Centenary Walk to The Island, Werribee Gorge, Victoria. April 2011

The Island

I've found that hiking is not really a 'spur of the moment thing, as usually there's a bit of planning involved before heading out. The other day I thought I would ditch that principle as I lay on the couch covered in potato chips. About the only thing I had successfully accomplished that day was put my underwear on and even then I think it was on backwards. I needed to go for a walk and there was the suburban option of sucking in exhaust fumes whilst trying to cross busy roads or head for a relatively nearby National Park. It was a bit of a tough choice, but I elected for the park as my suburban walking clothes of Woodstock bourbon t-shirt, faded denim jeans that are four sizes too tight and my adhesive mullet were in the wash.

I had been to Werribee Gorge a few times before and there a number of walks to choose from, but that's of course if they're open, as the main circuit walk seems to have been closed since the park was formed 500 million years ago. The common theme is 'flood damage' which may clear before I die, but somehow I doubt it. Sooner or later I'm going to have to take a chainsaw and a backpack full of whoop-ass and ignore the 'closed' signs and just get the hike over with. There was one walk listed which suited my spur of the moment decision to head out though and that was the Centenary Walk. It wasn't listed in my trusty Glenn Tempest guidebook of 'Daywalks Around Melbourne' which I assume was printed before the walk was put together. Either that or he's running the Tony Montana approach to hiking books, "All I have in this world are my balls and my walks and I don't expose them to anyone".  

Well, this walk is listed on the Parks Victoria website as a four kilometre return, but rated as 'medium/hard'. I'm always wary of the grading given to walks as I've been caught out before. I should be in charge of that stuff, so let me see. 'Easy' - Can be completed with a cup of Dilmah in one hand and a lemon tart in the other. 'Medium' - Ensure something is on your feet other than ugg boots and exertion will guarantee the use of bad language. 'Hard' - The sustained effort will make you feel as if you're hotter than the devils underpants and you know how steamy they are, swearing will be non-existent as all oxygen is required for breathing and even though you forgot to update your will you can only hope for sudden death. I think there could be one more category and that's 'impossible' although I'm not sure if there is anything worse than death? I guess getting captured and being used as a sex slave by a Yeti? That would be pretty disappointing I think.

Okay, I set off and as it was a sudden idea for a walk I also packed in the 'spur of the moment' style. I was positive I had everything I needed until I reached the Quarry Picnic Area car-park just inside Werribee Gorge. First of all I noticed I had forgotten my Personal Locator Beacon (PLB) which always make me nervous, as I think even on small walks it's a handy thing to have. Especially at this park as I noticed that there were no cars in the car-park and it would be unlikely I would come across anyone during the walk. What else? Oh yeah, I forgot my trusty bandanna which I find is vital due to my World's Hottest Man (WHM) rating, so that meant some sweat would be going in my eyes. Is that it? No, of course not silly, I had also forgotten some snacks (FOOD).

The start of the walk was simple enough as I side-stepped all of the Werribee Gorge standard posters which say, 'Circuit Walk Closed'. I noticed one of the posters was written on parchment which made me think that the walk had been closed for quite some time. Whilst it was a steady uphill walk into an open forest before levelling out, I was a bit pre-occupied with some camera 'issues'. I was using a Canon 550D with 18 - 135 mm lens which is usually fine, but on this day it became possessed. It refused to focus on anything really and when it did one half of the image was blurred, so I started to think that's not what it's supposed to do? I wasn't sure if the problem was lens or camera which was a worry.

I remembered a few weeks ago I was getting a bag out at home which the camera was in, but it decided it didn't want to be 'in' any longer, so it flew out. When I say 'flew out', I mean it cart-wheeled through the air whilst Ben and I stood staring with mouths agape until it drilled itself into the floor. No, not the carpeted lounge, but on the hard kitchen floor of course. It did seem to work after that, but I can't say I've taken many photos with it since. Mm... Potentially a colossal bummer on my hands, as I don't have a lot of camera luck. I changed lenses to an 85 mm prime and then I kept my fingers crossed it would work okay. That's if I could take photos as it started drizzling and wouldn't stop. It continued for quite some time and it felt like I was in Scotland for a moment, so I put the camera away in the bag. Guess what happens when one does that? It stops of course, so I went through the rigmarole of getting it out again.

