Tasmania's Top Treasures Traversed!

Sunday Nov. 6– Freycinet National Park- Tasmanian Treasure- “Top Ten” Beach

Unfortunately, the brats also got up early and made as much noise as possible doing this. They were leaving as we got up and good riddance. We had breakfast and said goodbye to the group of women, as none of us were spending another night there.

Our objective today was to hike the most popular trail, the Wineglass Bay lookout path. We drove to the trail-head and started our hike behind several busloads of South East Asian tourists, fortunately adults this time. For a popular trail it was surprisingly challenging, with a long ascension along stone steps. There were a few stopping points to look back and the trail wisely forked so that you came and went along different ways. We walked for about half and hour and then hit an area of trail work with the workers on break, watching the hikers trying to catch their breath.

Wineglass Bay close up, brave swimmers in cold water.

The lookout itself had only a small space for gazing out, due to the renovation. More people were quickly going up and having their pictures taken than actually looking around, but I guess that's par for the course. The view was so perfect it was like gazing at a postcard, on a sunny day. Actually, it was a bit too sunny as the summer-like temperatures made for quite sweaty climbing when great elevations are concerned.

We headed down from the lookout to the beach and were preceded by some kids who had chosen to hike the trail barefoot and were probably regretting it, as after the lookout it was clear but rocky and rough. We were also passed by some teenaged boys running past at full speed, obviously some Aussie coming-of-age ritual that we dared not interfere with.

Mom and Joey, unfazed by the paparazzi.

At the beach, some people were swimming, which looked great when you're sweaty from a long hike, but they generally splashed around for a bit and got out, as just a few sunny days does not a warm sea make. The beach was quite deserving of its apparent “top 10 in the world” reputation that everyone kept quoting. The water was a clear blue and the sand was pure white and it made a nice arc along the coast, Australia truly spoils one (ho hum, another perfect beach) after a while. We walked around the rocks at the end of the beach, had a rest and took photos. On our way out, a wallaby with a joey in pouch was poised by the beach while everyone gathered around, snapping shots. So, being good tourists, we did too.

Slowly we started making our way back up the steep slope in the heat of the day. It was long but we were grateful for the downward slope. We headed back to the hostel, grabbed our gear and were on our way to Launceston. We stopped again at Friendly Beach to check out the view of that long piece of sand and then hit the road.

View of Friendly Beach, almost completely deserted.

We ignored the GPS and set our own route along what looked like a more substantial route from our map. Fat chance. The road was the worst one yet, in really rough shape, and kept getting narrower and narrower. Fortunately we met few locals coming the other way, as they tended to barrel along at full tilt. We crawled along the narrow switch-backing roads along cliff faces with dodgy-looking guardrails, sounding the horn around corners to avoid a full head-on collision.

Eventually our elevation lessened, the road straightened and our pace hastened. Meg slept through the worst part thanks to her motion sickness pills, but still took a painfully slow shift behind the wheel.

Ghastly Ghosts of Launceston Town...

We arrived at our comfortable, quiet hostel, the Launceston Backpackers, in Launceston. The evening was full of excitement such as shopping, laundry and food preparation and eating. Then we headed downtown for our much anticipated Ghost Tour.

The walk was a little intimidating, as the town had a rough look to it and walking along the main pedestrian area left us almost completely on our own on a Sunday night. We made it safely and caught some cool public art along the way. They had these huge brightly-coloured fibreglass cushions that said things when you sat down heavily on them. There was probably a spot to record for the cushions nearby, as most of the sounds were kids giggling and making vaguely rude noises.

We showed up at the starting place, a hotel/pub, plenty early and had fancy coffees while we waited. We looked hopefully at everyone who stopped there and eventually were rewarded when a cluster of people gathered and a small, round woman crossed the street and announced herself as being our guide. We were a small group, with ourselves, a family on vacation, a couple from Queensland and a friend of the guide who was getting a freebie. The tour was pretty cool, taking us into basements and dark corners just off lane-ways. The whole thing ended in an old garage which used to be a stable. This area had sound effects and dummies to add to the atmosphere as well as a nice bookend to the first story we heard. There were rolling mannequin heads and a banging coffin, all sorts of good stuff. Many stories were good, and many were just odd, unresolved things that actually sounded like they might have happened. An offshoot of the tour was that it got us walking around a different part of the downtown and we got to see some really nice streets with well-maintained buildings, rose gardens, and nice homes. The town had some lovely architecture! Who knew?

The walk back was dark but ultimately uneventful and it was bedtime by then, so we slept and slept well.

Monday – CLIMBING THE CATARACT/ RASBERRY FARM TREATS

We got up, ate packed and headed out to the Cataract Gorge, a natural scenic spot right in the city. In packing, we were much disturbed by finding that some of the laundry we left on the line the previous night had been shat upon by some nasty Tassie birds. Lacking a gun, all we could do was hand-clean them and drape them over the backseat to dry. After parking the car we hiked up a fairly steep trail that followed the narrow river cutting through the park area to the lake. There were some nice views from the highest point of the trail. We continued on through a developed park area with a pool and across a narrow bridge to return along the other side. It's a great place for the locals, with many people using it for jogging or to visit the adjoining botanical gardens. It was nice for a tourist destination, but far from spectacular. We amused ourselves by poking about in some shallow caves and figuring out the route of the old walkway, which was much closer to the water and much more vulnerable to the floods described at info points along the walk.

We drove for a few hours, stopping off at a raspberry farm Cousin Pam had suggested, for lunch. This was a busy tourist spot along a rural road that had tasty food and a lush setting to while away an afternoon while sipping a raspberry fizz and indulging in raspberry shortcake. However, we had a fair distance to go, so we hastily returned to the car, heading towards Cradle Mountain/Lake St. Clair National Park. In typical Tasmanian fashion, the roads became narrower, twistier, and rougher as we headed away from major centres. We took a nice break in a small town (can't remember the name) to pick up some groceries, as the guide book warned us that there were few supplies at the mountain and what there was was way overpriced. It turned out to be quite a nice town that had decided a few years ago to become the “town of murals” and had dozens of them around the town. This attraction had made it a bit of a tourist destination, so buildings were spruced up, and a visitors centre rented audio guides to the paintings. The murals on the buildings around the supermarket were certainly well done and depicted various aspects of Tasmanian history.

Cradle Mountain- Dove Lake Loop

After another hour of progressively more dangerous roads, we arrived at Cradle Mountain. We checked into our hostel which was an empty dorm building in a Discovery Holiday Parks Campground with shared facilities. We made a quick stop to the visitors' centre and then headed up to the most scenic short hike in the park, the Dove Lake loop. The drive up was along a road often only wide enough for one car,where you were constantly sounding your horn. At one point we had to reverse to let a bus come the other way. We drove past some ranger stations and little lakes and the road ended at the parking lot for our trail. We entered our route into a logbook so that they could find us if we collapsed into the foliage and set out. It was about 4 pm so we had just enough time to hike the loop before sundown. It was very well blazed, with wooden walkways over the marshy bits and stairs to aid going up and down. Early on there was a short side trail that took you to a rocky outcrop that provided great views over the water and up into the mountains. It rains 7 out of 10 days in the area, so we were lucky to have this clear, sunny afternoon to have our hike. The loop was an easy walk,but with the ever-shifting perspectives of mountains on water as well as the slowly lengthening shadows it was well worthwhile. The famous Overland Trek in the park goes from the Dove Lake area up into the mountains for 7-9 days and out at the other end of the park. We would have loved to have done it but it still got plenty cold at night and we had no proper gear, so the loop was fine. We met a few people along the way, but not many, and everyone was friendly. There were warnings to stay on the trail, as some plants were so delicate that it would take them 30 years to recover from being stepped on. Most people respected this, but a French family ahead of us was going all over the place. It's bad enough for adults to be ignorant, but modelling it with children is much worse and was the only downer of the hike.

