Port MacDonnell to Port Fairy – Day 14 of Road Trip March 2020

Thursday 19th March 2020

Driving distance approximately 210 klm / 130 miles

After an enjoyable two night stay in Port MacDonnell, we were on the road by 9am, and around half an hour later, crossed the border from South Australia into Victoria, where we stopped at Nelson. This peaceful coastal village sits on the mouth of the Glenelg River, and has a population of around 200. The main carpark is on the water’s edge, and here we came across two men and a boat, on which they were living for a few days’ fishing. Breakfast was in the making. The local pelicans and seagulls were lining up to be served.

After chewing the fat with them for a while  (the men, not the birds), we pushed on to Cape Bridgewater. Along the way we saw many stretches of timber plantations and several logging trucks, but I was in the driver’s seat, so refrained from taking photographs 🙂

We’d seen signs for GSWW, but it was not until we arrived at Cape Bridgewater that we learnt what it meant. I am never likely to do the 250klm (160 mi) Great South West Walk, nor any individual part of it, such as shown on this map – but a couple of days later we met a couple – around our vintage – who were doing just that.

We were here to see the Petrified Forest. We parked the car and headed out to the headland. There was a group of land conservation volunteers at work, and one of them stopped for a chat. The terrain here is wind-swept and covered in low shrubs. The volunteers cut coastal wattle branches and “knit” it amongst the shrubs to minimise erosion. We politely declined the offer for us to join in with them. The chatty volunteer also pointed us in the direction of the hike out to see seals who breed in this area, which again we had to decline due to time constraint.

As I said, this terrain is wind-swept. So why not put a few wind-turbines here as well? I’ve chosen the photo with the moodiest sky to heighten the drama and isolation 🙂

The original theory was that the petrified forest was caused by advancing sand engulfing a coastal forest. Scientists now say they are “hollow tubes of limestone called ‘solution pipes’ eroded by millions of years of rainfall”.

The cliff face here is mostly basalt and scoria, and on the right day, blowholes form. On our visit, the seas weren’t high enough. All the same, you wouldn’t have wanted to fall over the edge.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

I couldn’t resist one more shot of the wind turbines as we were leaving.

Cape Bridgewater has a wide sandy beach about 4klm (2.5mi) long. I’d need a warmer day than this before I’d perch myself in the middle of it.

I knew we were on a time constraint, but I thought we had ten minutes up our sleeve when we arrived at Portland (Victoria – not Oregon), expecting to take the next tram tour. I was wrong. But they waited for us. At the ticket counter, the lady recorded our contact details. It was the first time we had encountered any attempt to keep track of who was coming through in case of need to contact due to a COVID-19 break out.

Portland actually beat Port Phillip (i.e. Melbourne, the capital of Victoria) to the punch in terms of European settlement, but I’ll gloss over the history as our short visit had no time to delve into that.

Like many other places in Australia, Portland’s tram system was abandoned when we all a good deal of us became wealthy enough to afford cars, but a group of enthusiastic volunteers keep an 1886 salon car rolling along an 8klm (5 mi) coastal route. The track meanders along the foreshore stopping at various points of interest until it reaches the end of the line at the WWII Memorial Lookout. This is a disused water tower which visitors can climb for the view, and includes a museum displaying the history of the men and women of Portland before and during WWII (closed for maintenance on our visit). Around the base of the tower is a hedge that looks like a maze, but in fact is cut in the shape of the Rising Sun badge worn by the army. You need to be above it to appreciate the pattern, so no photo I’m afraid.

Portland is both scenic and industrial, with a busy port specialising in bulk commodities. From the lookout, and all along this route you can see the woodchip terminal. Both soft and hard wood are exported from here, explaining the timber plantations and logging trucks we had seen earlier. All that toilet paper and tissues we are currently short of has to be made of something, and is most likely to start as woodchip.

On the return leg we chose to leave the tram around the half-way mark, and browse the main street shops for lunch. Then we decided to walk back to the tram depot (where we’d left our car) and stroll through the Botanical Gardens on our way.

Just inside the wrought iron entrance gates is the cutest former Curator’s Cottage made of local basalt and constructed in 1859.

Nearby is a croquet lawn! We stayed mostly in this area, which is the original nucleus established from around that time. Here, characteristically for their time, roses and dahlias reign supreme, rather than later Australian native bushes and trees, and the greenhouse has vegetables on offer. No photos of the roses as they were past their best.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Those who read my previous post will recall the heart-breaking tale of the SS Admella. The storyboard trail continues . . . In Portland, the nearest place with a lifeboat, news of the wreck has arrived by telegraph, but the initial expectation is that the steamers, SS Lady Bird, and SS Corio from Adelaide, will effect a rescue. To the townspeople’s shock, this is not the case.

The Portland Maritime Discovery Centre, located within the tourist information office, has both the lifeboat and more information – but we find both museum and office closed. We, and others, are perplexed. We can only assume it has something to do with coronavirus, but at this stage of our trip – the third week of March – it is early days for us in Australia. Government recommendations include no more than 500 at outdoor gatherings, and 100 indoors, and to rethink any plans to go overseas. Schools, restaurants, cafes, shops and borders are still open. Social-distancing has entered the language, social isolation has not. South Australia, the (big) state we have just this morning left, has around thirty cases. Victoria, a smaller state with a bigger population, around seventy. Australia-wide there are less than 600 and most of those trace to flight passengers returning from China, Iran, and US, and cruise ship passengers. We are still alert, but not alarmed.

So, slightly disappointed at the closure, but understanding the caution – if COVID-19 was the reason – we get back in the car and continue on to Port Fairy.

Port Fairy is another charming and historic coastal fishing village, jutting out into a headland that faces the Southern Ocean on one side, and Port Fairy Bay on the other, with the Moyne River running up through the township. It has the distinction of being on the Western edge of the heritage-listed Great Ocean Road. (more in the next post about that).

We arrived late afternoon with enough time for a driving exploration of this pretty town. Lots of early buildings still remain, a reminder of its days of sealers and whalers. Norfolk pines line the riverfront.

The Stag Inn building, currently serving as the Seacombe House hotel in Port Fairy was built in 1847 by Captain John Sanders.  (Taken by John O’Neill  jjron – Own work, GFDL 1.2, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=8921955)

Its main beachfront, port and lighthouse were looking deserted in the threatening weather. Photos on Google show it looking bright and sparkling on a sunny day. There is a causeway linking a mutton bird sanctuary, Griffiths Island, to the mainland, but as it was starting to rain, we left that walk for the next morning. The lighthouse sitting on the end of it, which assists seafarers locate the entrance to the bay, is looking hazy in Bill’s photo taken from Battery Hill. You can see one small boat is heading for safety; and one of us just managed to catch a rainbow in our lens.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Originally the site of a flagstaff signalling station, Battery Hill was set up for the local militia in the 1860s, and then further developed in the 1880s to defend us from Russian attack, which was a paranoia at the time. You will find these type of cannon emplacements all around Australia. To my knowledge, none of the colonies (Australia was not federated then) were ever invaded or attacked by Russia.

Footnote,

I may have left readers with the impression this series is being written while we are still on the road. That is not the case, and my apologies for any confusion I’ve inadvertently caused. We curtailed our plans, returned home a few days after leaving Port Fairy, and then went into 14 day voluntary self-quarantine as a precaution. During that time, tighter government restrictions have come into force, and now we only leave the apartment for essential shopping or exercise. And I still have many, many projects to catch up on!

We are well and wish the same for you all.