Author: aapalmers@icloud.com

Last night we celebrated with a lobster dinner at one of the local seafood restaurants in the Main Street. With the summer season nearly over and holiday makers back at work only the grey nomads are out and about. In the restaurant a quick glance tells us that 95% of the diners are older than us, wishful thinking you may say, but we are pretty certain we are on the money. Talking about money the lobster this season is once again sky high in price, having given Australia the cold shoulder for a number of years. Like a petulant parent the Chinese have lifted their 200% tariff from the industry after we miss spoke about wanting transparency over the origins of Covid 19. We have done our penance, eaten our greens and are allowed back at the table. They must have also had an issue with wealthy Chinese beer and wine drinkers as well, adding hefty tariffs to our barley and wine exports. The last few years have left Australia with a surfeit of these products with prices plummeting. For a short time Lobster in particular fell in price, but now it seems we have a 200% tariff put on us the poor loyal consumer. So much for a free market economy.

This morning we are travelling north again after two days of re-discovering Robe. First we have to buy some local lobster to take home and take a look at a local artists gallery, where we hope to find a set of drink coasters that he has designed with a particular Robe vibe. One can never have too many drink coasters now, can one! The artist a Terry Johnson has more than a few coasters hanging around, luckily we are off loading our worldly goods at the moment or we would be trying to fit a sizeable painting into the already bursting car. Maybe we will be back with a bigger car!

Once we start moving again we take the coastal ports highway to Kingston SE. There are two Kingston’s in South Australia, the SE indicates the south eastern one. The other now known as Kingston on Murray. The landscape is typically coastal, native low growing coastal scrubby plants line the highway ranging from straw brown to deep red grasses, lime green fleshy leaved bushes and grey blue salt bush. A few low growing twisted eucalypts appear here and there. The limestone coast is an official wine district, as the name suggests the base rock is porous limestone that provides good drainage for grape growing but also contributes to a wines, acidity, minerality and freshness. All good qualities for an elegant wine with longevity potential. The coastal scrub soon gives way to substantial vineyards rolling away from us towards the seaside on our west, while on the opposite side huge plantations of radiata pine start to appear. A mixture of older trees and newly planted ones that look like they should be ready for harvest at Christmas time. Santa may have his workshop in the North Pole but his Christmas Tree farm is right here in sunny south eastern South Australia. The centre of this wine district is the rugged seaside town of Cape Jaffa but we are bypassing this today and driving straight to Kingston.

Kingston grew out of land owned by Archibald and James Cooke, who had ventured south in 1854 from Wellington on the river Murray to establish a port from where they would conduct shipping and trade. They returned to seek a grant of land to begin the private startup that the government granted two years later. The brothers and James’s wife sailed their cutter “Swallow” into Lacepede Bay and took control of 3496 acres with grazing rights to eleven miles of sea front. Then known as Maria Creek. They built a jetty (pier) and named their new port Caroline. While they grazed sheep for wool on the land they built a substantial wool store. They also instigated the building of a rail line between Kingston and Naracoorte an inland farming town on the main line to Adelaide. George Strickland Kingston surveyed a new town that would incorporate Maria Creek (named after the vessel Maria that became shipwrecked there in 1940 with all survivors massacred by the local aborigines that in turn sparked reprisals causing the death of an unknown number of indigenous people) and Port Caroline lending his name to the resulting town.

Today the town and district has a population of around 1700 with fishing, winemaking, sheep and cattle rearing as the economic main stays. But like Robe since overseas travel has become so expensive, attracts homegrown holiday makers and tourists in ever increasing numbers. The towns main beach stretches for several kilometres of pure white sand.

Norfolk Pine trees line the foreshore just as they do along many South Australian beaches even in Adelaide. The story goes that these pines grow quickly straight and tall. Canny sailors of exploratory ships in the 1700’s planted seedlings along the coast so that if any ships ran into trouble with the loss of a mast then the trunks of these trees would make an adequate replacement, how’s that for foresight!

In 1872 The government completed a lighthouse off shore on a reef off the promontory of Cape Jaffa to warn ships of the dangers of this reef ridden coast line. In 1973 Robe became the site of a new lighthouse and the Cape Jaffa one taken apart after 101 years of service to be reconstructed in Kingston as a maritime museum.

The buildings reflect the towns past, with no elaborate government buildings, or large pastoral mansions, maybe reflecting the very business like personalities of the Scottish Cooke brothers. Who also still owned property in Wellington and the Cooke Plains. The Royal Mail Hotel built in 1867 serviced the local workers from the railway station, demolished in 1987 and the wool store next door that still remains.

Before we leave town, a must stop off is the Big Lobster, known as Larry by the locals. At 17 metres (56 feet) tall the sculpture made from fibreglass and steel is regarded as one of the most impressive of Australia’s big tourist attracting objects. Larry looks a bit faded from his long life (since 1979) in the sun and coastal environment, but otherwise comes up well in the photograph below.

We continue north along the coast road that runs along the salt lagoons to our west, the low growing coastal foliage hides most of the view. Occasionally we see glimpses of white sand dunes in the distance when breaks in the foliage open up to fields of purple tinged brown grasses. In one such field with even brighter burgundy tussocks of grass we spot two horses, one a grey trotting along through the field against the blue sky, a magical sight. These roads are narrow, travelled at speed by large SUV’s towing caravans as well as semi trailers, making stopping for picture ops dangerous. As we come closer to the northern end of the string of lagoons we have a better view as they become bigger and closer to the road. The grey/green waters spread out for kilometres along our western side, outlined by white sands and sea foam. On the eastern side dry salt pans become more evident, they can be strikingly pink if the right conditions are there for the salt tolerant algae or as today just blindingly white as they reflect the baking sun. There are two large lakes at the head of the lagoons, lake Albert and lake Alexandrina. We are stopping at Meningie, a town on the shores of Lake Albert, where we will locate the lakeside park for some picnic lunch.

