WHEN 12 WAS 8

We had spent a week with friends enjoying the sights of Melbourne; the Old Melbourne Gaol, the last home and execution site of the infamous Ned Kelly, the superb Melbourne Zoo where one of the highlights was the wombat keeper’s uncanny resemblance to a wombat, the MCG, home of many famous Australia-New Zealand cricket matches, including the underarm incident and Lance Cairns’s six sixes, the vineyards up the Yarra Valley, the delightful Mornington peninsula. Unfortunately, our friends had to return to work so instead of just hanging around their apartment, we decided to hit up the Great Ocean Road, one of Victoria’s greatest attractions. The Great Ocean Road follows a scenic path around the south-western part of Victoria, offering spectacular views over cliffs and beaches, winding through small picturesque towns and rainforests. It provides access to the Shipwreck coast where over 1000 ships met their ends in the late part of the 19^th Century and early part of the 20th. It was built by soldiers returning from the First World War; as well as providing them with work, it also serves as the world’s largest war memorial; all 243 kilometres of it are dedicated to casualties of the conflict

One of the world's great drives.

Before hitting up the Great Ocean Road though, the tour group we arranged to go with took us to the Grampians National Park, a 3 hour drive from Melbourne, famous for being one of the richest Aboriginal art sites in south-eastern Australia (we didn’t see any). We did enjoy the views from lookouts of the picturesque sandstone mountain ranges that fold in spectacular arrays of stone, helped by the erosion that has augmented nature so graciously. One such sculpture was the formation formerly known as the Jaws of Death, which are rocks shaped like jaws that you can climb out onto, narrow ledges forming the mandibles that lead to a sheer drop off. They were renamed the Balconies out of fear that foreign tourists, apparently superstitious in nature, would be scared off visiting the site. After poking around the mountains and hills, we made off our way to our campsite, sleeping in gender-segregated cabins like we were back at intermediate school again.

The rock formation formerly known as the Jaws of Death (TRFFKATJOD). A symbol would be easier.

 If you haven’t spent the night in the Australian bush before, the sounds are quite startling. Kookaburras, the large kingfishers, make quite the cacophony, laughing in their unusual way so that it sounds like a troop of monkeys or hyenas were around the camp site. Other songbirds unknown to me joined in the chorus, until it really did sound like we were in the deepest jungle, instead of only a few kilometers into the Grampians. As I walked to my cabin after supper, a large grey Kangaroo jumped out of a bush. I’m not ashamed to say that I was momentarily frightened by this beast explosively bounding out from behind a bush. No matter how well you know that there are no large, dangerous carnivores in the area, you still can’t help but to jump when something as large as a kangaroo jumps out at you. The next morning, I rose early, sneaking out of the cabin before first light. I watched small parrots and cockatoos in the gum trees while keeping an apprehensive eye downwards to try and avoid snakes before I trod on them. I walked for a while until I was able to spy upon a large group of kangaroos. I got within 50 metres of them but then my stealth failed me and they took off, covering huge distances over the browned off grass with each bounce. It remains one of my fondest memories.

I managed to get close to a mob of kangaroos like this until they spied me and took off with gusto.

