Copyright © Tanya Piejus, 2001

17 March 2001

G'day from South Melbourne Beach

I forgot to mention the casino last time I wrote. No, I haven't been frittering away my savings at the card tables but gambling is something of an Aussie obsession it seems. Everywhere I've been so far has had a room full of pokies (computerised fruit machines that deal out poker hands instead of bunches of cherries) and a betting shop. In order to experience this first hand, I spent last Friday night in the Vegas-style Crown Casino. Row upon row of glassy-eyed punters dropped coins into bleeping pokies while card-players gained and lost multicoloured chips on pontoon and baccarat hands or on the random spin of a wheel. After an hour or so I was mesmerised by the flashing lights, clinking coins, mirrors and swirly patterned carpets and could understand how people get hooked. The hotel I'm staying in now has a gaming room and even at three o'clock in the morning there are still people there dropping in coins and punching the buttons like automatons.

Last weekend was the annual Moomba Festival. I spent Sunday and the Labour Day holiday watching parades, dances, waterskiing, extreme sports displays and street theatre, listening to open-air concerts, wandering around the carnival and admiring the variously decorated trams. Some things don't change even on the other side of the world - Labour Day being a Bank Holiday the weather was grey, windy and cold.

The sun did come out when I left Melbourne for a few days, however. I packed my bike on the train again and travelled up to Wangaratta. From there it was a 16km cycle ride to Glenrowan, site of Ned Kelly's last stand. Having been on an excellent night tour of Old Melbourne Gaol, I'd seen the infamous bushranger's death mask and set of homemade armour that he was wearing when captured in 1880. Glenrowan contains a reconstruction of the Kelly homestead and a commentary on his life. It was a sad tale of destitution, victimisation and loss which in some way seemed to justify Ned's turning to a life of crime. Even though he shot dead three policemen during the final shoot-out, he is something of a folk hero, representing the fighting spirit of the underdog, and the people of Glenrowan are obviously proud of their historical association with him. They have erected, among other things, a Big Ned Kelly in the village, which was the real reason I was there of course.

Another Big Thing took me up to Swan Hill on the Murray River. They have a giant cod by the train station which was a leftover prop from a film. The filmmakers donated the big fish to the townspeople who then fibreglassed it and now use it as a symbol of the environmental disaster that is the Murray River. Swan Hill also has a Pioneer Village made up of houses and shops brought there from all over Victoria which I enjoyed pottering around and getting a feel for what life was like for the early settlers.

Having got fed up with the residents of the hostel I was staying in behaving like 14-year-olds on a school field trip, I'm now installed at South Melbourne Beach, although it's hardly beach weather at the moment. However, it is very handy for the Tasmanian ferry terminal which I'm bound for on Monday. Next mailing from Hobart...

27 March 2001

G'day from Hobart

Apologies for the slight lateness of this week's email. Tasmania is not nearly so well endowed as the mainland with internet facilities. It's not quite 20 years behind the rest of Australia as alleged, but it does have a more olde worlde feel about it.

I arrived on the Spirit of Tasmania, the only ferry boat that regularly plies the Bass Strait. It was a pretty smooth crossing despite the choppy seas earlier in the week and I awoke from my gently rocking bed to the most beautiful morning. Low-slung deep grey clouds were backlit by an apricot sun and the sky was reflected on a soft, undulating pale grey sea. If you could have reached out and touched it, it would have felt like moleskin.

For various reasons I ended up spending the first night in Devonport where the ferry docks rather than heading out into the mountains as planned. There isn't much there besides an Aboriginal museum based around some rock carvings. The persecution of the Aboriginals was nowhere more devastating than in Tasmania so it was good to see a museum celebrating Aboriginal culture here.

I got to Cradle Mountain on Wednesday and hiked round Dove Lake in the pouring rain. It rains for 275 days a year in Tassie and the weather changes its mind as often as a government changes its policies, so I have worn just about everything in my backpack in an effort to dress appropriately. Basically, walking boots, shorts, a fleece and rain jacket cover most eventualities apart from the snow, but I'll get to that later. Cradle Mountain is a strip of craggy rock with a U-shape cut out of it in the World Heritage Area that covers about a third of the state. It's surrounded by lakes and lush, dripping forest. I keep being reminded of other places as I travel round Tassie. The Cradle Mountain area looks like the Scottish Highlands with New Zealand's flora on top of it. The lower parts of the west look like the West Country and the hopfields and orchards of the east kind of look like Kent but yellower.

Because of the vagaries of the bus routes and timetables, I made another unplanned stop in Strahan (pronounced Strawn) on the west coast. This turned out to be an excellent piece of fortune. Myself and another English girl ended up spending the night with six others on a yacht that doubles as a B&B when not out cruising. The next day we took a boat cruise to Sarah Island, remains of a feared penal settlement, which we'd already heard something about in a highly entertaining and participatory play. The boat then went on down the Gordon River and we had a walk in the beautiful ancient rainforest that abounds in that area.