The town as in most Australian settlements started life as a service center for graziers and a staging post on the route between Adelaide and Melbourne. The Ngarrindjeri people lived here for thousands of years before white man appeared on the scene. From oral history it is understood that they made their shelters and canoes from reeds growing in the lake shallows. Around 1843 the South Australian company took control of the land around Lake Albert. That had mostly seen sheep and cattle pass through the land on the way to Adelaide markets. Or to restock wool growing areas. The towns survey took place in 1866 with the first school opening in 1869, the name Meningie comes from the local aboriginal language and means “Muddy Place” the first wooden Jetty came on line in 1867. With Lake Albert covering 168sq kilometres (68 sq miles) and Lake Alexandrina covering 649sq kilometres (251 sq miles) paddle steamers soon became the preferred mode of transport between Meningie and other ports around the lakes system. But by 1914 this had totally ceased, and Meningie’s port days had come to an end. Thankfully there are still a number of enthusiasts restoring Murray River wooden paddle steamers, so one day we might yet see the likes of these historic machines back on the lakes in a tourist capacity. Now the town is known for its dairy industry with year round irrigated pastures perfect for milk and dairy products, other irrigated crops as well as a fishing fleet also add to the towns economy.

Whilst having lunch we spot an ice cream shop across the Main Street. As soon as I see the ocean and feel the warm air on my skin, my mind wanders to ice cream. Unconscious memories of childhood days at the English seaside no doubt. We had found an ice creamery in Robe but the shop curiously never seemed to be open. We decide to indulge and take some time eating our icy treat while walking along the lake shore.

On our way back to the car we catch a glimpse of a statue of a tall bird, we immediately think emu, but as we come closer we discover it is indeed an ostrich. This ostrich has a saddle and a story to tell.

Below is that story taken from a nearby placard;

The Birdman Bushranger of the Coorong

“John Francis Peggotty 1864-1899

South Australia’s history has only ever been able to claim one genuine bushranger, but he was remarkable – he was the only one to pursue his career on the back of an ostrich!

John Francis Peggotty, the son of an Irishman was born prematurely in 1864 in County Limerick. Surprisingly he survived, but only grew to the size of a 7 year old boy.

As a young man, Peggotty exploited his stature, climbing down the chimneys of wealthy Londoners, robbing them of their jewellery and parading in his ill-gotten gains.

After sailing to Australia in 1890 he continued his lucrative career along the majestic Coorong, riding proudly on the back of an ostrich – one of the many set free when the market for fashionable ostrich feathers ceased.

MR P’ IN HIS GOLD CHAINS WOULD DISAPPEAR IN A FLASH ON THE BACK OF AN OSTRICH

Murder and Mayhem

The reason for Peggotty’s choice of an ostrich became evident when he often soared away from police through the shifting sand dunes of the Coorong.

The Birdman of the Coorong, as he became known, was soon held responsible for the robberies of many a lonely Coorong traveller and the murder of at least two. Peggotty remained at large until 17th September 1899, one day when he tried to hold up a local fisherman, Henry Carmichael. Unfortunately for Peggotty, Carmichael had a rifle. After a short chase and shots fired, Peggotty and his mount both came to an unglorified end.

To this day his body has never been found…

is it still lying in the lonely wilderness of the Coorong, laden with a fortune of gold and jewellery?”

Time to move on, we are just 133 kms (83 miles) from home via a dual lane freeway and the end of our journey.

Until next time…..

Note : I have noticed that there is now an option on the email. To read on Blog or reader, either of these buttons enables the pictures to be seen along with the story. Cheers Tony

Our final destination Robe sits on South Australia’s rugged Limestone Coast. Yes this is a wine district too! Robe might be little but it does have quite a remarkable history. It is Tuesday our 9th day away and after yesterday’s long drive decide to spend the day in catching up on the ever growing stream of emails and take a tour of Robe’s historic spots tomorrow to add visuals to the towns history.

The town overlooks picturesque Guichen Bay, first charted in 1802 by French explorer Nicolas Baudin, as part of a major scientific expedition approved by Napoleon Bonaparte. Baudin spent some time off and on the South Australian coast, leaving a rock carved with his name on it on Penneshaw beach, Kangaroo island. Baudin originally named the bay Ances des Albatross, but when Baudin died on the way home, the French decided to name the bay to honour one of their admirals, the Comte de Guichen.

It is thought that the Bunganditj and Meintangk indigenous peoples occupied this area for as long as 30,000 years. Shell middens can still be seen in the Little Dip Conservation Park, just outside of Robe, concluding that a large and stable population lived along this coastline. Sustained by diverse and plentiful local food sources such as shellfish and muntries. Muntries are a prolific bush food, the aborigines call them emu apples or native cranberries. The berries grow on a low growing shrub found on the south coast of Australia.  When ripe the berries are green with a red tinge and have the flavour of spicy apples.

Seal fur hunters working out of Tasmania visited Guichen Bay long before the colony of South Australia started in 1836. The famous overlander named Charles Bonney who had pioneered the overland muster of sheep from Victoria to Adelaide, passed through with a mob of cattle in 1839. In 1846 the town grew out of a survey commissioned by the South Australian Government by Thomas Burr seeking an ideal port location in order to meet the needs of pastoralists settling in the area.

The town gained its name from the then unpopular Governor Frederick Holt Robe, who inspected the area in January 1846 and had the final say on Guichen Bay as the port site. Three months later, the towns layout had been drawn up and the first allotments sold at auction by October. Within days, a small party of government officials arrived, led by distinguished British solder Captain Gerald Villiers Butler, his appointment as Government Resident saw him take charge of an area covering some 6000 square kilometres. Butler had brought along Charlotte his pregnant wife, four children, three servants, a nanny and a female cook. They had traveled by sea on the cutter Lapwing but due to rough weather remained on the ship while the men set up camp on shore. Charlotte, her children and female retinue spent a number of days aboard the Lapewing until the weather abated allowing them to be rowed ashore to their new home that consisted of a tent on the foreshore.

The town quickly became populated from the east by Scottish and Irish migrants travelling by bullock cart. New arrivals from London came by ship on an 8 week perilous journey by sea.

After a slow start, Robe became one of the most important ports on Australia’s southern coast, serving a large hinterland that stretched into western Victoria along the path that we had taken to arrive here. In the late 1850s, more than 15,000 Chinese landed in the bay on their way to the Victorian goldfields, as part of one of the most remarkable treks in Australian history. They travelled via Robe after an edict by the Victorian governor placed a tax of £10 per head on all Chinese immigrants landing at ports in Victoria. In recent times Chinese migrants have re-enacted the walk in memory of those determined gold diggers that died along the way.

In the ten year period up to 1866, wool worth more than £1 million also passed through the port, on its way to British mills. Shipping merchant George Ormerod, one of the most prominent figures in the development of the town handled most of the transactions. Originally from Lancaster, England he established his business in 1853, operating a warehouse and store on the Royal Circus, that served as a roundabout for teamsters delivering wool from outlying stations. During peak season, their wagons often stretched several kilometres out of town while they waited to unload.

