At last we left the Albury boat ramp and started floating down the river. The river is narrow by north American standards, only about 30 yards across. Many weeping willows hang into the river on both banks but eucalyptus trees predominate.

We saw very few people the rest of the day. Only a fishing boat here and there. Joan spotted a rope swing so we pulled into a little lagoon. We waded on a foot or so of freezing water to shore. The water comes out of the bottom of a big dam just upstream from where we started so it is extremely cold. I decided not to swing into the water. I could not bare to swim in the cold water just yet.

Periodically I stopped paddling and played carols on the horn while Joan steered us down the river. (In Dunedin I had purchased a book of carols)

After a few more hours in the sun however, I warmed a lot. We pulled into another lagoon and Joan immediately jumped in. I hesitated and only slowly waded in. Joan started saying, "Are you swimming, or are you chicken?" She would say this many times everyday for the rest of the trip.

Finally I submerged myself in the cold water. It was over my head and I waved my arms to tread water. Fingers shrink in cold water. Almost immediately I felt my wedding ring slide off my finger. It was gone. I dove down to the bottom a couple times looking for it. At 6 feet deep you can't see much and the bottom consisted of a loose sandy mud that cloudy up the water like milk in coffee when I gently ran my hand over it feeling for the ring. I never found it.

Maybe in 1000 or a million years someone will find it and read the engraving: "To Eric Love Joan 1996" The relatively heavy gold ring will quickly work its way deep into the soft bottom but soon (in geologic time) the river will change course. Then perhaps, someone digging to build a house or wandering around with a metal detector, might find it. Still, I'm not going to start putting ads in the local papers asking if anyone found it.

We paddled and floated until dusk. For the first time on the river we saw the golden colors reflected by the eucalyptus in the low sun light. We would see this almost every evening. We pulled up on a narrow sandbar, just as wide as the boat, below a short steep bank up to a pasture.

The tent went up quickly and I cooked some pasta. Since it was Christmas eve, I really wanted to linger in the beach chairs and play christmas carols on the horn and have a couple of Foster's and mark the day. But the mosquitos came out. After "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" and "Away in a Manger" we had to dive into the tent.

On Christmas morning the sun baked us out of the tent. We ate what became our routine breakfast: cold cereal with milk.

The river snaked along among the eucalyptus trees in the back of pastures ("paddocks" as they say here). Again we saw almost no people in the morning. And again I played carols periodically. We stopped and swam frequently.

Navigation on the Murray is pretty easy. Every 2 kilometers there is a sign post on the right bank. The first sign post we saw was 2196. This is 2196 kilometers from Lake Alexander, the end of the river. We bought an excellent kilometer by kilometer chart of the river, marking just about every feature of the river, including the k-post for every town. This way you always know exactly how far to the next supply point.

Unfortunately, our chart did not begin until k-post 1987. For the first 200 kms we didn't know for sure where the towns were but it was not a problem.

All afternoon I imagined what my family would be doing at that moment in Pittsburgh. At 7pm (our 11am) or so they would rush to lite the luminaria with the propane torch. Mom would call it candaleria. Bob might notice I'm gone when I am not there to share the old joke about the Pirate baseball player of the same name. They would probably be decorating the tree between 8 and 9pm (our 12- 1). Maybe old LPs from the 60s of Julie Andrews singing carols in the background or Bob playing Peanuts Christmas music. Someone would be desingated to hang my ornament. Later they would be drinking friendship tea. Bob would have his computer setup on the diningroom table showing everyone some new game or something. Randy might be in the den playing Jezball on dad's computer. At about 10pm, there would be a general motion to get ready to go to church. At about 10:30 they would drive to church, probably parking a long way off. Dad would already be at church to sing in the choir at the 9pm serivce. Church would end a little after midnite. Afterwards dad would have to take care of the sound system or video system or something. Bob might go look for him in the bowels of the church to help while the rest would drive home. So mom, Katy and Randy would get home around 12:30 (our 4:30) and Dad and Bob around 12:50 or later. I was quite detailed about my imaginings and quite wrong.

We reached the oddly named town of Howlong at about 3:45pm on Christmas day. As we got close we saw several people swimming along the banks. We tied the canoe to a tree and walked about 1km to town, arriving at about 4pm.

Joan called her mom first and by luck, Joan's brother Steve was also there. It was hot in the sun so I sat in the shafe by the post office most of the time Joan talked, although I said hello as well. Then about 4:35 I called.

My mom answered. She was the only one home. Dad was still at church as I suspected, but the rest were still on their way from Washington DC!

I should have known. I forgot the van factor. If I know anything about my family, it should be that Bob's van's problems are a larger family tradition than Julie Andrews carols, friendship tea, luminaria or the candlelight service.

Despite my completey incorrect guess about what was happening antipodally all day, my timing turned out to be perfect. After just a few minutes talking to mom, everybody else arrived - dad from church and Katy, Randy, and Bob from Washington.

Bob described the last part of their drive as similar to Apollo 13's precarious return from the moon. Everybody got on one of the phones in the house. It was hard talking to everyone at once.

next: Christmas dinner.

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