Rodney 'Bacchus' Marsh

We haven't seen the likes of Rod Marsh nor indeed Dennis Lillee but we are in Bacchus Marsh.  The area was actually a marshland where the Lerderderg and Werribee rivers meet, but has since become much drier due to most of the water upstream being used by European settlers for gold mining and upper echelon private school rowing teams.  Apparently some joker named Captain William Henry Bacchus brought a bunch of sheep here from Tasmania shortly after the earth cooled but realised rather quickly that, due to it being a marshland, it wasn't suitable for sheep because of foot-rot.  Doh! So he moved them uphill towards Ballarat and named the marsh after himself, as you would.  And it stuck.

Being rather studious (and having learnt from this history), Andrea and I are not in Bacchus Marsh to run a flock of sheep.  The real reason we are here is because our dear friend Bruce Bell has an equally dear daughter, Lynn, who happens to live in Bacchus Marsh.

She is clearly much smarter than Mr Bacchus because she doesn't run sheep either but she does have 25 wonderful acres of natural Victorian bushland and a very warm and welcoming household.  It has been terrific to catch up with Lynn and her partner Michael, who is a Kenworth B-Double driver and highly skilled firearm and ammunition technician.  He is clearly not one to be messed with.

 

We set up the van in Lynn's yard and tried to dry everything out in the wonderful sunshine blessing this part of the state.  Our previous night in Bass was rather wet and windy and we had to pack up in the pouring rain. 

 

It was actually raining that much that wee (sic) couldn't even make it across the McDonalds car park to get to the toilets. So the portapotti was set up in the caravan and yes, we had to toilet in front of each other.  Just like being in a tank again!

 

It was not the most glamorous of places at the McDonalds truck-stop but the boys did get to back up their Happy Meals from last night with McDonalds hotcakes for breakfast.  First and hopefully the last time in their lives.  Heaven for them!  Poor parenting by us!

 

The drive to Bacchus Marsh took us through Dandenong and the city via Toorak, of all places.  We try to avoid the tolls on the freeways so we detoured around them ending up in Chapel St Toorak, a-la the Beverly Hillbillies once again.  Toorak is the swanky park of Yuppiesville in Melbourne and there we were, skull-dragging the filthy 'Panda' through the streets behind 'Toorak Taxis' and catching the odd sideways glance of the locals.

But we made it across the Westgate Bridge which incidentally, collapsed forty years ago this month killing 35 workers, and onto the Western Freeway to Bacchus Marsh, 50 km west of the Bleak City.

 

We settled in with Lynn and Mike over a nice happy hour of olives, ham, crackers, camembert cheese and pickled onions before hooking-in to some lovely barbeque steaks for dinner!

The boys were able to get their fix of TV briefly.  But we had tears when we dragged them away from it at 10pm.

Happy Meals and Happy Days

Although it was sad to say goodbye to our wombat friends, it was time to head off on our next adventure - to see the fairy penguins at Phillip Island.  After a short stop in Wonthaggi for supplies we arrived at our next over night stop.  Amidst the crazy woops of delight from the kids, we pulled in to an overnight MacDonalds truck stop on the Bass Highway!

After setting up and securing the caravan, we were off to Phillip Island, just a short 15 minute drive away.  First we soaked up the seaside holiday vibe in the lovely little Cowes Bay.  We enjoyed afternoon tea bayside, and Fletch traded places with the wildlife.

 Fletcher in the tree
 

Bird on the table

We wandered out onto the jetty...

 

...where Fletcher got a random hug from Angelina!

We have no idea who Angelina was, but the contingent of Japanese tourists milling about on the jetty were practically pushing each other out of the way in order to get photos!  Weird.

 

After a wander up and down the main street, and the purchase of yet more souvenirs to add to the collection we took a drive to The Nobbies, a magnificent headland on the south-western tip of Phillip Island.

It really was breathtaking, but our stroll along the boardwalk, absorbing coastal views and spotting for the iconic little fairy penguins and playful fur seals, almost ended up in a sprint due to the EXTREME FREEZINGNESS!!  The boys didn't even want to get out of the car!

 I was ok, though.

Even the penguins were cold!

 

In the end we decided not to see the Fairy Penguin Parade.  By this stage it was 6.30pm and we had another two hours to wait for the little penguins to start making their way up the beach and into the dunes.  As Jarrah wrote in his diary "We didn't see the Penguin Parade because it was too late, too cold, cost too much money and it scared the penguins too much!"