Today Robe’s Royal Circus serves as the towns central location commemorating Robe’s maritime heritage, and shipwrecks that occurred in the treacherous waters off the Limestone Coast. Taking pride of place are bronze bust sculptures of Baudin and one of England’s most famous navigators, Matthew Flinders, who visited the bay a few days after Baudin. They stand alongside a cannon believed to have come from the Dutch ship Koning Willem II, that came to grief during a storm in the bay in 1857, resulting in the tragic loss of 16 crew members.

Overlooking the Royal Circus is the Customs House, one of more than 70 heritage listed buildings in the town and surrounding area.

The list includes Robe’s most famous landmark, the Obelisk, erected in 1855 to guide ships into the bay. The Obelisk stands proudly on the point of Cape Dombey and was constructed by local builder George Shivas at a cost of £230. The Obelisk created a landmark to navigate the entrance into Guichen Bay and to store rocket fired lifesaving equipment for stricken ships. Later it assisted passing ships with navigation, standing at a height of 12 metres it is easily visible 20 kilometres out to sea. In 1862, after complaints by the Captains that the then white Obelisk could be difficult to differentiate from Long Beach’s white sand hills, the authorities repainted it in alternate red and white bands.  Today the Obelisk is in danger of falling into the sea, local authorities have decided not to attempt to save it at this time.

The town’s first summer holiday home, Karatta, designed by colonial architect Edward Angas Hamilton, is a grand two-storey home built in 1862 by Henry Jones from nearby Binnum station just so his wife could escape the inland heat. In the early 1870s, Governor Sir James Ferguson leased the house as a summer residence for his family. Binnum sheep station covered 10 thousand hectares of land primarily used for sheep grazing.

As the first Catholic priest appointed permanently to serve the region, Father Julian Tenison Woods frequented Robe often. Aside from serving his parishioners, the talented scientist spent many hours exploring the countryside on horseback, with a geological hammer tucked into his saddle bag alongside his bible. Woods served the area for ten years from 1857, overseeing the building of St Mary’s Star of the Sea, one of the oldest Catholic churches in South Australia.

Originally based in Penola, he famously encouraged a young governess by the name of Mary MacKillop to open a school and establish the Sisters of St Joseph of the Sacred Heart. As previously mentioned Mary became Canonised in 2010 as Australia’s first saint.

Robe’s Bank, this fine Italianate building, pictured below, constructed of stone with stucco masonry, was designed by Edmund Wright, the architect for some prominent buildings in Adelaide. Built in 1859 for the Bank of South Australia, that opened the following year. Robe historian Kathleen Bermingham wrote that “this was one of the largest banking institutions outside Adelaide, with a succession of popular managers and accountants”.

Cobb & Co also ran horse drawn coach services to Robe, the Bush inn licensed between 1861 & 1871. Just one of several roadside inns that served teamsters who bought wool bales into Robe piled high on bullock & horse drays during the busiest years of the port of Robe. At some time during the Cobb & Co era the inn became licensed as the Newton Arms.

Despite promising beginnings, Robe fell into decline within a few decades of settlement because of the establishment of rival ports and railway systems that bypassed the town, and struggles in the pastoral sector. Then in the early 1900s, the town reinvented itself as a holiday destination, promoted as the Sanatorium of South Australia, because of the therapeutic value of its sea air and salt waters. As more families acquired motor cars in the 1920s, Robe became a popular spot for ‘motor camping’, with a new progress association setting up the first official camping ground, nestled in dips and hollows between the town and the West Beach.

In 1921 after the Great War, the citizens of Robe came together to honor the war dead of their town and district by commissioning a war memorial. Like most country towns they had lost men in this horrific war. War memorials all over the country from the largest to the smallest towns began being erected and they still stand as a reminder today of the lives lost in both wars.

The late 1930s saw a change in fortune for the area’s farmers when scientists carrying out research near Robe confirmed the cause and worked out a cure for coast disease, a wasting condition that affects livestock grazed in coastal areas. The CSIRO established a field station on Bob Dawson’s small farm after he volunteered to set aside some land and sheep. In a breakthrough of international importance, the research confirmed the condition to be caused by deficiencies in cobalt and copper. Bob received an MBE in 1950 for his contribution. He and his son Vic assisted with monitoring and writing reports for more than 40 years.

In the 1940s, the local economy further improved when commercial fishing took off. Robe is well known for southern rock lobster, but gummy sharks provided the first commercial catch. The sharks livers, provided an oil rich in vitamins to fortify military rations during World War Two. Lobster came into its own in the 1950s, when the fishing fleet grew substantially and exports began to the United States. The lobster we South Australians call Crayfish is one of the towns most sort after tasting experiences.

Another new era emerged in the 1960s, when surfing came to Robe. First held in 1968, the Robe Easter Surfing Classic is recognised as one of the oldest continuously held surfing competitions in the world, most likely only second to Victoria’s famous Bell’s Beach.

Today Robe is a trendy vibrant holiday town that has retained all the old world charm of yesteryear, mixed in with modern facilities. Hundreds of visitors descend on the town from Adelaide and surrounding districts during the summer months filling the Air-BnB’s and holiday rentals. The Main Street is filled with restaurants, cafes, surf shops and beach themed decor or clothing stores. The town has two old pubs the Caledonian inn, our choice for dinner tonight and the Robe Hotel over looking the bay.

Tomorrow we travel north to Stirling some 321 kilometres (199miles) via the scenic south coast road that takes us along the Coorong, a series of salt lagoons that stretch for 140 kilometres (87 miles). To be continued……

Today is our last day in this region of Victoria that so far has added a great deal to our store of knowledge of Australian history. While at the same time opening our eyes to the charm of this central Victorian district. That is so close to Melbourne, but a world away. Once again the weather is fine and warm, with some humidity creeping in after last nights rainfall, the first we have seen in many weeks now. Our road trip, today takes us to Kyneton, 16 kilometres northwest of Woodend a region on the border of the Djadjawurrung and Taungurong indigenous peoples country. We now know this as in recent times a great deal of research has gone into mapping the hundreds of aboriginal tribes that once inhabited Australia. Before British colonisation these people resided mostly along the Coliban and Campaspe Rivers. Not long ago we understood Australian aborigines to be nomadic peoples but this has turned out not to be totally true for all of the continent. Here village like communities existed in particular in the area around the junction of these rivers. We know now that large in-ground stone ovens used to cook meat and tubers  were commonly found in the region.

