Day 59
Thursday 9 March and we are off to the former gold mining town of Ballarat, about two hours’ drive away. We are staying at Sovereign Hill, a suburb of Ballarat and site of one of the old diggings, now converted into a theme township. It was a fairly straightforward drive there, on long, very straight roads in increasing heat. The temperature finally reached 30ºC when we arrived.
Sovereign Hill proved to be very impressive: a bit like a cross between Beamish in Co Durham, and Dodge City. It is sited around the original workings and there are working shops, workshops, a saloon and a hotel. Redcoats march through the streets, and ladies of the night have rows with preachers in the street as part of a playlet. You can pan for gold in the stream if you feel so inclined, or ride in the stagecoach. We had an Australian pie in the bakery (pies are big in the culinary department in Australia), and Jane had a Cornish pastie (I ask you: all this way and she asks for a pastie!). There were some good exhibits and artisan manufactured items, particularly in the sheet metalwork shop (actually made on the spot, not in China) that were good value. Then we repaired to the saloon where Derek and I had a pint of White Rabbit Ale, ice cold and most refreshing.
We stayed overnight at the adjacent hotel and it was very comfortable indeed, as well as being blessedly air-conditioned. The hotel utilised a lot of the old mining town buildings, and we were in the the Governor’s Residence. I was relieved that we weren’t in the barracks, sleeping four to a bunk room.
The evening proved to be excellent. We dined in the restaurant of the United States Hotel, an ancient building with murals of the South Seas around the walls, then down to the theatre for an introductory video. We then walked in the dark to the diggings where the way of life was explained to us: different areas – tents, mines, shops – would light up and ghostly voices would come from all directions, holding conversations, laughing or enacting vocally various operations. It was as if the people were still there in spirit. A long road train then turned up and we piled onboard to be taken to a different part of the town and another old theatre. Here, an entire wall opened up to reveal a full size diorama that continued the story in the same way, this time explaining the circumstances that led to a mutiny and riot (the Eureka Stockade, if you want to Google it). There were shouts and explosions and rain and fire, all very well done.
The Eureka Stockade riot erupted because the government had imposed a ‘licence to dig’ in order to pay for extra police and law enforcement; this was necessary because the population had increased from a just few hundred, to hundreds of thousands. Enforcement was not policed very sensitively and there were corrupt officials taking backhanders. On top of this the government had to reinforce the police with the army. Eventually the miners rebelled, built a stockade, hoisted a flag, burnt their licences and declared a sort of independent republic. Obviously the government could never tolerate that and the army stormed the stockade, resulting in about twenty two deaths. All was not in vain, because a better system of taxing was introduced after that. I sensed a present-day republican slant to the story as they kept referring to ‘British soldiers’, a term that I found slightly odd given the time when it all happened (1854): surely everyone was British then. There was also a tone of censure against the authorities and the army (those mutineers subsequently brought to trial were all acquitted), yet they were put in an impossible situation given the degree of lawlessness.
Finally we were transported back into the town, where we disembarked and walked back to the hotel. All in all a very informative and entertaining evening. And I didn’t mention the two large noisy school parties once.
Day 60
Friday 10 March, hazy sunshine and 31ºC. Breakfast in the hotel was a self-service buffet. The cooked breakfast was in little frying pans about four inches in diameter, comprising a small naked-looking sausage about two inches long, a tomato, and either a fried or poached egg; very novel. You used a long platter to put it on, adding beans, mushrooms, bacon or spinach as you wished. It tasted fine, but I have never had it served that way before.
After breakfast we visited the Gold Museum nearby, and this explained the process of gold mining as well as the history of the diggings and Ballarat. The town originally was around the diggings, but it soon became apparent that a proper city would have to be built away from the many holes in the ground to house the many hotels, support services, and Stock Exchange that a mining town needs. So the main part of Ballarat was built to one side, with considerable vision: long straight streets, six lanes wide in a grid system. It was a very informative museum and I thought the visit worthwhile. Yep, the school parties were there too.
We visited the city centre because Jane is a fan of the Australian ‘Dr Blake’ TV series, which is filmed there. We didn’t recognise any of the scenes, and we didn’t meet Dr Blake, but Ballarat came across as a nice, open, airy town with some lovely architecture in the Victorian mould, many buildings having the (by now familiar) ground and first floor ornate verandas like New Orleans.