I was checking the GPS as I went and I noticed the walk was a lot longer than I thought it was meant to be. The map said, '4 km return' which to me means two kilometres one way and two back.  Surely that's right or have I been wrong for the last 75 years? Well, two kilometres passed by and I didn't appear to be near an 'island' which was the destination. In fact, I had no idea what the 'island' was and I was hoping there would be a sign when I got there so I knew when to stop walking.  The path eventually began zig-zagging down a hill to Junction Pool where Werribee River meets Myrniong Creek. Have you got all that?

As I was descending my vision started to fill with a bloody big hill devoid of trees in front of me. Mm... I think I've found the 'island' which I only later discovered is officially called the 'W. James Whyte Island Reserve'. What does the 'W' stand for? Who uses an initial as a first name? Lots of questions and I have no answers I'm sorry. Anyway, what I did find when I reached the water is plenty of signs of flooding. It was quite amazing to see rather large logs piled up over 10 feet above the current water level.

Junction Pool 

Plenty of debris at Junction Pool.

I also noticed that I had to cross the creek to get to the path which led up the hillside in front of me. It wasn't too bad with the water low, but I did concentrate pretty hard as the rocks were slippery and in any sort of flooding it would be impossible to cross the creek near Junction Pool. In fact, it would almost be worthy of one of those special 'walk closed' signs of which I had seen a million at the start.

Well, it was time to climb a rather large hill and a path followed next to the creek for a little while before ascending. It was a bit unnerving near the creek as the grass was long, covering the track which instantly gave me visions of snakes who would love this stuff. I was so traumatized I ended up constantly repeating in my head the Billy Ray Cyrus tune, "Don't break my snake/My achy breaky snake..." Even better, after gingerly stepping through the grass wishing I had a trekking pole with me, I walked into some rather large spider webs. There's nothing quite like having a spider web draped across the face complete with the hollowed out corpses of insects sticking to it that had come a cropper in the web. In fact, I did spot one of the spiders who resided in a web I bowled through, although I wasn't sure if he was actually alive, but I wasn't game to poke him to find out...

Once away from the creek the path became less stressful, as I was away from the water, but the long grass was still a bit unsettling. The hill was a reasonable climb, but the incline was gradual and there were a few interpretive signs dotted along the way to keep the interest.

Following the creek through the grass. 

Heading uphill...

The surrounding landscape away from the gorge has a generalised 'cleared for farming' look and it would have been interesting to see what the place looked like a few hundred years ago. I didn't have a tardis on hand, so all I could do was continue plodding on.

Some views on the way up... 

Here, have another view...

After quite a long slog I reached the top to be greeted by a sign that said, 'Lookout Circuit 1 km', which meant to see a view I had to keep walking. The top of the hill was expansive and flat, so much so it was almost like an island which would be a good name suggestion I think. I must get in touch with the conservation volunteers who manage the 'Island' and let them know. The view was quite plain on the side I climbed, but once I started walking the circuit I was able to view Werribee Gorge which was quite interesting.

On the 'circuit walk'...

I eventually found a little wooden lookout point and sat down for a rest and a bit of a perusal of Werribee Gorge itself. I could see Falcons Lookout which has starred in the blog before and it reminded me that I never did buy the Utmarkt turner for $1.49 in the 2011 Ikea catalogue. How would it work with a hole in it?

Falcons Lookout

Whilst I was standing at the lookout taking photos I kept hearing a weird sound. Initially I wasn't sure what it was, but it was coming from in front of me somewhere. It was a little strange as it sounded like the noise a gorilla would make if you had one arm around his neck in a headlock and the other gripping his testicles. It reminded me of the special sounds I make during foreplay, until I suddenly worked out what it was and it was the camera!