Major Thomas Mitchell, the New South Wales Surveyor-General crossed and named the Campaspe River near present day Kyneton on his 1836 expedition to this region. The Major also leant his name to a distinctive white and pink parrot/cockatoo that sports a pink and salmon coloured crest.

The first British colonist Charles Ebden, established a sheep station here in 1837. In June 1838 the Waterloo Plains massacre of Djadjawurrung people took place on the newly established Barfold sheep run north of Kyneton. Kyneton until 1851 remained part of NSW with the Victorian state boundaries not drawn up until after the gold rush ad begun.

Construction of Kyneton’s oldest surviving stone building, the Church of England Rectory, located at 61 Ebden Street, commenced in 1850 and is a rare surviving example of a pre-gold rush buildings. Made entirely from locally quarried bluestone that is plentiful in the area. At this time, Kyneton had become a growing rural centre, serving as a major stop for those heading to the gold rushes at Mount Alexander and Bendigo. The post office had opened in 1843 with the town named Mount Macedon but would be renamed Kyneton in 1854.

The town has three main streets, with Piper street being the most preserved with many of the original buildings untouched, the flagstone pavements untouched show the wear of ages. These buildings are once again occupied by antique shops, home decor, clothing boutiques, restaurants and cafes, a beautiful old Hotel has a cocktail bar on the top floor while the ground floor is totally occupied by antiques.

At lunch time we try a number of cafes but they are packed with long waiting times for meals. We eventually spot a cafe called “Major Tom’s” a nod to David Bowie and or Major Mitchell, that advertises burgers, music and beer, not exactly our preference but hunger beckons. Inside the decor is dubious indeed, a mixture of country, sci-fi and glam, the kind of dive we might of thought cool back in our twenties. There is a bar to our left as we enter and to the back a stage for live music. Country music is playing through the sound system and the stage is lit but vacant. There are plenty of empty seats, so we take a booth with cracked vinyl bench seats and a table littered with the last patrons detritus. The dour faced barman saunters over to clear the table with barely a flicker of recognition that we are even here. Clears off the table but leaving a slightly sticky film. There is no table service, we order our meals at the bar from a long list of burgers that don’t seem to be much different, just the ingredients arranged in a different order. The burgers arrive quickly accompanied by shoestring fries and are delicious washed down with some good old cold H2O.

Whoever it is back in the kitchen knows their burgers. Satisfied with our meals and after previously perusing the shops, we return to an antique shop with superb pieces of furniture, decor items and bric a brac from Europe. Pieces with prices that make your eyes water, Amanda had purchased a nice set of salad servers before lunch and now having previously spotted a set of butter knives we return to give them a closer look. Butter knives have gone out of fashion, you can buy a pate knife or a steak knife but a butter knife with just the right size blade to reach into that jar of jam for the last bit of sticky fruit is believe it or not almost impossible to find. Deciding that these mother of pearl handle silver knives C1900 in a velvet lined case will be robust enough to weather everyday use and that they really are no more expensive than a new set, if we could fund them, we make our purchase and depart. While we had made our purchases Allan had engaged the proprietor in a discussion about a large bronze casting of a red setter dog that he had first seen a few weeks ago, the price is high and he is trying to bargain him down but the proprietor won’t budge enough to entice Allan to purchase. Maybe another day he exclaims, he has fallen in love with this item that reminds him of a dog he once owned, but the price is just not right.

We travel back home to start our packing for the last leg of our journey to Robe back in our home state tomorrow morning. To be continued…..

A mild change in the weather has swept through overnight bringing cooler conditions to Woodend. After the humidity of the last days we wake to a refreshingly cool morning. After breakfast we say our goodbyes to Allan and leave Woodend behind as we travel south west retracing the steps of yesterday but with a goal much further away. Woodend to Robe on the South Australian coast is about 500 kilometres (310 miles) about five hours driving on narrow country roads, with no freeways. If we don’t stop, but there is no chance of that. Our bladders are very determined to keep us from travelling too far without a break.

We are hoping for an uneventful day of driving, watching the landscape change as we pass through various micro climates is fascinating in itself. Immediately west is forested as we skirt the Macedon ranges that quickly change to the vast golden plains of now harvested grain stubble. Just as quickly we pass through the Cabbage Tree range and we are back in eucalypt forest. Here we start to see some wildlife with small wallabies occasionally making an appearance. On this trip we have hardly seen any native animals, the dry and hot conditions keeping them to the cool of the forest depths. We skirt around another of Victoria’s successful inland cities Ballarat, a city like Bendigo that grew rich in sheep then gold mining and continued to reinvent itself down the timeline. Currently very much a service economy with tourism, hospitality, retail and professional services the main stays. In Australian terms a big city of over 110,000 people, the third largest inland city on the continent. Ballarat lies at the foothills of the Great Dividing Range, a range that stretches 3,500 kilometres (2175 miles) from northeastern Queensland to Victoria. Rich alluvial soils make the surrounding land agriculturally extremely productive.

We make a stop at Streatham about 80 kilometres west of Ballarat, a complete opposite of that city with a population of just 158. Still very much an agricultural centre with surrounding farms growing canola, lupines, wheat, oats, and barley are among today’s crops. The town boasts an example of the blue stone quarried near Kyneton used in the construction of beautiful St John’s Uniting Church.

A further 58 kilometres west takes us to Dunkeld in the foothills of the southern Grampian Ranges. As we travel parallel to this mountain group that stretches for 93 kilometres (58 miles) with its highest peak Mount William at 1167 metres (3829 feet) the range grows ever closer, silhouetted against the cloudless blue sky, the nearer Dunkeld we are. Cattle country makes up the foreground to this scenic backdrop boasting some of the most magnificent river red gums we have seen, their twisted trunks and gnarled branches can reach up to 45 metres (150 feet) into the sky and can be as nearly as wide with trunk diameters of up to 3 meters (10 feet). We stop off at Dunkeld for an overdue picnic lunch. This is a pretty town with a mountain backdrop and a gateway to the Grampians tourist area. Most towns have an information centre and community park where travellers can stop, take a rest, picnic or even walk their dog. It is still summer and the Grampians attract hikers and nature lovers to this area that can be extremely cold in winter, but intense bush fires this season have kept travellers away. Thankfully the fires are all under control now and not a sign of smoke haze stains the picture perfect blue skies above us.

From here we travel to Hamilton, then Coleraine and Casterton at one point travelling along a high ridge road that provides views of the plains below us for kilometres to our north and south. Driving these roads brings back memories for me of my monthly visits to these towns during my businesses early period. These country towns, medical practitioners and hospitals close to Adelaide, ignored by population dense suburban Melbourne would form the backbone of the business in those early days.