On to the Ballarat Animal Park, which was much superior to the small sanctuary that we visited early in our visit to Geelong. In this park, the kangaroos were loose in the public areas and we just walked among them. They would take food from your hand quite happily, and we have several shots of Jane making a new friend in this way. We wandered round and saw a Tasmanian Devil, a cassowary, lots of koalas, more wombats, alligators, and a vicious looking salt-water crocodile. Jane particularly liked one of the alpacas until it tried to eat her Breton top (pity it wasn’t that blinking cardigan). One kangaroo took a liking to me and stood right up to me, putting its hands on mine, and nuzzling my face (I’ve been out with worse), but it’s claws were quite sharp and I had to back away (if these blogs cease, it means I have died from septicaemia caused by kangaroo claws). After all this excitement we dived into the cafeteria for a drink and I foolishly ordered a milk shake. What is it with Australian milk shakes? It wasn’t quite as bad as the Bondi Beach effort, but it was a close thing. I like my milk shakes thick and freezing, so that sucking the straw is like trying to draw a suction on the starboard sullage tank. Maybe I had better stick to McDonald’s in future.
So, onward to Kyneton, staying in a time-share resort in the bush (I don’t mean bush as in rhododendrons, I mean The Bush, the bundu). We are staying in a sort of lodge in a forest, a bit like Centre Parcs in a way, though – it being Australia – it is all quite scrubby with very little greenery but lots of gum trees. The lodge is clean and very comfortable, brick-built, single-storeyed, with two en-suite bedrooms and the usual facilities. Tomorrow we will explore Kyneton and its environs, taking in the odd winery I dare say. Kyneton, by the way, is in Victoria and sort of ‘up and to the left’ from Melbourne; I think Laura picked it because she wanted to show us other parts of the state, she has a time-share contract, and the property was available.
Day 61
Saturday 11 March. Overcast with sunny intervals, 27ºC. A gentle start today before driving in to Kyneton to look at some local markets. Jane’s ability to spend ages looking at vegetables and budget clothing never ceases to amaze me. The markets were a jolly affair – all the Australians seem to be that way – but the farmers’ produce was quite expensive (e.g. $AUS8 – about £6 – for a jar of peanut butter) so we just looked, smiled, then drove on to the supermarket for our victuals. Kyneton is a small market town, nothing fancy but not shabby either. Some of the residential pavements are just compressed gravel, but the main streets are properly paved. Like everywhere else (it appears), the roads are very wide: typically six lanes, which makes traffic flow past parked cars easy.
A curious fact of this town, and indeed Ballarat yesterday, is that some of the street gutters are not like ours: instead of a short step-off onto the road like in the UK, the pavement just slopes sharply down at its edge into a shallow ditch or quite deep gutter, with a similar dip down from the road. I imagine it is in order to cope with the heavy rain that you can get here. It can catch you unawares if you are unfamiliar with it, like us.
After this ‘victualling run-ashore’ we returned to the lodge for lunch and simply loafed all afternoon, reading and exploring the resort site, which has a lake and swimming pool among its amenities. The trees are all gum trees of various sorts, all shedding their bark in the characteristic way. You can see why the danger of bush fires is high: it all looks like a tinder box. In the fire season (i.e. now) fires and barbecues are banned. However, to overcome this, every three cottages has a shared gas barbecue in a covered area; the barbecue itself has an enclosed flame and so what you basically have is a very hot, stainless steel, square shallow ‘dish’, with a hole in the middle for drainage, that forms a hotplate. After use, you are expected to scrape and rinse the hotplate clean for the next person. The barbecues – or hotplates, as they really are – are cleaned every day as well. It is all very clean and well set-up. Derek told me that the only drawback is if you try to griddle an egg, it tends to slide down the hole in the middle before it cooks.
There are some lovely birds here, as mentioned earlier. The most fascinating bird song is that of the magpie lark. The bird looks like a magpie, but its song is highly tuneful, a sort of a cross between The Magic Flute and The Clangers. Absolutely lovely to hear. I will try to get a recording that I can pass on.
Day 62
Sunday 12 March. Sunny intervals, 25ºC. We are still at Kyneton, but heading for a couple of wineries today. It would appear that visiting wineries is the standard occupation for Australians on a Sunday, just as we might go to the pub. I think they go to the pub as well, of course. However, many Australians seem genuinely interested in the wine tasting experience (as opposed to getting sloshed on free wine), and certainly Derek and Laura are far more knowledgeable on the subject than I am (mind you, that wouldn’t be hard: I just like what I like).
