Suburban Melbourne to the Snowy Mountains

The Melbourne Tour

So much for rest and recreation. Yesterday we did a six-hour walk following the footsteps of Charles Darwin at Wentworth Falls, Australia's answer to the Grand Canyon. But we are staying in this morning to try and get ourselves up to date. So where were we?

Arriving back in Melbourne, we had a day to spend before meeting a friend of Margot's from England who had offered to put us up for a couple of days. After another night at the Pensione Hotel, eating in from the local convenience store and having a beer in their newly refurbished but completely empty bar, we set off on a tour of Melbourne. This is made very easy by the Circle tram, a replica that circles the city centre at no charge allowing tourists to hop on and off at virtually all the major attractions.

We started off at the Victoria Market, an ethnically diverse collection of tourist trash and fruit and veg, with a fringe of speciality shops and bistros. A great place to wander around, people watch and soak up the atmosphere.

Back on the tram we headed up to Carlton Gardens and walked through to the world heritage Royal Exhibition Building and behind it the modern Melbourne Museum.

After lunch in the garden hopped on the tram again past Parliament House to Fitzroy Gardens full off wedding parties where we walked through a lovely little art deco conservatory on way to locate Captain Cook's cottage. This was removed stone by stone and rebuilt here in the Park. The current talk of reparations of looted items like the Elgin marbles made us consider putting in a claim on behalf of the good people of Yorkshire for its return. As we pondered aloud what has happened to the site from which it had been removed we found we had been standing next to a couple with Yorkshire parents who are able to inform us that the site, in Great Ayton, remained empty, with a plaque - presumably with a forwarding address, hope it works bettter than ours... As friendly as most Australians we have met, the husband proceeded to give us a detailed itinerary of “must-sees” until his wife dragged him away. Having only one day as opposed to the month that his itinerary would have required we resumed our original route, walking across to the newly created Birrarung Marr, a park alongside the Yarra River adjacent to the Melbourne Cricket Ground and the Rod Laver Arena soon to be the scene of Andy Murray's triumph (well, fingers crossed). This brought us back to Federation Square, a place to hang out, people watch (again – it’s cheap and fun) and listen to buskers and street theatre. It overlooks Flinders Street Station and gives an interesting panorama of the central business district, a planner's nightmare of different styles and scales of architectural development. So bad, its good.

It was now time to get back to the hotel pick up luggage and cross to the Southern Cross station where we were meeting Sarah. All we understood was that she lived in ‘the suburbs’ but had not realised that the suburbs stretch 75 kilometres into the hinterland and involved two train journeys and a 40 minute bus ride. This took us up the Maroondah highway into Yarra Valley an area of rolling hills and woodland a bit like Kentucky. Although not what we expected this turned out to be a great opportunity to see another side of Australia.

Warburton

Warburton is a small country town, originally devoted to logging but now a mix of retired seniors and alternative lifestyle seekers (known as 'sea-seekers' or tree-seekers, dependingon whether they head for the coast or the hills) trying to make a living from holidaymakers and weekend visitors. It makes for a very pleasant laid-back atmosphere but was also interesting in the parallels it had to Peter’s recent housing work in the villages of the North Yorks Moors and Coast in the pressures it put on house prices, schools and other basic amenities.

Although perhaps the best part of our visit was a chance to relax a bit, Sarah drove us up to the top of Donna Buanna, a mountain with vast panoramas of the surrounding temperate rainforest. Because of the trees you can normally see nothing from the top and to overcome this the Parks Department had built a huge tower to take you above the treetops. On the drive back down the mountain we stopped to follow an elevated walkway through the rainforest which give you a different perspective from walking along the forest floor. The state Parks always seem to do a great job with visitor facilities like boardwalks and toilets.

Sarah's family was away at the coast but she was still busy with her work with the local church where she plays piano. They had organised a memorial exhibition and service to commemorate the 1939 fire which devastated the town and a local sawmill with many casualties. It turned out that they were the only community to be doing this and it had been picked up by the media and by county and state politicians making it into a much bigger event than had originally been intended. Although we had left before the event took place there was an article in the State newspaper including interviews with survivors.