From Casterton we cut across country into South Australia, gaining 30 minutes as we cross time zones to Central Australian time. Skipping South Australia’s largest country town Mt Gambier by heading northwest for the town of Penola, the birth place of Australia’s only Catholic saint Mary McKillop. We are now firmly in wine country, this area known generally as the Coonawarra. The name derived from the aboriginal word for honeysuckle. Extensive vineyards stretch out in all directions in this area punctuated by some cattle grazing. We continue on to towards the limestone coast, yet another wine district before turning north bypassing the coastal town of Beachport to our final destination Robe. We arrive around 4.00pm local time tired but glad to be here, we settle into or accomodation for the next few days. Monday nights are not the best nights to eat out in South Australia, after a busy weekend trade, most of the eating places are closed, leaving us few options, we decide on the local fish and chip shop for a takeaway meal. Once we have the wrapped and boxed steaming hot parcel of seafood in our hands, we hurriedly walk back, now joined by a cool sea breeze to our accommodation to devour the meal with a glass of refreshingly chilled Prosecco from our King Valley purchases.

Allan has a bottle of French Champagne chilled and ready for our arrival, an hour passes before we stop talking and Allan gives us a tour of his newly acquired home in Woodend. Allan moved here from Stirling just 6 months ago after spending 9 years in the Adelaide Hills, where we would catch up frequently. His home is beautifully set up for a single person but has the added bonus of a seperate self contained guest suite. We are fortunate enough to be his guest for the next two days. Woodend is one of a number of Victorian towns that have had a renaissance over the past 20 years. Melbournites looking for a tree change flocked to country towns, where the pace of life is more relaxed and housing less expensive. A great place to bring up your kids without the social pressures of the big cities. The desire to follow this path has only grown since the Covid pandemic, and the resulting ability to work from home that modern technology brought during that period. These towns had blossomed bringing more services, facilities and transport options, essentially causing a population shift back to the country a reversal of the last 100 years where country people have slowly moved to the cities seeking further education and or employment opportunities. Woodend is now a popular tourist spot for Melbourne day trippers, sporting cafes, restaurants, boutique shops and even wine bars. Living in a wine state as we do the tendency is to forget that Victoria also has a serious number of wineries. Allan is keen to show us the cosmopolitan High Street, in particular the wine bars so we are soon off to discover their secrets. The concept of a wine bar is that one can sit and sip a glass of wine with a plate of small food without having to buy a whole bottle or a three course meal. The first wine bar the Woodend Cellar and Wine Bar is situated in a small older shop bringing to mind a combination of pokey little bottle shop and restaurant combined. With bottles stacked on shelves seemingly randomly and a small number of wooden tables set for meals. The afternoon is warm allowing us to sit outside in a beer garden type atmosphere where we can enjoy the fresh air, wine food and conversation. The latter keeps us there for another hour before we move onto “600 Above” the other wine bar in town. Aptly named after the towns altitude in the Macedon ranges. This is a modern, brightly lit environment with wine bottles stored upright on metal shelves along the rooms walls that surround the open space that is filled with tables and chairs restaurant style. On one wall a huge wine fridge stretches for metres keeping your choices cool. A Bubbly waitress attends us as we order a glass each of local wine and a platter of cheeses for two, there are three of us but Allan suggests the serving might be large. He is right the platter would feed 6, more a meal than a snack. The rest of the afternoon soon passes as our conversations continue until the last drop wine is gone from our glasses and at least half the platter. Back home we stay up late into the wee hours of the night catching up with events since our last meeting, only stopping for a pizza & salad dinner.

The next day we are off for some sightseeing and local knowledge, our first stop is Trentham a quaint village 22 kilometres west of Woodend along tree lined roads and rolling farm lands beyond. A feature of these towns is the neat weather board houses that have seen generations of families lives pass through them. Now they have become chic, fashionable renovation projects for another generation of homemakers. The towns main streets have become vibrant tourist shopping districts a world away from online shopping, they offer relaxing browsing in a charmingly historic environment that harks back to those imaginary romantic times. An example is Marcelle and Mr John’s antique store, the proprietor’s a couple of gay male entrepreneurs that have moved lock stock and barrel from Melbourne to open this tiny store filled with exquisite items from the past or with at least a hint of the past. They are both quite characters, Mr John sports a wide pointed greying handlebar moustache, while the clean shaven Marcelle speaks excellent English with a slight Dutch accent. They hold court amongst very fine small furniture pieces and objects d’art while customers squeeze around each other trying to ensure no breakages occur. Allan has his eye on a Lladro fine porcelain figurine from the 50’s or 60’s. A young elegant male hunter relaxing on a tree stump with rifle resting in his hands. Apparently male orientated figurines are rare, with most of a more feminine nature. They have some beautifully hand painted lamp shades with orientalist scenes that attract our attention but with our imminent move and new build we are not ready to add to our decor just yet. The couple are engaging and spend a good deal of time talking about themselves and their pieces for sale as if they are their own precious pieces, that I suppose they are in one sense.

With more than a few customers milling around, I am feeling a little claustrophobic and step outside leaving Amanda and Allan to continue their treasure hunt. Outside I notice a curious cast concrete trough by the roadside. On further inspection it is filled with water and water Lillie’s. The trough it turns out is one of 700 hundred manufactured in the 1930’s and donated by will by an English entrepreneurial couple, who in passing left instructions that these troughs should be donated to country towns in Victoria and NSW, for the purpose of ensuring that working horses would have somewhere to drink when ridden or driven to town by their owners. George and Annis Bills had a particular connection with the RSPCA and a passion for horses. Some of these troughs made it to England and even South Africa. A few still exist today and right here is one of them.

Allan eventually emerges with his purchases, accompanied by restrained Amanda although sorely tempted. They fill the back of the Mercedes estate wagon and we are off to the next town, Daylesford.

On the way we stop of at a winery with the rather attractive name of Passing Clouds, one of those wineries that had broken through the grape wall that divides South Australia and Victoria in the 90’s to achieve some recognition. Unfortunately they have a wine tasting policy that states one has to pay to taste wines, $15 for 4 wines $20 for 6 wines, redeemable if one purchases 4 or more bottles. We convince the server that we only wanted to try and buy one wine, their Chardonnay. He reluctantly agrees and we quickly taste the wine buy a bottle and depart.