Sadly, it seems that it's true.  Many of the reviews I read suggested that thousands of people are packed in each night to witness what has become solely a commercial enterprise.  The little penguins are frightened and disoriented by the noise and flashing of cameras (which is not permitted but continues to occur).  Unfortunately this naturally occurring ritual of the penguins returning home after sunset each night has been turned into a penguin circus!

So, with some seriously sad faces in the back seat, we headed home.  Sad faces were soon to turn to happy faces, though, with the realisation that staying in the Maccas car park meant Happy Meals for dinner.  Happy Faces all around!

Note the golden arches shining through the window of the caravan!

The Wombats That Ate Wilsons Prom

This morning we were up early to tackle the Mt Oberon Summit Walk.  Starting from the Telegraph Saddle car park by 9am, we had the track pretty much to ourselves.

This iconic hike took us on a steady uphill trek up Mt Oberon.  At a mere 558 metres and just 7kms, this really should have been a walk in the park for the indefatigable Johnston boys, but this morning they were a little off their game.  Fletch lasted barely 200 metres before giving up and enjoying the ride in the backpack, while Jack and Jarrah took turns moaning about what they would prefer to be doing.  So I helped pass the time more quickly by commencing a verbal general knowledge quiz.  This worked quite nicely as both Jack and Jarrah soon increased the pace of their walking until they were out of ear shot of me AND the quiz!

In just under an hour we'd reached the top.  Steps below the summit lead us to postcard perfect, panoramic views over Tidal River, the coast and offshore islands.

 

The amazing view, the unsecured, hazardous rock ledge, the almost touchable clouds and the promise of a hearty morning tea all served to brighten the day significantly.  It was a great place to breathe in the freshest of fresh air and see the dramatic and beautiful meeting of land and sea at the southernmost point of Australia's mainland!

While Bruce and I marvelled at the brilliant sapphire waters crashing into the megalithic rocks that surround the coast, the boys decided to do some rock hopping.

Rock hopping near said unsecured, hazardous rock ledge.

After 40 minutes or so at the summit, and with our picnic lunch eaten for morning tea, we commenced the descent.  By all accounts it was a much more enjoyable trek on the way down, despite some more blood and some more tears.  Once again, neither shed by Bruce or I. 

We were back at our camp by midday, with the rest of the day to relax in the sun.  We spent the time playing some cards and games, riding bikes and climbing trees (at the Johnston Tree Climbing Club!)

Late in the day we packed yet another picnic bag and headed to Norman Beach for 'happy hour' snacks and family fun.

It's difficult not to be mesmerised by this magnificent bay.  Bruce and I sat back with a bottle of bubbles and watched the World Class Championship Wrestling display.  Later Jack, Jarrah and I played three dimensional noughts and crosses in the sand and then we all joined up for a game of two on two and a half beach soccer.

It was a perfect afternoon and none of us wanted to leave, but by 6.30pm it was time to start heading back to camp for a BBQ dinner and to prepare for tonight's wombat spotting adventure!

As we'd seen so many beautiful wombats last night, I was looking forward to another successful wombat spot tonight.  And we weren't to be disappointed.  We were once again enchanted by these chunky little guys.



Fatso the Friendly Wombat

Meet Fatso.  Fatso was more than happy to let us all have a pat, as long as he had grass to eat.

He wasn't so keen on carrots.

 

But he was happy for pretend to be a wombat games...

 

...and didn't even seem to mind wombat cuddles!

 

It was a joy to be sharing these funny, nuggety creatures' National Park home.  Wilsons Promontory will definitely go down as one of our most memorable stays.

 

Note:  In the wee small hours Bruce once again ventured outside when the thumping and bumping and snorting under the caravan got too much.  This time he found that a wombat had opened the Waeco protective bag and was trying to get to the beer!!!

Wilsons Promontory - Wombat Wonderland

Well today we managed to drive directly to our destination, without any erroneous detours.  Hence after a quick stop for supplies in Yarram, we arrived at the beautiful Wilsons Promontory National Park in time for lunch. 



We were soon joined by some of the locals.

 

These Crimson Rosellas didn't seem to mind that we hadn't showered  (or shaved) in more than a week!  They ate out of our hands and one of the cheeky little fellas even came inside our caravan!

 

The weather was glorious and, being Victoria, we thought we'd better make the most of it.  We headed out for a short walk across the Tidal River footbridge towards Norman Beach.

 

Tidal River

 

We chose the 4km walk to Pillar Point.  This short walk resulted in blood and tears, but in this case not much sweat.  The blood and tears were the result of running, pushing, shoving, tripping, stomping, teasing, sword fighting (with long sticks) and throwing of hand grenades (shorter sticks).  I am happy to report neither Bruce nor I shed any blood or tears.

 

The views from Pillar Point, however, were most rewarding.

