19 January 2011 - Johanna Beach, The Great Otway National Park, Victoria

Despite our late night and the over indulgence, we were up at a reasonable time, packed up and on the road to Warrnambool before the witching hour of 10 am. We had promised to call in and see Hilda once more on our way eastwards; she was keen to see our caravan for herself. Order was already restored from the revelries of the night before, and her son who normally sleeps the morning away, had roused himself to greet us as well. He and his mother oohed and aahed their way through the caravan which was rather nice for us, and then we had a last coffee before saying farewell. This was quite sad when one does not have a specific intention to come this way again. We said we hoped she would come and base herself at our place once we are settled back in New Zealand, but who is to say when that might be.

Once more we were off on the road, through the centre of the city and eastwards, marvelling at the extent of the place unseen until then. At Allandale where there is a very large dairy factory, we turned on to the Great Ocean Road and headed for the world famous rugged coastline of Victoria.

At Peterborough we stopped to buy a newspaper, and I pulled the computer out of the cupboard to pick up any emails, not sure how much internet coverage we would get over the next few days. This was not a good move, at least as far as setting the mood for the wonders ahead. While today was Chris’s and my wedding anniversary, something to be celebrated, there was not connubial bliss to be enjoyed by all those we keep in touch with. Our sadness and concern about the news received distracted us most of the day and will no doubt continue to for some time.

The coast road between Peterborough, a small settlement which could be missed in the blink of an eye, and Port Campbell which is not a whole lot bigger, is well marked with signs drawing tourists to the geological wonders along the way. There is the Bay of Islands, a sheltered bay of rocky outcrops which today were beautifully offset by the very blue sky and sea, followed by the Bay of Martyrs, The Grotto and London Bridge. Each site has good parking for buses, cars and long vehicles such as ourselves, with well-appointed paths and lookouts , and just as well because there were hundreds of people doing exactly as we were. The mass of fellow tourists, the pulling in and out of each spot and the photography brought to mind the Trafalgar tour we did through Europe, which of course has been again in my mind since meeting up with two travelling buddies from that trip.

The coast between Warrnambool and Lavers Hill is known as the Shipwreck Trail, and one of these occurred not too far beyond Port Campbell, when the Lock Ard ran aground in May 1878, just one day before they were due to anchor in Port Philip Bay after months at sea. There were only two survivors, washed ashore into the keyhole bay below the high red cliffs. Their story is told on interpretative boards and one can only marvel that there were any survivors at all.

The Twelve Apostles minus a few

Just a few kilometres east of here are the Twelve Apostles, world renowned and destination for even more tourists than those we were already travelling with. Chris was here twenty five years or more ago, however the facilities here are now very different. In 2001, a smart new Visitors Centre and an underpass under the Great Ocean Road, with lookouts and very safe barriers were constructed. Some of the rock pillars have crumbled as the sea continues to erode the coast away, however they are still spectacular and well deserving of the thousands of photos that surely must be taken daily.

It should be noted here that this Great Ocean Road is the world’s largest war memorial, having been hand built by returned World War I soldiers in honour of their fallen comrades. It was officially opened in 1932.

Views from Ocean Road

A little further east, the road turns inland and continues to climb all the way to Lavers Hill, another settlement that seems to be mainly made up of B&Bs. We turned south and drove down to Johanna Beach, which consists of a few holiday cottages dotted about scrubby hills and a National Park camping ground.  The extent of the camping ground is not immediately obvious, and because of that we parked in a corner, blocking precariously and commented on the very limited unlevel area earmarked by the powers that be for staying. A large rental motorhome parked across the track from us, equally sandwiched in between the many small tents perched on the slopes, and other campers later erected their tents immediately behind us, so close they must have cursed the sound of our water pump during the night.

We are parked in such a way to have views north through a farm fence frequented by superb blue wrens, across lands grazed by cattle, and a backdrop of forested hills. The camp is one of several on The Great Ocean Walk which I believe to be about ninety one kilometres long. We walked up to a lookout over the beach from where we could see many of our fellow campers down on the white sands or in the relatively gentle surf.

There is no detail as regards the charge for staying here and we have seen no ranger or evidence that one has been near the place for some days. It would seem therefore that this camp may well qualify as a free camp after all.

Tonight we are dining on canned meat and vegetable stew, potatoes, fresh vegetables all washed down with a bottle of Australian Chardonnay. And yet I am not particularly feeling like celebrating after all.