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Published: February 28th 2013
The Finish built ship, The Spirit of Tasmania I, carried us from Davenport, Tasmania into Melbourne, Victoria where we landed on time at seven PM. The two hundred and seventy nautical mile passage across the Bass Strait was disappointingly flat. I want to experience bad weather, on a large ship that can take it. We always seem to get calm weather where as people who are frightened of the weather get a lively sea. We drove off the ship, picked up our gas bottles and proceeded around the corner to the beautiful beach front parking lot for the night.
The south coast of Victoria consists of bucolic pasture land. Herds of lazy cows lay under patches of gum trees in one field. In the next, groups of healthy sheep lift their heads in unison as we pass by. We drove through enduring towns, patched brick and timber store fronts where the signs of their glorious history have been replaced by signs of the new struggle to survive like Vinnies(St Vincent de Paul) and Salvos (Salvation Army). Just on the other side of town you can find the new box stores like Woolworths, Coles, separated by strip
malls filled with franchises like MacDonald’s, KFC, Repco, Super cheap Auto, Big W, Target, with a Bunnings hanging ominously at the end of the enormous parking lot. I wish I had something to buy in Bunnings. It’s like driving by a Canadian Tire store without stopping.
Our first stop was Port Welshpool in a caravan park set far away from the highway on a sandy inlet. We picked a grassy site under a tree in the near empty park and enjoyed the sun, the cool breezes and the park residents. Every day we were treated to the sweetest, home grown nectarines by one old dear who visited, filling our ears with her very interesting life story. Comfortable old guys would come by, chatting us up and giving us local knowledge and explanations of why there were so many floods and fires in Australia. Rolande met a couple, Chris and Thelma, while bicycling to her hair appointment, who invited us to their beautiful beach front home for dinner. We talked late into the evening about travel, politics, house building and why Port Welshpool is a very nice place to live. They fed us gummy shark and
flat head, caught in the bay in front of their house, perfectly cooked on Chris’s barbie. The moonless sky provided enough light from the necklace of the milky way to guide us, wobbling on our bicycles, home to our cozy camper. In the day I rode my bicycle for miles in both directions down the beach enjoying the seabirds, the cattle on the other side of the beach’s brim, and the absence of noisy internal combustion engines.
After three days in Port Welshpool we moved Annie the Ambo down the beach. Several bush fires were moving south so we had to dodge around, traveling on roads near the beach until we encountered the delta of the Snowy River. We got across the bridge and headed for the safety of the beach. It was frightening to drive under pawls of smoke in the eerie red glow of obstructed sunlight sometimes twenty kilometers wide. On the other side of the Snowy River we found Marlo where we camped for four nights. In the evening we would watch the sun set filling our camp with a strange orange light from the smoke and in
the morning we would find a fine layer of ash on our van from the fires. The Snowy meets the sea at Marlo forming an inlet along the beach where golden sand has been piled along its banks running for ten kilometers down the beach. This fresh water mixed with the brackish tidal marsh water in this narrow gap is filled with unique flora and fauna and a plethora of bird life. We spent several days exploring the wonderful pathways the parks people have installed, wading in the warm waters and sunning on the beautiful deserted gold sand beaches. One evening while riding our bicycles we discovered a patch of perfectly ripe blackberries, just like home, growing on the side of the road. What a treat.
We had met a wonderful couple, Elfie and Laurie, about our age, on our cruise around the top of Australia who live in Jindabyne in the Snowy Mountains. Laurie had expressed an interest in buying our van and wanted us to drop by so he could take a look. He liked it, we came to an agreement, and he bought it. They own Steiner Ski Lodge where they gave
us a room while we sorted out the paperwork for the van. I must say it was very comfortable there and they were the perfect hosts. I hope they will come for a visit to Canada one day so we can repay them. They took us on a tour of Perisher and Thredbo, the two ski resorts in the area and showed us Mt Kosciusko, the highest mountain in Australia. Jindabyne is an ideal place to live for someone who likes skiing in the winter and water sports on lake Jindabyne in the summer. It was quiet when we were there but apparently in the ski season it is a very exciting. The ski hills are well developed with what looked like some very challenging runs. Elfie’s father came from Austria in the fifties, started the first Australian ski manufacturing business and was instrumental in developing the Snowy Mountain ski area. Laurie took us on a tour of the Snowy Mountain Hydro development which he knew everything about because he had just retired after a twenty-nine year career working for them. Elfie and Laurie seemed to know everyone in the area and we felt most welcome.
We also visited
looking down Anzac Parade
with Capital Hill, Canberra in the distance.Marian MacMeaken’s brother John who has lived in Jindabyne for decades. Marian and Angus worked together at St Joseph's.
On Saturday Laurie drove us to Canberra where we picked up a rental car for the rest of our stay in Australia. We went to Costco on our way to the rental place and were amazed that it was an exact copy of the Costco in Comox.