 

We spent quite some time enjoying the panorama from this outcrop of granite boulders which provided breathtaking views of Norman and Squeaky Beaches and the Prom's offshore islands.  It is an unsecured cliff, however, and keeping Huey, Dewey and Louie away from the edge eventually proved too much for even the most fearless of parents.

 



The walk back home was of a calmer nature.

 

Jarrah was keen to do some shell collecting on the beach, so we left the others and headed on a detour to Squeaky Beach to do some foraging.

 

 

It wasn't a great shell beach, but we did find plenty of cool stuff - including crabs, snails and purple jellyfish.  Oh, and the beach sand really did squeak!  We've come across squeaky beach sand a few times in our travels, and according to Wiki, certain conditions have to come together to create singing sand:

1. The sand grains have to be round and between 0.1 and 0.5 mm in diameter.
2. The sand has to contain silica.
3. The sand needs to be at a certain humidity.

So there you go.  Jarrah and I had this beautiful bay completely to ourselves.  The photo above was taken at 6pm - the sun was still shining (love, love, love daylight saving!) and there was just a gentle breeze blowing.  Beach life at its best!

Our short afternoon stroll had now stretched out to more than three hours so we decided to take the shortcut home.

Jarrah after our short scramble up the rockface.

 

Now ever since I can remember I have had a fascination for, and absolute love of wombats.  So it wasn't by accident that we decided to camp in an area renowned for wombat sightings.  We planned to take torches and head off for some wombat spotting after our BBQ dinner.

 

As it turns out, we didn't have to wait that long.  While Bruce was taking care of dinner at the BBQ area with Jarrah and Fletch, Jack and I were back at the caravan.  I was pegging up some towels when Jack gave a yell.  We both watched a big fat wombat power walk right through the middle of our campsite.  He actually brushed my leg as he went past!

 

 Wombat Retreat

 

Of course I was enraptured!  I grabbed the camera while Jack went to give the wombat alert to the rest of the family.  We had a great laugh over dinner, not quite believing our luck that this little guy had strolled right up to us.  Jack was the most excited, but I think that was because he got the prize (a big bowl of jelly) for being the first to spot a wombat!

 

The wombat spotting after dinner was great fun, and under the light of a beautiful full moon we came to realise just how many wombats live here.  In total we spotted 14 wombats within a 200 metre radius of our caravan, along with four possums (one with a baby on its back).  It was a real nature treat for all of us!

 

 

When we went to bed, we left a carrot out for the wombats.  They are renowned for fossicking around the campsites for food in the dark of night and have even been known to get lids off eskies.  Not long after we'd gone to bed, we heard one of them knock Jack's new bike over.  Later Bruce got up to investigate what another one was doing thumping around under our caravan (another camper had discovered a wombat had eaten through their brake line and Bruce wasn't having any of that!)  I think he might have just been eating my carrot!

 

So many wombats, so little time!

Time for a Holiday

I have always said the best aid to navigation is lots and lots of fuel.  This principle has placed me in good stead throughout my military career whilst manoeuvring armoured vehicles around the countryside and has also proven to be effective on this OZ trip, particularly in the last few days.  Not exactly because we have been geographically embarrassed but more so that we have made a few dodgy decisions about destinations and how to get there.  The ten litre jerry-can of diesel I attached to the drawbar of the caravan, almost as an afterthought, has been a blessing on a few occasions.  The latest episode occurred on Saturday when we decided to go to the Victorian seaside inlet of Marlo with a view to setting up for a few days free-camping only to realise that it was not exactly in the direction we wanted to go and that none of the campsites within cooee were even close to being free. Indeed, camping was $38 per night with no power, water or sullage. So, it was time to get the heck outa dodge. 



Fletcher was not impressed with the camping fees.

Despite being a bit low on juice we decided to once again put the fuel efficiency of the Santa Fe to the test.  We have two fuel cards for the Santy, Caltex and BP, but I am no fan of BP and will bypass them at every turn unless absolutely necessary.  Which leaves us with Caltex as the single preferred supplier, and they are not on every street corner unfortunately.  Suffice to say that the Santy came up trumps once again and we made it through to Lakes Entrance with at least 5ml of diesel to spare.....

Don't you just love modern cars when they give you every type of warning that you are running out of fuel but you just keep going, testing fate with every push of the accelerator.  Fuel gauge showing below E, low fuel warning light lights flashing RED, Distance to Empty computer refusing to display a positive digit.  But we keep driving.

