8/11
BRISBANE —-> MELBOURNE —–> GEELONG
Still in Brisbane, I am trying to organize my life in the next two days. I’m leaving tonight at 19.15, arrive in Melbourne at 21.45, and want to get immediately away with the last 23.35 train to Geelong, which is the city closest to the places of my interest. At Melbourne airport there are buses every half hour for the city center and, considering that I still have to buy the train ticket, and especially find the station, I won’t have much time to loose! Among other things, I do not have a guide, because I did not want to spend more money for the Victoria Lonely Planet just for 2 days. For the first night accommodation, given the late hour of arrival, I have contacted the Geelong tourism office to find some budget hotel near the train station. They recommend the Carlton Hotel, 49 Aud for a single, giving me the owner’s cell phone number, Bill. I call to book informing him that I will arrive very late, about midnight and half. Bill proposes to hide my room’s key somewhere outside the reception door, but I can’t understand where, his accent is incomprehensible, Eventually he capitulates and says he will wait for me.
My plane is half an hour late. Damn bad luck, things get complicated. I lose by a whisker the 22.20 bus, I have to wait another half an hour, and hope for a miracle. The next bus arrives earlier than 22.50, but unfortunately there’s a lot of people and the driver takes a lot of time with the tickets selling.
At 23.25 we are left into a dark square, with some buildings around and no signs at all. The station should be somewhere here, but how to find it quickly? A guy comes to my rescue, asks me where I have to go, luckily walks with me for part of the way. I run like a desperate, enter the station by an underpass and, what a coincidence, my track at the opposite side! 🙁 I catch the train with my last breath left. I am upset.
I finally arrive in Geelong. Now that I’ve stopped running, I realize that it is very cold, there will be 5 or 6°C. One of the other passengers of the train tries to pick me up. I’m really getting desperate, when suddenly a guy, who was waiting in the shade, asks me if I am Cristina. It’s Bill, thank goodness! How nice, he came to the station instead of waiting for me at the hotel. However, I soon realize that it is heavily drunk. O my God!
The Carlton hotel is decrepit, from the reception I can see part of the pub, with walls covered in red velvet, brothel type.
Obviously, there is no heating. But then Bill once again proves to be a very nice person, he put in my room an extra heater, which must have been lit a few hours ago, so now there is a discreet warmth. The bathrooms (shared) are rather cold, so I postpone the shower to tomorrow morning. It is now 1.00. According to my plans I should wake up at 8.00, and don’t want to change them. I have to look for a car reantal, and leave immediately.
I go to bed. The window frames are old and tatty, the cold air penetrates into the room. The heater is not sufficient. I sleep badly because of the cold.
8/12
GEELONG – GREAT OCEAN ROAD – PORT CAMPBELL
I wake up with my nose frozen. I shudder at the thought of the shower waiting for me, and instead I bring to completion even this difficult task. In the kitchen there is none. Bill informed me that breakfast is free, but I do not have to expect too much. Bread, butter, lots of jams and many varieties of tea bags, milk, cornflakes. Besides the inevitable vegemite. He might not know that, for us Italians, this is more than enough. Then I go out and find a tourist office in the vicinity of a supermarket, where an old man, a pensioner who is volunteering, proves to be an experienced travel agent, gives me a lot of maps, and explains where to find car rentals. Budget does not have small cars, Europcar offers me a Yaris, very special occasion for a special price. Later I will realize there is not even the flatbed to cover the luggage on the back …
After a while I am on the highway, quite easy to get out of town.
I stop at the first village I meet, Torquay, because it is the surfing capital of Australia. One of its beaches, Bells Beach, also named in the movie Point Break, is home, during the Easter weekend, of a famous international competition, the Rip Curl Pro.
I notice around some clothing and surf equipment stores. I stop in a few ones to snoop around. Anywhere, surfboards rentals, 15 Aud for half a day. Not a lot of people around. I decide that I will see Bells Beach on the return way.
I go on. The road winds between the cliffs and the ocean, which has wonderful colors, pure waters, shaded from turquoise to deep blue. Not like in Wongaling and Port Douglas !!
I go through picturesque towns, Anglesea, Lorne, Aireys Inlet and its lighthouse, Wye River, Kennett River, Skenes Creek, all is tidy, neat, clean. The meadows are a dazzling green, the sky partly cloudy, a light wind, but I am ok without the jacket. Virtually every half a kilometer there is a scenic look out, I stop the car, I get down and contemplate the view.
I stop at Apollo Bay for lunch at a Turkish takeaway, and eat my lunch in the picnic area on the beach, I buy some postcards in a store that sells a little bit of everything, I savor the silence and peace of the winter sea. From Apollo Bay to Port Campbell the road detour inland, through the Otway National Park, full of mimosa trees in bloom.
The weather, unfortunately, changes and turns to bad.
