I asked Chris last night whether it is the done thing to wish people “Happy Australia Day!”. It seems not, however everyone about has been enjoying the national holiday even without such greeting. In fact as I start this, there is a large group of happy Melbourne caravan campers grouped around rally style who sound like they might party on into the night despite their advanced years.
We headed out of the park at about 9.30 this morning, heading east on to the Bellarine (said “Bella-rhine”) Peninsula as did many others. Our first port of call was Clifton Springs, a seaside settlement on Corio Bay, which seems to be home to conservative older folk and offering an excellent boat ramp.
Just up the road, inland is the rural settlement of Drysdale, which has apparently been the centre of a successful horse racing industry for many years. We saw no evidence of this but did note the many vineyards that had sprung up among the beef holdings. The land here and right across the peninsula is more or less flat, and obviously relatively fertile, thus is lending itself to any growing project that a landholder should care to undertake.
North east of Drysdale, Portarlington boasts the largest holiday resort in the Southern Hemisphere, bearing in mind the term “holiday resort” in this context means “camping ground”. I do think this is a big stretch, however will concede that there were a whole lot of caravans and tents along the waterfront camping ground. From the main street which is quite elevated from the beach front, there are lovely views across Port Philip Bay, but even if there had been no haze, I suspect that Melbourne is still too distant for even a glimpse.
Port Philip Bay is a very extensive mass of water, almost an inland sea, and it is quite a wonder that it sits almost hidden inside the small channel between Point Lonsdale and Point Nepean, undiscovered until 1802.
After walking up and down the business part of the main street, and watching a flock of corellas wheel crazily from one group of trees to another, as they love to do, we resumed our trip and drove on to Indented Head.
What a strange name for this lovely seaside settlement along the beach, popular for fishermen and families alike. Indented Heads runs straight into St Leonards, and here we stopped and we walked along the shore, noting the wreck of an old paddle steamer which is one of two deliberately sunk to provide safe anchorage for smaller boats, just off shore and high enough to act as a temporary roost for resting seagulls. We wandered up the busy little street, enjoying the harmony of two Aboriginal buskers and bought decadent jam donuts to complement our cut lunch.
It was here Chris sailed his de Havilland Gypsy single masted single sail 11 foot dinghy, out into the Bay, around the large buoy still sitting there after all these years, but no longer home to the great big sea lion that roared at him all those years ago. In fact many of the places we visited today were past destinations for Chris and his little family thirty or so years ago, and many happy memories were to the fore today.
On we drove to Queenscliff, a much larger and older settlement, once The Place for Melbourne holiday makers to catch the steamer down to, to stay and take in the sea air. Here are many historic buildings, remnants of that grander life spanning the years from when the initial grazing lease expired in 1853 and the town was carved up until the economic downturn of the 1890s. There has been little new construction, except for much newer housing further from the centre, since the 1920s, so today it really was quite lovely, packed with half Geelong’s population all enjoying the festivities, no doubt reminiscent of the times when up to 2,000 a day would commute down from the State’s capital on the train or the boat.
We found a table on the banks high above the channel, and watched an absolutely huge cargo vessel piloted through “the Rip”. Our posse was just down the street from the Queenscliff Fort, a great big imposing construction, started in 1860 and particularly important in the 1880s when we Australasians were sure the Russians were coming. It remained in operation as a fortress, protecting the Bay from any possible invasion, until right up to 1946 when it became only a training station for naval cadets, a role it still plays today.
Queenscliff sits out at the end of a narrow spit of land, reaching across toward Point Nepean, and one can catch the ferry across to Sorrento on the hour. If you were travelling from west to east, this ferry trip would cut many hours or even days, if you travelled as slowly as us, from your trip. However we stayed with the decision to make our way down to Sorrento and Portsea on the other side when we eventually make our way to the east of Melbourne.
We drove on south west to Point Lonsdale, where the other half of Geelong’s population was swimming in the small bay. We chose instead to walk along the cliff edge, view the lighthouse and again gaze across the channel just three and a half kilometres distant. Here we learned that we were just 415 kilometres from Launceston in Tasmania, and sixty odd the other direction to Melbourne, which confirmed that the ferry ride from Melbourne to Tasmania is somewhat longer than across the Cook Strait and probably justifies the reported fare. This is a matter for consideration some time away yet.
Nine kilometres further east we came to the suburban like sprawl of Ocean Grove. The shopping centre for this spread-out settlement is quite small although does include a Coles supermarket, and so is fairly self-sufficient. By that I mean that one does not need to move out of town for services and provisions.
Here we were only kilometres from the mouth of the Barwon River, that which we walked alongside just yesterday back in Geelong. At Barwon Heads, the river is wide and a veritable playground for small yachts, the normal noisy water toys, fishermen and every other activity that holiday makers indulge in. But here, as with all the other settlements visited today, there was no pretension, in fact everything was quite old fashioned although I am sure the dishes served in the cafes and restaurants are as fancy and modern as anything served in the big smoke. Barwon Heads does have, by all accounts, an excellent golf course, and we did catch sight of the rather impressive club rooms in the distance, which would suggest there are some fancy people about after all. We managed to squeeze into a car park near the lookout and walked up onto the cliffs above the Bass Strait, and then looked back up river to see the buzz of activity. The wind was brisk, and it was little warmer than it had been at any time all day. Despite all that, I have caught the sun and will have to be more careful over the next few days.
We tossed up about returning to Torquay, which we had passed through without stopping on our way to Geelong, but then decided that the crowds were probably no less today and although we were not towing today, we would probably still struggle to get a car park within cooey of the township.
As we pulled into the camp, shocked to find every spot in our corner of the park jammed packed with caravans, we were met by a fellow camper who is here with his wife and three wee daughters. He had bad news for us; the old chap next to us had hit our awning as he pulled into the site. He, our “friend” and another had taken the awning down to allow this rather antiquated fellow park, and hoped that no damage had been done. Chris and I at once checked it out; while there is no visual damage, the canvas is not rolling as tightly as it did before. As Tony Abbot so famously said to the diggers who had lost their mate in Afghanistan, “Shit happens!”
Later when Chris was struggling to pull the awning pegs out of the firm ground, our new immediate neighbour came to offer advice; a widget jammed on the end of a power tool, but did not once mention or apologise for his having hit our caravan. I suspect he had genuinely forgotten. He really should have stayed at home!
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