This time it was the Panasonic Lumix TZ-7 which had died after being submerged underwater on my Croajingolong hike the previous year. I had given up on the camera until I was really bored the other day and switched it on and amazingly it worked. "Yeah, it's back in town!", I shouted whilst running down the street complete with adhesive mullet flapping in the breeze. That was then, but the reality now is it was stuffed. The foreplay sounding noise was coming from the lens whilst it was zoomed out, and it was actually moving from side to side which I think is not ideal for a camera. In fact the end result is pictures like the one below which in photography terms are classified as 'unsatisfactory'. Whilst waiting for it to upload to the blog, I worked out a technique to make it look better and that's by staring at the picture whilst shaking my head violently side to side. I found as I did that it appeared to be in perfect focus, so by all means give it a go, but I'm not held responsible for any medical bills due to 'spin the brain in the cranium' syndrome. Wow, that was almost the perfect rhyme...  

Melbourne skyline in the blur...

I'm kind of sorry to say, but the photos were average due to the second camera fiasco of the day. The light didn't help either, but I could imagine during sunrise or sunset the view would be fantastic. Any punters wishing to head up the hill I would think that would be the best time instead of the bland light I had on my trip. It did get a little interesting as one of those Scottish drizzle patches blew through whilst I was on the hill and a nifty rainbow started to appear. It wasn't a mega colourful one, but I found it quite worthy nonetheless.

Some rainbow action...

So, that was it and all I had to do now was make my way back the way I had come. I do prefer a circuit walk which I think I've mentioned in just about every blog entry I've ever done, but this wasn't too bad. I was soon heading back into the long grass and that song started appearing in my head again. There were some quality plants to take pictures of on the way down though.

I also had to contend with plenty of butterflies and they drove me bananas trying to get some good photos, but upon landing they would be still for only a second before flying off. In the end I managed to get a few shots with only a little bit of blur of their wings fluttering like crazy. Have they not heard about fidgeting whilst their photo is getting taken?

I made it to the bottom in one piece and the sun was starting to get a bit lower in the sky making the overall light a lot nicer. Trouble is I was at the bottom of the hill now, but the area around Junction Pool looked pretty good as long as one ignored the rubble from the flooding.

Werribee River at Junction Pool

Junction Pool

Well, time to head back to the car, so I began to climb the hill away from Junction Pool with the sun filtering through the trees. It made for some lovely photos, but the camera blur was pretty active at this stage. There were a few colourful sights on the ground and trees though in which I managed to get some focused pictures.

I must have been day dreaming on the way back as I suddenly found myself in an area which I didn't remember walking on earlier. Mm... I was 'lost', but not officially as I knew I was on earth which was a good starting point. In fact it was a Daniel Boone moment, "I have never been lost, but I admit to being confused for several weeks". Well, substitute weeks for minutes and you'll have my situation as I walked off track in the general direction where I needed to go, but found myself in some blokes backyard.

Yes, somehow I had come across a house which was sort of good as I could have snuck down his driveway to the road and walked out from there. If anyone saw me though I would have to explain how I was in the wrong spot and that felt a bit too traumatic, so I backtracked to where I had come from. A bit of bush bashing and suddenly I re-emerged on the correct path. What was that all about? I've not idea, but all was well after a slight piece of geographical embarrassment. There was all sorts of commotion going on at the same time as I'd stumbled across about 15 kangaroos. They appeared to have never seen anyone ever before because they all went a little mental bounding through the bush, bouncing off trees and each other. It was like watching a my dad trying to escape the nursing home at midnight.

A bit of a blurry kangaroo, but you get the idea...

A little bit more walking and I had reached the car. Now, I'm not sure what the blokes who measured this walk are smoking, but my GPS was telling me the total distance walked was 8.30 kms. That appears to be a little bit longer than the listed '4 km return walk'. Maybe I've been deluded with the whole distance and return bit all my life, but something doesn't make sense. Oh yeah, the total elevation climbed was 387 metres as well which was pretty good. It was a short walk, but it certainly took it's toll on the equipment as the cameras were in a world of hurt. 

