our evening meal at The Mannum Club was once again a great social gathering. Three tables of noisy Morris folk. much laughter and frivolity was the warm welcome newer members, Neville and Raylin Crick, the Greatorex family (Mannum locals), and once again all the way from Moonta, Peter and Leanne Wallis, all experienced.

A warm welcome also to Tony's partner.

The dinner wines and free port, (some folk scoring seconds,) seemed to work wonders on the vocal talents of some.

Gilbert and Sullivan would be somewhat shocked to hear their arrangements belting out in the manner to which we more subdued folks were inflicted, as we walked the street home that night.

From what I heard that night, there seemed to be a contest the day before, to see who could take the longest time to reach Mannum.

Tony in his Wolsley, tackled some very minor disappearing roads, and the Trippies too spending the major part of the day just getting there.

Was such a wonderful chance to lower the top of Brian and Di's Ser.II, and feel the invigorating rush of chilled air through one's hair too. Well! Brian enjoyed it Di.
 

Sunday, most woke reasonably early, packing luggage, eating, and cleaning the Bunkhouse in readiness for our 9.30 departure.

Somewhere near that time our little Nuffield convoy boarded the Mannum Punt. (or Ferry to some,) Tailem Bend being our day's destination.

Have you ever wondered how Tailem Bend got it’s name?

There are a few suggestions, here are a couple.

"Tailem Bend is one of those Australian towns where no one really knows the origins of its name. Some people argue that it is a corruption of the Ngarrindjeri word 'thelim' meaning 'bend' (as the town is located near a very major bend in the river). Others insist the origins go back to Donald Gollan, one of the early European settlers, who called his property 'Taleam'. Still others say it has something to do with cutting tails off sheep and others argue that it was Aboriginal advice on how to get cattle to swim across the Murray 'bendem tail, boss' which sounds truly dubious. "
 
 

The trip to Old Tailem town nearly ran smoothly, one hiccough, Brian and Di's car, no matter how heavily Brian stomped on the loud pedal, his little car went slower, and slower. After some discussion, and feeling of wheels, it was decided that for some unknown reason, the brakes were locking on.

Crack the bleeder a little, and we were all on our way again.

Old Tailem Town really is worth a visit, and as the brochure handed out says.

"Walk back down memory lane in the most realistic surroundings possible and experience the past."

This is one man's venture to save some of the past, and has done so by buying old buildings from all over the state, re building and furnishing them just as they were in times gone by. Now he has twelve streets of these refugees from the past.

Shops dedicated to The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, and more.

After a hearty three-course meal, soup, bangers and mash, and apple pie most thought it a good time to wind up a great weekend, and headed for home.

Many thanks to the combination of P. squared. (Burgess and Wood) for an excellent outing.

One that was spoken of by some as "Being the epitome run of our calendar this year."

Bad luck Woodie you were in "Woop Woop" (wherever that is) with person known to us all, and missed the fun.

Barry Booth