Travelling

The Grampians National Park is not particularly large but it does boast some spectacular scenery and waterfalls.  However, it’s so contrived that not too much of it can be seen from the road.  It’s necessary to walk.

It’s a bit of a trek to The Pinnacles, about 5 kms round trip.  That didn’t sound too arduous but local advice suggested it would take at least two and a half hours.  Boots on, water and nut bars stashed we set off.  The route took us through two places of interest, the Grand Canyon and Silent Street.  Grand Canyon was perhaps not as large as its namesake but it was certainly rugged and very picturesque. 

We spotted some rock climbers scaling one of the cliff faces.  We thought the route we took was fairly tough but our perspective changed when we saw all their ropes, climbing boots and hard hats.  And the lad at the end of the rope couldn't have been more than about ten years old!  In the picture he’s half way up if you look closely, and we assumed that’s his mum at the top of the rope.

Walking changed to more of a scramble.  A sort of path had been built from rocks to provide a series of steps and paths to clamber over. 

Silent Street is a rock strewn gully through which we scrambled until we reached an open area at the top.  Why it’s called Silent Street we don’t know.  It wasn't silent as we went through – it should have been called Wheezing Street.

With a couple of rest stops and quite a bit of puffing we finally made it to the top which is known as the Pinnacle.  The views made it all worthwhile.  Here’s a sample.

Then we had to scramble down again.  Yes, the locals were right.  It did take exactly two and a half hours.

An hour of driving took us to Silverband Falls.  We decided that they were not too impressive as there was very little water, more like a leaking tap actually.  At least we didn't have to walk too far, just a couple of kilometres on even ground.  Still, old age was taking its toll and I reverted to my usual remedy of spraying his knees with WD40.  Kim still laughs at me but I swear the treatment works.  We camped in the forest and slept to the sound of silence.

The next day (Thursday 12 April if you must know) we were off again.  This time we climbed down something over a hundred metres to the foot of the McKenzie Falls.  And what a sight greeted us at the bottom.  Although not a lot of water was flowing, the falls were quite beautiful.

All we then had to do was to climb back up to the top.  Not deterred by all this exercise we moved on to Reid’s Lookout for a bit more walking and another view, and then to The Balconies for perhaps the most spectacular view yet – BTW that’s the terrain, not Mike standing on a rock.

OK, enough of all this strenuous stuff.  It’s time for some relaxation; well almost.  We ended the day in the small town of Dimboola which was the only camp site we could find in the vicinity.  What we didn't know was that it had been severely criticised as being one of the worst around.  We struck lucky.  A new manager had taken over just three weeks earlier and he was really cracking on with improvements.  New showers, constantly running sprinklers that had already made the grass grow, and a genuinely warm welcome made us feel at home.  We slept well too.

Next morning and we took a walk through Dimboola town, although ‘town’ is really an optimistic term given its size.  Kim reckoned it was a suitable place for Mike.

Just up the road is a salt lake that in certain light appears pink.  Salt concentrated from ancient seas that evaporated millennia ago form a crust on which grows algae that turns it pink.  It’s a strange sight that looks better in reality than in the photo.

Travelling roughly easterly, we passed through the town of Nhill - no we don’t how it’s pronounced but it’s the last town in the State of Victoria - and crossed the border into South Australia.  Dire threats and warnings had been made about the heinous crime of taking in fruit and vegetables and so we had minimised our purchases and disposed of the ‘lemon of mass destruction’ and our ‘broccoli spears’.  Disappointment all round resulted as we could find no trace of a sign marking the border and only a small, rather battered notice indicating an old dustbin into which offending items were supposed to be deposited.  However, we felt that we’d complied with the requirements and drove into Bordertown to replenish supplies.  Being Saturday afternoon, the shops were closed so we dined from tins and took a look at Bob Hawke’s (Prime Minister from 1983 to 1990) childhood home and also found a Land Rover on a pole.

Apparently Land Rovers were used to clear the area so that crops could be grown.  This was achieved by fixing ships anchor chains to the vehicles and grubbing out the scrub.  So impressed were the local dignitaries that a tribute to the iconic vehicle was erected.

Next morning, a short drive past numerous olive groves to Goolwa where we continued our avoidance of walking by taking the steam train to Victor Harbour . . . .

. . . . and a horse drawn tram to Granite Island.

Monday 15^th April, a new week and Sarah’s birthday.  We set out for the wine growing area of McLaren Vale.  But more of that next time.