I spoke to Ben about it and he blames the name of the blog in that it's a subconscious thought that something will always balls up. I considered changing the name of the blog to 'NoWorriesHiking.com' or 'NoProblemsMateHiking.com with dozens of photos of me smiling giving the thumbs up everywhere. After I said that though the handset went quiet so maybe he's thinking it through? Oh well, that's it for another walk expertly dissected and explained. Now what? I guess I'll have to get the Glenn Tempest/Tony Montana book out again. I was off home to have a steak for tea, but as I thought about it that stupid song appeared in my head again, "Don't break my steak/my achy breaky steak..."

Cape Conron Rock Plummet Fiasco, Victoria. March 2011

Cape Conron looking towards Marlo...

It was quite a relaxing night spent at the Orbost caravan park although the fact people were all around the place took a little bit of getting used to after quite an isolated time in the Snowy Mountains. There's nothing quite like a caravan park for some oddballs as well, especially in the comfort station.  I went and had a shower and a bloke was standing at a sink with his shirt off shaving with an electric razor. No problems hey? I was taking my time and he appeared to be buzzing for an eternity which made me wonder how precisely he was doing the stubble on his face. Well, of course it's not that simple is it? When I stepped out of the shower I noticed he had moved from his face to his neck and then his chest. Yes, he was shaving his chest with his electric razor and as he was descending it was time for me to dry and escape pronto before he moved down to give his nads a cut and polish. Upon walking out of the showers in a daze I was confronted by an old bloke about four feet tall saying, "Are you the boss?" "No, I'm not mate", to which he replied, "Well, you're big enough so you should be the boss." It was that sort of a morning...

Boat ramp at Cape Conron

Well, after that excitement it was time to head to Cape Conron a short distance away. I was sort of familiar with the place as that's where I started my Croajingolong hike last year. On the day I started though it was a matter of heading straight off up the beach without having much of a look around. It's not exactly overflowing with stuff to do, but it's still a nice coastal place to hang out for the day. It was a pity it was so overcast as I was hoping for some freestyle polarizer action with a blue sky. The first place to start looking was at a spot called Salmon Rocks which I was figuring out would have a bit of a pink colour to them. As you may have noticed, I put a ton of work into coming up with that theory.

Salmon Rocks

I guess if one squints their eyes and looks at the rocks whilst jumping up and down they could appear salmon in colour. No doubt if the sun was out it would be a different story, but we had a drab day to contend with. MK had spotted one large rock in the centre of all the others and I just knew she had to climb to the top of it. Those rock climbing hombres can't leave the rocks alone without having to clamber all over them. Well, she started climbing and I stood at a distance taking the odd snap whilst squinting my eyes and jumping up and down. I guess I should have been concentrating on the resident rock climber, but I must admit my brain was in neutral a little.

Moments from disaster...

MK was getting close to the top of the rock when she decided to fall off. Now, if someone falls I kind of expect to hear some sound, but it was totally silent. If there was a little bit of screaming it would have been perfect as I may have been able to get an action shot, but there was absolutely no consideration for the official trip photographer. MK had fallen totally out of sight and there was no sudden popping up of a head which would signal that all is well. I was a little bit apprehensive whilst walking forward to render assistance/take photos as I imagined what would have happened if it was me who fell. She had fallen about four or so metres I suppose with a bit of rock bouncing on the way to..., well..., more rocks.

If that was me, most of Victoria would have heard the air escape from my lungs as I landed and then I'd probably be dead. I do not fall softly is the gist of what I'm trying to say.  Anyway, I arrived at the scene and she was breathing which was a bonus. There was skin missing and what appeared to be a mega ankle injury, but I've found the Dutch have pretty good constitution. The fear of growing up below sea level makes them all a little bit hardy and MK was surprisingly in one piece except for a bit of blood spurting everywhere. The ankle was a concern though and the initial prognosis was a severe twist as she appeared to land with most weight on the one leg. She couldn't walk, so I got my trusty Black Diamond Ergo Cork trekking poles (I just love saying that ridiculously long name) out of the car. With a bit of hobbling it was head back to the car time. On the way I spotted a crab hiding in a little pool of water, no doubt waiting there for the tide to come back in.

