“Everywhere is within walking distance if you have the time.”
— Steven Wright
Getting ThereI recently published a yarn about my 2006 Great Ocean Walk (“GOW”). In that, I mentioned a 2003 trip. This is that trip. I walked the Great Ocean Road (“GOR”), walking on the roadside wherever there was no alternative. The title and slugline here is actually a little misleading, as I actually spent a couple of nights in Apollo Bay (not entirely by choice) then took a tour from Apollo Bay to Princetown and only walked on from there. There was no Great Ocean Walk in 2003, and I wasn’t game to walk three days on the dangerously curvy hills before even reaching the jawdropper sights. Today, a retired old man, I might!
I didn’t write it up properly at the time, but I have good memories of a lot of it, I have my (inadequate) road diary, and I have 261 photos and the odd piece of paper to work with. Let’s see what I can make of these fragments, 21 years later. It helps that I wrote the 2006 piece recently, because that effort disentangled the two sets of memories in my head.
I bought a green Razorback single-person tent in April, planning to use it for my planned walk in the Grand Canyon in August. In the end I left the tent at home for the big trip and bought (and subsequently discarded) a cheapie at Walmart in Las Vegas instead. On the 19th of December, I bought a new pack, a Black Wolf 55-litre travelpack.
Last night my final pack came to just under 16kg. That includes the tent (1.8 kg) and foam mat (500 gm) and three 200 mL packs of UHT milk (600 gm), and my old sleeping bag (1.3 kg). The new sleeping bag will weigh 500 gm less. That means everything else, including the pack itself, weighs in around 11.5 kg. Not bad, since the pack itself is heavier than the old one (about 2.5 kg versus 1.8 kg).
I had some saved rostered days off I needed to use, so I used one on the 24th and the other on the 29th. This gave me a 6-day weekend without eating into my annual leave. Unfortunately it also tied me to a timetable that left me vulnerable to seasonal upsets. I had planned to take V/Line’s daily coach along the GOR to Warrnambool on the 26th. When I tried to book it, V/Line told me that service did not run on Christmas Day, nor the days either side. Huh.
I woke at 5:45, but lay in bed until 6:15. My train was at 8:48 and I had plenty of time in hand. Once up, I took a long shower then watched TV while munching breakfast. By 7:30 I was out the door, and a fortuitous Bridge Road tram delivered me to Spencer Street Station 20 minutes later.
Spencer Street was then in the throes of being renovated into Southern Cross, but the facilities hadn’t changed much yet. I wandered up to the coach concourse and bought a copy of The Age and a cup of coffee. Then I drifted down to Platform 7, where my train was already waiting. I went aboard and found a vacant compartment. Later a young woman arrived, and then a guy with heavy asthmatic breathing. The three of us were joined by an invisible fourth party when the asthmatic guy started talking to himself.
The train pulled out on time. The run down to Geelong was routine: the scenery was nothing special so I spent my time reading the paper, finishing it by the time the train arrived at Geelong at about 9:37. The bus wasn’t in front of the station yet, but it pulled in at 9:55 and left a couple of minutes later.
10:26 And as of Torquay I am finally on the Great Ocean Road!
10:42 was Anglesea, 10:55 Airies Inlet, 11:19 Lorne, and noon KennettRiver. Next stop, Apollo Bay.
The bus got in to Apollo Bay right on time. I got off and headed for the Information Centre, but just as I got there I realised that I’d left my water and walkman on the bus. Fortunately the bus hadn’t left, so I was able to retrieve them.
A check at the Information Centre confirmed the story V/Line had already given me: the Friday bus wasn’t running on Boxing Day. But I might be able to make a deal with a tour bus operator. The woman at the counter scribbled down three possibilities on a scrap of paper — Otway Discovery (best option), AAT Kings, and Utopia Tours.
With this life preserver tucked safely in my pouch I headed off just before 15:00 to find a place to rest my head. I skipped the backpackers and headed for Waratah Caravan Park, the nearest place where I could pitch my tent.