Next stop was Hobart but only briefly as I then went on to Port Arthur for two days. I wanted to get to grips with the whole convict transportation and penal colony thing that lead to the foundation of white Australia and it's certainly possible to do that at Port Arthur. This was a huge settlement that contained a large prison complex for the convicts plus a whole town of supporting free people. Only an eighth of the buildings are left now, many ruined in bushfires, but some have been expertly restored. The historical interpretation is excellent throughout the site and the nightly Ghost Tours are a must. Port Arthur is supposedly full of restless spirits who manifest themselves on a regular basis and we were taken through some of the buildings to hear their stories. The guide built up the spookiness and tension with creepy and bloody tales. Towards the end we went into the Model Prison where unrepentant convicts were kept in total silence and solitude. As front lantern-bearer I had to lead the group out of the prison along a wing of dark cells. I'm not easily frightened but, with a head full of tales of murder, lunacy and ghostly happenings on previous tours, I have to say my heart was pounding then. The penal settlements were so inhumane and brutal it's amazing that Australia has turned into such a great country from these unpromising beginnings.

Having woken myself up an hour early after forgetting to adjust my alarm clock for the end of daylight saving, I caught an early bus to Mount Field National Park yesterday. The biggest draw of the third oldest national park in the world is the Russell Falls which cascade impressively over many levels in the depths of the sclerophyll forest. The flora here is particularly interesting as there is a greater species diversity as you go up the mountain. You ecologists out there will know how unusual that is. Not having a car, I was a bit stuck for getting up into the main walks area this morning but then a nice young man from Brisbane offered me a lift. When we got up to Lake Dobson near the top of Mount Field, ice was blowing sideways out of a low white sky. We nearly abandoned hopes of a walk but the hail/snow eased off and we braved the cold to walk round the lake. We were both pleased we had as there was some gorgeous pandani forest with exotic-looking trees and spiky, bright green bushes on the far side.

I'm now back in the capital and have changed my ferry booking to allow myself an extra couple of days here. Looking at the map, there is the huge blob of Australia and Tassie is a little scrap of land off the bottom but it's actually the size of Ireland and nine days isn't enough even to see the highlights, I soon realised. But then I've met people who say that three or five weeks here isn't enough either. Ah well...

2 April 2001

G'day from Elizabeth Street, Melbourne

As you can see, I'm back in Melbourne for a brief stint of general travel admin before hitting the Great Ocean Road tomorrow on the way to Adelaide. After leaving the pleasant little city of Hobart, I took the bus up to Freycinet Peninsula. If I hadn't managed to change my return ferry trip, I'd have missed Freycinet which would have been a great shame as it's one of the jewels in Tassie's scenic crown. Its most famous feature is gorgeous Wineglass Bay - a sweep of white sand, fringed with granite peaks and dense forest, and lapped by a tropically blue sea. I had a good look at from the top of Mount Amos, one of three lumps of smooth, pinkish granite collectively known as the Hazards. The climb up there was more of a hands and feet scramble but it worth the effort and was a good preparation for the next day.

There are several walks of varying length around the national park that together form a 30 km track called the Peninsula Circuit. This 10-hour hike is usually done over two or three days by normal people who camp overnight at the beaches on the way. But, me being me, I decided to do the whole lot in one day. I had a partner in this madness, my Canadian room-mate, Tracy. We set off at 8.15 in the morning and enjoyed the Bounty ad-like scenery of Wineglass Bay before ascending 579 m to the summit of Mount Graham on a rocky, twisting path. Then it was a steep downhill slither to another lovely beach and a cooling paddle in the clear ocean. The final section involved a barefoot 2 km walk along the coarse sand of Hazards Beach, and we hiked the last couple of kilometres as the last rays of the sun turned the soft pink of the granite into a firy crimson. I signed the returned walkers register at 6.30. We had enough energy left for a couple of beers in the local and were both sound asleep by 10.

Tracy was travelling on to Launceston and on towards Devonport in her hire car which was the same way I was going so I joined her for the last two days. The drive on up the east coast was lovely and we stopped off at Biceno blowhole then turned inland to see the steep, thickly forested Elephant Pass. On the other side is a famous pancake barn where they charge $2.20 an hour from the parents of rowdy kids and we filled up on yummy crepes. Next stop was inland at the St Columba Falls, Tassie's highest, then on to the Pub in the Paddock. This is known for its beer-guzzling pigs, Slops and Priscilla. We bought bottles of special pig beer and fed them to the porkers. Slops downed his faster than an OddSock with a party shooter and that's saying something. We finished up in Launceston on Friday night and the less said about that the better...

The journey back on the Spirit of Tasmania was calm and uneventful and so I returned to Melbourne at 5 a.m. wishing I'd had longer to see more of Tassie than just its highlights. Definitely one for a return visit.

9 April 2001

G'day from Port Campbell

Especially for Daniel, this missive comes from the town on the Great Ocean Road that shares his name. Daniel lives in California, but he's not the only Golden State connection in this week's story. The Great Ocean Road was built for two main reasons, one being as a memorial to the ANZAC dead of World War One and an employment scheme for the war's veterans. The other reason was to rival America's Pacific Coast Highway. It's a while since I holidayed in California, but I reckon the Great Ocean Road wins the beauty contest. Both highways look good in swimwear but the Great Ocean Road has a special physical asset in the form of the Twelve Apostles which I saw today. These are impressive limestone stacks just off the shoreline which are constantly gnawed at by waves that have come all the way from the Antarctic. Arty pics coming soon...