I had plenty of good ideas for some relief for the ankle pain such as anti-inflammatory drugs, Panadol, heroin, amputation, but she declined. I thought that was it for the day so I was a little surprised to hear we were now going to do the Cape Conron Nature Trail walk. It's only a few kilometres, but I didn't think walking on a dodgy ankle straight after nearly snapping it off would be a good idea. Oh well, see? The hardy/crazy Dutch are at it again. Anyway, MK had the sticks and we headed off on the walk which didn't really give us many sights other than thick coastal tea tree. There was some weird stuff on the way though as at one point I ventured off the track a short distance to see if I could see the ocean. Well, whilst doing this I came across a message stuck on a tree.  It was clearly left by the Zodiac killer and I've emailed the FBI with my concerns to which I haven't yet received a reply.  I'm sure they have a team of people analysing it right now as I tap this blog entry out.

Zodiac Killer message. Can you decipher it?

It was pretty slow going with MK slowly dying from the pain of the ankle and I was slowly dying from the lack of a view. I could hear the ocean, but couldn't see it, so the only thing to take photos of were the odd tree along the way.

Finally the walk had come to an end as we reached East Cape Beach. I was intrigued to see 'Sailors Grave' marked on the map and I was hoping to check it out until I found that there was no grave. It gets its name from shipwrecks in the area years ago. I do like an old grave and I was a little disappointed that there was nothing to look at, so I've considered suing someone for false advertising. It was my job to head back and get the car, but this time I elected to walk along the beach instead of staring at bushes. It was quite nice, but the drab sky was killing my photos so you're not going to see any landscapes. There were the traditional seagulls flying around though and they seemed worthy of a few snaps.

I also came across some quality pieces of driftwood along the way which always make for a good photo, plus the odd pile of seashells.

Well, I got back to the car and whizzed around to pick up MK who hadn't passed away whilst I was walking back. It was time to say goodbye to Cape Conron as we had really done all that could be done with a stuffed ankle. The next stop was the Cabbage Tree Creek Flora Reserve to see Victoria's only native palm trees. It was a short drive away and we were off with the sticks again on a walk that is described as 'ten' minutes long. I left the GPS in the car as the walk is kind of short don't you think?! I can certainly say the track is decidedly 'ferny', but with the ferns came about a million mosquitoes.

Cabbage Tree Palms walk...

It was nice to check out the cabbage tree palms which were dotted about the forest, although it was hard to concentrate as my arms were flailing around smashing mosquitoes in the head. MK who had to use the sticks was at a disadvantage so she hobbled off at high speed back to the car whilst I kept whirling my arms around during the ten minute walk. I don't think I've killed so many mozzies who had already taken a bite of me as I had blood spots all over the place. I too had to pick up speed as there were more mosquitoes on this walk than in a de Havilland factory. That may be the worse joke of all time, but sometimes one has to hang in there and stick it out. 

 

Cabbage Tree Palm...

With the trees done it was now off to Marlo which again was a short drive away and this is where the Snowy River reaches the sea. MK wasn't happy wanting to look at the river, she had to swim in it even though the temperature was a little chilly. I stuck to my role as photographer and lay on the beach whilst she hobbled into the water.

It looks bleak, but this is the Snowy River reaching the sea...

I stayed warm whilst MK went for a swim in the Snowy River...

Well, that was about it. We had followed the Snowy River from the mountains to the sea and there wasn't much else to do other than head home. The last spot for a photo opportunity was the Stony Creek Trestle Bridge near Nowa Nowa which sits besides the East Gippsland Rail Trail. It's closed due to disrepair with the bike track running alongside it, but it's still worth having a look.

