Bright to Bairnsdale, on the Great Alpine Road

Today we travelled from Bright to Bairnsdale on the Great Alpine Road, which took us up to, and over Mt Hotham.  And we were not disappointed in the sheer steepness of the road up to Mt Hotham.  And the steepness of the slopes down the sides of the road.

Mt Hotham was the setting for a couple of family adventures but more about that later.

We stayed over night in Bright, a shaded and cool settlement at the foot of the ranges.   Bright started off in the early 1950s being called Morses Creek.   Gold was found there and in 1862 the name was changed to Bright.    

The Owens Valley was found to be suitable for growing tobacco, hops, maize, nuts and fruit.   Tobacco is no longer grown there but you can still see the drying sheds.   The area has now become successful at producing wines.

The shallow and icy cold Owens River flows down from the mountain range.  When we stayed in Bright, Darren, Emma and I floated down the stream on air mattresses.  Very exciting.  Walter was allocated the task of picking us up further down the stream.

Saturday afternoon and no one about, blissfully quiet, except for one noisy pub

Our motel, typical of the motels we have stayed in on our travels.  Great to be able to park the car directly outside the door of our room.  All rooms have been very comfortable, and two motels had microwaves and sinks. 

This morning we left in glorious sunshine and continued along the Owens Valley until we came to Harrietville, another cool settlement shaded by the huge pines that were planted along the valley.  Bright especially has huge northern decidious trees, which give a colourful display in Autumn.

After Harrietville the road started to climb very rapidly.  The surrounding bush was beautiful.

Soon we came across huge areas of burnt bush, and this contunued all the way up to Mt Hotham.  The bush fires in February 2009 burnt out thouands of hectares of bush.  Some trees are but blackened trunks now.

Other trees have sprouted new growth.  But at ground level there is much new growth, which is typical after a fire.

Riding a bicycle up to Mt Hotham is a pastime that rivals cycling in the mountains in France.

These burnt snowgums have been bleached by the weather.

A view over the ranges with whitened snow gums in the foreground.

Although we were amazed about the amount of burnt out forest we both kept our eyes on the road.  One wrong turn would result in a very quick and disasterous ride down the side of the slope.  Much of the upper road is on a ridge.

In the late 1980s we drove to Mt Hotham in a blizzard, in very deep snow.  We had chains on and were in a front wheel drive car but it was very scary.  All we could see where the taillights of the car in front, and the snow poles on the side of the road which mostly indicated a long drop on the other side.  It took us hours to drive to the top.  We literally crawled along.

Every few snowpoles there is a sign which says 'Keep right of poles'.  And you need to too, as there is a long drop on the left hand side of the poles.

The entrance to Hotham, a large ski resort at the top.  And in the year of the blizzard, which lasted the whole week, the top runs were closed, as the conditions were so bad.

A stop for a much needed cup of coffee after that nerve wracking journey.

The view from the cafe showed us the extent of the burnt out bush.  Luckily it will regenerate completely in the next few years

This was the slope where Walter fell, and broke the cruciate ligament in his knee and tore the cartilage in both knees.  On the first morning, just after his lesson. So while we were out enjoying ourselves he had to spend the rest of the week hobbling around inside.  And then had to have major surgery when he returned home.  And of course he now has problems with his knees.  Poor Walter.

The offending slope, called the Big D, probably a blue run, with no runoff at the bottom, had to be used for learners due to the blizzard.

We stayed in this hotel, called the Alberg.  Walter knew every inch of the hotel, due to being confined inside all week.  The snow was very deep and soft, and great for skiing.  We loved it.

On the last day Walter struggled outside, while we skied, and eventually found the car, completely covered in snow. The only part showing was the aerial. He spent the next few hours digging it out with a dustpan.  When he managed to get the boot open he was able to get the shovel out.  After lunch we thought it best to help Walter rather than spend the afternoon skiing  Walter was not a happy man.

Since then Walter hates snow and gets very stressed if there is any about.  And no wonder, after driving the car up to the top of the mountain in atrocious conditions, wrecking his knees on the ski slope, and then having to dig a car out with a dustpan, and trying to manage crutches as well.  Plus damaged knees.  I told him today he needs counselling, as it was such a traumatic experience.  Then he will enjoy snow again.

On another occasion, in the summer time, Darren, Emma and I walked along some of the walking tracks.  We drove up to Falls Creek, stayed the night, and then Walter dropped us off, with our back packs, at the start of the Bogong High Plains.  He continued to drive to Omeo and then back to Hotham.  We walked across the plains, down into a valley where we camped the night, and then walked back out of the valley and around to Mt Hotham, where Walter picked us up.  The only excitement was Darren's very heavy pack, I allowed him to pack it himself, and the March flies on the Hotham side, which stung us every time we stopped for a breatber.

After staying at Mt Hotham with Walter, we then set off to walk along the ridge to Mt Feathertop, which is the lower peak in the photo below.  The higher peak is Mt Bogong I think.