Daylesford is a much bigger town, more a town than a mere village, about another 23 kilometres further west. With more facilities than Trentham the district has attracted more tree changers. It also attracts day trippers from Melbourne, with its relaxed shopping, many cafes and restaurants. Lunch time is upon us and Allan suggests the Boathouse at the Lake. The lake is set in a parkland setting and the carpark is full of visitors, picnicking by the lake or strolling around it. The Boathouse is an elegant picturesque lakeside restaurant, serving A la carte meals of a more substantial nature than we anticipated, a coffee and a sandwich is more our need at the moment. We leave the lake and drive into town to the main street to find a more suitable cafe.

Lunch over, one of the town’s attractions is a Woollen Mill. The Creswick Woollen Mill offers tours with a shop on site but is a little out of town, no problems, they have a substantial shop in town. As with Bendigo this area, as is true of most of southern Australia really has its economic history seated in the sheep industry. All that Australia could grow in terms of fleece would be shipped back to England by the tonnes. Until synthetic fibres came into being wool provided the mainstay of fabric production in the 19th century.

The Creswick Woollen mills shop is everything the Bendigo one should have been. While the factory gave Amanda a delightful experience among the many yarns it offered little else. This modern bright and airy shop filled to the brim with stock. Woollen blankets, sweaters of many different styles to suit male or female, in a myriad of colours are piled upon the many counters or hung from racks around the walls. Wool features as the predominant fabric but there are blends with cashmere, alpaca and even possum fur. They also have a sale on, there is that dreaded word “Sale” more common in these times than ever before but bound to excite dread or delight depending on one’s proclivities. The service in shop is outstanding, the once again gay male manager delights in attending to our needs and is proud of his domain offering ready answers to our plentiful questions. An hour passes like a minute and hands laden with woollen goods we depart to browse the remaining street with many other shoppers who had made the trip to Daylesford for the sales. Our hands full of parcels meticulously wrapped, like in the old days when service by the large department stores attendants had the time and budget to make shopping a pleasant experience, we head back to the car for our trip home. Another warm memorable day in central Victoria over we are looking forward to tomorrow as our time to depart draws nearer.

With our stay in Whitfield at an end it is time to move on to our next destination. The day is a carbon copy of the last three, starting cool but with the promise of warmth in the air. Once packed we say fair well to the King Valley and travel south west taking a scenic route that takes us into the mountains. Almost immediately the landscape changes as we rise in elevation. Eucalyptus forest appears on either side of the road becoming denser and taller the higher we go. We are soon travelling through a thick grey green tunnel of foliage that blocks out the sunlight above. The tunnel twists and turns taking us higher and for the first time we see some wildlife. Small agile kangaroos with dark fur hop through the undergrowth as we briefly inhabit their territory. This is snow country, the lower reaches of Victoria’s snow fields of Mt Buller and Falls Creek, the Victorian Alps that attract skiers from Victoria and South Australia during our winter ski season in July – August. This long hot dry Summer is taking its toll, ground vegetation is straw brown while even the eucalypt leaves are leaking colour, the greens and blues fading to a dusty grey as they hang bedraggled from their tinder dry branches.

There are a few homesteads just visible through the forest, one wonders about their existence in such an environment. This doesn’t seem to be good cropping, sheep or cattle country. We have seen logging trucks loaded with native timber but no sign of any mills. In this high country this would be a contentious industry. Research confirms our suspicions that yes this is a logging district. Nearing the peak of our scenic drive the forest gives way to open ground that previous generations had cleared. We pass through a tiny settlement called Tolmie, at 782 metres (2566 ft), consisting of a Hotel/Pub festooned with Australian flags surrounded by a field of rusted out vehicles. No doubt left over from the recent Australia Day festivities. Opposite sits a general store that is slowly giving way to gravity and the elements. There is no sign of life. This town suffered from the severe bushfires of the summer of 2006/7 and by the looks never recovered. With an average of 8.7 snowy days per year and with the honor of being the second wettest and chilliest district in Australia’s temperate zone, settlers would have not imagined they could be touched by the bushfire scourge.

Descending down through the western slopes the country once again opens up with magnificent views over golden brown farm lands.

We are now on the Maroondah Highway 168 kilometres northwest of Melbourne when we come across Bonnie Doon. With such a strong (to my mind) Scottish name there has to be story behind this town of a mere 666 people. The town originally named Doon took its name from an Irish town when named in 1866. As is common in this area gold discoveries seeded many towns. When the Post office and railway came to town in 1891 the addition of “Bonnie” put the town firmly on the map. In the 1915 the construction of a lake by damming the Goulburn river had the township literally picked up and moved, that is apart from the stone buildings that the lake skirted around. Enlarged in 1955 and now covering 3885 sq kilometres, today Lake Eildon as it is known is a minor tourist attraction, with weekend holiday makers using the lake for water sports of all kinds. The popularity of the lake caused the destination to be satirised in a Australian iconic film of 1997 called “The Castle” worth a watch if one wants a humorous snapshot of the now fast fading Australian lifestyle of this time. We pass over the bridge that spans the lake and stop for a closer look.

As we near our final destination of Woodend we pass through another tiny town known as Strath Creek. The area first opened up by squatters in 1840. Known then as Flowerdale. These squatters had pushed beyond the original boundaries designated by the British for sheep farming beyond New South Wales far south into Victoria, this is well before federation. Governors of the day turned a blind eye as the demand for Australian wool exceeded all expectations. This in turn forced the local nomadic indigenous people off their land. The discovery of Gold changed everything between 1859 and 1866 with permanent towns springing up out of tent communities. Following this came the selectors, in 1870, who recently arrived immigrants or ex convicts were able to license up to 320acres of land for framing at little cost. By 1888 township blocks became available for sale. By 1909 the town has become a small farming community changing its name to Strath Creek, a name the townspeople and locals had historically referred the settlement as. Here in this tiny town we can see and feel the heritage of Australia from its very beginnings to the current day.

From here it’s a relatively short drive to our destination, Woodend where we are greeted by our long time friend Allan who will be graciously hosting us for the next three nights.

The skies are clear blue this morning with not a cloud in sight from horizon to horizon. A slight cooling breeze from the south south east is keeping the temperature down to a modest 19c (68f) but one can feel the suns sting when the breeze falters promising another warm to hot day here in the King Valley (28c-86f ). The grape harvest is in full swing here with the berries ripening quickly as a result of the long hot dry summer. Mechanically harvested at night when the temperature is lower. We could hear the sounds of the picking machines as we fell into our slumber as they in turn trundled up and down the trellised rows of vines. This then accounts for the lack of local people during the daytime hours in this sleepy little town. While they catchup on sleep we enjoy their country.

