Day 53
Friday 3 March. Sunny intervals, 24ºC, cool breeze. Today was a somewhat lazy day, with a late start after a very long sleep. After lunch we visited Geelong Library, an amazing modern building on five levels with clear views to the north and set in a very pleasant park. The park is used as a focal point at Christmas, apparently, when everyone gathers round for carols by candlelight – all in a 30 degree heat. I cannot get used to the concept of Christmas in the heat, though Jane says it is no big deal: in the Caribbean, when she was a girl, they produced the full roast dinner with trimmings and sat around the Christmas tree, despite the heat.
Apropos absolutely nothing, by the way, I finally found the time to Google ‘Friends of Bill W’ and ‘Friends of Dorothy LGBT’ (Blog 8) since no-one came up with the answer (yes, it was a genuine question and no, I really didn’t know – I couldn’t access the Internet when we were onboard). Well! You learn something every day.
After the library, we hit the Art Gallery with a special exhibition of works by female abstract artists. Some of the abstract stuff was – as ever – an acquired taste, but other pieces were actually quite appealing. I preferred the traditional stuff, however. Jane, Laura and I took a long walk along the (local) Barwon River, which was lovely, and fortunately we did not encounter any snakes, despite the warning notices. A barbecue with some excellent wine completed the day. Off to the air show tomorrow.
Day 54
Saturday 4 March. Sunny and warm, 27ºC. Let it be recorded in the log that today was the day that Jane stated it was too hot.
Up early to go to the Australian International Air Show, held at nearby Avalon. Laura and Derek had obtained some complimentary tickets, which saved quite a bit of money. We drove to the town of Lara and parked the car at the station in order to take advantage of the shuttle bus to and from the show. I must say, it was extremely well organised. Marshals guided us into the carpark, from the car to the ticket office, and from the ticket office onto the bus. More marshals held up the traffic so that the buses had priority on the road system all the way to Avalon. It was all very slick. The air show was, of course, very good. I liked the Constellation best, because I don’t think I’ve seen one for sixty years, and that was a Dinky toy. What a beautiful aircraft: sleek, quiet and elegant. Apparently its introduction was revolutionary at the time because it cut the flight time from Australia to London to four days, as opposed to seven days by flying boat. Four days! I wonder if the passengers disembarked and stayed in a hotel overnight at the break points.
The air show was unusual in that Avalon remained a commercial airport throughout, and priority went to those flights; so between demonstrations and aerobatics, a Jetstar A320 would land or take off in the normal manner. It seemed rather surreal in a way, like children stopping playing when the grown ups come in, and resuming play when they are gone.
We meandered around and looked at the aircraft, as you do, and ignoring the aviators posing in their overalls and badges and Foster Grants; but the main highlights were the aerobatics by military and civilian aircraft and we soon found a good spot on the grass where we pitched our rug, swatted the flies, and watched the show. The only regret was that the UK was not represented at the show, though other nations were; a Typhoon would have been a good addition and advertisement, but I suppose it was too far to come. It was hot to start with and it soon grew hotter. We managed about five hours altogether before it was agreed that we should move on before we were overdone. The return journey was as slick as the journey there, and we were soon back home in air conditioned bliss, sipping ice-cold cider. Altogether a most satisfying day, not least because Mrs Shacklepin, at last, found the weather too hot. Just wait until she gets in the Red Sea.
Day 55
Sunday 5 March. 24ºC. Sunny intervals. We are off to a winery or two for a little tasting, then to Queenscliff Fort for some history.
We set off mid morning to explore the peninsular that includes Geelong and forms the left (western) arm of Port Phillip Bay (about 50 miles north to south), with a narrow entrance, that is home to Geelong (west of bay) and Melbourne (north of bay). We stopped at one winery (Jack Rabbit) and restaurant with an excellent view of the bay from the south, and tried a few wines. They operated on the principle of paying a fee for the tasting, which was then discounted accordingly on any wine bought, and we thought that was better as there was then no moral pressure to buy anything. The Blanc de Blanc was quite pleasant, but the rest were quite mediocre, yet priced at $AUS 30 a bottle (about £18). We thought that the young man serving was a bit cheeky, when he said, “If you let me finish…” when Jane asked which wine was next. Also, he spilled some red wine on the glass, which transferred itself to Jane’s skirt. This was very poor. So we moved on.