Cradle Mountain and Dove Lake on our only clear day.

We returned just when we should have and drove back in the gathering dusk. We cooked up a decent meal in our kitchen only to be later offered a free meal from a tour group using the second kitchen who cooked way too much food. The group's arrival meant that we no longer had the whole building to ourselves, but the group must have been on a fairly busy pace, and they all conked out early.

Tuesday – Cradle Mountain- Misty Hiking

We got up in the grey drizzle and headed out after breakfast. It was a 3 hour loop trail that we almost completely had to ourselves. About half of it was along wooden walkways as otherwise we'd have been tramping through marsh the whole way. The trail started in an open field and then followed a waterfall under low bush. It emerged at a lake's edge which we saw later was under spectacular mountains but we could barely make out the other shore through the mist. We scaled a small hill and started the trail back. The walkways were in much worse shape and in several places we had to teeter along the remaining support beams from rotted paths to cross small marshes. We passed a few small lakes and then headed back along new walkways until the loop was completed.

We headed back to the cabin and it was hard to warm up as the power was on a switch that didn't click on until 5 pm. After a busy lunch with many others in the kitchen lunch Meg went into nap mode and I headed out to try the park's shuttle system and a few of the remaining trails. I took the bus out to the same starting point as before but this time I headed back towards the interpretation centre along a 10km walkway. I had just missed a bus and so had to wait 10 minutes for the next one and was still the only one on it. The driver was really nice and talked about all of the places in Australia he had worked at and that the walkway covered up unsightly water and power lines and so was multiply useful. The walkway made for a fast 10k, it took only 90 minutes to cover it. I had it almost all to myself, only encountering a half dozen people close to the centre. The trail went through some nice countryside and it was pleasant to watch the mist slowly lift as the day went on. It went over a few hills and could have been navigated by a wheelchair as long as the thing had good brakes. The walk also took me by a discontinued trail that just followed a muddy stream up over a hill.

At the interpretation centre there was an environment trail which just put mildly informative stations around an uninteresting path. A short path led to the road via a nice waterfall view and the “Enchanted Walk” trail followed a stream up and down from the woods with nice plastic crawl houses with activities for kids. The nicest trail was set off from the rest where you took some steps into a valley and it was like entering another world. The light was dim and the trees were all covered with moss, much of it hanging off the branches. The trail continued for about ten minutes and ended at a large waterfall and then picked up on the discontinued trail, which was a thin unblazed line into the woods.

More typical Cradle Mountain weather.

Back at the centre it was past closing time so I took the bus back to the main office and walked back to the cabin. Meg had slept well and the power had come back on so all was well. The kitchen was again full of people but we managed to reheat and eat. They all seemed to be part of visiting groups except for a German woman who was travelling on her own and we compared notes with her while we ate.

Finally, it's November! Welcome to Tasmania!

Tuesday, November 1– Tasmania at the end of the world (at one time)

Grumpily, we got up and had to take a long time getting out of there as they have serious plant and animal restrictions entering Tasmania and they check your engine and trunk for smuggled goods. We then motored down to Hobart, Meg doing some napping but both of us bleary-eyed and cranky. The GPS got us close but couldn't tell us the exact location of the restaurant where we were to meet Pamela (Carolyn's twin sister). We looked around the site of the MONA (Museum of Old and New art) and it said it was closed, so we drove down the road just looking for places to eat. This was the sort of random operation that seems like a good idea when you're over-tired. More sensibly, we called Pamela and organized an alternative destination in downtown Hobart.

We had heard that the roads in Tasmania were small and hazardous, like the ones off the beaten track places in New Zealand, but the main road into Hobart was fine. We found the main tourist strip, which reminded me of the Halifax waterfront. Lots of old buildings preserved in a row with mostly touristy shops and a nice cobblestone pedestrian plaza. We found a good bookshop to wait at and then spotted Pamela and went to a fancy place for lunch. The restaurant was attached to a store that was apparently responsible for keeping salmon on the Tasmanian agenda, so we picked some up for dinner. The restaurant provided us with a delicious lunch, very gourmet, and then we took the 45 minute trip out of town to Pamela's shack.

“Shack” was her word, it was a cottage to us, being compact and less than a minute away from a beach. We arrived there and then had a delightful nap in a bed thick with soft sheets and comforters. After a solid nap, there wasn't enough daylight to start anything ambitious, so we went for a walk along her beach while she pointed out some landmarks. It was beautiful and unfortunately far too cold for a dip. The air in Tasmania is supposed to be the freshest in the world. We got a good lungful and it helped us to wake up. One disturbing aspect of our walk was a sign warning us that the land used to be used by the army and there was the possibility of unexploded ordinance. Not surprisingly, we kept to the path!

Back at the shack, we watched the Melbourne Cup and the winner was my second choice, quite thrilling. I'd never seen a race with more than 20 horses sharing the field, very crowded. Pamela cooked the salmon along with a few other fancy restaurant worthy dishes and we had an excellent meal with good wine and a fine view of the sunset. Being on the water, her place was designed to take full advantage of the scenery, so the place is largely window.

In spite of our nap, we were well ready for bed, thus we slept.

Wednesday – Witnessing History at Ye old Hobart Woman’s Prison

We woke up in our delicious bed and felt almost human again. We took our time over breakfast, planning our tourist moves for the day. We decided to go for a dramatic history presentation, “Louisa's Walk” (being big fans of this kind of thing- something we share with our nephew Eli).

History via two actors, pretty good way to spend an afternoon.

We got to the brewery where the tour originated and saw a woman in period costume hanging around outside with two people, we were in the right place. The venue was outdoors mostly in the grounds of the woman’s prison, using existing benches and the trees and bridges- the piece was written by the two actors who preformed all the roles and props were carried in a basket by the actress- very simple yet effective. This was the story of a young woman who came to London from Ireland and was arrested for stealing a loaf of bread. She played the lead character and another guy played all of the male parts. We followed her as she was taken from her children, moved onto a prison ship on the Thames, shipped to Tasmania, put in a local prison, did forced labour with cruel punishments, worked as a servant in the home of an abusive man, served in the home of someone a little better and got married. Meg called one of the male characters a cruel bastard and the actor defended himself in character (“I gots a job and I'm just doin' it.”). With the rain holding off and a nice small group, it was a really good look at the history of the island from an angle we were unfamiliar with.

Next, we drove back into the city and showed up at a restored old movie theatre just in time to catch “The Hunter”. This was shot and set in Tasmania (around Cradle Mountain- where we were heading) starring Willem Dafoe as a contract hunter looking for the last Tasmanian Tiger. It was atmospheric and a great tourist ad for the place but wasn't really a satisfying film.

We drove back to Pamela's place and the narrow winding roads began to wreak havoc on Meg's belly. We took a quick look at the attractive community of Opossum Bay but then sped home so that Meg could be on stable ground.

Pamela heated up some wonderful scallop pies for dinner and we had a good chat afterwards. I got to bed at a reasonable time but Meg and Pamela got talking family and so stayed up much later than they should have.

In the footsteps of the original inhabitants...

Thurs. - Their late night meant that we got off to yet another slow start. Meg took her Gravol so that we were safe going up to Opossum Bay. We drove until the road ended and Pamela told us of the . Planned golf course that she was supporting that would be built on the open land (she is a keen golfer-not sure that plans would be approved as it appears to be native land and thus pretty controversial, especially given the history of aboriginal genocide in Tasmania). We walked along the beach and looked at the layers of shells spilling out from the eroded sides of the dunes (these shell middens would be evidence of ancient aboriginal settlements). We started up into a field and then decided we wanted to stroll somewhere with more of a beach. We drove to South Arm, where there was a pull-off spot from the road that led to a short path to a long, sandy beach with views of the local islands. We went for a walk along there, enjoying the sand and wishing once again that it was swimming weather.

