Monday dawned a little cooler and duller than the preceding brilliant days. We had thought to explore the lakes area immediately to our south, however the previous evening’s computer communications had suggested the day was better spent attending to housekeeping and administration matters, so this is what we did in the main.
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| Facsinating creatures: bats |
But we did manage to slip in a picnic amongst swarms of mosquitoes and under flocks of sulphur crested cockatoos beside the Mitchell River, after which we walked the 5.4 kilometre circuit up and down the river, passing under a huge colony of bats well established in the wattles lining the river bank. While we found their chattering and resting restlessness fascinating, those who live nearby generally do not seem to have the same appreciation of these wonderful creatures. We have from time to time on our travels come across reports of the frustration and anguish suffered by residents who are unwilling to share their urban space with bats. In fact the costs and processes required to be rid of these winged animals, keeping within the bounds of health and safety, animal rights, and all the rest of the red tape required to exist in Australia (and so many other so-called civilised societies) precludes finite action. It finally drives the citizens to rash solutions where no one wins.
Our errands about town to banks, printing services and the like gave us a good overview of this very pleasant town, the business and retail hub of East Gippsland. Because of its link to the lakes by the Mitchell River, it was an important port for transport to the Omeo goldfields.
The people here are very friendly, but then they are generally through the whole of Australia. We called into Jarrod’s Bakery to buy something to supplement our lunch and purchased a one whole bun. We were asked if we would like it buttered? (No, thank you), takeaway? (Yes, please), cut? (Yes, please – in half) and then wrapped in cling-film before being put in a brown paper bag. So much service for one little $3 bun! And all the time the conversation asking if we were travelling, where we were from, et cetera…. Finally we tore ourselves away indicating the other customers who were starting to queue. We do like Bairnsdale: bats, buns, and its proximity to the best of this state.
This morning we paid for an additional day then set off with lunch packed south toward the lakes. The road followed the Mitchell River all the way to Eagle Point where the river flows into Jones Bay in Lake King. A narrow neck of silt extends out into the lake for about eight kilometres, a little south to a long narrow island of the same length. Once upon a time, the river would have flowed down the centre of a channel built up with silt washed down from the hills to the north. Then finally the river broke through the northern side of the “bank” and left these strange strings of land. We drove out to the end, Point Dawson, along a pot- holed gravel road, and walked the last few metres to the very tip. The area is an absolute haven for black swans, ducks and pelicans and I felt as if we were interlopers. This sheltered and secluded waterway, known as the silt jetties, is perfect for kayaking, boating and fishing. It is here that the annual Australian Powerboat Race is held every Easter and it saddens me to think of the noise and disruption to the wildlife here for those days every year. However I have to admit the birds did not look stressed after having suffered all of this just over a week ago.
We drove back to Eagle Point which is a delightful spot on the lake sheltered to the north east by this long spit of silt, and unspoiled by tourism. There are two caravan parks there, both suggesting fair tariffs and a peaceful haven from the hurley burley of life.
Paynesville is not much further on and is known as the boating capital of the Gippsland Lakes. The township of Paynesville is on a small knobby peninsula and also spreads over a couple of offshore islands which have broken off the end, or at least appear to have done so when you look at a map of the town. Fort King Island and Burrabogie Island can be reached by bridges from the mainland and the channels of water separating them have been adopted as natural canals, lined with grand houses and private marinas. Yachts, motor boats and house boats are everywhere; here in the canals and all along the shore, as well as those moored at small private jetties along the western shore of Raymond Island.
Raymond Island lies across another channel, the McMillan Strait, and is accessed by a regular ferry, which plies this 200 metre stretch every half hour. The island is about six kilometres long and two wide, and has a population of about five hundred, who live mainly at the southern end of the island.
Apparently most of the koalas were wiped out in Victoria by the 1920; in fact a google search tells me that from 1919 to 1924, eight million koalas were killed for their fur. In 1953 the government instigated a programme to rehabilitate the koala population of Raymond Island. Sixteen males and twenty six females were released on the island and did as planned; went forth and multiplied. They became a menace, six hundred of them stripping the trees just as possums do in New Zealand. However 1080 for koalas would never be an acceptable plan to control them, so, instead the government came up with another plan; contraception. I have read that they are doing this with elephants somewhere in the world, and here in 2003 they tried it with the local population of koalas. It worked very well and today there are just three hundred living in the remaining healthy gums. That and the plastic banding of less healthy trees to deter hungry bears is working. We caught the ferry and spent a couple of hours walking around the island, under the gums and through the huge banksias and bracken fern, koala spotting. We found eight sleepy souls high in the trees, none willing to come down for a cuddle despite my pleas. Still I did make the acquaintance of 2.7% of the Raymond Island koala population today.
And Chris? Well he was in his element, drooling over the hundreds of trailer sailer yachts and gazing longingly at the marvellous sailing waters of the lakes. But one cannot travel fulltime in a caravan and also spend days sailing on the Gippsland Lakes. Life is a compromise.
Before heading back to Bairnsdale, we drove south to Newlands Arms which is the residential settlement on the shore of Lake Victoria, just across the Newlands Backwater from Paynesville. Here we spent a little while watching a kite surfer masterfully playing with the wind and water. He was a joy to watch and I suspect he put an extra special show on for us, his audience.
Back in Bairnsdale we succumbed to temptation, ice-creams at McDonalds, before returning to camp. We are of two minds about plans for tomorrow; we will decide over breakfast.
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