The next winery, Ballerine Estate, was much better, and I think we got extra measures when we told the bloke that Jack Rabbit had been poor. Jane washed her skirt in the lavatory, so that it looked like she had wet herself (a fact that she did not appreciate when I told her). These wines were much nicer and even I could tell that the quality had improved. We bought a half case for Laura and Derek, and left happy. I may add, by the way, that I spat out all the wines after these tastings so that I could appreciate each new one, stay sober, and advise Jane of her sartorial dampness.
On then to the town of Queenscliff. Queenscliff stands on a long narrow promontory that forms the western point of the narrow mouth of Port Phillip Bay I mentioned earlier. On the map it looks a bit like Spurn Head, at the mouth of the Humber, in England. The entrance to the bay is called The Rip: an encouraging name to any mariner, yet the bar that all ships heading for Melbourne or Geelong have to cross. Even on a calm day, there is white water across The Rip, and it is common for there to be a one metre height difference between the open sea (the Bass Strait) and the bay, rather like a waterfall. Not an area to be taken lightly, methinks.
Queenscliff was delightful. It was small, but comprised many large Victorian houses with first floor verandas, like you see in New Orleans, which were originally hotels but are now either hotels or B&Bs. We stopped for fish and chips at a fish bar and ate Gummy Shark (me) or Butter Fish (Jane), both of which were delicious. We were served by Pocahontas, and Shaggy from ‘Scooby-Doo’ with the beard and weird hair or, that is to say, two people who looked like them: the girl wore a headband and large ribbon that looked like a feather, and the boy had the wispy beard, wild hair and facial features of Shaggy. I wanted to take a picture, playing the Pommie tourist card, but didn’t really think it was right in the end.
At 1500 we went for a guided tour of Queenscliff Fort, a Victorian fort, still used by the Australian Army, which was built in about 1880 to guard Melbourne. It was suddenly realised, at that time, that the state of Victoria had acquired a great deal of gold and wealth (Australian Gold Rush) and that there was no defence whatsoever against a foreign power coming in and taking it, or – for that matter – coming in and settling. Hence, the very substantial fort, a little like the forts built to protect Portsmouth from the French only this one was concerned primarily with other powers, including the Russians. The fort was active until 1946, it was then used as a Staff College, then as the Army Manning Agency until a few years ago, and is now used to house all armed forces personnel records. Photo ID was needed to get in and the guided tour was excellent, taking us around gun emplacements, underground magazines, the Keep, and an interesting museum.
The most interesting exhibit was the disappearing gun: an 8″ gun mounted on a hydro-pneumatic mounting that allowed the gun to rise over the embrasure in order to fire, then drop behind it in order to be loaded out of sight. In the early 1980s the Australians restored the gun to working order and it was decided that it should be fired to celebrate Australia Day, or something similar. Now you imagine trying to do that in UK: there would be 1,001 reasons why this could not be done, starting with Health and Safety. But in Australia, they just went ahead. Well, they fired it, all right, and the blast took out every window in the Staff College behind it, and several in the main town nearby. There was one heck of a stink. It seems that they had omitted to notice that, when the fort was originally built, there was a blast wall behind the gun to prevent such a problem – it had been removed in the intervening years. I thought this was hilarious, a credit to Australian ‘can do’ spirit, and a win against bureaucracy. I wouldn’t have wanted to be the engineer who certified a 100 year old gun as safe to fire, however.
There was a bit of a kerfuffle when it was discovered that I had lost my glasses, which had been hooked on the front of my shirt while I wore the ‘Joe Cool’ Ray Bans, and we scoured the car, the carpark and the local park before we found them with Pocahontas and Shaggy: someone had handed them in in the fish bar. Phew! That would have cost a good £500 to replace. I was given a lecture on looking after precious things by my most precious thing, I meekly accepted it (tactfully not mentioning her similar experience in Fremantle), and we moved on.
Afterwards we took a walk along Queenscliff Pier in bright, hot, sunshine yet stiff breeze, viewed the lifeboat station, then returned to the car. I was surprised to read, on a nearby plaque, that lifeboats (like the RNLI) are no longer used because modern technology means “helicopters are more effective for sea rescue”. Really? Not always, surely? What about when the weather is so bad a helicopter cannot be used? I must find out if that statement is policy for all of Australia, or just that area.
Back at the ranch we relaxed outside with an Indian takeaway, a glass of Shiraz, and a 30-year old port. An odd mixture, I know, but somehow it all fitted together well. The port, in particular, slipped down a treat; I usually avoid the drink because it gives me a terrible head the next day, but in this case I thought I would make an exception.