Pamela needed to sleep, as she was on night shift. We drove into town looking to pick up a copy of Meg’s book for Pamela. Said book was historical fiction from an Aboriginal perspective on the elimination of Aboriginals (a.k.a. genocide,ed.) from Tasmania called Dr. Wooreddy's Prescription for Enduring the End of the World. The bookshop told us it was out of print, so we hit several used book stores. This was dangerous, as we were always trying to avoid books, as we were inclined to pick them up, but they were heavy and took up space. Meg picked up a copy of Enid Blyton's “The Naughtiest Girl Becomes a Monitor”, a classic that I know our readers will be lining up to peruse when we get back. The mission of finding the book was unsuccessful (ABE Books solved this problem later) but it gave us an excuse to wander around downtown Hobart. We stuck to the historical area, which was very similar to Halifax with its mix of fancy shops on the streets and more raggedy ones down alleyways. Lots of hills, too.

We hit a grocery store on the way back as we were on for dinner that night, our famous pasta puttanesca. We cooked, Pamela returned and we fed her and all was fine. We went to bed early as the next day would involve much travelling.

Friday – Port Arthur Prison ...where Star Fleet would have exiled Khan (where the worst of the penal colony criminals were locked up)

We got up not too early and ate a simple breakfast while we packed up. Pamela returned from her shift and we said proper goodbyes to a fine host.

Our destination of the day was Port Arthur, the infamous penal colony that the criminals who were repeat offenders went. It looks close to Hobart on a map but really is quite far and the road kept getting narrower and twistier as we continued along it. We were amused on our travels by a local Tasman Peninsula radio show with a man reading off long lists of small events in an affected tone. He went on at length about going to a local lady's house for a dinner party, using a thesaurus of superlatives about her green salad. He then provided an avalanche of praise for a particularly large banana she brought out, amusing us greatly.

Marveling at "Tessellated Pavement", a natural stony grid.

We stopped along the way at a series of land formations along the coast. A short walk from a rutted parking lot led us to the shore of the tessellated pavement site, a rocky shore area where the stone had broken into a series of near-perfect rectangles. There were signs along the path explaining the natural phenomenon. We drove a little way further to a coastal lookout and then assured ourselves that we would have time to see the others on the way back, as they were just off the road.

Our radio station had now resumed --with overtly enthusiastic descriptions of fairly tedious events (a tax workshop in a community hall basement does not fall under my definition of “an afternoon not to be missed”), but it helped us to pass time as we got onto road where two cars would have to slow down to pass each other. We had arrived at Port Arthur.

Our hosteling cards got us a good discount and we sat down to a decent, if overpriced lunch of soup. With our tickets they gave us each a playing card, which was to be used in the first display. They started you off through a room with mannequins depicting the process prisoners went through, from England to cramped quarters on a ship to lousy conditions in Tasmania. Each playing card corresponded to a convict's story, so you followed yours through (mine was weak and died in a labour camp, sounded like he really was a habitual thief). The information was good and a theatre ran a 15 minute loop going through the parts of the camp with description from those responsible for them.

We caught the film on the way out, as it was time for our guided tour when we spotted the theatre. The guy giving it was a real pro, as we were a large group of about 50 and he needed no amplification to be heard. He went through the areas and history of the camp, which had a section for “normal” townspeople to serve as role models for the prisoners. You had to wonder about some of our fellow tourists, as there were some kids getting bored and the parents had them play loud games right next to the guide, rather than steering them away.

The guide gave us good general information and then we headed off on our own. We went to the quiet prison, where they used psychological warfare to try to break the prisoners. Their cells were reminiscent of monks', not too bad at first sight. The thing was, they were alone in them all the time with only an hour of exercise a day where they paced around a small courtyard with bags over their heads, forbidden to speak. They were to be called only by their numbers. The chapel was set up so that each prisoner stood in a space where they could only see the priest. There were stories about how they would use the singing of hymns to communicate as it was the only time they had noise to cover up conversation.

Meg at prison church - keep away from the other worshipers!

Prison isolation cells, very much like a Kubrick film.

Information was abundant. They had databases for finding relatives (of which one was mine- the latest trend- Australians used to be ashamed of having convict ancestors, now we're proud, ed.), many profiles, explanations of the applied prison rehab theory (which came from an American prison model, always the leaders in making imprisonment even worse), and another movie. We moved on to the hospital, which was little more than a shell of a building. We walked through the guard's area to the commandant’s house. This house had details about what all of the wardens did and how they lived. Many weren't happy to be there and focused more on their gardens than their jobs at Port Arthur. Next was the main prison building, which is under renovation and held together with giant clamps. There was more information there, including how one punishment was to chain prisoners to giant climbers (like evil stair-masters) that ran water mills for 8 hour shifts. If one fell or slowed down during a shift , one could be crushed or killed.

We hurried over to the ferry for our complimentary boat ride. This took us around an island which hosted a boys' reformatory and a smaller one which was a cemetery. The guide tried hard to make it interesting but Meg still had a fine nap (and Owen had a beer).

After that we had to get a move on if we were to make it to our hostel before dark. We walked by the Canadian Cottage (built of materials donated from Canada, not something to be proud of, under the circumstances) and caught the movie on our way out. In retrospect, there's a lot to see there, so spending the night there would have been the thing to do. We hastily skipped the Tasman peninsula sights and just barrelled on. This was a very narrow, twisty road and Meg slept through a lot of it to avoid carsickness. There were very few towns there so we sometimes lost track of where we were, as we turned off the GPS after it kept detouring us onto tiny country roads. Several coastal spots had really nice views, particularly around Catherine Island, but we had to motor on.

We pulled into the peninsula drive just as the sun was going down and we hit Coles Bay with light fading. The Iluka Holiday Centre office was supposed to be closed at 6pm but there was still someone there so we got checked in without difficulty. We reheated the leftover pasta sauce and planned what we wanted to do. A group of women were there having an annual getaway with tons of food, wine and a birthday cake. They were friendly, and out for a good time, yet considerate of other guests. They had lots of experience in the park and so were quite a valuable resource in deciding what to do. We slept pretty well that night.

Sat. Barefoot on the Beach/ Tricky Trekking up Mount Amos...

We got up feeling pretty good and decided to go for a run before breakfast. We'd read about Friendly Beach, a very long stretch of sand 15 minutes back up the road. We drove there to find that it was part of the Park and required a permit, but there was no way to get our hostel discount so we risked it and went ahead anyway. The road soon turned to dirt and headed steeply downhill to a parking lot. Several cars were there already and a cluster of people were watching some surfers do their thing. We ran past them and had pure sand except for one small rocky point for a good 45 minute run. Running barefoot on sand give a low impact run with beach views and wave-dodging to boot. A fine way to start the day.

The rangers didn't catch us so we drove back to the hostel and had breakfast. Meg had decided that she needed a day off, so she lollygagged around the place while I went off to enjoy nature. From our conversations of the night before, I decided to take the Mt. Amos path. It was steep and not too long and was supposed to have some amazing views at the top. When I got my permit they said the day was perfect, as any rain at all closes the trail, but there was no chance of precipitation that day. The drive to the trail-head was treacherous as the road was very narrow but people coming the other way would just speed around corners and expect the other vehicle to shove over.

A long way up...

Wineglass bay, mountaintop view.  Better than your beach?