Stony Creek Trestle Bridge

It needs a bit of work...

View from the top...

That was about it for the road trip highlights, but to top off a day of weirdness I was distracted whilst looking at the bridge by a phone call from the nursing home my father is in. It appears he's showing more elan for trying to escape the home than when he was a prisoner of war in World War Two in Nazi Germany. The old 'out the window' method is a tried and true method of escape, but the trouble is he has a walking frame so one doesn't have to be Carl Lewis to run him down. Oh well, that call rounded out another zany day from chest shaving blokes to freestyle rock plummeting. It was time to head home and try and conjure up some more worthy trips...   

The Snowy River from mountains to sea via Barry Way, March 2011

Snowy River

Well, I've recovered from the intoxicating vision of leaves from the last blog entry and have decided to write up the travels I did with MK after our Mt Kosciuszko hike. The heading I wrote above sounded so good until the 'Barry Way' part. How insanely Australian does that sound? I think the only way it could be better is if it's 'Bazza Way'. After Mt Kosciuszko our intentions were to head off and hike in the Budawangs which is a spectacular National Park a days drive away, but there was a slight problem. The first hike had taken longer than we expected and I was blubbering too much to contemplate a back to back walk. Forget 'hiking fiasco', it would have been more like, 'ticker gives up fiasco' and 'who's going to write the blog now I'm pushing up daisies fiasco'? Anyway, the plan was changed to go on a road trip instead by following the Snowy River from the mountains to the sea at the small town of Marlo on the Victorian coast with a quick visit to Cape Conron thrown in. It did mean we would have to drive on 'Barry Road' to get there though. Sounds pretty simple huh?

Don't forget we had the bikes as they hadn't been stolen from the back of the car whilst we were traipsing around Kosciuszko. This meant we had to use them I guess as it wouldn't make sense to lug them all the way without going for a ride, would it?! The first port of call was Bullocks Flat which is a short distance away from Thredbo and that's where we stayed the first night after the hike. The next morning it was out with the bikes for a bit of exploring which wasn't too bad with the odd item of interest. We came across an old steam something sitting in a paddock which appeared to have been long forgotten. I believe it was used in the field by the 'ye olde yahoos' for a bit of rollback or doughnut action and it's likely they ended up breaking the line lock.  What did they do after that?  The only thing I could think of was, "Yo, my steam machine has stopped and spare parts are a long way away in the mother country. I guess there's nothing else to do other than have sex I suppose?  I wish someone would invent a game with letters on little squares to pass the time. Oh well, time to give the trousers a bit of a schrabben I think."

Wow, that joke was pretty obscure, so I hope you're on the ball to pick up on it as it took me about 30 minutes of staring out the window to refine it into something legible and if you're still struggling give Google a go. Right, now that's sorted out, we continued to explore and old metal lying around ended up being quite popular in the area.  

I think the bike ride in total was seven kms and I felt it was about seven kms too much. My legs were so sore from the hike that every time the gradient rose about the height of a standard lemon tart I had to get off and walk. There was the odd native animal lurking around though which made things interesting.

Does he have red eyebrows?

It was time to put the bikes away and head to the nearby town of Jindabyne. It was a chance to refuel and visit the local tourist information centre to find out the road conditions of Barry Way. We knew it was unsealed, but with the amount of rain over the previous few months it was wise to check if the road was still in good condition. Refuelling should be simple right? Putting fuel in the car was relatively normal, but when I came to pay for it the service station bloke looked at me and said, "Nice shorts." I looked at him and smiled saying, "Thanks mate!" when I was actually thinking, "Are you trying to pick me up or are you just a complete nutjob?" They're a pretty standard pair of knee length dark shorts which seemed fairly nondescript, so I'm not sure what that bloke was looking at. I guess if I was wearing a pair of crotchless leather shorts then it might have been a different story.

Random stream photo to break up the paragraphs...

