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. 

Melbourne

We were two sleepy eyed seniors that boarded the six o'clock morning flight to Melbourne. The film selection was skimmed through and interrupted intermittently by announcements from the cockpit and cabin crew. 

Once the seat belt sign was off, I forgot all about watching movies and moved over to seats 10 A, B and C - empty and just waiting for me to stretch out and have a sleep. A couple of short naps, breakfast, half a movie and a smooth trip passed the time quickly. 

It was nice to be picked up from the airport and after a quick visit to the supermarket we headed to Brunswick for hot cross buns and tea.

Then Harry and I were on our own, enjoying exploring trains and buses with the "Mikey" card. A police incident delayed the train, and so we sat for a while watching other travellers waiting (a bit more exciting than watching paint dry). 

The train trip to Flinders is efficient but a tad boring as the line takes us mainly through run down commercial and industrial areas. We wandered along the Yarra river, reminiscing about our last walk along the same promenade about 15 years ago. It took a while to find a spot for lunch that wasn't a pub or expensive restaurant and a public loo, and in the end we settled for Subway and a very large ice-cream before sneaking into a pub to use their facilities. 

Just as we were about to turn back towards the station we found the Melbourne Convention Center.  Massively long corridors led us to the Lumo Vincent van Gogh exhibition. What a find!! Kiwi seniors got a discount (worth a couple of coffees).  

Two hours later we walked out. Captivated by the visuals, soothing music and subtle lighting.  We saw the show from the mezzanine floor and also from the little 1888 cafe complete with and the cane chairs. A third round would have seen us lying on the double bean bags and would probably have included a snooze.   

For a change we caught the tram home. There were a lot of stops with passengers coming and going. Facing backwards we couldn't see the names of the stops until after we had left the platform and with all the people standing and talking we couldn't hear or see the announcements either.  "Oh well", we thought "We are on holiday so a trip to the end of the line isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Friday was airshow day, and off the four of us went with our seats, picnic and of course our cameras. 

We were told to arrive about midday when the gates opened and were expecting a rather long queue of enthusiastic airplane enthusiasts, but got into the car park quite quickly and wandered with all our gear to a reasonably good viewing sight.  Harry got as near as he could to the fence line and came back to the chairs occasionally for food, a chat and a rest.  

The Avalon airshow was quite different to others we have been too. On the day, the airport was still operating commercial flights and so occasionally the show stopped to let a Jetstar plane land or take off.  I imagine the passengers had never had such a welcoming crowd before.  

Sadly, the air show finished early, as one of the four acrobatic planes crashed, critically injuring the pilot.  We haven't heard how he is, but we wish him a speedy recovery.  I don't think I will ever forget the plume of smoke and watching the other three pilots circling their planes around the crash site waiting to land. I can only admire the pilots fortitude in staying calm while their team mate was injured below and the sombre crowd stood by.  On advice from the commentators the crowd was slow to disperse, buying an early dinner from the well stocked food vans to reduce the risk of traffic jams.  

Williamstown

The next day was a slow start.  We had brunch at the Foundry and then Harry and I went shopping for picnic supplies before catching the train to Williamstown. 

We had been to Williamstown before but we couldn't remember it until we were walking along the road towards the timeball machine.  Our memory was triggered by a maroon building advertising a "Titanic experience", we turned to each other at the same time commenting once again on the unlikely place for the experience. This time we walked around the coast and through the small botanical garden. 

On our last day in Melbourne we took Cherry the dog for a walk along the Yarra - away from the crowds and through the long grass.  The graffiti seems to be everywhere in the Melbourne suburbs.  

We stopped for a devonshire tea, in a rather massive old building that was once a boat shed.  The building was a bit hickeldy pickeldy, with lots of seating areas. History was all around - the furniture, photos of the bygone past and owners, the row boats and old fixtures. 

Our last stop on this whirlwind Melbourne trip took us to a street party in Brunswick, where we met some friends and attempted a quiz.  Questions like "What shop used to be under another shop in the local mall?".  Not a chance of Harry or I winning the prize. 

