18 January 2011 - Koroit Tower Hill Caravan Park, Koroit, Victoria

Yesterday was a shocker for those who watch and wait for bush fires; the temperatures coupled with the very high winds were perfect ingredients for disaster. I am sure last night’s rain would have been very welcome. It started in the late evening, slow heavy drops steadily growing until there was no doubt; the rain had arrived as had the cooler temperatures with the winds from the south.

When we woke to the early alarm this morning, drizzle remained and the drab day was not at all welcoming. We drove into Warrnambool, arriving at the garage well before the scheduled time of 8.15 am. A driver took us into the city centre which was still deserted except for the keen cleriks tucked away in their offices and the cleaners still beavering away preparing for the shoppers. The library did not open until 9.30 am and the art gallery at 10 am, the latter being a pleasant surprise because the brochure I had picked up in the Information Centre suggested it would not open until tomorrow. Perhaps I had identified the wrong gallery?

So we walked back up the street and found the shiny new or renovated MacDonalds where we sat for more than an hour over a couple of cups of coffee, the local newspapers and calorie loaded muffins.

When we finally made our way back down to the Warrnambool Gallery, we were delighted to discover the treasures it held. It has several galleries and all were open, unlike the frequent experience of finding galleries in the throes of changing exhibitions.

The first was an exhibition by a Geelong based artist, Deborah Fisher, whose works exhibited drew inspiration from the shipwrecks along the local rugged coastline. There were explanatory notes telling stories about the various wrecks which I have to admit caught my fancy more than the artworks themselves. It was not so much that the talent was lacking; I simply was more intrigued by the history. Several of the paintings depicted King John I, a race horse who quite miraculously survived the wreck of The Champion, and went on to do what he did best, win races. Others depicted The Captain’s Dog, who survived the wreck of The Newfield, after his master had drowned and he had been marooned for weeks on board the remnants of the vessel. Most of the rest of the paintings were of objects cast adrift from the wrecked ships, as were of course, the dog and the horse. It was all the more poignant given the wreck of the Italian cruise ship, the Costa Concordia, in the Mediterranean just days ago.

The second exhibition that caught our fancy was one which grew in our appreciation the longer we spent studying it; the making Mary and Max, an animated film about a pen pal relationship between Australian Mary and a severely obese New Yorker with Asbergers, chronicling Mary’s journey from childhood to adulthood and Max’s from middle age to old age. The work here includes hundreds of props, the drawings, the plasticine characters, clips of the final movie and clips of the making of the film. Our first reaction was: some people have too much time on their hands, however as we continued our own journey through the development of the film, our next and final thought was: we have to get our hands on a copy of this!

A further exhibition of scenes of the Gellibrand Estuary by Judy Spafford did not hold our attention for long, however we both agreed her use of colour was wonderful. We drifted quickly on to see the other galleries filled with collections of both abstract and more classical works.

Three Trafalgar travellers: myself, Hilda & Gabrielle

It was well after 11 am when we emerged to find the day marginally improved and made our way back up the main street, mozzying about a few interesting shops and waiting for a call from the Toyota service people. Finally this came and they advised they would pick us up just after 12.45 so we returned to MacDonalds and topped up with even more yummy calories. The restaurant was packed out with school holiday tourists, as you would expect, and so we did not linger longer than necessary, not keen to stay and listen to children’s tantrums and ineffective parenting. Instead we hung about the street corner until our ride arrived.

The early afternoon was spent back watching tennis until it was time to ready ourselves for our dinner date at Hilda’s.

The evening was a great success, or at least from our point of view. It was lovely to see Gabrielle again and to meet her husband, Rob, who kept us entertained with stories from his long and varied life. The food was delicious, the wine went down rather well, the company was excellent and we could not fault our wonderful hostess. We returned to our camp before midnight but long after my normal bedtime.