At the start of the path was a “last chance” water tap and a trek registration book so that they could go hunting for your corpse it you didn't return on time. I was very soon on my own, as few people take this route. I met one couple close to the start of the trail and that was it until I got to the top. The trail was steep but well-blazed for about 15 minutes and then a sign warned you that it got much worse after that point. From then on there was precious little shade and you were hiking over rock face that was often set at a steep angle. The blazes were few and far between and several times I thought I'd have to turn around due to lack of path. A few times the arrows pointed straight up smooth rock face and I chose to ignore them and use a nearby crack in the rock to go up. Still, there were sections where you were hugging the cliff-face and putting up one limb at a time, hoping that something less strenuous was around the corner. I often had to try spotting arrows in the distance and work towards them. In the end, I made it to the top, where an initial summit gave great views back towards the peninsula. I noticed how much of the coastline was sandy beach, including a long one near town that I hadn't noticed.

On more steep, 5 minute climb and the summit was reached, with great views in all directions, including the famous Wineglass Bay. As I sat up there eating my lunch, I heard a couple below me checking out viewpoints. I hadn't noticed them behind me on the way up so either they were quick climbers or they knew of another path. They moved off before I finished chewing so I'll never know.

I had lots of time coming down, so I was cautious as I knew this was where most injuries happened. I slid on my backside on the steepest bits, always keeping a tree or rock or something to break my fall between me and the bottom of the hill. It went fairly quickly, as it didn't require as much effort and the arrows were easier to follow. Towards the bottom I met a family going up and they were only slightly discouraged by my description of what they were about to tackle. Other than that, I met no one else and was very glad to return to the parking lot and refill my bottle. Definitely, it was the most difficult short hike I'd ever done and I felt tired but satisfied at having completed it with no more damage than a scuff on the back of my hiking shorts.

Lighthouse view along the peninsula, nice n ' rocky.

I was saving the main trail for Meg to enjoy the next day, so I decided to check out the other sights in the area before returning. To get to the lighthouse I had to turn off the road to one even narrower, and I took it slowly, honking around corners and going up slopes that made the car strain. The lighthouse itself had an easy, wheelchair-accessible boardwalk that took about 30 minutes to walk around. It had a great view of The Hazards, the collective name for the short mountains at the beginning of the peninsula. I was able to look out to sea and see something grey splashing around and a pack of kayakers paddling around a rocky island. The lighthouse itself was nothing special, but the views up and down the coast were. I finished my sandwich and enjoyed them.

On the way back there was another stop at Sleepy Cove. This was a slightly longer trail that went by a cove with bright blue water and came out at a rocky beach where the rocks had been strangely hollowed by erosion. A nice walk but nothing special.

I drove back along the narrow roads to meet Meg back at the hostel. She wasn't there and the weekend women had no idea where she went. I checked the laundry area and then gave up and headed down to the beach I had noticed from Mt. Amos. There was a wharf and a long beach with lots of people hanging out and a few kids braving the cold water for a splash. Meg met me here and we picked up some beer from the local (overpriced) shop and headed back to the hostel to hang out, this being a down day for her and I had earned a break.

As we sat around, a very loud group of South East Asian youth came to the hostel and got lunch amidst much shouting and few of the younger males trying to impress everyone by shouting over everyone else. They went away on a tour and we spoke to a French fellow (with an Asterix moustache)who lived there and would look at you if you spoke to him and then say nothing for awhile. Meg started talking to this guy from Queensland (who fulfilled many of the Victoria stereotypes about Queenslanders) drinking port from a box. He bragged about not paying park fees and complained about how the park ripped him off at Cradle Mountain (giving information that we later found to be completely untrue). He then went on about the Aboriginals in Cairns, how they raped and robbed everyone and could never be arrested because they all looked the same. I cruelly left Meg alone with the guy but she soon slipped away herself and when I looked into the TV room he was sharing his port with the French guy.

We spent the end of the afternoon lazing about and then got dinner together around the loud group of youth, who had returned and still didn't appear to have a supervisor. After eating we went for a walk on the beach to watch the sun set. After that we had some of our own (superior) port and worked on the computer until bedtime. Sleep was difficult that evening as the youth were up late in the common room shouting and banging. Meg spoke to them once and then a second time ordered them all to go to bed and surprisingly they did. They were loud in their bedrooms but eventually went to sleep.  

Hello once more!  We're back in Canada, semi-healthy and maybe now we'll get caught up in this thing.

Oct. 28 Friday: The Melbourne Immigration Museum- Terrific!

Up we got and off we went, along a nicely non-twisty road to Melbourne. After a long detour caused by the lack of washrooms near Australian highways we were back at Pete and Brian's place sans Pete and Brian. With an afternoon stretching before us, we decided to become adventurous and head downtown.

We walked down the local street until we were in front of a college with others waiting for the bus. We checked with the driver that the bus did indeed go to the train station and also took his recommendation to purchase a day pass for getting around. After that we easily(and quickly) took a train to Southern Cross station and took a quick look around downtown Melbourne. We strolled by the main square and another train station that Meg heralded as being truly important. The big square was odd, as it didn't have large open spaces as these huge camouflage-coloured cubes jutted up from it (museum, we found out), making it hard to visualize its space.

Hunger dominated, so we headed up a nearby street and looked where the locals were eating. This guided us to a tiny counter that made yummy sandwiches cheap so we gobbled them up. Next, we strolled down the street to check out the Immigration Museum. We found out that they had a free tour that started at 3, so we waited a few minutes until it started. A few people joined us late and we had a small group when our guide got going. He spent a good 30 minutes going over the significance of the courtyard and by that point all but 4 of us had wandered off to explore the museum before it closed. The yard was where groups assembled but also contained an interesting area where people from various countries identified their relatives. Apparently cultural festivals were held there at various times of the year and it was an informational gathering point for many diaspora communities.

Finally back inside the building, we were shown the research centre where people were investigating their family trees. We then headed up to the museum proper, where he went over the structure of the place focusing on the largest room, which used to be the main processing hall when the building was a government office (Customs House). It now was dominated by a large ship-like structure where you could walk through room simulating cabins of passage and their features over the centuries.

With a little over an hour left before closing, our tour ended and we were free to explore. The floor he left us at had a montage of immigration history of Australia. The next room expanded on this with a huge time-line and artifacts from issues over the years. The ship room had computers with statistics and profiles of countries all over the world relative to Australia. The last room had an application interview simulation and display on discrimination and other issues surrounding immigration. The floor also had a rotating-display community room which held several television monitors displaying middle-eastern immigrants telling their stories.

The top floor had two separate displays. Their temporary space had a big thing on British WWII child immigrants, which was well set up. They had overviews and personal anecdotes and I hadn't realized it was so widespread. They had shipments until after the second world war and often the children weren't orphans but taken from their parents and shipped away. Tales of abuse and indentured servitude were abundant and there was a lot of information about Canada, which received lots of there kids. The other half of the floor was on how we perceive others and how that effects discrimination and racism. They had displays about responses to accents, cultural values, depictions in media and advertising etc. A museum well worth visiting.

We closed the place out and the skies were dark and threatening by this point. Meg wanted to check out the local YHA Hostel before we went back. You had to access it by elevator, so we waited longer than usual and could hear music playing. When the elevator door finally opened, it was full of drunk guys holding open beers with a blaster cranking tunes. This told us enough about the hostel, so we beat a hasty retreat.

We got caught in a little bit of rain but heard a huge downpour pounding the roof of the station while we tried to get advice about which platform our train departed from. We made our way back and were a little confused about getting back to the house, as the nearby university had two campuses and only one was close to Pete's place. Our travelling savvy got us back safely and Pete was soon home after us. We grabbed some pizza from a local place. Opened a few bottles of wine and had a fine, lazy meal with good company until we fell over late that night.

