The decision to leave Bairnsdale today was made even before breakfast, and we were packed up and out of our excellent camp long before checkout time. I had failed to mention that not only does the Bairnsdale Holiday Park have excellently clean facilities, a good laundry and heaps of clothes lines, the camp sites are tucked into discreet alcoves flanked by lantana, lavender and other domestic garden plants, offering the illusion of privacy that we so enjoy. There is a very large factory, Patties Bakery which manufactures Momma’s Pizzas, Four & Twenty Pies and other major familiar brands, which does whir away most of the time, however the beeping of the reversing forklifts only slightly intrudes if one is about during normal office hours. We personally would rather have such a factory next door to our camp than say a block of flats as we did in Cairns. So all in all we would recommend this caravan park.
We travelled on through beautiful farmland, passing through Nicholson, Johnsonville and Swan Reach, crossing the significant rivers, Nicholson and Tambo, the latter flowing through Swan Reach, all heading out into Lake King. At each crossing we could see numerous boats of all types and sizes moored along the river bank ready for their owners to board and head off out into the magic waterways of the Gippsland Lakes at any convenient moment.
It had rained a little during the night, and was drizzling a little when we turned off the Princes Highway and headed south to Metung on the lake edge. This is a delightful lakeside village, cluttered with marinas and jetties, cafes and boutiques, but still manages to retain the down to earth quality we have found all along this southern coast since leaving Melbourne. Had the sun been out and the misty rain absent, we would have surely stopped and walked the half kilometre of boardwalk along the lakeside. Alas, we did not do Metung justice, and it must remain on the to-do list should we pass this way again.
From here we wound our way up a minor road back to the Princes Highway further toward Lakes Entrance, soon passed through Kalimna and then steeply down to Lakes Entrance. At the top of the hill before the descent, there is a lookout, which we should have pulled into, however we were travelling too fast, the road was busy and so we missed the opportunity. As passenger, I was able to catch a glimpse of what lay below; an overview of the lake system at the far eastern end of the Gippsland lakes.
Lakes Entrance apparently only has a population of a few thousand, but like most sea/lake side places, bulges at the seams in the middle of the holiday period. The town stretches for about two kilometres along the Esplanade, wharves, jetties, marinas and dozens of serious commercial fishing boats on the Cunningham Arm to the south and the shops, cafes and other services to the north. This is in itself a peninsula, because the North Arm of the lake runs in the same direction as the Cunningham Arm. Confused? Only a detailed map of this area will make sense of the convoluted network of waterways.
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| Commercial fishing boats at Lakes Entrance |
We walked up the street, found a barber so Chris had a haircut, then walked across the Cunningham Arm on the footbridge, across the narrow island which must remain nameless because my maps are inadequate, and out on to Ninety Mile Beach where the surf was rolling in from the Tasman. If one’s eyes were good enough and the earth was flat, we might even have caught sight of New Zealand’s Fiordland. Here the sand is golden and the surf life savers clubhouse is quite impressive, ready to accommodate the volunteers and all their hangers-on when the season comes around again. Today however, the beach was empty of people but for one other couple and ourselves, and none of us were considering a dip. We did not linger, but headed back across to the town, bought some bread and returned to the caravan for lunch. This buying of fresh bread is becoming a very bad habit; bad for the pocket and worse for the waist. There is nothing wrong with the sliced Coles wholegrain bread I buy for $1.50 a loaf and that does us for three days. (The sourdough rolls from Woolworths today were however just delightful)
Over lunch while we were doing some travel homework, we noted that the entrance was described as artificial, but nowhere was their further explanation, and so we returned to the helpful gentlemen at the Information Centre and asked the appropriate questions.
When Gippsland was first settled in the 19th century, the five rivers (the Tambo, Mitchell, Thompson, Nicholson and Avon (I think those are the five significant ones) flowed into the lakes and then north east up past Lakes Entrance (then called Cunningham) and out at a point toward Lake Tyers. From time to time, great tides would flow with equal or greater force from Tasmania throwing sand into that entrance which would then block up. For the fishing fleets which fished as they do still, but sailing from Cunningham to that original entrance, this was most inconvenient. They were frequently land locked which is no use to anyone. And so in the early 1900s, it was decided that a new entrance be made and so it was. The same tides from Tasmania stir up the sand and dredging of one kind or another is an on-going problem. It costs the ratepayers millions of dollars each year to keep this manmade entrance open, but hopefully that is recouped by the fishing industry able to operate efficiently and lucratively from the now Lakes Entrance, and the Gippsland lakes a tourist jewel.
Satisfied with the history lesson, we headed off again, still on the Princes Highway, but turning north east up through the Lake Tyers Forest Park. Chris pertinently remarked that we had probably seen the last of the flat or even gently undulating roads for a while. We passed through Nowa Nowa, a pretty place surrounded in forest and farmland, and on to Newmerella where we had intended to stay for the night. Both Camps 5 & 6 suggest the rest area as a good overnight place, and yet the VicRoads signs were clear about the No Camping. We chatted with one lone woman in a small campervan who was obviously intending to stay there, however decided to come on to this camp which is eight kilometres off our route.
The Snowy River must be the most famous of the Australian Rivers, alongside the Murray-Darling, and here we are camped right between the river and the road to Marlo. The traffic will lessen as the afternoon comes to an end, however in the meantime we have glorious views back over flat dairy lands to the forested hills in the distance, and the cicadas are softly singing in the bush across the river. We even have our own jetty, however Chris has expressed no desire to christen his fishing rod. Mosquitos and mozzies rule where he is concerned.
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