We found a small winery nearby, the Paramoor. It was only 3½ acres on a small homestead run by a husband and wife team, and the tasting was inside a lovely old barn, very comfortable, with armchairs and a pleasant sitting area. We enjoyed the wines, though I notice that, at these tastings, the wine is invariably quite expensive by UK supermarket standards. You don’t get plonk. The wines started at $AUS20 (about £12) a bottle and went up from there. The hostess was a lovely lady and we enjoyed a very comfortable chat as well as the tasting. In the end we bought six bottles and moved on to the next watering hole.
Hanging Rock Winery is located near – well – Hanging Rock, a location famous for a book called ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’ in which some schoolgirls mysteriously disappear at Hanging Rock in the early 1900s. It was just a novel, but the story has become legend in Australian literature such that many people believe the story to be true. Anyway, this winery was a more commercial concern and there were several other parties already there, being served from a large counter by a harassed looking server. We particularly liked the Sauvignon Blanc and Riesling at this tasting, though Laura and Derek are ‘red’ people, so we bought a selection, then we ate sandwiches on a bench outside in the hot sunshine. Most pleasant.
I have learned yet another Australian term, which I pass on for your edification: yute. I came across this in conversation and I thought at first that it was a type of tent like the yurt that Mongols live in. But no, it soon became apparent that it was some form of transport; a vehicle. Finally, I had to ask Laura. A yute, or ute, is a Utility Vehicle: a pickup truck. A new Utility Vehicle is a beaut ute. So there you go.
As it was the day of rest, we decided to return to base and implement that policy. I must say, I had a very good snooze and I think I may just have caught up on that sleep that I lost when HMS CAROUSEL had condenseritis in ’80.
Day 63
Monday 13 March. Mainly sunny, 28ºC. Today is a public holiday and we are off to Ballarat, where there is a Begonia Festival being held in the Botanic Gardens. Jane loves these things, of course, because anything with the words ‘botanic’ or ‘flowers’ (or, indeed, ‘penguins’) sends her off in raptures. It all passes over my head, I’m afraid, but if the memsahib is happy then so am I.
By the way, Jane has received the culture results of her urine test from Adelaide, and there was no infection in her urinary tract after all. So we still don’t know what it was that made her ill, though antibiotics seem to have fixed it, whatever it was.
It was a fairly long trek to Ballarat – about 1½ hours – but Derek undertook it stoically, even when it became apparent that a lot more people than Jane like flowers and begonias. The place was heaving. Still, the entire event was free so that must be worth something. The begonia display was restricted to just one hot house, which was packed with people taking photographs, meeting friends, and generally indulging in long conversations in large groups, thus blocking the way. There wasn’t a lot of looking at the begonias. We shuffled through, me muttering, and Jane reprimanding me for moaning, until suddenly we were out again. That was it. We did make an attempt to view the rest of the Botanic Gardens, but really it was virtually impossible so – to my relief – we gave it up as a bad job and went for a stroll round the large lake nearby instead.
The city centre for lunch seemed a good idea, so we strolled back to the car and set off on a circuitous route intended to take us to a cheap café for which Laura and some money-off vouchers. This took us through several industrial estates, two U-turns, and three passes through central Ballarat. I must say I was impressed with Derek’s phlegm throughout Laura’s laid-back navigation; I would have been spitting blood after the first U-turn. In the end, I used my iPhone to find the target café, but when we arrived it was shut. Laura was keen to try a second restaurant for which she had a voucher, but Derek had had enough by this time and we stopped at the first restaurant we could find, no discussion. This proved to be a good find. It was a small family Italian establishment that did a standard lunch and drink for $AUS16 and we had an excellent meal. Jane, of course, had to finish with the ice cream so, what with begonias and ice cream, she was a very happy little girl. One curious thing we discovered is that it is common in Australian to charge a surcharge on public holidays, so each meal cost an extra $AUS2. Best not mention that in UK lest restaurateurs get ideas. On the plus side, you do not tip here, so that saves quite a bit.
You may have noticed that I do not mention the weather quite so much now. This is partly because Jane has come to accept the situation, and partly because it has stabilised. We had a pre-conceived idea of Australian weather, thinking that it would be permanently sunny and very hot. This is not the case at this time of year (their autumn) and, in Victoria in particular, it is quite temperate. Most days it starts off cloudy but warm (low 20s), but then the sun breaks through and it reaches 25-28ºC. This is ‘English summer hot’ but not usually oppressive. It is very comfortable, and definitely shorts weather. The evenings can be quite cool however, and there are few occasions when we can sit out.
I think I will send this off now, following my policy of sending you a little and often. I reckon it is 0715 on Monday morning in UK as I write, so you will have something to read with your boiled eggs and soldiers and Coopers Oxford Marmalade as the rain lashes the windows.
"A Very Vintage Chap..." 