Fire is a big issue at the moment throughout New South Wales and Victoria. We discovered that the eucalyptus trees depend on regular isolated fires to regenerate and grow. The ways in which they respond to a news these burns is fascinating, some apparently burnt out trunks will regenerate the canopy, others from the ground level while a third group need the fire to burst the seeds which then germinate in the surrounding soil. The evidence of recent fires is everywhere with a whitened trunks stark against the green of the new growth. Ironically recent practices of over-controlling fires to prevent property damage has interrupted this natural cycle (which of course the aboriginal peoples understood well and exploited). As a result the bark and dead leaves which build up on the forest floor create less frequent but far more devastating fires. One of the survivors of the 1939 fire aged 102 is still lobbying for the use of back-burning as a way of promoting the natural process but there seems to be a resistance amongst politicians and current managers of the Community Fire Service at least in Victoria. They seem to do it in NSW. It leaves a slight undercurrent of nervousness which I must say we pick up on and have read with interest the instructions on the fridge of our current stay telling us what to do in the event of a Bush Fire.

After a leisurely Sunday enjoying Warburton's river walks and cafes, Sarah drove us down the valley to Launching Place where she was playing at Evensong with Gail, her friend the local vicar. In fact it was Gail’s car we went in and she had also lent it to us the go to the mountain so we were very pleased when she joined us for an evening meal on our last night. She has quite a challenging job dealing with the underlying poverty the tourists like us tend not to see. While the service was on we walked through the local park listening to the bell-birds calling to each other from the treetops. Like so many birds here in Australia they were almost impossible to see although seeming to be right on top of us.

On our last day, Peter started off with a run up the valley, starting on a nice wide Rail Trail which gradually got narrower and more overgrown as it left the town. His nerve gradually deserted him through vague concerns about spiders and snakes and eventually he got up back onto the road where at least you can see what you're about to tread on

Later that day we explored the rural bus system to get the Hearnsville Sanctuary which was set up in the 1920s to preserve natural species. By this time it was clear we were very unlikely to see any of the more reserved nocturnal mammals in the wild and as all the animals here were either injured or abandoned it somehow seemed better than visiting the zoo. One of the features is a brand new hospital in which all the operating theatres and research laboratories have glass walls so that the visitors can watch a platypus hernia or wombat broken leg setting as it takes place. Fascinating.

As it was, apart from the kangaroos we saw koalas, emus, platypuses and wedge-tailed eagles. The platypuses have a purpose-built house where day and night are reversed so you can see them swimming about in glass tanks. The wedge tailed eagle was part of a raptor display and was particularly interesting as it attracted an eagle from the wild hovering far, far above us, just a dot. Apparently it would often do this at the appointed hour, not looking for food but probably just staking it’s territory in case the sanctuary's eagle was thinking of making a break out.

One foolhardy ibis ignored the display, wandering through the arena picking up bits and pieces until a brown falcon took time out from his routine to chase it off. A bonus bit of excitement for the audience.

On the trip up to the sanctuary we had the bus to ourselves and learn the life story of the driver who had come out from Watford as a child in the 50s. Having split up with his wife over the burial rites of his mother-in-law, he had just found a new girlfriend and was still high on his day-off picnic having taken her fishing on the creek.

Bus driver chic in these rural areas owes a lot to American outlaw country music and the Hells Angels. Under the regulation blue shirts lurk sleeveless black Willy Nelson T-shirts while goatees, earrings and big tattoos are de rigueur. Even here, Peter’s bush hat looks a bit out of place, while in downtown Melbourne he seemed to be the only Australian there, baseball hats being the norm. Felt a bit like a Crocodile Dundee in New York. Still, it stops his thinning head getting burned like it did the first day in Sydney.

