It is still a broad, slow river, courtesy of man’s engineering ingenuity — an ingenuity that masks the shortage of our most precious resource.
But the age factor comes in the form of an ever-increasing number of towering red-yellow limestone cliffs.
There was a time, millions of years ago when this part of Australia was a great sea.
The sea retreated and the Murray was born.
Over millions of years it has carved its way through the landscape, creating these imposing remnants of yesteryear.
The river has carved a massive cliff on the Victorian side at Waikerie and just a couple of kilometres downstream there is a 400m-long answer on the NSW side.
Even on overcast days, the cliffs have an aura; hues that have to be seen to be believed.
But when the rays of the dying sun hit them, they are a sight to behold.
The cliff at Waikerie taunted us as the setting sun struggled to break through a bank of cloud.
Then, in seconds, it emerged from behind the cloud and the cliff came to life, glowing a brilliant orange, like a giant ember, a wall of fire.
As the sun worked its magic on the cliff, it also highlighted the river red gums clinging
tenaciously to life from the base of the cliff.
This time of amazing colour and mood highlighted a grand old warrior of a red gum.
Most of this old river giant had died long ago and toppled into the river.
Yet, as is so usual of these icons of the Murray, when life is seemingly about to end, a new tree emerges and thrives.
Half dead but still alive, this ageless warrior was remarkable for its roots system.
Somehow the roots had become one to form a lava-like wall that disappeared into the Murray.
And just upstream, several vibrant young gums stand ready to continue the tradition when the old warrior finally succumbs to age and the elements and becomes part of the river.
Then the sun was gone and the fire died as quickly as it flared.
But Mother Nature was not finished.
Her final act for the day was to provide an extraordinary sunset that set the river gently aglow.
This surely had to be Mother Nature, the river and its custodians at their incredible best.
The cliffs continue and some kilometres below Waikerie, the Broken Cliffs, so named for the massive chunks of limestone that have tumbled from the cliff face and now lie beside or in the river.
Evidence of times when this land was a sea is visible in the form of fossilized shells in the cliff face and the parts that have broken free.
Morgan, once the busiest port on the river, is another example of how the river sustains life and provides an aquatic playground.
Massive pumps just above the township suck water from the river into a filtration system and then huge pipes which carry life-giving water across inland South Australia to Whyallah and other communities.
Morgan, with its grassy river bank park, is an inland aquatic playground for skiers, wakeboarders, fishermen and houseboats.
The cliffs that become even more frequent, higher and more spectacular below Morgan are great vantage points to observe our great river.
From high above, the river’s plight is plain to see.
‘Small fry are hit the hardest’
AFTER 57 years on his beloved fruit and vegetable plot at Renmark, Bill Kouniakis has had enough.
But only because of the cost of the water he needs to sustain his few remaining fruit, citrus and olive trees.
Mr Kouniakis said there was enough water in the Murray River but he did not have the money to pay for it.
“I still have a couple of acres; a small orchard, but I have sold most of it off,” he said.
“I started here 57 years ago with 40 acres and now I have two acres.
“I have stopped growing vegetables.
“I could plant tomatoes, onions, cucumbers and other vegetables but there is not enough water.
“At the moment I am watering just enough to keep my trees alive.
“If it’s no better next year I will pull out.
“Everyone has the same problem — there is not enough water and it is too expensive.
“The big fish eats the small fish; small people don’t matter, that’s life and you can’t change it.”
He said he had a 4000-megalitre entitlement but could get only 20?per cent.
“I never thought water would be this short.
“The shortage has occurred because big companies and big growers with money were given preference over small, struggling growers.
Mr Kouniakis said the dead olive grove next to his plot was symptomatic of what was happening in the fruit and vegetable industry along the river.
“They have not had water for two years,” he said.
Mr Kouniakis sells his produce and other supplies he buys in from a fruit and vegetable stall on the Sturt Highway on the outskirts of Renmark.
“If there is no good water next year, I won’t be here,” he said.
Lake all at sea, including salt
I GAVE Lake Bonney the taste test.
It was like drinking a glass of water with a teaspoon, or two or three, of salt stirred in.
Lake Bonney these days is not quite what it used to be.
The lake and its guardian township, Barmera, lie between Renmark and Wakerie.
It is yet another victim of one of the most tenacious droughts in history.
The problems started a year ago when water authorities blocked off Chambers Creek, which feeds water from the Murray River into the lake.
It seems the decision to block off the creek had a dual purpose — to allow more water to flow down the ailing Murray and to stop salty water from the lake flowing into the river when the river level dropped.
When I tasted the water on December 5 last year, it was
12 months since water had flowed into the lake.
Just a week before, authorities had started pumping water into the lake, a process that was expected to continue well into this month.
According to locals this sparkling body of water usually tastes pretty good; sometimes a hint of salt, but not too bad.
Apparently, ground water seeping in is laden with salt.
Lake Bonney, because it has steadily fallen since inflows were stopped, has all the hallmarks of an inland sea – salty water and wind-driven waves lapping the pure white sandy beach that rings the entire lake.
Despite the tenacity of this drought, Lake Bonney locals are confident their lake won’t suffer the same fate as Lake Boga near Swan Hill.
In 1915 drought reduced the lake to little more than a mere puddle and farmers sowed cereal crops in the dry lake bed.
But then the rains came and in 1916 floods inundated the crops and filled the lake.
Ron at home with birdlife
RON Simpfendorfer talks to the pelicans every day.
Hundreds of them.
“I tell them to eat the carp,” he said.
The sight of hundreds of these giant, graceful fish-eaters was yet another amazing moment in our journey along the Murray River.
Mr Simpfendorfer is a lock man at the Blanchetown lock — built in 1922 and the first of 13 on the Murray River.
His office sits above the lock and weir, and the hundreds of pelicans and equal number of shags, that mass immediately below the wall.
“This is the best job I have ever had,” he said.
“I am a country boy at heart, I was born at Yackandandah, and I don’t like the city.”
Mr Simpfendorfer, who took up the Blanchetown lock man job 14 years
ago, said he never grew tired of watching the pelicans.
There would be only three or four during winter, but come summer hundreds of birds gathered below the lock.
“I have the greatest show on earth right in front of me,” he said.
“They work together in lines or in circles and then, as if one of them gives the order, they all dive together.
“It is fascinating to watch.
“Every morning I tell them to eat the carp.”
Mr Simpfendorfer said there was little traffic through the lock, mainly because of the low river level.
The lock closed on January 26 for three months for major maintenance work.
On December 6, the water level below the lock was 0.4 of a metre below sea level.
“If we did not have the barrages at Goolwa we would have sharks here, 274 kilometres from the mouth.”