Our reason for visiting Whitfield and ultimately the Pizzini winery stems from our enjoyment of their wine over many years. Living in a wine producing state as we do the local industry dominates the market. Adding to that Pizzini is located in this tiny out of the way location in central Victoria. We first came across this wine brand in an Italian restaurant in Melbourne in 2009 when there to see the “The Jersey Boys” (a musical play about Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, that incidentally took me back to my first record ever purchased when only 13, “Sherry”) from our first taste of their clean crisp tangy Pinot Grigio we became hooked. In 2009 this variety had yet to be popular but we had known about the variety from our visits to the US where it had gained wide acceptance. We went onto order the wine by mail from the cellar door. Since those days the winery has developed many more Italian varieties. Previously only imported Italian wines would seen in Adelaide’s Italian restaurants as they so perfectly matched Italian cuisine. In Australia we often talk about the Mediterranean diet with Italian wine playing a part. Saving the best for last this is our first stop for the day.

We are greeted by a young Italian gentleman who runs us through the long list of wine for tasting. He knows his wine and with his Italian knowledge is very informative, we settle on just a few wines to try staying away from old favourites to enable us to try a few new tastes. Like most enjoyable things in life too much is usually not good for you. During our tasting we are joined by the obligatory winery pup, in this case a thirteen year old Labrador named Norbert with a greying muzzle that waddles in to greet us with a wagging tail. Tasting over we make our purchases and waddle off our selves to our country cottage.

Lunch is at the Dal Zotto winery trattoria just a 30 metre walk from the cottage. The entire complex is situated in a park like setting, consisting of magnificent old gum trees, deciduous ornamentals, fruit trees, a kitchen garden as well as the trellised vines and distant views to the mountains. All very idyllic. As expected the meals have a distinctive Italian flavour, we both settle on hand made gnocchi, Amanda’s in a lamb ragout and my gnocchi made from pumpkin in a slightly spicy pumpkin purée. I finished off with a tiramisu, served like a piece of lasagne with coffee cream between layers of soft sponge accompanied by a coffee meringue. Simply superb. Amanda not a desert person, sweet enough she says gives dessert a miss.

Otto Dal Zotto the founder grew up in Valdobbiadene, north eastern Italy. But moved to Australia and took up to tobacco farming. When the tobacco industry started to go into decline he switched to the only other agricultural pursuit he new, grape growing, familiar with Prosecco from childhood, first tasting the wine at age 4, he imported vine cuttings and began the first commercial plantings of the grape variety in Australia. He had met and married Elena Pizzini and so two great to be Italian wine producing families began a new industry in the King Valley.

As the day draws to an end we sit enjoying the shade under a Ginkgo tree, crickets chirp in the background as fairy wrens hop to and fro. A flock of white cockatoo’s have awakened from their midday siesta to nosily wheel around the clear blue sky, stretching their wings one last time before they must settle for the coming nightfall. This mornings breezes have returned to cool the heat of the day. These identical three days will go on indelibly etched into our memories. Tomorrow we travel to Woodend southeast of our current location where we will catch up with an old friend I have known since I was nineteen.

Our accommodation in Whitfield situated in the grounds of the Dal Zotto winery is a lovingly restored weatherboard farmhouse. With high ceilings and polished timber floors, the rooms are spacious, a complete opposite to the small Bendigo city apartment we occupied on our first night away. Views through the timber and glass French doors from our bedroom, that lead out to the timber clad verandah show rows of grape vines just starting to show some autumn colour. No doubt brought on by the heat of this years hot and dry summer. Dinner last night took place at the only pub in this tiny town called the Mountain View Hotel. Since 1886 the hotel has only had three owners, the current owners are the largest producing vignerons in the King Valley. The story goes that Ned Kelly once rode his horse through the hotel corridor right up to the bar. The gardens are beautifully kept, amongst the trees is a 100 hundred year old magnolia that a Chinese gold rush immigrant planted to remind him of home. As we arrive we pass under a weeping maple, movement in the canopy alerts us to flashes of green and orange, the plumage of several local King parrots as they hop from branch to branch above us. We quickly move on, not wanting to be toilet bombed. We had booked a table inside but the warmth of the day has lingered on making outside dining an option. Settling into our garden seating we are brought a glass of sparking Prosecco that has just a dash of Pinot noir to give the drink a rose blush. The wine list is 95% Pizzini, not surprisingly as they own the pub but the owners of our accommodation Dal Zotto are attributed to planting the first Glera grapes that go into making this style of wine now popular in Australia. We learn that the scenic King Valley has hosted tourists since 1911 when the towns population would have been a mere 100 souls. Even now the population would only be around 400.

Whitfield is known for its wine, heavily influenced by Italians. Who have over the years built up a little Italy of grape varieties in the valley. What is wine without food? We feel this is still in a development stage, but last nights fare we considered adventurous for country Australia. A nearby store “ The King Valley Fine Foods” sign we think may hold the answers. Unfortunately it is closed today, but across the road is Hobbledehoy a cafe and distillery, a curious blend of businesses. Nevertheless they make a descent cappuccino, although the brownie we ordered to share needed a chainsaw to break open. We never did find out the resulting product from the distillery, maybe it was time into money.

The nearby mountains provide water from snow melt that feeds the King River, more of a creek really but creeks can swell quickly and expand over the plains if the weather is unkind. Most of these plains are given over to trellised grape vines at least 2 metres high (6ft +) mostly Prosecco but other Italian varieties too. These trellised vines can be mechanically harvested, a good thing if you’re short on labour. Nearby, just a short drive through the valley is a body of water known as William Hovell Lake. Actually a man made reservoir created by damming the King River with a rock and soil filled embankment to irrigate 24 sq kilometres of vines. On our way to take a look we stop off to taste some wine at Chrismont winery, set half way up a hillside with magnificent views of the vineyards below.

Australian Italians are the most welcoming and gracious people I have met, this visit is no different. This a charming stop off, with the owners keen to show off their new accommodation pods, that are set apart from the winery on the hillside. The three pods enjoy the same magnificent views over the valley and vines. After a little instructive wine tasting and a purchase we move on.

Remnants of the old tobacco industry links are still here, with tall corrugated iron clad structures that once dried tobacco after harvesting still evident. The valley is dotted with these curious looking sheds slowly falling into disrepair. A few landowners though have turned them into luxury two storey short stay accommodation, an innovative use for these unusually shaped buildings that give a nod to the regions heritage.