Saturday – Deadly Sins Brunch and Cousin Ted's Family History

Up late again, we went to one of Pete and Brian's favourite brunch places. The place was packed and we had a long wait in an upstairs throne room until we got a table. Their menu was based on the seven deadly sins and that translated into a really good, filling breakfast for all.

This was the weekend before the Melbourne Cup and all sorts of people were walking around in “derby” attire. Meg got great amusement watching gussied up women obviously not used to elevated heels tottering around, trying to strike a teetering sexiness. Pete and Brian drove us around the part of the city where someone rents their apartment and hung out and did some basic shopping.

Meg and I then went off to meet Cousin Ted, whose name was given to us by Terry. Our GPS did not like the address we were given, but got us close enough to find his place after ringing just one incorrect doorbell. He was an energetic fellow who had a real knowledge and interest in the family. His partner had the family tree largely worked out and on-line and they shared a book with Meghan about one branch of the family, of which she copied some relevant pages and mailed back later. We had a lively visit and found out many details, particularly about the political comings and goings of the family. Most significantly, Ted had has recently seen Meg's Uncle Paul and thought he could get his contact info. After a few drinks and some finger food we said goodbye and headed back.

A good night out.

It was our turn to treat for dinner, so we went out to a Thai place and had huge amounts of excellent food. We strolled trough a trendy coffee strip after eating and picked up some good gelato. Meg had enjoyed some wine at the restaurant and was strolling along talking to strangers, who were looking quite frightened about the whole situation. We packed her off home and fed her some tea, and she was reasonably calm in time for bed.

Sunday – Sunday Unitarians, Museums, and Zombies...

Pete whipped us up a gourmet breakfast and we all pigged out and cleaned our plate, some kinda omelette I think. Then we had to take off so that Meg could visit the Unitarians. I parked close to the church and went off in search of a coffee place to kill an hour. I found an empty pizza joint that served coffee where there was a kid whipping up dough balls for later. He didn't mind me nursing a coffee and just kept cranking old AC/DC hits while he did his work and waved to friends walking by.

Meg was only a little late and we found that we were right next to the downtown. We headed down to the main square to check out some museums. The parking rates were atrocious, but the museums were free so it balanced itself out. The Ian Victoria museum is a big modern irregular jagged building with quite a good collection of stuff. The ground floor had pretty much the best collection of Aboriginal art we'd seen. It had pieces from the original workshops in the 70s where painting was introduced to a northern community. These actually fit in with much of the collection, not being as raw or tentative as you'd expect. They had a good variety, with the classic dot paintings being mixed with arial map-like works and more variety in colour and styles than we'd seen elsewhere. The rest of the museum went through Australia's history pretty much in sequence. There were the standard Victorian portraits and landscapes working through to modern art installations. They had a room devoted to clothing through history, with the most interesting pieces being brash 70s suits.

We decided to get lunch and looked forward to another sandwich at the place we visited the previous day. The road was crowded and partially blocked due to the Melbourne Zombie Walk, which was much better attended than Toronto's. Several hundred people walked by us, from folks with just a bit of blood on their head to others who really looked like they'd just crawled out of a mouldering grave. The most bizarre couple were giant Lego people made into evil zombie Lego creatures, complete with green blood oozing out of their mouths. After struggling against the zombie crowd, we found that our sandwich place was closed. “Subway” had to suffice and we headed back to the square to see the bloodied hordes slowly disperse at the end of their trail.

Meg wanted to see more of the first museum and I went into the Visual Museum to check out the history of film and television in Australia. Here they have displays on perception, with a shadow puppet theatre, a computer that adds sinister extras to your shadow and distorted projections onto 3-D surfaces. They let you pick the music for a clip, make your own stop-action video and booklet and used a strobe light to make a spinning animation come alive. The film area featured famous Australian actors, directors, cinematographers, writers, costumers etc. each with their own areas with extensive video resources. They analyzed how Australia has been portrayed and had a brief history of media with changing priorities, from trends in film to viral internet videos. Most of the TV stuff was unfamiliar but the portrayal of the Aussie accent was interesting.

Beware the zombie Lego.

We met back at the first museum's gift shop and then headed back. Pete was doing the gourmet thing in the kitchen again and cooked up some succulent couscous. More eating and drinking etc. and then to bed.

Monday – Frightful Ferry Night Towards Transcendent Tasmania

Meg got us up super early to say goodbye to Pete as he had an early shift. We saw Brian at breakfast and spent the day getting organized. Shopping, phone calls, internet research, wasting time, that kind of thing. Pete actually came back before we left, so more goodbyes.

The drive to the ferry was short and the GPS got us right there. Then we sat in a disorganized parking area and actually got waved on ahead of cars who had been waiting longer than us. A few more stops by customs inspectors asking about fruit of vegetables and we were parked on the ferry. We found our recliner seats and explored the few floors that tourists were allowed onto. The top floor had the best views but didn’t have a functioning bar. It was also the meeting place for a rowdy high school group (whose teachers had to page several times to get all of its students assembled in one place). It was cold on deck but we had a nice departing view of Melbourne with the sunset glinting off skyscrapers beneath the dark sky.

Back on the ship we wandered some more and considered dinner. In the overpriced cafeteria most people were getting stew over noodles that may have tasted as grey as it looked. We opted for the posh restaurant which meant we had to wait until seats opened up. I couldn't understand the wait, as many tables were untouched when we showed up and were given a seat outside of the main area. This allowed the staff to easily forget we were there and service was extremely slow, but the food was fine (excellent appetizers, okay mains and desserts). Everything had a link with Tasmania, including some nice wine.

At the end of the meal, I hurried off to grab seats for the 10 pm movie while Meg paid the bill. No one noticed her motioning with her credit card, which was amazing as there were lots of staff and only a handful of diners at that point. She eventually approached them and got the bill settled. (One assumes that if they were working for tips then service situations like this would be less frequent).

Melbourne from the ferry.

The movie was the Lincoln Lawyer, more tolerable than I thought it would be but not worth staying up late for. At the end of the movie the ship started to lurch quite a bit and Meg went a bit green. We headed back to our recliners. Meg found that they hurt her back but I found them comfortable enough. The problem was this big old guy who was one of the worst snorers I've ever heard. This wasn't regular, loud-breathing type snores. It included loud vocalizations, sudden snorts and all kinds of hacking and hawking. Of the 70 or so people in the room, only one was a problem snorer. (It only takes one, though.) We both had a rotten sleep and vowed to try for a cabin on the way back...

Hello again!  We're currently in Istanbul and only 2 days away from returning to Canada.  Meg has a cold and I have bad toe, so we're a pretty sad pair at this point.  This city has changed immensely in 10 years, much cleaner and more prosperous but now the Istiklal is full of chain stores and almost looks like similar streets in western cities.  We hope to get more work done on this in the next month or so, hopefully getting into the habit of weekly postings.  See you back in Toronto!

  

Oct. 24 Sunday – ARARAT and a Sunday Roast..

We slept pretty well there and had a fine breakfast before moving on. We headed north to Ararat and were making good time along decent roads when the GPS put us on a shortcut along a one-lane road that turned into a dirt road in the middle of nowhere. I turned around while Meg fiddled with the thing until she set it for no dirt roads (as well as no toll roads). We got on our way and were only a little late in arriving at Marge's house.

Marge is the matriarch of one wing of the family and 3 out of 4 of her children; Peter, Robert and Ros, were there for a big feast of roast bird, which Pete had been slaving over all morning. Everyone was in fine spirits including Lucy the Jack Russell chasing Marge's sheepdog Bonnie all over the place. We greedily stuffed ourselves and got to know folks and had a fine lunch.

Lucy gets herself a drink.

