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