Days 73-80, 1,260-1,410km Mildura to Renmark

WE MADE IT TO SOUTH AUSTRALIA!! Yee ha! Crack out the champagne, because Victoria is behind us and we're gonna need everything we can get to make it through the next 200km or so.

This week was a tough one for the boys. I knew it was going be and did everything I could to prepare, but it still challenged us. It was hard to summon up the courage to leave the sanctuary of Cabarita Lodge and keep pushing west. Mildura to Renmark is 150km of mallee scrub, with nothing but a few saltbush sticks for a hungry horse to eat, which meant that we had to carry 5 days of feed. Have I mentioned that horses eat a lot? It still blows my mind. Needless to say the boys were loaded up as much as I could bear to load them up... poor fellas!

The first day was a lovely idyll through rolling farmland and vineyards. The whole area around Mildura reminded me of the UK... if the UK was heavily irrigated farmland surrounded by mallee. That first night we were kindly hosted by Cowra Station, a little oasis of grass and hospitality, but from then on we were on our own in the semi-desert. With nothing to graze on, we did a series of long days, averaging between 30-35km, getting distance done as there was no reason to delay. I decided to follow the Old Mail Road to avoid the highway and have us close to the river for water. That meant we had the whole mallee to ourselves, seeing only a vehicle or so each day, camping each night by the river and setting out across the russet landscape early each morning.

Mr Richard is such a perky little guy. Regardless of the marching rations he still always has a sassy attitude, ears to the front and tail at a jaunty angle. Poor old Smicko always looks half stoned on a good day, and by day 4 he was definitely lagging behind and lacking in enthusiasm.

Five days out from Mildura, we came to the first orchards and the boys got to stuff their faces with fresh grass. Seeing lucerne growing by the roadside is always a welcome sign that we are back in the lands of the living. I was a bit disappointed that there wasn't a big "Welcome to SA" sign to pose under, but ah well.

I often forget that my horses are heros, like when Richard always INSISTS on walking in the middle of the road, forcing me to correct him about 500 times per day. But yesterday, Day 79, I was reminded that they are heros and champions and the bravest of beasts. Yesterday we had to cross the Bridge of Doom. I had been warned by Kim and Vicki at Cabarita Lodge and had been building it up in my head all week, but believe me, it was worse than my imaginings. A highway, complete with heavy trucks, funnelled across a two lane rickety vertical lift bridge (the kind that opens for boats), which meant that every time traffic passed the other way, the bridge both rattled and discernably moved. No other bridge within reasonable distance, so we had no choice but to step out into the traffic and get across. Micky had a moment of frozen panic when the first truck went past and the bridge gave out a death rattle, but he pushed through it and we got to the other side. Very thankful to the car behind us who gave us a nice wide space - nothing freaks horses out more than something creeping along in their blind spot. But did I think it was over, just because we had crossed the river? Oh no. Next came a series of causeways, complete with roadworks and construction going on under the bridges. Luckily we could follow the old railway line/pedestrian walkway. And then into Renmark. We had to get across to the pony club, and I had to choose between following the highway (narrow with no shoulder and barriers) and going through the centre of town. I chose town. And gosh darn my horses are heros. Mr Richard was like a gorgeous horse-shaped balloon I towed along, and Mick-Mac smooched through town as though he did it every day, not batting an eyelid at pedestrians, cars overtaking far too close, shops, roundabouts and bowls clubs. I guess after the Bridge of Doom, everything else was a cakewalk.

I have to say that I am disappointed in Renmark. For a town that has a KFC, a McDonald's and a Dominos, you'd think it would have a fodder store, right? Wrong. The closest stock feed was 30km down the road, but I'd be damned if I was going to let my boys go hungry after the week they'd had and the day they had just conquered. So I spent my life savings on a taxi and stocked up on feed for the next week.

Because there is nothing out here. I guess it's semi-desert, and combined with the drought, there is hardly a blade of green grass in sight. The next 200km+ are going to be a challenge, as the boys will have to carry pretty much all their feed.... And did I mention horses eat a LOT?

But the GGs will enjoy a day or so off, fattening up a bit and getting ready to head on out towards Morgan and then onwards to Burra. Wish us luck!