The site was a patch of lawn for $22 (they’re not really geared for tents), but it was shady.
I laid out my tent, and only then discovered that I had not brought the tent pegs with me. The Park owners were able to help out, giving me access to their collection of rusty left-behind pegs (discovered by the simple expedient of running over them with the lawn mower). Finally my tent was standing, although it sagged because there weren’t enough pegs and some of the pegs were too small.
I took a wander down the main street, had a burger for lunch, and bought a phone card (I was not carrying a mobile phone). Then I called Otway Discovery. “David” said yep, they had a tour bus on Boxing Day, going through Apollo Bay about 13:30, and he was pretty sure they’d have room for me. Call back tomorrow to make sure.
So my plan is tentatively back on track. Now I can kick back and relax in Apollo Bay today and tomorrow. Whew.
I decided to use the afternoon both enjoyably and productively, by walking up from the beach to Marriners Lookout. It was a moderately steep climb in the heat, but I was in no rush. I used my “Grand Canyon” pace: when I overheated or my heart was working too hard I’d stop in a shady spot and admire the view until things returned to normal. There was a lot of view to enjoy, and I engaged in quite a bit of enjoyment.
The road ended at the carpark for Alison’s B&B near a sign announcing the Lookout, but there were no views there — it was surrounded by trees. A 10-minute walking track from the carpark had magnificient views along it and there was a panoramic view from the grassy brow where the track petered out. I could see north along much of the serrated coastline towards Lorne that I had seen looking south from the bus. Things were less exciting southward from the brow, except of course for Apollo Bay itself, which was laid out like a satellite map. The sea was turquoise and emerald.
The only spoilers were the flies. In places they were so thick they looked like a sandstorm.
Back at camp I restaked my tent, and established that I needed another half dozen pegs. But by the time I went back into town to shop for Xmas provisions ($20 from the local IGA), the hardware shop was closed. It would be open at 10:00 on Boxing Day, so I would have an opportunity then to remedy the deficiency.
19:42 Sitting on the terrace of the Apollo Bay Hotel watching the shadows lengthen, sipping a chardonnay and waiting for them to bring me my chicken parmigiana. The weather is perfect, the sky is cloudless, and all in all I’m feeling pretty good.
19:51 Until the blonde bimbo in the doof-doof car across the road decided to share her rap music with us, that is. I decided to spoil her day in return by asking her to turn it down. Now things are perfect again.
On my way back to the Caravan Park, I watched some galahs picking seeds out of the grass by the road.
After dinner I decided to spend my Christmas Eve and Day in relative luxury. I wimped out on two nights in my saggy, peg-short tent and stumped up the extra money for a “van”. I could probably have saved a little money by going to one of the backpacker hostels, who may have had single rooms, but the backpackers were on summer rates and the tent site fee was a sunk cost that I could retrieve by upgrading my Caravan Park booking. It was pretty much a wash; I paid a fraction more for a quieter night’s sleep.
Shortly before 11:00 I’d completed my sleep-in and all my morning tasks, and I was walking south.
I came across a stone post with an “M” on top and “115” on the side. Kilometre 115? It was about that distance from Geelong to Apollo Bay. A trifle short, but I had no better guess. (In 2024 I see online estimates from 109 to 111 to 115 to 117 to 121 to 127 km; I still have no better guess!)
I crossed the bridge at the Barham River. There were horses grazing in wildflower-strewn fields by the river, and cattle in the distance. From the bridge I made my way down onto the southern beach fringing Mounts Bay, headed towards Marengo. In places, the shoreline was strewn with kelp.
Rounding the point, I saw fossilised wavelet patterns in the rocks. Further south, some rocks were etched so deeply that they looked like sponges. Some of the rock pools had hard shells around their edges. They looked like bowls embedded in the stone. Offshore, a reef broke the turquoise waves. Then I came to a place where the rock surface was flat, cracked into broad shelves and plates.