Moving on

Another epic bus journey takes us back down the Maroondah Highway to pick up our campervan for the trip to Sydney. Unfortunately the campervan is not ready. It is a very basic van, the only electrical feature being the windows, which don’t work . Might not be a problem in Britain at the moment but it would be suffocating here so we are given a lift to the local mall to pass the time out of the 30° heat. By mid-afternoon they still can't find the problem and will need to replace each module in turn. Plan B. is that they lend us a car, and an Esky - without which travel in Australia is forbidden, and we head North through the mountain's We make it to Eildon Lake, a reservoir supplying Melbourne but the popular vacation destination from fishermen and powerboat freaks, and stay in a motel at the hire companies expense. By midday the van has been fixed and catches us up at the Caltex filling station in Eildon where an exchange is made and we carry on North. Turned out okay in the end as we also negotiated an extra day's hire which meant we didn't have to get a hotel in Sydney.

We had wanted to get up on the Great Alpine Road that night so spent most of the day driving through arid grazing land which detours many miles around Lake Eildon. As the Lake was 20% down many of the motels campgrounds describing themselves as ‘Lakeside’ could be subject to the Trades Description Act.

The only stop was the lunch at Powers Lookout, a rocky outcrop looking out over a fertile valley which gave the fugitive bushranger Harry Power the ability to spot police expeditions four hours before they could get to him. There being no honour among thieves he was eventually betrayed and seized during a thunderstorm when he couldn't hear the barking of the farmhouse dogs below.

By evening on the Great Alpine Road and heading to Bright. Unfortunately Bright was full and after some frantic phone calls in we retraced our steps a few kilometres to Porepunkah Pines who had a site for one night. As it turned out this was a lucky break as for the next two nights they put us on a previously closed site next to the River, probably the nicest spot in the otherwise extremely crowded campsite. It was of course by now the height of the holiday season so we learned our lesson and on subsequent stops we made sure to phone ahead.

After a long day driving the campsite’s swimming pool was heaven and Peter managed to swim most mornings and evenings when it was mercifully empty of children - or at least becam that way when he dived in . Once we were established in a new location the next morning, we walked up-river in to Bright, along the Rail Trail, which would have made Sustrans proud. We hired a couple of bikes for the following day but before heading back stopped off at the Bright Brewery for a cooling beverage, brewed on the site and so good we resolved to return the following night to further support the local economy. Finally wobbling back to the campsite along the Rail Trail

The following morning Peter, anxious to get his money's worth, set off at 7 a.m. to climb Mount Buffalo. The cycle shop had advertised trips to the top of the mountain – “95% downhill and 100% fun” all for $70. Peter reckoned he could have just as much fun for free with 50% uphill and 50% downhill. Needing to be back by 10.30 to set off with Margot, he didn’t make it to the top but a 2 hour slog uphill was rewarded with a 20 minute downhill experience scattering wallabies and cockatoos as he went.

The Rail Trail ends at Bright so we headed off in the opposite direction down the valley on a very pleasant, not too strenuous, but very hot ride totalling 48 km. This got us back to Bright to return the bikes and make it to the brewery for beer and nachos. After such a strenuous day in the heat another beer was required of course. Unfortunately, they don't show the strength on the pumps and a 5 km walk back to the campsite began to look a bit of a challenge. However with the last bus long gone and no taxis we had no choice, adding a couple of extra kilometres by following the historic - interesting but circuitous - route along the old gold workings dug by the Chinese miners in the 1850s.

While charging the laptop in the camp kitchen - a regular chore as this van had no electricity hookup - Peter got into conversation with an Australian couple who told him of a website where you can pick up the campervan for free to return it from a one-way hire such as we were doing (google "stanby relocs". Obviously you have to be lucky or extremely flexible to fit it in with your itinerary but it may be something to checkout when we get to the States. He was driving a six berth RV from Sydney to Melbourne and looking to pick up something else there to take them wherever it happened be going. For a moment our trip seemed very constrained. He also had sites for home swaps and house sitting that had us thinking of our next jaunt.

The next day's drive of the Great Alpine Road was quite an experience. Endless climbs and hairpin bends were a bit of a challenge for our clapped-out Kia and every couple of kilometres we would pull off onto some hard shoulder on the edge of a precipice to let the convoy past. Outside of the urban areas the Australian highway authorities do not seem to be able to invest in roadside barriers choosing to spend their limited funds on somewhat superfluous signs every few yards reminding you to stay on the right side of the snow poles that divide the road from the yawning chasm. Makes for an exciting ride for the passenger on the outside bends.

