There is nothing better than waking in the morning totally refreshed and eager to get back on the horse. Or in my case, the bike.

By 7.30 I was packed, fed and peddling out the front gates of the Waikerie Caravan Park, heading for the riverfront to see if there were any paddle steamers building steam for a day showing the tourists the local river attractions.

Unfortunately, though, it seems as though I was up and going even earlier than the Murray Princess that looked as though she was still sleeping in the early morning light. There was not even a toot to be heard from this regal lady.

Slightly disappointed, turning to the road up to the highway, I set my sights to the day ahead. After three days of headwinds, I decided not to go via Morgan which would have added another day of into-the-wind riding. Instead, I summoned the effort for the short ride to Blanchetown, and then turned south and across the wind.

Turning south was also a morale booster.

For the last two weeks I had been heading west, but now I was pointing almost directly towards the finish line. It was an almost palatable change and with a renewed spirit, I headed towards Swan Reach.

Although I was riding the road above the river, most of the time it was set back too far for me to see the water. At times I had glimpses of the opposing river bank in the distance, but mostly it was a flat, featureless landscape that crawled past for my entertainment.

So spotting a turn off enticingly called River Road, I took the hint and headed towards (I hoped) a more scenic encounter.

And so it was.

On this more undulating road, slightly back from the long slope down to the water, I was treated to an ever-changing panoramic encounter with my preferred traveling companion.

Hello River Murray!

This was just the change I needed and the Sleepy Lizards sunning themselves on the road only added to this blissful mood of mine. Nothing was going to strip me of this moment!

As is often the case, all too soon my detour came to an end and I was back on Hunter Road and the remaining, short black ribbon journey into Swan Reach where I took a peaceful tent site in the Caravan park for the night.

Camp set up, and turning my back on the tent, enticingly suggesting I rest, I headed out to a river side park to sit and listened to the raucous calls of galahs flying a seemingly random slalom between the forest of tall River Red Gums.

Lying there on the soft grass, flashes of white feathered frenzy passing overhead and the slow march of the Murray at my upturned feet, the pain of the day’s cycling was forgotten and I could have been convinced that world peace had finally been achieved.

Life was truly good.