By 11:46 I had reached the Trig Point south of Marengo (see the beginning of my 2006 walk, when I stopped here to enjoy the sunrise). Near here, there was a place where small rocks stood above the flat plates, supported by eroded rock necks.
At noon, I found a spot where past visitors had inscribed their names in the flat rocks. “E. Toy 1913”, “A. B. Toy, I. E. Toy, 1936”. Two generations of the same family, apparently. Who were they? Other less legible engravings surrounded them.
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I turned back. By 12:30 I was wading north across the mouth of the Barham.
I found signs of futility, a child’s green digging toy dropped in the abortive drainage channel someone had attempted to create aross the beach between the river and the sea.
I walked on to the mole at the harbour mouth. Massive boulders with huge rusted hooks in their tops stood here, making a seawall.
After a long lunch I took a post-prandial stroll through Apollo Bay, finding a war memorial (38°45'33.9"S 143°40'15.2"E) and admiring the intriguing blue New Age steps of a nearby building (now “Moontide”, without the paint, then “Matrakulu”, 38°45'34.9"S 143°40'17.7"E).
21:17 Total nothing day, except for walking south along the coast as far as a trig station on a grassy headland. The beach was not very busy.
I did call Otways Discovery back and confirm a pickup outside Surfside Backpackers for 13:30 on Boxing Day. $15 to Princetown, which puts me almost exactly back on track.
The promised showers held off and are now predicted for tomorrow and the next day. Bah, humbug!
Along the Great Ocean Road11:39 Cafe Vista, killing time. Have decided to have a hearty lunch (the “Big Brekky” — well, it’s early for lunch, but once the bus ride is over I have a busy afternoon planned: I need something substantial now to boost my reserves).
Threatened showers last night never eventuated, but apart from a light damp dusting in mid-morning, neither have the threatened showers for today. On the contrary, the sun is out, the birds are chirping, and it’s turning into a repeat of yesterday — just cooler.
I slept in as late as possible, checking out of my “van” at the last possible moment. I drifted up along the Apollo Bay foreshore, bought some pegs, had lunch at a cafe opposite where the GOW starts now, and arrived back at the corner of Gambier and the Great Ocean Road in time to climb aboard a white 15-seater minibus labelled “Sargent Bus Rental”.
Our first stop was Castle Cove, where Leaellynasaura amicagraphica dinosaur fossils were first found. We didn’t stop there long and by 15:00 we were at Melba Gully. It being daytime, we didn’t see the glow worms that night visitors can enjoy, but we admired a massive Mountain Ash-Messmate tree that the guide called “the Patriarch”. I have been unable to find a reference to it by this name but image 3/3 at TrustTrees is the tree that I saw.
“Known as ‘The Big Tree’, the Otway Messmate is a natural hybrid between Eucalyptus regnans (Mountain Ash) and Eucalyptus obliqua (Messmate). The tree is very large but is only in fair condition, possessing a large hollow in the trunk and severe storm damage to the canopy. Its circumference is possibly one of the largest in Victoria. This tree fell over in a storm in 2007.”
We headed back to the bus, and by 16:00 I was standing in Old Post Office Road, the main street of Princetown (38°41'37.8"S 143°09'22.6"E), watching the bus leave. The 2024 Street View at that location is the same as I saw in 2003 AND 2006 (it dates to 2008). Things change slowly there.
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I booked into the Apostles Camping Park (38°41'38.6"S 143°09'20.2"E) and set up my tent with its new tent pegs. I shoved my bulky, heavy stuff into the tent, tossed the empty main pack in on top, shouldered my day pack — which had all my valuables in it — and by 16:45 I was walking down Post Office Road.
I soon reached the GOR. By 16:48, finally, I was afoot on the GOR! A numberless murder of crows took to the blue sky around me. In celebration, or in omen? Too soon to say, really.