Below, note the rusty steel fireplace chimney’s that replaced historically earlier brick ones on the outside of the building to prevent internal fires.

Eventually we arrive at the lake and pumping station that is feeding the babbling creek we passed on our way.

We are enticed back to the Mountain View Hotel for dinner as it is steak night, on offer a good size steak with a glass of Australian grown and made, Italian Sangiovese thrown in. We are hooked, as we have seen many a head of cattle over the past days and have licked our lips in anticipation of some good country grown beef. Which of course must be good out here in the bush. Sorry vegetarians but we are feeling a little protein deficient.

The sun is shining this morning in Bendigo, promising to be a warm summers day. We are heading further west on our journey to the King Valley wine district today. But first a yarn, Bendigo become the centre of the Victorian gold rush in 1852 when tens of thousands of people descended on the area in search of riches. The town originally a tent city grew out of land that formerly ran Sheep, grown for wool that had very much put Australia on the map as far as mother “England” was concerned. Before the gold rush, after and even now the area would be known for the quality of wool raised here. Therefore It wouldn’t come as a surprise to know that Bendigo has a woollen mill. This is Amanda’s first order of business for the day. Check out the famous Woollen Mill that crochet and knitting enthusiasts of Australia have made a household name.

After our visit to the mill and Amanda has a car full of yarn we venture back into the city to checkout the Victorian architecture that all that gold paid for back in the day. The town is surely something special with its trams that trundle around town electrified by overhead cables, its cute weatherboard cottages, magnificent Cathedral, fountains and buildings from yesteryear.

Once on the road our first stop takes us to the little town of Colbinabbin, where once again we stumble on Silo Art. We are still in grain country, so an abundance of blank canvas Silos to paint. this whole set is the most ambitious we have seen yet, telling the story of this tiny grain growing town.

We cross the Goulburn river as we travel northwest, a rickety old bridge takes us over the flowing waters where a heritage listed travellers inn dating from 1871 still stands.

When I think of these times it reminds me that we are also in Ned Kelly country, the infamous bush ranger that met a sticky end in Glenrowan. A town we will shortly be driving through, the statue of Ned in full armour still remains from our last visit but now there is a large information centre, that features key elements in Ned’s story.

As we leave Glenrowan the vista opens up revealing a wide open plain with the Barry Mountains as a backdrop. Whitfield in the King Valley sits in a plain created by volcanic uplift at the foot of mountains that host ski resorts at Mt Bulla, Mt Hotham and Falls Creek. The King Valley started off its agricultural life as a testing area for tobacco and hops, but Italian migrants by the 1980’s started growing grape vines. One of those vineyards is credited with bringing Prosecco to Australia. Now the area is pretty much dominated by a small number of high quality wineries.

Time for a break, we’ve spent the last month packing for a life changing change. The old homestead is sold and new residence is in the planning time to take a breather. Nothing like that bitumen black top to get the wheels spinning along under that vast bubble we call sky. Driving towards the ever retreating horizon in search of the unknown. For everyday is an unknown and that big country is waiting for us. Morning comes and we are up before the morning light. As we have breakfast the suns blush reflects off the clouds as they appear out of the darkness.

The car packed we make our way towards the nearby southeastern freeway that links Adelaide with Melbourne. Within minutes we are heading eastward into the rising sun towards the Victorian border. The green Adelaide hills disappear behind us opening up to the dry brown plains ahead only punctuated by the mighty Murray river as it snakes its way towards the coast. Crossing the river we see house boats plying the silvery waters, as holiday makers float their way down stream making the most of the last of these summer days. After crossing we follow the river around to Tailem Bend, now the site of a world class motor sport circuit. These old towns are living museums, where one can still see the remnants of an old Australia and a lifestyle that has gone the way of the pioneers.

From here we turn northeast leaving the river behind and entering the Mallee grain growing district that spreads from South Australia’s mid north (over 20,000 sq kilometres/ 7,700 sq miles) to the Victorian border where the same agricultural features and climate conditions continue over another 39,300 sq kilometres/15,200 sq miles. The area is vast, semi arid with low rainfall 250 -300mm/10-12 inches annually. Yet grows some of the best wheat, barley and legumes in the world. The endless fields on either side of the road have given up their bounty to the export market leaving dusty looking sheep to graze on any new shoots that make their way through the remnants of the brown stubble.

Mallee trees and various other eucalyptus in places form green hedgerows along the road, lending a lie to the arid landscape. Mallee is a small hardwood tree that has curved and twisted boughs that the indigenous people prized for boomerang making along with other weapons. The hardwood is virtually indestructible and can be hardened even further in hot coals.

At Lameroo, a neat country town of wide parallel streets that cross each other grid fashion we spot our first painted grain silo artwork. This art form has taken root in country Australia and has flourished, bringing a crop of tourists like us to town, with the hope we will spend a dollar or two on lunch or coffee or maybe even stay a night. This first sighting shows a farmer praying as the sunsets over his land, for rain.

At the border between South Australia and Victoria we stop to take a photo of the crossing.

Then onto Murrayville where examples that time travel is possible are clearly visible in a row of shops and the local hotel.

Further along the town of Walpeup adds another Silo artwork to our collection. This one reminds us that these once thriving country towns lost a generation of young men in the Great War (WW 1) in particular this Light Horseman Harold Thomas Bell a Walpeup resident painted by Julian Clavijo in 2023. We leave debating the pronunciation of this curiously named town.

Dry salt lakes are common out here, left over from a time a millennium ago when an inland sea filled vast low lying depressions. We stop by one that some imaginative person has decorated with a person hopping away from sharks, having lost one foot as the sharks with their dorsal fins showing above the salt bed circle in pursuit.

At Sea Lake we head south again heading for Bendigo where we will spend our first night. Sea Lake is well known for Lake Tyrell, the largest inland salt lake in Victoria. It also does have silo art, a work by artists with the strange names of Zookeeper and Drapl. The work spans a collection of Silo’s and tanks.

Our final stop is at Nullawil where yet another Silo artwork is revealed to us, this time a farmer with his black and tan Australian Kelpie working dog.

A long day on the road finally brings us to Bendigo, gold fever country. History tells us that during the gold rush period in the 1880’s Bendigo laid claim to being the richest city in the world. Our stopover will have us content with a golden sleepover ready and refreshed for the next leg of our journey to the King Valley.