After leaving the shorts loving petrol station bloke, we then headed to the information centre and the intriguing conversations kept coming. All it took was a simple question to the lady behind the counter, "How is Barry Way? Not too bad?" I didn't think it would result in a five minute reply that repeated the following things, 

"Barry Way? It's narrow and dangerous. It has steep cliffs and sharp corners. You will have to be careful on those corners otherwise you may have a head on accident. It's unmade and the gravel has little grip". Following this she said, "It's narrow and dangerous. There are steep cliffs that you will have to watch out. If you go over the edge no one will be able to find you for days". After catching her breath she then said, "It's narrow and dangerous. Blind corners cause many accidents not to mention the steep cliffs which you don't want to drive off. If you do go over the edge you will be lost forever and you'll end up having to dine out on one of your own legs to survive, but if you do that you won't be able to walk out as you've eaten your leg. The best case scenario is your legless skeleton might be found in the next millennium. That's if you're lucky, if not your flyblown corpse will...".

Yeah, okay, I get the picture, are you trying to scare us? The only thing she forgot to mention is watch out for rogue pterodactyls. I've heard of road warnings before, but she was banging on as if we were about to drive on banana peel covered Yungas Road in Bolivia wearing a blindfold and legs cross-legged on the drivers seat instead of the plain old Barry Way.

So, with white knuckles gripping the steering wheel we ventured into the great unknown with the dulcet tones of 'Ms Information' in our ears and a map that was marginally better than an inflatable globe of the world. We had great maps for walking, but average ones for driving! The car did have a GPS though which MK persisted with the bloke speaking in French as he 'sounded better'. I've no idea what that GPS bloke was on about, but at times I thought he was serenading me when all he was doing was telling me to turn left. Well, what we did find was a dirt road that was quite easy to drive on with lovely views along the way. There are numerous camp-sites dotted along the road next to the Snowy River which we stopped at to have a look. It was very peaceful and very few cars were on the road at the same time as us. They had probably gone to the information centre themselves and as a result ended up running back to bed and hiding under the doona in fear.

There were some nice plants for a bit of macro action and numerous yellow flowers that were very vibrant in colour. Due to their vibrant level it's worth having another look at them.

Well, the other flowers were pretty good also, so let's have another look as I can never work out which photo to use. Instead I'm going for the whole kit and caboodle approach.

It was quite comfortable driving and I think Ms Information had overdone the fear factor a little as we didn't have any problems. We reached the border in good time and at the town Wulgulmerang which consisted of not much we turned towards McKillop Bridge. There's a camp ground at McKillop Bridge which we thought would be a fantastic spot to spend the night, although it meant driving on a slightly rougher road. There were a few attractions along the way though with firstly a waterfall which was quite impressive, but I have no idea what it's called. I really should take some notes on the way or write up this straight after the event. All I know is that it has water that falls, which meets the criteria of a 'waterfall' I believe, but at a guess Little River runs through this area so it may be called 'Little River Falls". With that sort of logic I should be a detective I reckon.

Little River Falls (maybe)

A short drive further on and there was a car park which led to the 'deepest gorge in Victoria'. That sounded impressive so we trudged the 400 metres or so through bush until coming to an opening and there it was. It was a bloody big gorge which really had an unexpected 'wow' factor. I really didn't think it would be as impressive as it turned out to be and unfortunately no pictures taken do it justice to the spectacular sight.

On we continued though until arriving at McKillop Bridge camping ground. It was a lot larger than what I imagined it would be and a little unappealing, so it was decided to just continue driving all the way to Orbost which was another 100 or so kms further on towards the coast. It would finish a big day of driving, but that seemed better than a night in the bush. A few hours later we arrived at Orbost in the dark with the idea of setting up in the caravan park. Upon finding it, there was the little matter of setting up MK's monster Taj Mahal tent in the dark along with an inflatable mattress which needed an air compressor to inflate. The trouble is the compressor sounded like a B-52 taking off which did cause a few lights to switch on in various surrounding caravans. With my ears ringing from the compressor it was off to bed which was definitely required after quite a long day...