Day 56
Monday 6 March. No hangover. Mainly clear skies, 25ºC, cool breeze. We are off to Lorne, where Laura and Derek have a seaside chalet, for a few days. Lorne is south west of Geelong on the Southern Ocean and is a small coastal town dedicated almost entirely to tourism. It is a popular weekend escape for the people of Melbourne (about two hours’ drive away) and the real estate is priced accordingly (prices from $AUS 1M). On the way there we drove down the Great Ocean Road through familiarly named townships such as Torquay, where we stopped for enormous ice creams. For the first time in Australia, I have found a road that twists and turns just like in England as it follows the coast south and west (the clue is in the road name). The road was built by the unemployed after WW1 and cuts through the cliffs in several places. It cannot have been an easy job. The beach at Lorne is magnificent: long, with a beautiful turquoise sea, and fine cliffs; it rather reminded me of Bamburgh, though it was considerably warmer despite the cool southerly wind.
Laura and Derek’s chalet is a large lodge of wooden construction, built on the side of a steep hill and overlooking the sea. They bought it thirty years ago when land was relatively cheap; the land alone is probably worth millions now. There are elevated balconies on all sides, and the building has huge picture windows so that you can sit outside wherever the weather suits you. They rent it out when they are not using it, and it will sleep eight comfortably and ten at a push. Inside is a large cathedral-like space with a vaulted ceiling, panelled in pine; a small kitchen; a utility room; and two bathrooms. There is a billiard table for those so inclined, and a large storage space in the garage below. All in all it is a perfect location and very comfortable in a basic, rustic kind of way. The local birds are cockatoos, kookaburras, gang-gangs, galahs, honey eaters and crimson rosellas – all very exotic and quite noisy, but delightful; it is a bit like living in an aviary. We settled in rapidly and just relaxed for the afternoon, gazing out at the ever changing seascape.
I have finally put my mind to writing a complaint to Cunard about the way they abandoned us in Adelaide. Heaven knows if it will do any good, but at least I will have made my point and – if successful – I may save some other couple from a similar fate. Watch this space.
Australia is entirely metric, like mainland Europe. Distances are measured in kilometres, speeds in kilometres an hour, weights in kilograms, temperatures in Celsius and volumes in litres. Driving, however, is on the left as reported earlier. I haven’t quite worked out all the spelling yet: most is in English, but some words – for some unfathomable reason – are spelt in American English. They also use the word ‘cheque’ (or is it ‘check’?) when we would say ‘bill’. Overall, the whole country is a pleasant mixture of American and British, with the bias towards American. There is nothing wrong with that; it is just another one of those curious things about how a relative fledgling of a country has evolved.
Day 57
Tuesday 7 March and we awoke to the roaring of the waves on the seashore and the cries of various parrots. The weather is mixed today, with a stiff breeze from the east, sunny intervals, and a temperature of 21ºC. It is rather like a cool English summer: quite temperate, but bearable with a sweater and long trousers.
We are off on a longer trek today, to Cape Otway lighthouse about 90 minutes’ journey from Lorne, to the south west. The lighthouse is the oldest still standing in Australia, and Cape Otway is the first point of land for vessels approaching Tasmania and Melbourne. The trip was along the torturous Great Ocean Road, a journey exacerbated by the driver ahead of us, who clearly was more used to the straight roads of New South Wales than the twisting road we were on. Every bend necessitated a braking manoeuvre, and was taken at 10 miles an hour. We could not get past because the road was ‘no overtaking’, and he refused to pull in to any of the many passing places put there to allow faster traffic to progress. Clearly, it was his one ambition in life to lead a procession, and he was revelling in having achieved it.
Cape Otway and the area surrounding it is officially rain forest, and very woody it was too. It certainly wasn’t tropical rain forest as the wind was blowing a hefty Force 5. Some parts of the forest had clearly been the victim of a bush fire, which is very common – and very dangerous – in the area; however other parts looked like a mythical petrified forest, sometimes quite extensive. Derek said it was caused by the koalas, which eat the eucalyptus leaves to such an extent that it deprives the tree of life. Apparently it is quite a problem, and there is much debate as to whether the animals should be culled to preserve the trees and, indeed, themselves. Interesting fact, by the way, koalas, which are not bears but marsupials, will only eat five particular species of eucalyptus leaves, not all of them. Picky little creatures. The koalas take a long time to digest their food, and sleep accordingly most of the day curled up in a furry ball, high in the trees.