After lunch we went out with Pete and Brian to look at their piece of land. Pete was pouncing on several examples of indigenous plants to show us while we strolled through the bush. We then went to his fields which had infrastructure from when sheep grazed there but his intention was to let nature reclaim the land and just use it as a natural space for visiting. A fine spot it was, with the Grampians in the background and Lucy swimming in an old sheep trough in the foreground. Of course he told us of the great bush fire that swept through the area a few years ago, and showed us what parts of the land were scorched.

Back at Marge’s place, we said goodbye to Marge's kids and they went home. That evening Marge surprised Meg with a very special gift. It was a family history scrapbook containing photos, family tree names and various mementos from this branch of Meg's family. It was quite impressive and entailed a lot of work, compiling, researching and copying photos as well as assembling them in a readable way. An incredible piece (which I shall treasure, particulalry as my parents are no longer alive so this history could have been lost forever to the Canadian branch of the family).

Meg quizzed her on more about the family while we had a light dinner, due to the huge lunch and then sat comfortably in the living room planning our visit and finding out more about Meg's roots. We tried some of the Hunter Valley white port we bought, it was excellent, and then headed off to bed.

Monday – Loved Ones and Ancestors

We got up and had breakfast, looking out the window at a cool, grey rainy day. Meg had energy, though, and took the dog, Bonnie, for a bit of a walk. It didn't last long, though, as the poor thing kept looking for Marge and straining on her leash so that they quickly did what needed doing and headed back.

The weather was somehow appropriate, as today was a day for wandering through graveyards and tracing Meg's ancestry. We started by taking a half hour drive down a rural road to the Willaura Cemetery where Meg's grandfather, and Marge's husband was buried. The cemetery was by the road and surrounded by farmers' fields, with the Grampian Mountain range faintly appearing through the mist around us. Flowers were lain on several graves of loved ones and names and dates were noted through the drizzle. We then toured Willaura itself, noting the family home and the small church across the road where many family members attended and had marriages. The town itself reeked of neglect (what does that mean exactly?ed.), being very quiet and poorly kept as well as being almost dead quiet.

We headed another half hour south and hit Dunkeld, which was a much more active place with a tourist office and restored buildings. Pete told us of the one place in town to eat lunch, at a hotel restaurant. Marge insisted the place was far overpriced and refused to go there, so we went to a more humble cafe and had a decent, but unexceptional lunch.

Next we headed to the Dunkeld cemetery, where Meg's aunt and grandmother were buried. It was a little hard to find, but Marge’s memory was spot on and we found it on a side road across from the local racetrack. Meg's two main relatives were the only ones with stones facing away from the mountains, apparently a mistake of the cemetery staff and a difficult and messy mistake to correct . While going through the place, the stone for the elusive “Unc”, who looked after many relatives while their mother (my great-grandmother) was in a sanitarium was found, as well as some other people with family surnames.

The rain and cold were more pronounced in Dunkeld, and earlier plans to go back to the expensive hotel for afternoon tea and scones were quickly replaced with the intent of getting back to Marge’s place, warming up, and drying off. That we did, after a trip to the bakery to get some scones for proper tea at home. Robert then came over with a book of information on former prime minister James Scullin, explaining how he was a nice but indecisive guy who wouldn't intervene when a state government sent the army in to strike break, suicide for a Labour PM.

Meg with her relatives.

We had another light dinner and went through more family history as well as watching some trashy television.

Tuesday - The Australian Gold-Rush

Today we headed to an historical theme town – Sovereign Hill!(Owen and I love these old historic towns and convinced marge to come with us as it would be fun,ed.). This is a town set during the Victorian gold-rush period, coplete with costumed interpreters and restored buildings. We headed in through the gift shop onto a dirt road lined with old style wooden buildings. There were schoolkids being ushered around by stern- looking school marms, all wearing period costumes. We stopped in at the apothecary with a few historic elements in glass jars. A small jeweller's shop had fairly modern pieces for sale, but more interestingly, the woman there spoke to us about corruption in the town and how rare it would have been for a woman to be staffing such a place. Then to the local bowling alley (completely made from old wood and looking more like a large shed) , where the balls and alley were so rough it was random whether you hit any pins or not. The advantage of the alley was that it was one of the few places that had a stove, so we talked to the guys staffing the place, politely declining the chance to bowl as it would take us away from the precious heat. The undertaker's had horse-drawn hearses from various different times and a coffin being formed amongst an elaborate collection of clamps. The tinsmith had a variety of tin materials for sale, but more interestingly had a continually running gear axle along the ceiling that any machine could be attached to for operations. It was all run from a steam generator outside of the shop. Next was the department store, which had a variety of things on display, mainly women's fashions. We spoke to the guy in charge of it about stocking show-off clothes for the newly rich and the status of various styles (essentially, the more impractical, the more stylish). What differentiated this place from similar historic villages I have visited is that almost every shop had the majority of its wares for sale, leaving only a little space for historic displays.

Lunch was had at the village tavern and then we went to the local theatre for a performance. We had missed the morning's meeting of the Anti- Chinese league and wanted to catch the afternoon's performance by a noted exotic dancer. After waiting for about 10 minutes, a guy sweeping the stage informed the 20 or so of us that the performance was to be outside the theatre on the street. When we got there the owner of the theatre introduced the woman and she began to complain about the newspaper libelling her as lewd. Then the newspaper owner came out and argued with her and the whole thing ended with a brief scuffle in the street and the newspaperman walking off (so no exotic dancing for us.-I guess there never is,quite clever actually). Next it was up the street for the local militia demonstration and firing of blanks. Many of the soldiers were characters we had met before and had modern-style earplugs in to protect their hearing. We also checked out the local school, with real schoolkids being called upon by the headmaster to answer questions and keep up their back-stories (whose child they were and what their father did for a living). Quite entertaining.

Lotsa gold, made before our eyes.

We opted out of the various mine tours offered and waited for the gold pouring demonstration. The man doing it was a real pro and dealt well with some mouthy school kids who were attending the show. He had actual liquified gold and explained the process now and then of purifying and pouring it out. Once placed in water, it was almost instantly cool to the touch and some kids got to hold the ingot, apparently worth about $150,000.

We then walked by the panning area which was large, wet and full of hopeful tourists. Then we hit the shabbier area, which was the Chinese area and saw and heard some well researched presentations on how they were treated back then and how their living conditions differed from other miners.

Back at the now-crowded gift shop we grabbed some candies and doodads and then headed across the parking lot to the Gold Museum (whose entry was included with our Sovereign Hill ticket). It contained some simulations of the largest nuggets found, along with large photos about how the gold-rush looked in boom and bust phases. A room with the history of gold around the world rounded out the exhibits.

On the way back we got hopelessly lost and the GPS bailed us out and got us back on the right track. The city of Ballarat apparently has a park with statues of all of their PMs, but we skipped that as well as James Scullin's hometown, which was along our way.

Ever hopeful Meg comes away empty.

Once we got back to Ararat we took Marge out to the cosy little Blue Duck, a local restaurant that was surprisingly busy for a Tuesday night. They served huge portions of the usual grub, which took quite a long time to arrive. Meg found out later that her grandfather used to hang out there when it was a much rougher place, and play darts with the guys.

Weds. - Baa baa black sheep... (Ros n' Gary's Farm)

Meg Bo Peep and her unhappy victim.

We had breakfast and then Robert came over to guide us to his sister Ros's place. It was about half an hour's drive outside of Ararat through rural country. We were greeted there by three dogs as well as Ros and Gary. The dogs were sent to their place on the porch where they each had their own torn up lazy-boy to perch on (like little Archie Bunkers). We were given the grand tour, with Meg able to cuddle a lamb in spite of its loud protest and its mom's nervousness nearby. Their house had been renovated and was quite modern inside but still had an old wood-fired stove in a corner. We got to see their sheep shearing equipment as well as a lamb cradle, not nearly as nice a device as it sounds. It's a four-armed rotating beastie that the lambs lie on with their legs in the air while they get their immunizations,their bums shaven, and their tails shortened. We then got to see the dogs move a herd of sheep from one field to another, which they did with amazing speed and efficiency.