It would be funny if the thing actually ran out of fuel and the computer display comes up with the declaration 'Buffoon. I told you so.'  Because there are no real excuses for running out of fuel, certainly not in Victoria anyway.  Maybe in the desert or somewhere acutely remote but not in one of the most populated states in Australia.  I can just imagine the roadside assistance mechanic having to reset the Buffoon mode from the computer after he has refuelled and primed the thing.  Of course there would be the mandatory 'Buffoon callout fee' he would charge too. Yep. Lots of fuel for me.

Now this has almost nothing to do with what we have been up to lately nor, I suspect, what you would be likely interested in reading about out trip.  So I'll cut to the chase.

We landed in a place called Log Crossing, a tranquil little bush camp which feels very remote, but is actually not far from Lakes Entrance.  We played a lot of cards, enjoyed a good book and saw some great wildlife (including a VERY big black snake!)

 



Last night we enjoyed damper and a few songs around the campfire with another traveller,

Tom the Pom.

 

 



 

We made some good friends, Tessa and Mia from Denmark, who shared some pancakes with us for breakfast.  We tried out our new Beechworth vanilla-infused honey!  Yum!

 

 Jarrah demonstrated the new spaghetti eating technique by sucking

 each strand up between his two front teeth. 

 

Do not try this at home.

He is a trained professional and the patent is pending.

Today we packed up and moved camp to a place called Reeves Beach, which is a free campsite on the southern Victorian coast east of Wilsons Promontory, west of where we almost ran out of fuel and somewhat north of Tasmania. 

We pulled in here in the pouring rain among five or six other caravans all sheltering from the weather.  So after we quickly set up we snuggled up inside the van to keep warm and played some games.

But it was a good day nonetheless.  We bought a new mountain bike for Jack from a fella who refurbishes them.  The bike we bought looks quite new and hadn't actually needed refurbishing so it was an easy purchase.  It happens to be exactly the same as the bike Jack has at home so we should be sweet with spare parts for a couple of years. 

Jack with said bike.

The boys still have a good amount of lollies from the show-bags Aunty Barb bought them from the Royal Show.  One lolly per day, per child, perhaps is the rule and it seems to be stretching out the allocation just nicely. Still, it is not without a struggle every day where Andrea or I have to adjudicate over some form of controversy concerning the apparent imbalanced allocation of biscuits, lollies, fruit, soft drink and food in general.  Apparently, all food sources must be allocated in exactly equal proportions.  Wouldn't want to be unfair or show any form of favouritism would we?
 



Jarrah, after finding out that Jack got more Milo than him.

 

 Andrea cooked up another terrific dish of curried sausages and mashed potato for dinner, which is becoming a bit of a favourite I must say.   We watched the second instalment of "The Last Outlaw" on DVD, which is the four-part mini-series of Ned Kelly we bought in Glenrowan.  The infamous gunfight at Stringybark Creek was the last scene of this episode and so the boys were all fired-up and we struggled to settle them down and get them into bed without having to threaten the use of the whacking spoon again...  Bloody bushrangers.

 

 

Today, Tuesday, was a heck of a holiday day.  Walking along the Ninety Mile Beach, or in current terms the 144.9 Kilometre Beach, was as close as having a holiday as it can get, I reckon.  The wind was howling and the seas were a bit rough but it was very therapeutic with the sand underfoot and enormous Kestrels overhead. 

 

 Which way, Hal?

 

Chariots of Fire.

Fletcher William in full stride.



We walked for over an hour to find the Woodside Beach Surf Club to get a nice feed for lunch, but they were closed.  But not so much as closed as deserted.  We found the local caravan park but it too was deserted, except for one guy in the kiosk, Steve.  Nice guy to chat to but thoroughly bored with no-one to talk to other than his pet dog, King, and any tourist that happens to take a wrong turn, such as us.  Apparently we are here a few days before all hell breaks loose and an overwhelming stream of Melbournians flood the 'Lakes' area for the Melbourne Cup long weekend and wreak havoc on the beach. 

 



Thought we would get a little fishing in before the hoards descend

on the place and deplete the local stocks....

 

Steve was a really nice dude who has all but sold us on visiting Sovereign Hill in Ballarat.  Didn't sell being in Woodside Beach for long though.   He gave the boys a complimentary lolly-pop and we were back off down the beach to the van for happy hour and homework :)

 

 Mrs Drysdale won't know what hit her when he gets to kindy next year.

 

Tomorrow our intention is to head off toward Wilsons Promontory to find out exactly who the Wilsons are.  And why they have a promontory.  But all these questions and more will be answered in the next blog.  I can't wait!

Family - Love Beyond Words

We'd found such a lovely bush camp here at Anglers Rest and we couldn't bear to leave it.  So we didn't.  We spent a large part of the day sitting around the campfire reading, chatting, eating, drinking and playing Uno.  The sun was shining and it was completely and utterly relaxing!

