Rawson to Metung

Monday morning began with a drop off at the rental car place.  It is a shuttle ride from the airport for arrivals (who were incidentally told that shuttles weren't available so get a taxi with the fare being refundable).

We walked in the gate and a staff member told us the company didn't open till 10 - we were an hour early.  We looked at each other and decided to walk around the industrial and commercial area vaguely hoping we would find a place open for coffee.  No such luck - we didn't even spy a closed cafe.  

It was cold - a strong wind whistling down the lonely culdersacs.  We hurriedly circled back to where our rental car was waiting and sat patiently waiting for ten o'clock.  Eventually a woman looked up and asked if we had booked a car or a camper van.  It was a car, and so she could help us. After some paperwork, a photo tour of the car, and the gift of a phone holder, we gave her a heartfelt thanks and wished her a happy day. 

After getting lost, and then a "goodbye" brunch in Brunswick we drove to our next stop. 

It started to rain and after stopping at a supermarket for food we hit a fairly isolated road lined by gum trees and pongas which wound up the hills to a little town called Rawson.  We imagine that in winter Rawson would be vibrant and alive with skiers, but today Rawson was cold, wet and isolated.  We found our cabin down a windy and muddy hill, raced in and turned on the heat pump and the bar heaters.  The rain thudded on the roof, the wind whistled through the trees and unknown birds squawked their way into the night. 

Over dinner (salmon, potatoes and salad for dinner) which had to be carefully organised as you couldn't turn the oven and element on at the same time) we decided we were the only people staying at the camp.

Next morning we left in a heavy drizzle and drove up the muddy steep path on our way to the little gold mining town of Walhalla.  A driver towing an off road caravan stopped to say there was a tree down, but he had cleared half the road so traffic could get past. We thanked him and had a vision of him stopping his ute, getting his chain saw out of the back and cutting the tree.  We remembered our time in Dickies Beach when we went for a four wheel drive and we had to stop 3 or 4 times to watch the driver chain saw trees and we helped to clear the fairly substantial logs from the road. A fairly typical day in the life of off roaders in Australia we think.

Walhalla is a little gold mining town settled back in the mid 1800's.  After pulling on our warm hat and coat (Harry did look at me when I suggested we bring them - but admitted he was pleased he had listened as it was about 13 degrees) we wandered up a lot of steps to the old tram track and forest walk.  Once up, the track was reasonably flat and wound around the hill high up above the little village.  Wonderful views of the little buildings (only 13 original ones with all the rest new but built to fit sympathetically with the gold mining era).  We wandered through pongas and scrubby undergrowth to the chirp of kingfishers and other birds.

Walhalla has a permanent population of between 20 and 35 depending on the website you look at.  Back in the mid 1800's when gold was found you could imagine the 4000 or so people living in tents and trudging up to the gold mines each day.  Today, it was cold and misty and adding to the atmosphere a small cottage had smoke floating from its chimney.  Fires would have been a must to keep warm, even in later years because apparently Walhalla was the last town in Australia to get electricity in 1998.  To keep the atmosphere and allowing for period movies the wires were placed underground. 

There is a local cemetery steeped in history.  It's built on the side of a hill, with (I think unusually) all the gravestones looking up the hill rather than down to the valley.   Many quoted a message...

"Oh let my sudden doom, a warning be to all, ere whilst thou bendest over my tomb, thou may as quickly fall".

Sombre to say the least.

Back down the valley and we were at the south end of the village.  We walked past many shop windows "Open 7 days" said the signs.

"Which 7 days?" I asked Harry as there was no sign of life.  But we did find a little cafe (all dressed out in witchcraft paraphenalia) and enjoyed the scones and sandwiches and oh yes that hot cup of English breakfast tea. 

There was an extraordinary tale of  Dr Annie Yoffa.  Back in the late 1920's she was a trailblazer for women.  Amongst her many achievements was surgery, psycriatry, philosophy, published author.  She also was the first woman to hike the Warburton to Walhalla trail unaccompanied.  So I will add courageous to her list of strengths. Unfortunately, she is remembered in Australia as she was murdered by a stranger in the Dandedong Ranges in her early 30's - rather than her many achievements.  A sad end.on why she is not remembered with a few parks or more plaques.

Rather wishing we had booked a place to stay the night (though the hotel didn't appear to welcome guests) we drove back along the windy road, past the fallen tree and onto Metung.   We didn't see another car for 28km and then we saw a number of logging and quarrying trucks heading in the other direction. We stopped along the way to view power stations, quarries and timber mills - rather missing the tranquil nature of years gone by at Walhalla.

We stopped at Sale for a break and a wander along the water front.  

and then at St Marys in Bairnsdale.

Our accommodation in Metung was nice, but only had a microwave.  Deciding it was too cold to cook our sausages on the barbeque we headed to the local put for dinner.  

"Make sure you go at 6.00 before the crowds as it is the only place open for a meal on Monday nights" said the motel manager.  Everyone must have been told the same thing - we joined a number of other tourists leaving their apartments along the road heading to the pub right on 6 o'clock.