After the pass at Mount Hotham we descended towards the coast meeting the Princes Highway by afternoon tea time. Fortunately there is a fantastic coffee shop at the junction town whose carrot cake would merit a detour of some 12,000 miles just by itself.

By night we arrived at Mallacoota, a seaside town grown to 3 times it size over the holiday season just by virtue of the campsite along the wharf where we were booked in.

As the site and wharf were crowded with leisure fishermen (and women and children) the next day we headed off inland on a circular hike that took us through temperature eucalyptus forest, then across heath-land and down onto the beach. Once out of the forest we could see great storm clouds looming and great swathes of rain across the bay. Somehow we seemed to miss it and got back to our van before the rain hit us. Storms like this are not rare and this accounts for the green meadows and woods that make this coast so unlike the inland areas. It has more in common with the Mediterranean than the outback. Although the wharf is crowded with pelicans sharing the catches of the fisherman we were also lucky enough to see a sea eagle further along the shore. The heathland was very unusual and had many small birds and plants we hadn’t seen, or heard , before.

After 2 nights here, we drove along to the appropriately named Eden where we camped behind the dunes. Fortunately it wasn’t far to drive that day so we had time to climb Mount Imlay en route, an essential part of our training plan leading up to the assault on Mount Kosiuszko planned later in the week. Although only 800 m high its base is close to sea level and it is very steep and rocky. It was also about 12 km from the sealed road which effectively negated our insurance so we were relieved not to have had to call out the rescue service - although a helicopter ride would have been very welcome.

The mountain is a sacred site to the aboriginal people and, strictly speaking, we should not have climbed it. However, given that the entire continent is a network of sacred sites and in truth us Europeans have no right to be here at all we went anyway. It's a dilemma being addressed everywhere, at least by the more liberal elements of the white population, and sites like this usually have interpretation boards giving the aboriginal cultural background. Had they not been displaced some 200 years ago, I'm sure the aboriginal people would have appreciated this. Much of our reading has been reflecting this debate and it occurs to us that while some of the efforts made recently by the Australian people may be a bit tokenistic, at least they are thinking about it, which is more than we in Britain do although we started the whole thing off in the first place.


By now the peak of the school holidays was over and at Eden we had lots of space around us which was taken up by masked lapwings looking for grubs where the tents had been, and blue wrens, which are Margot’s favourite. Our arrival at the campsite coincided with a Rotary club organised BBQ with a motley but talented band of local musicians with a repertoire from Creedence Clearance Revival to Joni Mitchell to Bill Hailey depending on who was taking the lead vocal and could remember the words. They had clearly gone through Peter’s Ipod before deciding on their programme for the night. Unfotunately the menu of beefburgers and hot dogs somehow didn't appeal to Margot so we had to listen from afar.

The next day, after a lazy morning reading and doing the laundry, we walked up into town along a heritage trail recounting the maritime history of the town which still had an operating woodchip terminal. This was however on the far side in a discrete bay so it didn’t spoil Asling’s Bay where we were camped. Not sure what it is doing for the rainforest however.

Peter managed a swim in the surf on the way back from town having ascertained that the fins in the bay belonged to dolphins rather than sharks (there have been quite a few attacks along the coast this season). It was so good he got up early the next morning to run along the beach, detouring into the sea now and again to cool down. It gets quite warm by 8 in the morning and you can dry off in the sun (sorry, I have tried not to dwell on that , but couldn’t resist).

Our packing to get off the site by 10 was interrupted by the discovery that Peter had lost his debit card. Although more to do with him being an old fool than anything sinsister, it took most of the morning to try to get the card cancelled due to the usual difficulties with phones and the internet. In fact it took a couple of days to sort but looks like no damage was done except that he has only one card left to lose and no other source of money – except Margot of course. A replacement has been sent to York but we are not quite sure how it gets from there to us.

Despite the late start the Snowy Mountains weren’t too far and we got there in time to find the party we were meeting had already climbed Mt Kosiuszko that day. We drove up to the pass with our friends Doug and Isabel as the sun went down to inspect the route and agreed that we would have a go in any case the following day.