Loop

Christmas in Vancouver

Our little grandson's expected arrival just after Christmas was enough to tempt us to enjoy another northern hemisphere winter.  We had forgotten how dusk never left the day and night arrived late afternoon meaning the lights brightened even the dullest, coldest and wettest of days. 

Every corner we turned, sparkling lights greeted us, strung around lamp posts and trees, across roads and bordering windows, shop doors and stair wells. 

Everyone said the snow was late coming and the lack of snow was evident as we drove up the steep mountain road to the sledding fields. Sledding was fast and short and enjoyed by most people - some went headed straight down, others enjoyed a slow scenic route, while others came face to face with the snow as they abruptly came to a stop. I was the "official" photographer and never got a chance to sled as the heavy rain started not long after we arrived.  We all squashed into the nearby cafe, unloading our thick outer garments into the corner. Steam rose from our wet clothes in sync with the hot chocolates and once all the snacks were eaten and the children were bored we raced back to the for the drive home. 

Another snow event was New Years Eve when we piled (minus Mum and baby) into the car to go to  Mount Cyprus.  An early firework display in the evening for the children and night time skiing made for a wintry picture with an eerie light shining over the buildings and children as they threw snow balls.

It was unseasonably warm for winter, and many of our clothes stayed in the bag, not having to wear as many layers as we had planned.  The snow did not arrive until February, when outside in Vancouver, it was knee high, perfect for building snow people, with long carrot noses and smiles on their faces.  I was envious we had missed it!!

Gardens 

Then there were the gardens.  First was Capiliano - we have been there numerous times before - but not at night or in winter.  More hot chocolate and a walk over the suspension bridge.  I always want to hold on tight especially when the children are running over, and jumping on the bridge.  I looked down to the gorge in the fading light as water flowing steadily underneath me.  A long walk around the forest of lighted trees ending with more food to fill the tum and warm the body.

The Van Dussen Gardens were new to us.  In day light the gardens must be spectacular, but at night all we saw was trees casting shadows over the paths, wonder reflections on the water and snow covered grass.  A wonderful experience, that will be followed by a daylight visit one day.  

Train ride to the North Pole 

A treat for Nannie and Poppa and the two older grandchildren.  The old steam train puttered along a short track and local volunteers entertained us with juggling, singing, some clowning and of course sweets. Back at the station we visited the North Pole.  Our six year was disappointed, when he realised that he wasn't actually at the "real" North Pole, but in a large tent close to where we got on the train. "We are back where we started" he said. But he soon forgot his disappointment.  We occupied ourselves for hours, painting wooden trains, riding little trains, meeting Mr and Mrs Claus, eating hot chocolate and "as many as you like" marshmallows, colouring in and making Christmas decorations.

On each trip we always manage a trip to the Shipyards.  Harry and I always manage a leisurely lunch at one of the restaurants there, looking over to Vancouver city. This year, the Christmas markets lined the pavements and although there were a lot of treats to sample we decided to sit outside at one of the restaurants under a gas fire enjoying the food and the scenery adorned in our hats and coats. 

On another day we went back, taking the kids for a scooter and ice cream "they used to have birthday flavoured icecream" I was told in a disappointed little voice, but we did manage to find other flavours equally as exotic and everyone seemed happy.

Christmas Day was spent with family and friends and a wonderfully cooked meal (ordered in from a local deli).  Our little grandson arrived and we spent time with him and looking after the other two - sleep overs in Nannie and Poppa's bed, visits to Science World and the aquarium and to the forest to find slaters and worms.

Ski school started and we hitched a ride to Whistler for the day.  We had been before, but in autumn when only the highest of the peaks were covered in snow.  This time was different.  People everywhere on skis, or wandering around.  We took the gondola (glass floor) up and over to the ridge and down the other side.  An enjoyable day while we waited for the end of the day and the skiers to return.