I reach Gibson’s Steps, which mark the beginning of the Twelve Apostles area. It’s raining and I am alone. This is the only place where I can go down to the beach by steep and slippery steps. I think this is one of the places in the world where a man becomes truly aware of being small and insignificant in front of the immensity of nature. And I feel smaller than a flea on this red sand strip between the crashing waves and the high cliffs behind me, which seem cut with a sharp razor. I continue to the Twelve Apostles, which can’t be seen from the road. Here the parking lot is a bit more crowded, at 16.30. Oddly enough, entrance is free. There’s an information center, public toilets, a nice tiled little street, which, through a tunnel, leads to the lookout. Here, there’s no way to get off the beach.
So here is the moment I have dreamt about, now I’m really here, this is the reality, not the picture on my PC screensaver 🙂 I wonder where the hell is Hannu right now, and what he is doing. Wherever he is, it can’t be as beautiful as here. I almost would like to call him and tell him “hey idiot, here’s what you missed!”
Well, almost everything is for myself only! A few lost souls wander around, they seem more worried not to get wet than fascinated by this almost unnatural beauty. I have a small umbrella hanging on my wrist and I even forgot to open it.
Hannu, as if he could read my mind, sends a text msg “What are the rocks like”. “I’m speechless” I have to admit.
I hope someone will believe me when I tell that this is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen in my life. And who knows what would have been with a fiery sunset behind ….
Reluctantly, I resume my journey; along the way there should be other nice places to see. I stop at the Loch Ard Gorge. Here the cliffs form a kind of semi-circle around a very sheltered bay and incredibly turquoise water.
Suddenly I find myself in Port Campbell and I realize that I missed the Arches National Park !! I mentally retrace the last stretch of road, and I’m pretty sure I did not see any deviation.
I stop at the Loch Ard Motel, with beach and cliff views. 60 Aud for a nice double with huge bed. There is also the TV. Since I am alone, the weather is lousy and there are no places to meet people, I think it will be useful. Awarded.
The motel owner reassures me the arches are a few kilometers away in the direction of Warrnambool, the opposite one, and this explains why I did not see them !! Another thing to do tomorrow morning.
I buy something to eat in the front shop, and I retire, sprawled on the bed to make plans for the next day. What a busy day waiting for me. Return to the 12 Apostles in the hope to see them with the sun, the Arches, then Bell’s Beach to see the Surfers with capital S in action, the train to Melbourne, if time, short ride into the city center, and, last but not least, the night bus to Sydney.
I must hurry. Because I hate running, I plan to get up quite early, say around 7.00 and go to bed at 21.30.
And instead, everything goes wrong …
8/13
GREAT OCEAN ROAD – GEELONG – MELBOURNE – SYDNEY
1.00 I wake up suddenly, as if I had a nightmare, with an almost unbearable nausea. Which it is strange, since I ate a vegetable soup and some fruits.
I go back to sleep. 4.00: colic. I’m well aware that in past days I drank very little. I spend the following two hours drinking gallons of water and peeing, hoping that the pain go away. I am worried, who knows if I’ll manage to drive, to run if I am in a hurry, who knows if I’ll manage to stay a whole night in a bus with no opportunity to lie down, or whatever.
The alarm is postponed at 8.30, I managed to doze off after 6.30, pains are partly over, but I do not feel very well.
I do not even know how, but eventually I manage to put myself in the car, take the direction to Warrnambool, see the arches and bridge, go back to the Twelve Apostles and Gibson steps and make decent photos. There is no trace of yesterday bad weather a beautiful clear sun makes its way among partial layers of clouds. Good light.
I retrace road made yesterday, with a certain melancholy. The Oatway National Park, with the splendor of yellow mimosas today enhanced by the warm rays of the sun, Apollo Bay, Skenes Creek, Kennet River, etc. etc.. I try to hurry, although I would still restrain myself, because I want to see the mythical Bell’s Beach. Surfing is a sport that has always fascinated me, waiting, patience, balance, challenge to danger. Point Break is a movie that struck me very much, at the times. A bit of action, fast rythms, constant surprises and then the handsome Keanu Reeves, in his thirties.
Apparently, the beach is huge, since there are at least a couple of exits signs which indicate it on the state road. I take the first one, for Bells Beach South.
I get to a lookout on a steep cliff. Below me sandy coves and rocks alternate, the sea is very calm, but, from a certain point onwards, probably the seabed must get up abruptly because big waves originate from nothing. The ones who exercise to surf them are very good, the best ones I’ve ever seen, one of them even can be compared to the guys you see on TV. It seems to me a dangerous place for surfing, with all those boulders around.
At the parking lot, a surfer parked his battered station wagon near my Yaris. I watch him during the ritual of dressing. It’s a good looking blond boy. I want to ask if I can photograph him, but I am too ashamed. I skip a few hours and I’m in Melbourne in search of the bus terminal. Another skip and here I am on the bus, in the front row, quietly asleep for most of the trip, and then alerted and attentive at the first lights in the morning, at around 7.00, when we remain bogged down in some traffic jams on the Sydney ring road.