After our poke around we set off separately for Hall's Gap for lunch. This town is the gateway to the Grampians and a pleasant, outdoorsy feeling place. Meg got some of her postal business done and we had lunch on the outdoor patio of the restaurant as it was an unusually sunny and warm day.

Out from the Grampians.

After lunch we said goodbye to Ros and Gary and headed off with Robert for a mountain hike. Because of recent flooding, almost all of the recommended trails close to town were closed, some possibly permanently because of washed-out bridges. We were heading up Mount William, which was a harrowing 10km drive up a very narrow road where we had to frequently swerve to avoid people barrelling along the other way. At the end of the road there was a place to park followed by a blocked-off road that you continued up on foot. This was a very steep road that would have caused most cars difficulty and after about 45 minutes it led to an old military communications tower that afforded great views of the surrounding landscape. What makes the Grampians striking is that they don't develop from foothills but just shoot up from flat farmland, so the view from their edge is a good one. We looked around for a little while and then walked down again. On the way we congratulated a couple we saw biking up the steep approach road.

We got back safely to the car and to Ararat, with only a short time to get organized before heading to Joan (Marge's sister) and Rex's place for dinner. They lived in a neighbourhood which was essentially a retirement home where people lived independently in quite nice homes as long as they were able. Care was close by and a nursing home was part of the complex. We had a fine chat and dinner and Meg was able to fill in a few more blanks on her family tree through the conversation.

Thurs. - Back on the Great Ocean Road

Less sick and it shows.

Back at Marge's we had breakfast and said goodbye after a fine visit. We were heading back to Melbourne and drove back to the Great Ocean Road, as it was on the way and we wanted to see it in another light, as it was so spectacular. We drove straight to Port Philip, a small seaside town and found our hostel after a bit of, searching and the usual GPS inaccuracies. We found lunch at a little cafe on the main (really the only) strip and then went off to see sights.

We headed a bit west to check out the shipwreck coast, which had a nice enough view, a nearby beach and lots of posted information of various wrecks which had occurred. We then headed east, towards the Twelve Apostles and the most popular section of the road. London Bridge was next, this is currently an island off the coast. It used to be linked to the land but the arch collapsed, stranding a few tourists who had to be rescued by helicopter. There were several viewpoints overlooking the coast and beach below us. The sand was covered in the tiny footprints of the many penguins who nest on the beach. They wouldn’t be back until sundown, so we moved on.

Next was the Arch, which had yet to collapse and was impressive as there was no beach here and you could really watch the waves smacking the coastline and be impressed that there wasn't even more erosion going on. The Grotto was next, which had the water sloshing into a channel and making noises, not as spectacular as Thunder Cave might suggest but still impressive. At all of these sights we encountered a few people, some over and over again as they visited in the same order as us. None were overcrowded and we had a nice, sunny day to check everything out.

Meg, will you just take the damn photo?!?

Our last stop were the steps beyond the Twelve Apostles which allowed you to actually go down to one of the beaches. This was a beautiful and unusual place and the beach was large enough for you to be with others or go off on your own. Walking by the water was strange because the sand by the coast sat at a sharp angle, forcing you to bend your ankles in an awkward way. We strolled around here for awhile, as with the beach and the rock islands and sheer cliff-face, it as pretty impressive.

We headed back to our brand new hostel to relax (another good recommendation from the Lonely Planet). Almost no one else was there, leaving the huge common room empty. Our own room was a good size but sterile and undecorated. The common bathroom area was on timed lights, so you'd be left in the dark if your shower or visit to the loo was longer than 10 minutes.

We had heard that most people staying there that night were with a group, so we dreaded the thought of the noisy rabble this might turn out to be. They arrived as we were cooking dinner and turned out to be a surprisingly fine bunch. They were all ages and nationalities and assisted that leader in preparing and serving dinner. They ate in an organized way and then helped clean up while rushing off to catch the sunset on the coast. That left us to finish our meal and watch as the other backpackers there swarmed over the group's leftover food, which was left on the “free food” shelf in the fridge.

After that we hung out a bit in the common room while a trashy movie was playing and then went to bed.

Australia WEEK 8 MELBOURNE TO ARARAT

Hello once more!  We're in Nepal but are cutting things short due to strikes and protests around their constitutional problems that have closed everything down, including the school we were volunteering at.  Next up is China (again!), out Africa trip to Kenya and Tanzania then a quick trip to Istanbul and back to Toronto.  We hope to see many of you then!

Oct. 26 Weds. -ST. KILDAS, NED KELLY, AND KITE SURFERS

Pete got back early from work so we headed off to St. Kilda's as part of a basic tour of the city. In heading over there, we were close to the house Meg stayed in with her aunt and uncle when she was just a little speck of a thing. We found it without too much trouble and were looking around it when Meg rang the bell and spoke to the current owner. She was surprisingly willing to let three strangers tour her house, which had been heavily expanded and renovated. She was delighted to learn that her house had been owned by the niece of an Australian prime minister and was quite pleased to show us everything. Meg had a good shot of memory recall and then we headed for the shore.

St. Kilda's is right on the water so we went for a stroll by one of the beaches and watched the kite-surfers, who zipped right off the sand into the water. Their favourite trick was to tilt the kites up and lift right off of the water, landing back on the water smoothly of in a heap, depending on their level of practice. Lots of fun to watch.

We headed in the other direction and Pete pointed out a hillside covered in pigface, which looks better than it sounds. We walked along a breakwater that was constructed after the war from old prisons, apparently with some of the prisoners' names on the stones, but often turned inwards so as not to glorify them. Rumour had it that Ned Kelly's name was there somewhere, but it was of course impossible to prove.

We drove back to their place. We cooked up an excellent batch of curried chicken with avocado sauce that Pete (the chef) had a generous portion of, so we were pleased. These were excellent people to hangout and drink wine with, so we did. Lots! And it got late. So we had a bit more wine, including some of their really good stuff. Nice. At that point, sleep came easily.

Thurs. - We slept in and tehn got our stuff together and headed out to Wilson's Promontary Park, which was a few hours outside of Melbourne and close to her cousin, who we were planning on visiting. It was a fairly long drive for the day and we made a few stops at scenic points, which showed us views of the surrounding landscape. We made a few wrong turns as the GPS kept bugging out on us but eventually found our place, with just enough time to drop off our stuff and head down to the park. It was a long drive from the town to the park, about 45 minutes down a narrow and often dangerously pitted road.

We didn't have time for the hike to the topof the mountain, so we went on the Squeaky Beach trail. There were a few young campers hanging around at the entrance to the place. The beach truly was squeaky, so we had a good time hiking across it using exaggerated steps in order to maximize its squeakiness. The views out to rocky crags in the water weer impressive and became more so as we got to the end of the beach and took a well-blazed trail that led us up a small hill and out to a nearby point. Along the way we encountered a life preserver way up a hill, which seemed strange. It made more sense after we passed aabench dedicated to two teens who drowned swimming in the rocky and well-tossed water that we were looking down upon.

The point provided the best views to the rocky islands lying off the coast as well as the beach and campsite on the other side from squeaky beach. One could see that this coast would have caused problems for the first explorers to reach it as the path to the point was in a tunnel hacked out from the thick, low bushes that dominated the countryside which would have been impenetrable without a machete.

Walking down a tree path at Wilson's Prom.

