The point of Deni

Unless you're a journalist you're probably sick of so-called gotcha moments right now. I certainly am. But today I had a bit of a gotcha moment myself. Not a failure to list the four horsemen of the apocalypse (in reverse alphabetical order) type of gotcha moment; this was more of an "aha!" gotcha.

When you open a map and look for somewhere to rest up on the way to somewhere else, Deniliquin seems as good a place as any. It's a moderately sized mark on the map, so I figured Deni probably had an IGA and a petrol station. There were two caravan parks to choose from and according to Tripadvisor, at least ten exciting things to do. Admittedly, these are nearly all water-based activities, so unless you're into water skiing (which I most definitely am not), or a Labrador blessed with a double fur coat and a playful disposition, then Deni's attractions seem a bit limited at this time of year. On the surface at least. And in the interests of full disclosure, I have to admit that when we rolled into town a couple of days ago, I started to doubt my decision to stay three nights here.

Yesterday was a breezy, overcast and very cold day and, apart from a quick trip back to Echuca to collect a parcel, we holed up inside Loretta badly playing the ukulele in front of the heater (turns out Loretta's walls aren't exactly soundproof but that's another story). So today, when we woke to a sunny (albeit freezing cold) morning, we decided to explore McLean's beach where the Labs had a swim, a long romp and the obligatory roll in the most putrid, foul-smelling dead thing they could find. Back to camp for the second bath of the trip so far. To help dry them off, we headed back to the Beach to Beach walk we'd discovered on our first day in Deni.

We walked for several kilometres through magnificent red gum forests along the banks of the Kolety (Edward River) and could have continued on for hours if my recently replaced knee had allowed. When I decided to keep this blog I was conscious of acknowledging the traditional owners of the land wherever we travel - not because it's the politically correct thing to do, but because it's the reason we're able to experience this ancient and beautiful country today. Immersing myself in this stunning environment, blocking out the distant sounds of Saturday football and ignoring the random assortment of caravans dotted along the river banks, I felt about as connected with the country as a first-generation white Australian can. Which is of course nothing when compared with the connection to country that is intrinsic in our First Nations peoples. But it is something, and that was my gotcha moment.

I realised this trip isn't about passing through places like Deni on our way to somewhere else. It's about being here; experiencing all that it has to offer, whether it's a rusty ute statue or a walk through an ancient red gum forest. It's certainly about acknowledging the county's ancient beauty and how fortunate we are to be able to experience it. But it's also about reflecting on the melting pot of humanity, with all it's successes, failures, travesties and triumphs that have led to one woman and a couple of Labradors walking through this particular forest at this particular point in time.

And that's the point of Deni.