After returning to the cabin and helping myself to a hearty breakfast, the group set off to do a 90 minute walk through the Grampians, with the driver mindful to start early to avoid the hot afternoon sun. He dropped us off with instructions which were to follow the trail. He would be waiting at the other end of it to pick us up. After he left, a 40 something year old Pommie guy took over. Somehow surmising from the driver’s exit that he was now the de-facto head of the group, he called us into a huddle to give us a pep talk. From his appearance, one would assume that he hadn’t left the house he shared with his mother in a non-descript Midlands town for the past 15 years, spending his time playing war games in a dark room. He was fat, pasty in the way that only cave dwellers should be, with long, greasy looking hair. His clothing that I’m guessing his mother had procured for him was all-over khaki. Later, he reminded me of the character Locke from Lost, who somehow intended on doing an intensive trek through the outback in a wheelchair. For this short walk, this weekend warrior had brought what can only be described as a utility belt, survival paraphernalia of all descriptions dangling from it, water bottles, sprays, pocket knifes, ropes, crampons, bandages, head lamp. In hushed tones, he started addressing us on subjects such as the perils of the Australian sun (it was at about 8 in the morning and while the temperature was pleasant, it was far from extreme) and what to do in case of snakebite. The most memorable moment went something like this, “Can you all keep hold of your water bottles”, he said, sweat already dripping from his brow, lank ponytail swinging behind him. “Because if we get lost, we could collect our pee for use if we get desperate”. This is where he lost the attention of most of us, many of us trying unsuccessfully to hold back a snigger, broke away from the circle and started out on the easy hike, leaving him in the back to mutter about lack of preparation and survival know-how. It was like he had skimmed read Bill Bryson’s “In A sunburned Country” and saw mentions of outback adventurers drinking urine but glossed over the bit where Bryson explained that urine actually facilitates dehydration. 

The main attraction here was a section of rock known as the Elephants Hide. It’s so named because people felt its rippled effect over a slope echoed the appearance of an elephant’s hide. We passed through gullies and scaled one large hill, looking out for kangaroos and wallabies while being mindful of snakes (Australia is home to many of the world’s  most poisonous snakes although fatalities are more rare than you would think, mainly due to the low population density and the fact that many of these snakes make their home in the deep outback).

Elephant Hide rock. It looked more hideish in reality than it does in photos. 

The next day, we hit the Great Ocean Road, taking in beaches and cliffs, each with a story to tell. At one, our guide told us a story about how a steamboat ran adrift and had to ditch 500 barrels of beer and 120 cases of spirits. The returned servicemen working on the road obtained it somehow which then led to an unplanned two week booze break. At another cliff, the story went that early settlers drove local Aboriginals off it, plunging them to their deaths on the rocks below. While I have been unable to verify this independently, several massacres of Aboriginal people did occur in Victoria. While the idea of a group of men driving another group of men of a cliff for no good reason except as sport is horrifying, it would not surprise me. While all native people around the world suffered the after-effects of colonization, aborigines were hit particularly hard, with massacres, disease and loss of land major consequences in the decline of many communities. Aboriginal people have been heavily discriminated against, both by citizens and by legislation. It wasn’t until the 1960s that they were given the right to vote in national elections. Queensland didn’t grant them the right to vote until 1965. Even now, key statistics for Aborigines (life expectancy, alcoholism etc) remain Australia’s dirty secret. At least, there are some attempts being made now to address these issues at both central and state levels.

At another stop, we were inundated by flies. Australian flies are a persistent annoyance and count as Australia’s biggest pest, behind rabbits and maybe Australians themselves (spoken like a true New Zealander). Their copious number and excellence at annoyance has led to many innovations like the Aussie wave (constant waving of hands across your face to discourage fly attack), also known as the bush salute as well as the famous cork hats that are the hands free version of the aussie wave. One small boy, aged about four, was at wits end when it came to what to do with combating the fly menace. In the end, he gave up the battle. With his face covered, he proceeded to simultaneously scream, cry and shout “get them off me”, in a manner that recalled a Mongolian throat singer. All this while flies were presumably in his mouth, nostrils and nose. I can understand his angst. I don’t think I have ever felt so much pity for that one small boy as I have for another human, even to this day.

The next stop was London Arch, formerly known as London Bridge. In its previous form, it formed a complete double-span natural bridge until one day in 1990 when the bridge suddenly collapsed, leaving two tourists stranded on the outer part and televised throughout Australia. They had to get rescued by a helicopter; we regaled ourselves with stories that centred around the two strandees adultery being caught out on national television or that they were ex-lovers on a romantic tryst. Apparently though, much to our disappointment, the two people were actually strangers whose first contact arose from being stuck together on a newly formed island. Our guide couldn’t shed any light on whether there had been a subsequent love-match.

