On the River Murray

We recently spent an overnight stay at Murrawong on the River Murray, not far from Murray Bridge. We stayed with Elvene and Neil who have a quite luxurious "shack", known as Gracelands. Elvene was the charge nurse in the ward where I first trained in psychiatry and although we don't see each other very often, we always have a great time when we do get together. She had invited Pam and Wally to the shack as well - they were social workers in the same ward and I hadn't seen them for over 20 years! There was a lot of talking to be done. Eion was pretty calm and easy going about it all but I guess it must be a bit annoying to have to listen to me "rabbiting on" about  old times and events that happened years ago. We stayed up very late, drinking too much and listening to rock and roll - we all looked and felt the worse for wear the next morning. I think it's time we realised we really are getting too old for this sort of partying.

Dad's shack was at North Neeta, near Ponde, closer to Mannum than Murrawong but on the same side of the river. It actually had three incarnations over about a 60 year history. The first shack we visited in the early 1950's belonged to the Dickers and was absolutely basic - corrugated iron, no running water or power and we slept on camp stretchers. Some time later Dad bought the one next door which was a bit more civilised but it burnt down in an accident involving the kerosene stove. Then Dad built the one shown in the photo above - it was really comfortable, although it could be a bit unpleasant in the height of summer. It had pretty good beds, a functional kitchen, a good gas supply, a wonderful wood stove and a little bathroom with a wood chip heater. Best of all was the open fireplace outside, where we would sit of a night watching the moon and stars, and talking or sitting in silence, as the mood took us. A magnificent gum graced the banks of the river which was truly very close, along with lovely willows. Over the years, "luxuries" like a lawned area leading down to a sturdy landing were added. As there were only three shacks in the group, it was often a quiet and secluded place for a holiday. Later Dad built another shack on top of the cliff which he sold to friend of my brother's. A bikie group had property up the gully, but they didn't really cause us any trouble, despite their dreadful reputation.

When Dad died, one of my sisters claimed the shack as her inheritance because she belived she had a special relationship with Dad and she said that he had promised that she would be the main benefactor of the shack. I didn't really mind because she had always put great store in being his "baby" and I didn't see any point in arguing with her about this. After all,  we were still able to go there for weekends etc.(Actually it was a terrific place for us to holiday as we could take our dog with us.) But later when the government wanted to clean up the river and upgrade the shack sites, she couldn't afford the changes which were required ( septic system and electricity) and she sold the shack. This caused some friction between her and a couple of our siblings, which is rather sad, but c'est la vie. To be honest, our use of the place did become less frequent after Dad died, and without his regular visits, its maintenance became more difficult.