We foolishly put our tents up so that we would have a view of the valley below.  But once the sun set the wind started and we had to drop the tents, put rocks on them and seek shelter inside the hut.  We listened to a man snore above us all night.  The next day we took a leisurely walk down the mountain to Harrietville where Walter picked us up in the car.

Snow gums, stunted due to the extreme cold in winter, but survivors.  The leaves freeze and hurt like crazy if you brush against them when skiing.

A ski tow, with a hidden ski run which winds down, down into the valley.  I must admit I was not confident enough to ski on some of those runs.  Far to steep and fast for me.

After getting our bearings at Mt Hotham, and finding all the landmarks, we continued on our journey to Omeo.  A longer and much gentler way to get down the mountain.  After we dug the car out on the ski trip in blizzard conditions we travelled out the same way, as the road to Bright was closed.

The peaceful park in Omeo.  We ate lunch there today, and for me it was a tasty pumpkin soup.  Home grown pumpkins apparently.  We then continued, following a river, down to the coast, where we are now staying.  In a motel in Bairnsdale, which is at the end of the Great Alpine Road.

And before I forget, I must make a comment about Walter's generosity.  He has always been willing to drop off and collect us when we have gone bush walking.   He has also accompanied me on ski holidays, and watched, even though he hates snow,

A big thank you Walter, from me.

Benalla, Victoria

Today we travelled from Echuca to Bright, stopping for three hours in Benalla.   A special place for Walter.  His family settled here after they migrated from the Netherlands in 1953.  Walter went to school in Benalla and worked in his first jobs there.    

When I met Walter he belonged to a very strong family unit, with brothers, sisters in law, nieces and a nephew, and an aunt and a cousin in Melbourne.  The family also had many close Dutch friends who lived in Benalla. A very close network of support.  Slowly over the years the older people have died and the younger people have moved away and lost contact.   I think there is only one niece that now lives in Benalla.

Walter's one remaining brother, Rudolf and his wife, Conny, live in Point Lonsdale, and their daughter and son and their families live elsewhere in Victoria.  

After parking the car, we walked through a new arcade, well new to us, to Bridge Street.   A transformation, since I was there in 1998.  The trees on Bridge Street have grown tall, new pavement areas jut out onto the road, there are numerous cafes with tables outside, prosperous looking shops and no empty shops. And lots of people shopping, although after a while we realised that most of the people had children in sports uniforms.  There was a local basketball competition in the secondary school hall. There was also a Farmer's market in the park beside the river.   Still they were all spending money so that was good for the local economy.

Walter standing in front of  the extended pavement areas.  Once the main street of Benalla was part of the Hume Highway, Melbourne to Sydney, with a steady line of traffic passing through. Now there is a motorway which bypasses Benalla, and I think the town has gone from strength to strength since then.  People can now shop in peace without the trucks and cars thundering past.

Millers Store, where time has stood still.  Nothing has changed, including the stock I think.  There was a strong smell of mothballs in the shop.

 Walter commented that the window displays in Millers still lacked any style.   It was always a problem apparently.

 Tall shady trees.   Always an asset on a main street.

Some of the larger stores have found it difficult to keep operating as large stores. Patersons, once a large furniture and carpet store, now reduced to one small shop selling carpets.

 Harrisons, a very large country hardware store who supplied the local farmers and  tradesmen as well as everyone involved in DIY work at home.   They also sold electronic goods and crockery and giftware.   A very successful shop, managed by Rudolf for years.  Now it is a budget discount shop.

 But the original sign is still proudly displayed on the window.

 Benalla, named after an indigenous tribe that lived in the area, has a non indigenous history dating back to the goldrush era of the 1850s.  It served the people who were enroute to goldfields in Victoria.  Slowly a town was established with substantial buildings.  In 1883 the railway was built between Melbourne and Sydney, and Benalla became an important railway town.  In 1965 Benalla became a city, although only the size of a town really.  But somehow it reached the requirements of a city.

A beautiful view of Benalla Lake, formed by daming Broken River.

 The first reinforced concrete bridge built in Australia, built in 1910.  It provided a crucial link on the Melbourne to Sydney road.  Another river with a muddy bottom.

 This Ceramic mural took 25 years to complete.  It was planned and started in 1983 and opened in 2010.   Many people contributed to the mural including artists, school children and volunteers.  Apparently the small performance area seats 100 people.

 The church where Walter and I were married in 1967.

 Walter's home.

 We visited Benalla Cemetery to see the Remembrance plaques for Walter's mother and stepfather.   A moment for reflection.  Donna and Emma share the same birthday as Walter's mother and Paulina is Donna's  middle name.

 And just to finish off, we made a quick trip into Glenrowan, to see Ned Kelly's statue.  And Walter found that someone he worked with in Benalla still ran the museum there.   Ned Kelly was an outlaw, who was captured in Glenrowan in a shootout.   Various members of his family were buried in Benalla cemetery, but we did not look for their graves.  However there was another couple there doing just that.  They were from Melbourne.

It was a lovely few hours for us both, with much reminiscing.