 

Later in the afternoon, however, we decided to go exploring.  Armed with an information sheet from the lady who runs the local Blue Duck Hotel, we headed off to find the Cobungra River lookout.  After an hour's rugged bush trek, the reward was impressive.

 

 

Impressive, but also terrifying.  With a sheer 100 ft drop immediately behind the Shooting Star and his two best mates, we didn't hang around on this rocky outcrop for long!

  

Soon enough we were back on the river bank enjoying the spring wildflowers.

 

 

The two hour walk did prove a little too much for the littlest legs.

 

The day finished in the same relaxing way as it started.  We enjoyed a campfire, some music, a hearty meal and some memorable family time.

 

 

 

Authors Note:

 



Today’s blog is written in memory of my Mum, Yvonne, who would have celebrated her 75^th birthday today.  Mum I still miss you each and every day.  The sun has never shone quite as bright since you’ve been gone.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been 10 years, but time, and life, just marches on.  It’s hard to believe that you never got to see the transformation of our home in Keysbrook, and it breaks my heart that you never got to meet my beautiful boys.  They’re so big now and I think you would have been proud of the way they’re growing up.  In each of them, every day, I see you.  Jarrah, in particular, has your big heart and your generous nature.   He sees the good in everyone, just like you did.

You would have loved this marvellous adventure we’ve embarked on, and I know you would have been on that houseboat, making sure I didn’t drink the WHOLE bottle of champagne on my own!   

Each day I silently thank you for the Mother you were to me, and marvel at your patience and your tenacity in raising us alone.

Each night I go to bed determined that the next day I will be a little bit more like you as a Mum.



I miss you Mum.  My best friend forever.

Victorian Alps

We bade farewell to Kelly Country this morning and headed east towards the mountains once again.  With a couple of weeks to kill before we meet up with Darryl in Melbourne we thought we’d spend some time in the beautiful Alpine National Park.

Our first stop was Brown Brothers Winery in Milawa.  Brown Brothers is one of Australia’s leading family-owned wine companies, with the family making wine in Victoria for over 120 years.  The third and fourth generations of the family currently keep the tradition alive, and with over 60 different wines available for tasting, this stop didn't turn out to be a brief one!

 

While Bruce and I sampled the wine, the boys played on the playground and challenged each other on the giant chess set.  I discovered (and purchased!) some lovely Proseco champagne in tiny little bottles, solving the problem of once opening a standard sized bottle, having to finish it on my own! 

Next stop was Milawa Cheese Company, where the kids could join in the tasting.  The lady who served us some wonderful, lovingly handmade Australian farmhouse cheeses used to live on Scrivener Road in Serpentine!  Small world!!

We stayed for a picnic lunch at Milawa then continued along the Great Alpine Way,  through Myrtleford, Bright, then on to Mt Beauty.  Luckily, before we’d gone too far past Bogong, Bruce thought to check the situation with road closures.  Snow season has only just finished after all.  As it turns out, the Bogong High Plains Road was indeed closed, so now we had to backtrack over Mt Beauty once again, to get to our destination of Anglers Rest.

We meandered through the picturesque hamlet of Harrietville, before being treated to a spectacular drive through the Alps (though we all felt a little ill with the twists and turns and ups and downs).  The forests of Alpine Ash were magnificent and a little eerie, and we couldn’t quite work out whether they’re actually dead or just seasonally dormant! 

Spectacular just the same!

The further we ascended, the further the temperature descended.  By the time we got to the top we were completely engulfed by low level cloud, and it was FREEZING!

Not much of a lookout!

Just after we passed through the Mount Hotham Alpine Resort the drive got a little hairy, as we descended the mountain on a narrow, slippery road through rain, mist, wind and snow.  Despite brakes that were shuddering and smoking, however, we made it safely to the quaint little town of Omeo on the other side.

From here we ascended again towards our destination of Anglers Rest.  It took us almost an hour to drive the last winding 27 kms to our destination – a beautiful little bush camp next to the Cobungra River.  All in all it had taken us an additional two hours to travel the extra distance due to the road closure.

Soon enough, we’d dug out all the jumpers, beanies, scarves and blankets that we’d thought we wouldn’t need again and Jack had made us a campfire by the river.  (While it is a little chilly here, it’s not unbearable.  We're in the Victorian Alps and it’s still not as cold here as it was in Queensland.   Who would have thought?)

We enjoyed an old fashioned meal of bangers and mash followed by an evening of song and marshmallows by the camp fire.  Bliss.