We retraced our footsteps and the only change was that the camping kids had begun to playcricket on the beach. Meg took a short nap on a bench while I walked a little further around a cliff that had a sheer drop down to the water, with only thick bush to stop your fall. I doubled back and Meg insisted that she drive so that I could see the scenery. The scenery was nice, with coastal sand views on one sideand green valleys and hills on the other but Meg also requested that I helkp her keep her eyes on the road after two wallobys were sitiing close to the road, weighing their options for running in front of our car or not. Fortunately, they stayed where they were.

Back in the small town the light was fading but their local IGA was open, so we got some dinner ingredients and headed back to the hostel. The place was one of the nicest we had stayed in, it was a three-bedroom single-floor house made into a hostel. It could only accommodate about a dozen people and really felt like you weer staying at someone's place. The German staying ther were very mellow and a very cheery Aussie came in later and offerd wine to anyone who seemed to be without a glass. We cooked and ate our dinner contentedly.

Later on Meg needed to contact her cousin and wondered if her phoneplan had run out until it was pointed out that the hostel had a sign stating that Vodaphone didn't work there (or in most other isolated or urban places, we found). Our Aussie friend helped her to text her cousin about the wher and when of meeting her and much loud, drunken hilarity ensueed. I read my book ,but felt for the poor German guys in the dorm who had retired and hour before and were probably too polite to tell people to keep it down. Eventually Meg came to bed and the house was able to sleep.

Friday – We were in no particular rush and so slept in. We had a fine breakfast in our nice hostel while the German guys grimly smoked out back in the rain. We got packed and said goodbye to everyone and drove into the wet day which soon disippated. We managed to find the right town in spite of some bizarre directions from our GPS and parked and were walking when Meg's cousin spotted us. We had an excellent lunch together and caught up. She had worked as a still photographer on films likeThe Road Warrior and Babe (might sound like a strange combination, but the same director was involved in both productions) she was now managing a local organic food shop and was quite prooud of the community and their modelling of local food.

A visit with the cousin.

We strolled around and had a good visit. Meg bought some purple heirloom carrots and we said goodbye and headed back to Melbourne. The drive back was much quicker than we anticapated and we got to Terri's place (John Scullin's ex-wife) two hours early. She didn't mind and we waited for her son Stuart to finish work so that we could go out to eat. We put a good dent into one of our bottles of wine and found that she was an animated speaker and knew all sorts of stories that enriched Meg's history, such as the time her mom dressed to the nines before reporting to work in a wartime rubber factory. We also got the tip that Ted Scullin really knew a lot of the family's political history, so another link in the web was made.

Purple heirloom carrots are what you need.

Stuart showed up, tried from working while rehearsing for a local production of Camelot that he had a part in. We headed out to an Indian place with attentive service and top notch food. Meg and Stuart entertained themselves by watching a ciuple who they were sure were breaking up at table close to ours. The waiter asked us if we were tourists, which we found to be a urprising observation until we remembered the everpresent camera draped around my neck. The meal went well and we bid adieu to Terri and Staurt and headed back to Pete's place.

Pete had to get up super early the next day but Brian was up so we talked to him for awhile before turning in far later than we should have.

Saturday – We got up reasonably early (but not as early as we should have) and said goodbye to Pete and Brian, not our final one as our paths would cross a few more times. We were heading off to the Great Ocean Road, one of the big must-dos on any Australian traveler's list. It follows a section of the south coast of Victoria which is particularly well-formed, if you believe the hype.

The drive there was reasonably uneventful, as whenever the GPS tried to lead us astray several times but the highway leading to the great ocean road was well signed, so we got to the starting place,Torquay, withlittle fuss. We hit the visitor'scentre and avolunteer there helped us out by giving us tons of literature and afr too much information. She sold Torquay quite a bit, even though most of its sights were far from awe-inspiring. We saw a very nice Aboriginal mosaic sundial in town, that probably would have worked wonderfully if there was any sun (most of the day it was overcast and rained a few times). Our next stop was to see this famous beach that apparently wows all of the surfers and they have world chamionships there. After 10 minutes down an unmarked path we gave up, not being surfers and having seen plenty of beaches over the past few week.

We drove further along the coast and noticed that the traffic picked up, mainly of tourists not used to driving narrow winding roads. This would become an issue several times before the day was done. We continied on until we got to a little village with a lighthouse. The tours of the lighthouse were way overpriced, but a short walk to the water gave excellent views of coastal rock formations with crashing waves. We had some good stuff for lunch, so we ate on a bench with the coastal vista at our disposal. Excellent.

Typical Australian scenery.

One thing we noticed was the touristic disregard for the house rules of attractions. Several people hopped the raiilings so that they could get better photos. The old “I apid my money so I can do whatever the hell I want to” attitude, which we encountered several times. We never had the pleasure of seeing these people busted by a ranger, which is a shame.

On the way back form the lighthouse, Meg wanted a coffee so we went to a little shop along the way back to the parking lot to get one. At least 45 minutes later we left, the painfully slow service having put us far behind schedule. The whole road is only about 300 km but because of how winding it is, the makers of tourist literature recommend at least 6 hours to drive the thing. They're right.

Our next trip was a side road to a waterfall that found Meg vbehind the wheel. Just before we heeaded up to it a carload of your Japanese kiddies who didn't know how a turn signal operated almost hit us, but Meg's reflexes saved the day. It was a particularly nrrow and twisty bit of highway inclusing a final descent that made her glad that her shift was over. The waterfall itself was nice, with a middleand bottom viewing platform, but probably not worth the detour time it took.

On the way back there was a lookout which Meg was feeling too ill to visit. I went upand it didn't show much except for how the highway was about to hit a particularly steep nand twisty part. And it was. The driving got very slow and curvy with distractions such as tourists who couldn't keep their land and local trying to blast by quickly. There were a lot of pulloff spots here so we could let the speedsters by and have a gander at how the view was going. Most of the time it was nice, rugged coastline, not dissimilar to the Cabot Trail.

Meg needed a break, so we got off at Apollo Bay and had a look around. It had a nice long sandy beach around a tourist-geared town, but nothing jaw-dropping. It would have probably looked nicer on a sunnier day.

Meg's carsickness drugged had kicked in so she slept through a lot of the next phase of the road. At this point it cut inland, still twisty and narrow bbut with no sea views. We passed by the rainforest skywalk where you're supposed to easily see koalas in the trees due both to lack of time and lack of consciousness in Meg. The inland road went on for well over an hour before finally emerging by the famed twelve apostles. We dodged a tourist drivingon the wrong sideof the road before we pulled into the very busy tourist centre. It was under renovations and contained little morethan a washroom and snack bar, but had a well laid out path that took everyone to the shore to see the sights. These are offshore rock formations similarto flowerpot islands. Apparently many of the original 12 have eroded into the sea, but they were still impressive. The real crowd was at sunset, so we beat them and had a good gander. This spot was worth the hype.

Two heathens with the twelve apostles.

After the 12 apostles are a number of other named sights. We stopped at the grotto, which was an impressive area of craggy rock where water sloshed in through a hole in the shore. After that, we had to head on to our hostel if we were going to get there before sundown.

The road became decent again and we caught an ABC show about recent films featuring Australia, including The Hunter, which we would eventually see. We pulled into Warrambool as the sune was setting and found our place, which had a bar built in, not usually a good sign. The sleeping rooms were in a separate building from the bar and dorms, so things looked a little better. We cooked up dinner and ate to The Ant Bully, a strange choice of movie but surprisingly entertaining when you have no expectations. We had to wonder if the others in the hostel were a little off or not, as they seemed to be a group with some sort of mental disability,but in the nicest way. A hard topic to bring up in conversation, so we'll never know for sure.

The bottom line was that the place was pretty quiet for a Saturday night and our room was nice and big, so we slept well.

Nice scenery, shame about the drivers.