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Walking along a busy highway that has no designated footpath, is dangerous. I make no bones about it. My daypack had reflective strips, but drivers are very good at not seeing small vulnerable things on the road ahead of them. So I walked on the right, where I faced the oncoming traffic and had a chance of jumping for my life if someone veered off the asphalt. I stayed off the asphalt surface, even though that meant I was often scuffing along through dirt and trash. I did not listen to my music, even in the duller stretches, so that I had a chance to hear any whisper of engine or tyres coming up behind me.
When on the road I focused on covering ground, rather than sightseeing. I did not engage with the occasional yobbo who leaned out their window to scream at me. Walking on the right meant that the cars going my way were further off; cars on my side of the road went by too fast for the yobbos to let off a decent yell. If someone wanted to throw something (it only happened once, a half-empty water bottle), I would see them preparing, and they would almost certainly miscalculate the missile’s trajectory due to our relative velocities and their need to use their left arm.
When I needed to cross to the other side, I would wait for a break in traffic, cross quickly and alertly, and not stop until I was well off the road on the other side. Wherever possible, I avoided the road entirely and followed the tourist paths that ran between lookout points along the clifftops. In 2003 there were fewer connecting paths than today, but they already existed where major sights clustered.
It was a calculated risk, and it paid off.
My biggest fear was not the traffic, but the traffic cops. Those indoctrinated in car culture cannot understand those who choose to walk where they could drive or be driven, and cops have no hesitation about making you sorry for puzzling them. Whenever I saw a police car, I did my best to look like a hitch-hiker. I was either lucky, or good, for none stopped.
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By 17:39 I was at the C166 intersection where Princetown Road enters the GOR; Princetown 6 km, Apollo Bay 82 km, Pt Campbell 14 km, Warrnambool 80 km. From there to the top of the Gibson Steps via the GOR and a parking lot was 1.4 km, a 20 minute walk.
The fields on the landward side of the road were speckled with huge hay rolls. I passed the gate to Glenample Homestead, then turned into the parking lot. Over the bushes ahead I could see the sea, and a wooden railing head. That had to be the top of the Gibson Steps down to Gibson Beach, and it was. The steps clung vertiginously to the cliff face, but were well built and quite safe. Just after 18:00, I had navigated the steps and was standing on the beach.
I walked along the beach to the nearer of the two Apostles that stood ankle deep (for them) in the surf here. I had hoped to be able to wade out and touch it, but I had missed the tide and there was a dropoff near the base of the rock. I was wearing my togs under my shorts and could have swum out, but decided the risk of a rogue wave was too high. I am not a strong swimmer.
I examined the base of the cliffs, noting where erosion was eating into their base. At some time in the future the weight of the hanging cliff would exceed its strength and the face of the cliff would split off and crash down onto the beach. Large boulders already squatted on the sand from past spalling.
I headed back up the steps and then along the GOR to the Apostles Amenity Centre, then left and down to the Apostles Viewpoint, Castle Rock and the Saddle Lookout. The Rocks stood out splendidly in the late afternoon light, still including the ninth, Judas, that was so soon going to shake itself apart.
By the time I had seen my fill, it was almost 20:00, and I would see them again tomorrow anyway, by morning light. So I started home. I forgot that I had intended to stay for the sunset (due around 20:50) then walk back to Princetown in the evening!
Cold munchies for dinner, then I zipped up the tent, rolled up in my sleeping bag, and fell off to sleep. I could have bought hot food, there was an eatery in Princetown; but I had a heavy day ahead tomorrow.
I had planned a super early start — up at 4:00–4:30, on the road by 5:00 — to catch sunrise at the Apostles, or at least Gibson Steps. I wasn’t packed up and ready to go until 5:36. No way I could reach the Apostles or even Gibson Steps by 6:00. I did take the nice photo of a mysterious landscape with pack, river, hills and an interesting sky, that I’ve used on this report, so it wasn’t all bad
Well, at least I got to see the Apsotles by morning light. Which is better, morning or afternoon? Depends on the weather, but either is splendid. I sat on the edge of the cliff and had a leisurely breakfast, drinking in the golden light.