Bush fires are particularly dangerous because of the speed with which they move and the heat that they generate. Derek, who has helped to put a few out in his time, says that if one is coming you should not linger, but evacuate the house quickly. Burning embers can jump over a kilometre, so fire breaks are not much help. Some people think they can just dive into their swimming pool, but those who have tried it get boiled alive and their bodies come out like lobsters. Similarly, you cannot hide in the cellar because the heat travels a considerable distance into the earth. He had a friend whose house had been burned down by a bush fire, and the spare tractor engine in what had once been the barn, was just a heap of molten metal. Mild steel melts at roughly 1,500ºC, so that will give you an idea of the temperatures experienced; apparently the eucalyptus burns particularly hot because of the oils within.
The Cape and lighthouse were in a wild and very exposed place, as – I suppose – most lighthouses are. It was disconcerting to see a chalked notice outside the entrance saying, “The sun is out and so are the snakes. Please keep to the paths and avoid the long grassy areas. If you see one, do not approach, they are DANGEROUS and DEADLY”. You don’t get that at Portland Bill.
There was an obsolete signalling station at the Cape too, and there were once sufficient children there to justify using one building as a small school (the children from the fecund lighthouse keepers who, presumably, had not much else to do after they had polished their lamps). We took the usual trip up the lighthouse and looked around, hanging on to hats and spectacles, and listened to an interesting chat by one of the guides. The lighthouse was once visible at 30 miles, but it is no longer in use now that GPS is used extensively. However, it has been replaced by a small modern beacon, about six feet high, sited in front of the lighthouse with a range of 15 miles. I found this puzzling. Why abandon a perfectly good light and structure, with a greater range, for a new replica with half the range. What is the financial case for that?
On the way back from Cape Otway, we stopped to take a walk through the rain forest and this was amazing. It was like Kew Gardens raised to the power four. Beautifully green tree ferns abounded, and huge tall trees such as mountain ash or eucalyptus thrust high into the sky, arrow straight. There was very little light and it was surprisingly cool in there. Incidentally, the eucalyptus tree is prolific in Australia and, apparently, there are over six hundred varieties in the continent. They are otherwise known as gum trees and one genus of that is – yes – the coolibah tree. So there you are, we have sat under the shade of a coolibah tree. Now to find a billabong.
It was another slightly tedious drive back along the coast road to Lorne, through some quite peculiar meteorological conditions: a very sullen nimbus cloud formation on one side, that looked as if a major downpour was imminent, yet dull sunshine and turquoise sea on the other. I commented on this and Jane suggested I remove my sunglasses, dear. Suddenly the world was bright and cheerful, and I heard an exasperated sigh from the back seat. Where would I be without her?
Day 58
Wednesday 8 March is a much warmer day in contrast to yesterday: clear dark blue skies, a light breeze, and temperatures in the mid twenties.
We spent our time in the environs of Lorne today, taking the views from Teddy’s Lookout high on a bluff overlooking one of the river estuaries, then moving on to Erskine Falls, about five miles inland. This waterfall is set well in the middle of the rainforest and drops about 220m: quite spectacular, though there was not a huge amount of water at this time of year. The climb down to the bottom was worth it for the views; the climb up a healthy pastime, good for the heart. Afterwards we returned to Lorne and took a stroll along the pier in the bright sunshine and took in the view. We noticed a number of children in some kind of uniform fishing from the end and, when we asked, were told that sea angling was a school activity so they were in school time. It strikes me that Australia is a good place to grow up. Of course, the skateboarders never do.
One of the things that I have noticed is that most of the houses here have galvanised steel roofs, sometimes corrugated. I don’t mean those rusty tin roofs that you get on the top of the bike sheds, but proper, thickly galvanised or painted roofs. You rarely see a tiled or slated roof. It is just one of those curious things. It must be quite noisy when it rains, I imagine.
After a brief lunch we walked down to the beach and paddled in the sea as we walked along the foreshore to the town. Jane actually stayed in and enjoyed it, and said she would have swum in it if she had her costume. Amazing! The Bass Strait has joined the short list of approved oceans. The stroll through the surf was lovely, though I got my shorts wet by being too adventurous. Afterwards we took a coffee in a beach café before strolling back to the house. It has turned out to be the perfect day, not too hot and not too breezy; rather like a hot summers’ day in England.
Tomorrow we are off to the former gold mining city of Ballarat to stay at a theme village in the suburb of Sovereign Hill, where the gold diggings once were. There is a tour, and a sound and light show in the evening telling one about the history, so it should be good. I am going to send this off now as I have access to WiFi and it will give you something to read over the weekend. Forecast is very hot tomorrow: 30ºC.
"A Very Vintage Chap..." 