I rejoined Oz Experience on Tuesday for a quick hop down to Torquay, surf capital of Australia, where I had my second surfing lesson just along from famous Bells Beach. Bells doesn't look much to the untrained eye but apparently it has some of the best waves in the world for riding. For those who have seen the film 'Point Break' it's the one at the end where he dies and the 50-year storm is a real phenomenon. There's not much to do in Torquay apart from surf, buy surf gear and go to the surf museum which is surprisingly engrossing. However, I got my adrenaline shot for the week in a Tiger Moth which I've wanted to fly in ever since seeing 'The English Patient'. Once I'd paid for the scenic flight along the coast, it didn't cost much extra to throw in some aerobatics. The hightlight was supposed to be when the pilot stalled the engine, dipped the nose and put the plane into a groundwards spin - especially exciting from the front seat. My favourite bit, however, was the loop-the-loop followed by barrel roll where I got to see the ocean and land come over the top of my head then roll under my feet. Awesome!

The Oz bus then took me along some beautifully rugged coastline reminiscent of Cornwall or north-west Scotland but with a much lustier ocean beating at it. I passed through the pretty little towns of Lorne and Apollo Bay in favour of the isolation of Cape Otway where I stayed at a place called Bimbi Park. 'Bimbi' comes from the local Aboriginal language and I had visions of prehistoric Pamela Andersons. The literal translation of 'bimbi' is 'place of many birds' so maybe my imaginings aren't so fanciful. Anyway, Cape Otway is better known for its koalas and I walked to Blanket Bay to look for some. Blanket Bay isn't the cosy place it sounds. It's a wild place of plunging forest, tortured rocks and pounding surf that hurls shells, seaweed and unwary cuttlefish onto coarse sand the colour of cafe au lait. I found my koala on the way back, its fluffy butt parked in the fork of a manna gum fast sleep, as is their wont.

I was meant to be in Port Campbell yesterday but Oz Experience screwed up and abandoned me at Cape Otway for an extra night. Yesterday was altogether a strange day with an impromptu Palm Sunday service in the dining room, pouring rain and a loquacious Frenchman, but I did get to meet up again with two lads who I was with at Ulladulla. My stay there seems a long time ago now, but I have got to the stage where I keep re-meeting people so maybe Australia isn't such a big place after all.

Posted 15 April 2001

Happy Easter from Mt Gambier

Now, where was I? Oh yes, the Great Ocean Road... I stayed at Port Campbell in order to go back to the Twelve Apostles for sunset. All the guide books recommend it so I hopped on my bike and went to see if they were right. I sat for about an hour watching the cloudy sky change from pale yellow to mango to deep apricot before the sun appeared between a crack in the clouds and threw a rich scarlet light onto the frothy waves just to one side of the towering limestone columns of the Apostles. Even though the weather wasn't great it was still a spectacular, albeit brief, display of natural splendour. All I had to do was press the button on my camera. The photos won't even get close to doing it justice but you'll get the idea.

Back on the Oz bus, we saw some more great limestone formations before waving goodbye to the Great Ocean Road at Warrnambool. There's a good story behind one of them. The London Bridge formation used to be a double arch joined to the land. People could walk across it until one day the first arch fell into the sea stranding a married couple out for a dirty weekend on top of the second arch. Observers, journalists and TV crews were soon on the scene to watch them being helicoptered off which would have been great publicity for them if only they'd been married to each other.

On Wednesday we drove north across the flat, yellow wheat and sheep country of the Wimmera towards the jagged and toothy Grampian ranges. They are popular for bushwalking, particularly at this time of year when the weather is good but not too hot for tramping up mountains. I stayed for two nights at the Grampians Eco-hostel which, as its name suggests, is all environmentally-friendly, low energy and recycling-orientated. We've had three days of beautiful weather this week - clear blue skies, bright sunshine, warm temperatures and a little cool breeze. It was ideal for a great walk to the Pinnacle and other rocky lookouts over a large lake and down to Halls Gap where I was staying.

Good Friday was the start of a whole load of events in the area, including the Great Western Rodeo which happens to be next door to Australia's largest winery. I went with three other Oz bussers and spent a very enjoyable afternoon watching bull-riding, bucking broncos and steer-roping by Australia's finest cowboys and girls. The name Great Western Rodeo caused some initial confusion as Great Western is the place it's held in not just the name of the rodeo. I'm sure they do this to deliberately to fool the tourists into thinking the rodeo's actually in Stawell 12 km away.

From Halls Gap we headed coastwards again via Mt Arapiles. This is one of the top centres in the world for rock climbing so it seemed daft not to don a harness and shimmy up some sandstone when given the opportunity. I'm now spending a few nights in jail but that's another story and will have to wait for next week.

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