Moving on, I saw a big bird of prey, possibly a wedge-tailed eagle, flying above the cliffs.
Next stop, Loch Ard Gorge. My vapour-headed planning in Apollo Bay had me there at 7:00–7:30 but I got there around 9:45. I glutted myself on the massive cliffs and Mutton Bird Island, and read through the storyboards of the disaster. I had also packed printouts of some web resources.
One of four signs here:
“Only two of the 54 people on board the Loch Ard survived: 18 year old Eva Carmichael, one of a family of eight Irish immigrants, and ship’s apprentice Tom Pierce.
“After the ship went down Tom drifted for hours under an upturned life-boat. When the tide turned at dawn, he was swept, bruised and battered, into this gorge. Shortly after reaching the beach he heard cries from the water and saw Eva clinging to a spar.
“Tom quickly swam out and struggled for an hour to bring her to the beach. He sheltered her in a cave, reviving her with some brandy which had washed ashore. Then, exhausted, they fell asleep.
“When he woke, Tom climbed out of the gorge to search for help. He came upon two stockmen from nearby Glenample station, whose owner, Hugo Gibson, made immediate arrangements to carry Eva back to the safety of the homestead”
I spent a while tracking down all the signs and getting as many angles of the area as I could.
I found the graves of local pioneers Hanora and William Henry Burt. I also found those of Loch Ard victims Arthur Mitchell and Reginald Jones; Dr Evory, Mrs Rebecca, Rebecca (Raby), Margaret (Meta), Annie, Evory Jr, and Thomas Carmichael. A memorial listed the names of all the victims, crew and passenger.
The Island Arch that sat in the mouth of the gorge, collapsed in 2009. The island’s two remnants were renamed Tom and Eva, for reasons you can guess.
By now it was 11:00 and getting hot, so I moved on. By probably 12:45 I was in Port Campbell.
I had planned to do the Discovery Walk in the afternoon, but I think I just stooged around town. I remember nothing at all from that afternoon. I had a meal at Waves, and I only know that because it turned up on my credit card. I hope I enjoyed it! I had laundry pencilled in as a chore; I probably managed that.
I was slow out of the gate in the morning, about 7:00, passing the scenic viewpoint about 7:30. I walked more or less straight out and by 8:40 I was at The Arch, whose spectacular stand against the waves did not hold me long.
By 9:10 I was at London Bridge. My first sight of this sadly diminished landmark.
The Grotto, at 10:00. I climbed down into it, took pictures through the arch, and walked on. In 2006, I saved myself the climb.
By 10:45 I had Peterborough (38°36'45.2"S 142°59'50.6"E) in sight.
And then ... the wheels fell off. Peterborough was full, not even a tentsite to be had. The best offer I had was at the second caravan park, west of town, where a caravan might become available after 1500 if a booking was a no-show. It wasn’t a good enough option to tempt me to hang around.
Somehow it did not occur to me to hang around til evening, walk a short distance out of town, and hunker down in my tent behind a bush. Nothing could have been easier. I could do my planned itinerary, check out the caravan park at 15:00, and still sleep here. On the dreary ride back to Melbourne that night, I resolved to use the roadside tent option if it ever happened to me again.
I was already out of town by now, so I just went back down to the Great Ocean Road and stuck my thumb out. About a dozen cars went past before one stopped, but the traffic was so steady that this translated to less than ten minutes.
They were going to Warrnambool, which was perfect. In fact they were going on to Melbourne and offered to take me, but I decided not to impose on their hospitality, telling them to just drop me off at the railway station. It was Sunday, but I figured there’d at least be an evening train to cater for weekenders going home. If there wasn’t, well, they dropped me off by the station at about 13:15 so there would be plenty of time to go looking for vacancies.
There was a train, around five-ish.
19:42 Approaching Melbourne.
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Everything may be walking distance, if you have the time. Alas, in 2003, time was not the problem.
