After a couple of days chilling in Torquay we hit the road again, passing through nearby Anglesea on the way to our next stop – Airey's Inlet. Barely village sized, it still boasts a beautiful stretch of coastline with sandstone cliffs and sandy beaches. To say it was quiet would be something of an understatement, the major point of interest being the undeniably picturesque Split Point Lighthouse - The White Lady. The only thing that could possibly disturb the perfect peace here would be the marauding gangs of cockateils and squawking galahs that appeared to be as prevalent as they were in Torquay.
After our brief stay in Airey's Inlet, we were soon on our way to Lorne, a popular summer holiday destination for the Aussies and alleged to be pretty hip and sophisticated too.
The campsite was found was in a beautiful spot and we snagged a top berth by the Erskine River. Wandering down the ocean facing main street proved that the town was indeed stylish and trendy with coffee shops and boutiques lining the street.
By now though, we'd had more than enough window shopping and set out on a bush walk from the campsite up to Erskine Falls, a local beautyspot. Unsure of the location of the trail head we asked a local looking guy for directions and he seemed bemused that we'd want to tramp for four hours through the bush (round trip) when there was a perfectly good road that would see us there in about 20 minutes!
We hiked through pretty woodland past Splitter Falls and on to the Erskine Falls themselves. We could tell we were getting close as we passed more and more people, all looking freshly laundered, going in the opposite direction - the people would taken the road option obviously.
Just before reaching the falls, the river (more like a stream really), opened out into a cool, shady pool where we could see something splashing about in the water. Obviously a bit of a showman, the platypus had drawn a small crowd of walkers and didn't seem the least bit bothered by our presence.
After watching the platypus for a while, we carried on to the falls where the recent drought had reduced the usual cascade to a trickle. After some lunch (by now we'd developed a near mania for hoummus and Turkish bread) we set off on the return leg of the loop.
We wound our way through coarse, fern-laden bush, following the course of a stream which would eventually lead us to the ocean just north of town. The walk was pleasant but unexciting, past Phantom Falls and along a rough dirt road until we passed through an orchard and found ourselves on a path next to a large, dark and deep pool.
I froze in absolute terror as there, loosely coiled and basking in the golden warmth or the afternoon sun was a large copper coloured snake. Of course, we'd seen a few snakes by now and were well aware that they were probably more frightened of us as we were of them so I knew exactly what I had to do... of course all this was forgotten in an instant when I saw the back of its head flare out in classic defence mode. Without hesitating, I began to backpedal furiously, nearly knocking Alex over and shouting "Back, BACK" at increasing volume and pitch as the snake panicked too and slithered off at a rate of knots in the opposite direction. The fear was so bad it made my knees ache and I'm not too ashamed to say I needed the emotional support of a 'snake stick' to help me get back to town!
After all the excitement of our snake encounter, the next day say us have an animal encounter of a far more warm and fuzzy kind. We left Lorne behind and hit the Great Ocean Road proper where the narrow highway wound its way along the coast, often with spectacular ocean views on one side and impressive sandstone cliffs on the other.
We stopped off for lunch at Kennet River, chomping on that day’s hoummus fix and watching the local surfers riding the point break. When we hit the highway again, we soon came to a bend in the road which was flanked by eucalyptus trees. This was where we had our fuzzy encounter. We stopped the van in a layby and expectantly scanned the trees. Suddenly, high in a fork was the unmistakable inert grey frizz of a sleeping koala – our first in the wild! We were so thrilled that it took us some time to notice he wasn’t alone. Spread out throughout the eucalyptus grove were at least half a dozen others, one or two even stared back in a disinterested and slightly anaesthetised way as they half-heartedly chewed on a leaf.
We hung around for a while and when it became obvious that entertaining us with anything other than chewing wouldn’t be on that afternoon’s agenda, we set off for our next destination - the grandly named Apollo Bay.
On the road to Apollo Bay we stopped off to wander around the Maits Rest rainforest boardwalk. Despite taking only 20 minutes to complete the circuit it was like stepping back in time many thousands of years. Giant trees swathed in moss and ferns rose up mightily from the damp decay of the forest floor, their high branches forming a canopy which shut out the light and created an eerie atmosphere.
Back on the road, we spotted a grey, fuzzy lump in the distance. We slowed and our gaze was met by the unblinking and befuddled stare of a large koala. Relaxing at the side of the road, he looked on as car after car slowed down to see what all the fuss was about. Unmoved, his blow-dried tufty ears twitching occasionally, he stared impassively back, with an expression that suggested that he was trying to fathom why the strange pink creatures kept stopping directly opposite where he was sat.
Apollo Bay turned out to be a groovy looking place but we only had time for a one night stop at the Pisces Caravan Park, which was nicely situated up a hill near the beach so we had an undisturbed view of the ocean from our pitch.
A night in the caravan park was necessary to break up the journey and we left early next morning, excited to be heading towards what for many is the epitome of the Great Ocean Road experience – The Twelve Apostles.
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