Another formerly known as: London arch was formerly London Bridge until the bridge collapsed.

Shortly after London Arch, we come to the most famed point along the Great Ocean Road, the 12 Apostles, a collection of limestone rock stacks, that rise spectacularly out of the water (no word on which one was Judas). They are here as the result of erosion (erosion is both a life giving and a grim reaper here as we will see later). Although the name suggested that there should be 12, there are, in fact, only eight left standing (the name was changed in the 1920s from the rather less romantic Sow and Piglets to the more tourist enticing Apostles). Even then, there were only 9, with one falling to the sea in 2005. The Apostles started off like the London Arch, water and wind wearing away at the soft rock until caves were formed in the cliffs, which then became arches, which in turn collapsed leaving just the central stack left. We were lucky enough to pick up a cheap helicopter ride over the Apostles. It really is a great way to see them, view unencumbered in a giant, mechanized bubble floating in, over and around them while also taking in views of the rugged Shipwreck coast. From up here, you can appreciate how so many ships met their end, taking countless sailors with them.

12 Apostles: only 8 stand with further casualties expected.

It’s pretty hard to beat the helicopter ride, so the rest of the day was of a more sedate nature. There was the excursion into the Otways, dense temperate rainforest reminiscent of New Zealand and giving further indications that Gondwanaland was once a massive entity, encompassing many southern lands including, of course, both Australia and New Zealand. Here, you could imagine that a population of thylacines (Tasmanian Tiger), a large, canine-like marsupial lingers on (there are sporadic but unlikely sightings of this animal in Victoria, long extinct on the mainland and probably in Tasmania since the 1930s). It also gives lie to my childhood fallacy that ferns were an exclusively New Zealand plant. Here, beech and mountain ash overshadowed the multitude types of ferns which play home to a variety of native marsupials, none of which we saw during our time here. Still, it was nice to take a walk around and ponder a time when these forests would have been teeming with the types of unusual and unique animals that Australia is famous for. These, of course, include koalas. It wasn’t until somewhere further along the road, when the driver pulled over into a sub-divided suburb that we, strangely enough, were able to see a small community of koalas. If it wasn’t for their appearance, which is very cute, koalas would have little going for them. Their reliance on eucalyptus sees them filling a niche that no other creature could fill as the leaves are high in phenols, oils and other toxins that would kill many other animals. The leaves are also low in energy and protein, which has had severe consequences on the koalas’ physiology and behaviour. Because their diet provides so little energy, koalas have a low metabolic rate and sleep for most of the day (16-18 hours a day). They are the sloths of the Australian fauna. The brain has been considerably reduced in size, weighing no more than 0.2% of its body weight, (a cat's brain in comparison weighs about 1% of its body weight) with the animal’s two cerebral hemispheres looking like “a pair of shriveled walnut halves on top of the brain stem”. It is the only animal in the world that has such a brain present in such a reduced and shriveled state. As if this wasn’t enough, the koala’s habitat has become fractured, resulting in in breeding among communities isolated from each other by roads and developments. Several colonies have been afflicted by disease, especially Chlamydia (sexually depraved koalas), resulting in a reduction in fertility and a decrease in numbers. To top it all of, they smell funny and are bad-tempered. We saw three, two females and a big male, who grunted at us in mild abuse, like a drunk too lazy to form actual insults. 

Ill tempered, smelly, stupid and potentially chlamydia ridden. Wouldn't make for a  good personal ad.

From here, it was back to Melbourne, passing past Bell’s Beach, where Point Break may or may not have been filmed, passing through outer suburbs of Melbourne until the towns  fused together signifying that we had hit Melbourne itself. A journey down the Great Ocean road gives a variety of experiences, particulary if it includes some time in the Grampians. Just remember if an Englishmen tells you to collect urine in your water bottle, just smile and nod and walk slowly away.