15 April 2012 - Bairnsdale Holiday Park, East Gippsland, Victoria

It looks like we might be on a roll with the weather; another glorious day dawned and stayed with us all day. The temperatures are also much warmer at about 20 degrees at breakfast time.

With lunch packed in the eski, we set off in the cruiser heading north toward Omeo on the Great Alpine Way, a trip that we expected to cover two hundred and forty kilometres there and back. The road initially rose and fell over the gentle hills of East Gippsland, sometimes wooded and sometimes grazing dairy cattle. At Bruthen, we paused to check the caravan park there beside the Tambo River, listed as a cheap camp in our Camps 5 &6 bibles. It is situated on the edge of the sports field or showgrounds, probably part of the association, quite well patronised and is most likely far cheaper than what we are paying in Bairnsdale. We  were however glad that we had decided to stay in Bairnsdale because although Bruthen is only twenty four kilometres away, it does seem to be much further, quite removed from the Lakes area.

We followed the road on up the Tambo River for nearly seventy kilometres, through Tambo Crossing and Ensay, to Swifts Creek, sometimes detouring away over ridges, nearly always through State Forest. At Tambo Crossing, we crossed a clearing in the forest, privately farmed, and again a little south of Ensay, the valley opened out to farmland. On Connors Hill just south of Swifts Creek we pulled up to enjoy the view over the landscape and were soon joined by a couple travelling with a camper trailer. They were from Traralgon, he working as a logging truck driver and she in welfare. 


We spent some time discussing the pros and cons of camper trailers versus caravans versus motorhomes, forestry in the region and the optimum time to retire and start travelling fulltime. Two of these are subjects that so often monopolise conversation when one meets fellow campers, and tend to be rather repetitive, in that there is no perfect answer to most of these questions.

We walked about the small village of Swifts Creek, firstly part of the gold rush and then a rural and service centre. Today timber milling and beef and sheep farming are the locations main industries. Situated at 300 metres above sea level and with a population of about the same number, it also serves as a refuelling place for those heading up into the alps. Today with the sun shining on the gold coloured poplars lining the Tambo Valley, it was indeed a very pretty picture.

Omea is only twenty five kilometres up the road and was even more attractive today than we had found it when we came down from Bright on our alpine circuit tour. Tall upright poplars and a variety of other exotic trees, all with their leaves turning in the autumn, enhanced the beauty and charm of this little service town. We walked about, up and down the street; the shops, residences and service businesses strung out along the main road. There is a host of interpretative signs recounting the history of the buildings standing and those long gone, consumed by the great fire. There are more parks, playgrounds and public amenities than a town of this size would normally have. We parked down by the Livingstone Creek with the intention of picnicking at one of the many benches under dappled shade, but decided that it was better to eat in the vehicle looking out on the scene; chickens that we are in the cold wind.

Wandering about the town, we struck up conversation with a couple of resident women walking their dogs. One was a motorhomer, the other a caravanner with her husband, and both were setting off within the month for warmer climes in Queensland. The same old subjects came up as you would expect, along with special reference to the needs of a woman motorhoming around the country on her own. This is something Chris and I have discussed in the past whenever we encounter a solo woman on the road. I would certainly prefer to travel solo in Australia, more so than in New Zealand. There are more aggressively random people in New Zealand than here in Australia, especially in the northern half of the North Island. And that certainly is true of theft related crimes. But back on track, we wished these two lovely ladies safe travelling and a warm and happy winter. Who knows where we ourselves will be during the next six months?

A bushman's hut on back roads through the Birregun Ranges

Over lunch we decided to return to Bairnsdale by a different route; south west to Dargo and then south east to Bairnsdale. We set off toward Bright but turned on to the road to Cassilis just past the Oriental Diggings, and then right into Birregun Road after crossing the Livingstone Creek for the second time. We were soon on to a gravel road and then it became no more than a forest track. We traversed the Birregun Ranges for about fifty kilometres on this track, some of it just bare dirt, some covered with rough rubble and some just up and over the bare base rocks of the earth, all through the State Forest that seems to cover this whole corner of the state. We remained at high altitudes, across Mount Birregun at 1386 metres above sea level and Mount Ewen at 1356, and all the high land in between. On some maps this route does not exist, on some it shows as a four wheel drive track and some as a road as it is named. Our Tomtom was not altogether sure about any of this so I relied on a clutch of maps I had picked up from various Information Centres.

Finally we descended steeply down to Dargo, described in the tourist brochures as one of Victoria’s most remote communities which originally served as a supply town for the Crooked River Goldfields at Grant and Talbotville. Dargo is set in the narrow valley of a river of the same name and in 2006 it had a population of less than 150. We did see many of the walnut trees that apparently line the valley, however there is not too much going on in the area except attending to the travellers who discover this gorgeous spot and come to fish or just fudge out in the many delightful camps along the riverside.

It was still about ninety kilometres back to Bairnsdale. The road, once sealed and civilised,  continued on through State Forest, following other rivers all heading toward the Mitchell River which enters Lake King just south of Bairnsdale, and up and over further ridges as we gradually descended to the arable plains of East Gippsland. I drove the last thirty five kilometres just to keep my hand in; I drive so little these days. We passed extensive horticultural hectares; great crops of lettuces, broccoli, cabbages, cauliflower (of the vegetable variety).

We arrived home at about four thirty, early enough to decide on frozen pizza and salad for dinner and to catch up with family on Skype. Not all contact with family is always a joy; this was one of those times. But as I have written before, what can one do so far away but be supportive and assure them of our love.