Echuca,the port

Yes, Echuca is a port, even though it is kilometres from the nearest sea.   It is also on the banks of two rivers, the Murray River and Campaspe River.   The Aboriginal name of Echuca means 'Meeting of the Waters'.  There is a town on the opposite side of the river called Moama.   Echuca is in Victoria and Moama is in new South Wales.

Echuca was founded in 1850 by an ex-convict called Henry Hopwood, who bought and operated a punt which took lifestock and horse drawn vehicles across the river.  He also built a hotel beside the ferry called the Grand Hotel.  People drank, ate and slept at the hotel while they waited for their turn to cross on the ferry.  Consequently Hopwood became a very successful and influentual person in Echuca.

Once paddleboats were introduced to carry timber, lifestock, wool and machinery on the rivers, Echuca became an important port, and then a key river port and railway junction once the railway line from Melbourne was built. There was a huge 400 metre long redgum wharf, a timber mill, plus ship building slipways around Echuca.   The river was used as a transport system until the mid 1950's.

Since the 1970's there has been a revival in restoring old paddleboats as well as building houseboats for people to rent.   A new wharf was built two years ago, which was a massive undertaking.   There is now a new museum and a great interest in restoring old machinery.

There is a walkway running along the bank, which makes the journey down to the paddleboats much easier.  The paddleboat below the walkway is called the Etona (named after Eton). It was once a floating church, and contained a small chapel.  It is currently privately owned but is in need of serious work.

The Pevensey, named after a sheep station beside the Darling River.   The Pevensey, is a paddleboat with an original steam engine.  It has a wooden hull made of redgum and was built in 1911.  It takes visitors out on the river for a 1 hour cruise during the summer months.

Our ticket, gave us the trip on the Pevensey, plus entrance into the museum.   It cost $28 each, senior citizen rates.

The trip on the river was magical.  The clouds were not really low.  It was the smoke from the engine billowing out over the gum trees. The water in the Murray River is always brown.  No, it is not due to pollution nor saline but due to the river having a muddy and sandy bottom.  European carp were introduced into the river, and they grew to be enormous.   Not that anyone eats them here.  They taste of mud apparently.

The old iron bridge, built in the late 1880s, replaced the ferry.

Some of the houseboats waiting to be hired

The ultimate in pleasure boats, like a floating villa with a speed boat at the back.  The St Tropaz houseboat.

The pirate houseboat.   A bit breezy on a cold day.

The banks of the river, eroded during a flood.

The new wharf , with landings on different levels to account for the varying heights of the river.  Apparently flood waters once came up as far as one foot from the top of the wharf.  And it is a very high wharf.   Excellent craftmanship.

More old paddleboats.

A peaceful river scene.

The old street has a dirt road and wooden kerbs.  The old buildings are used daily, mostly pubs and cafes.   This old truck plus various other old vehicles and machinery decorate the side of the road.   A step back into the past.

Walter sitting in front of the boundary between Victoria and New South Wales.  The boundary runs down the length of the wharf as it was easy to collect the taxes when people moved goods from one state to the next.  It was very difficult to collect taxes when the river was the dividing line. So this part of the river was the responsibility of New South Wales.  I am not sure if this is still so.

A fascinating map showing all the rivers and streams of the Darling basin.  All rivers, including the Murrumbidgee and Darling, run into the Murray which then carries the water out to the sea.   So problems that occur in other states end up in Goolwa and the surrounding Coorong.  

Of course in dry weather and especially during droughts there was very little water in the Darling basin, and paddleboats often became stranded for months, and sometimes for years.

So to end a lovely day we went to a pub on the old street.  Walter chose pizza and I chose a pork roast.   Both freshly prepared and cooked, of course, and delicious.  We also each had a glass of  merlot/cabinet wine from the Hunter valley.  Also delicious.

We thoroughly enjoyed our day and gained quite an insight into, and appreciation of, the life of the people who were connected with the river.

Echuca, the town

Echuca,  on a bend of the Murray River, 1200 plus river kilometres from the mouth, is a  very old town, with plenty of charm and history.  And beautiful buildings.

The main street, interestingly called High Street, is slightly separated from the old part of Echuca.

Angle parking, and wide shady verandahs, a typical Australian country town.

An old primary school, now the TAFE College.

Three beautiful churches, built when the town was booming.   The Uniting Church.

The old post office, and now a restaurant.

The Catholic Church.

The Anglican Church.

A beautiful Victorian wooden house, complete with iron lacework, and white picket fence,  A prolific flowering myrtle in front completes the picture.

In the old part of the town the shops are very picturesque.  All with old writing styles on their signs.   Someone must have felt happy with the contract to paint them all.

A line up of very old shops.

And the 'old fashioned' signs, proudly displayed under the broad verandahs.

Patrick, is this a relative?   A very classy restaurant too.

A very old wire gate leading up to the front door of an old Victorian cottage.  I think the crepe myrtle and lilac shrubs are also very old.

Off to the Caladonian hotel for dinner.  Steak night.   Walter's verdict, perfectly cooked and good quality steaks.  I took the lighter option, a healtby salad without meat.   All delicious.  An early night, in readiness formamtour of the Port of Echuca.