Canberra is a planned city in the middle of the tiny ACT (Australian Capital Territory). Someone mentioned it was like Ottawa. I suppose it has about the same population but to me Canberra is much nicer. Heavy granite government buildings surround a multi bayed lake connected by broad well-organized streets, bridges and bicycle paths. I wondered about the significance of the gun site like entranceway of the war memorial giving a clear shot at the government buildings separated by a kilometer of gardens, which point at the metallic crown over the octagon of parliament.
We toured Canberra by car one day, visited Laura and Shane, Tim Jackson’s daughter and son in law. Their eight-month-old son Christopher delighted us with
the War Memorial in Canberra
commemorates the sacrifice of Australians who have died in war. Definitely worth a visit of several hours...if not days. big smiles as he bounded in his jolly jumper while we talked of the wonderful life we are all sharing. The next day we rented bicycles in the heart of Canberra, riding around the lake visiting art museums, gardens, eating a wonderful lunch at a Turkish restaurant and wondered how the engineers made the water in the Captain Cook’s fountain go so high.
With the realization of only having two more weeks in Australia we thought we needed some more beach time so we found a holiday park at Fairy Meadow, seventy miles south of Sydney, booking for a three night stay. We could hear the surf crashing from our bungalow, the beach was gold sand cleaned by the Tasman Sea swell and warmed by the South Australian Current. One day I swam in the sea and lounged in the spa bath, the steam room, and indoor swimming pool while Rolande took the train into Sydney. It worked very well because I like the country and Rolande likes the city. The next day we drove into Sydney to visit our cruising friends Neil and Ruthy on Rutea. Thank goodness we have Natalie, our GPS, because
it would be impossible to find the marina where Rutea is berthed without Natalie. Ruthy wasn’t there but Neil cooked some wonderful scones, which we ate in Rutea’s beautiful salon, while Neil told us of their plans to sail to South East Asia in July.
Noel and Jackie, our good friends who sold Periclees for us last year, invited us to Greenwell Point for a barbeque on Friday. Their place is so familiar to us that it felt like coming home. They wanted to take us to the Kangaroo Valley the next day to visit Clive and Andrea, who lived on a six hundred acre cattle farm and are also off-shore sailors. It started to rain when we were having our barbeque under Noel’s palatial gazebo. In the night there was a lot of wind, thunder, lightning and heavy rain. We were wondering if we could get through the swollen Kangaroo River but Clive reported the rain had stopped at his place and the river was going down. It started to rain again as we drove over the torturous switchback turns through the mountain range, which separates the Kangaroo Valley from the coast. The water was so
Enigma
code name for the cipher machine used in WW II high when we got to the river crossing that Clive couldn’t drive his 4x4 across. We carried our bags across a nearby suspension bridge and met Clive dressed in a typical Australian hat, Australian bush ranger's oilskin coat, a pair of droopy trousers and bare feet waiting for us with his trusty dog, Skip, and his land cruiser to carry us the rest of the way through the jungle to his rambling home high on a steep hill surrounded by green paddocks and happy, wet cows. They set us up in a separate two-bedroom cottage with a waterfall just beyond the front door, which rolled down the slope feeding the swollen river below. Separating the house and cottage there is an outside kitchen with a long rustic table surrounded with native ferns and philodendron vines complete with a wood fired oven. Clive fired the oven in candlelight while Andrea prepared home made pizza. Nothing tastes better than wood fired homemade pizza accompanied by wonderful wine and good company. We met the neighbors Andy and Katrina. Andy is a struggling country and western musician and Katrina makes her living catering Sydney weddings and parties in the most delightful Kangaroo Valley.
The rain became torrential through the night accompanied by thunder, lightning and high winds. I hoped the cottage was securely fastened to its foundations because the rain and gusts seemed close to blowing the whole thing off the hillside.
The next morning the ground steamed when the sun shone through the rain-cleared air causing lazy clouds of fog to filter through the gum trees on the hillside. We took a walk through a broad range of gums, palms, tree ferns and philodendron vines filled with chattering birds and evidence of wombats and Kangaroos. Andrea gave us a ride to the suspension bridge where we crossed the swollen river with our bags slung over our shoulders on our way back to Greenwell Point. We had to go around detours near Nowra because so many trees had been blown down on the roads and we heard on the news that a dozen houses in Kiama, just down the road from Greenwell Point had been destroyed the night before by vicious winds.
It was sad to leave Greenwell Point and our good friends, Noel and Jackie, who have enriched our Australian adventure. Again I hope
they can find their way to Vancouver Island someday so we can repay their kindness.
We booked four days in a caravan park in Bulli beside a giant grave yard and enjoyed the ocean view, the intermittent sun, the salt water swimming pool on the beach, parrots on our sun porch and the sound of the surf crashing on the beach in front of our cottage.
We have one last visit with our friends Roger and Robin in Sydney and then we are off to New Zealand for the month of March.
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Teri
non-member comment
Lovely pictures
Hi you two! As usual the pictures are great. I especially like it when there is a close up of either one of you. Then I can see you are looking healthy and happy. Carry on carrying on! love Teri