THE AUSTRALIAN TRAVELS OF A GREY CHIHUAHUA: FIRST DAY, LAST DAY

The first day was a strange day. Not so much a rollercoaster ride of emotions as one of softly undulating peaks and troughs reflecting changes in perception. It started out quite upbeat. Not the ‘Whoo Hoo- I’m finally off!’, I thought I might feel. Nor the ‘Oh God, what am I doing’ wrench to the gut. Just a ‘So this is it’, rather normal but pleasant enough feeling.

I’d just checked I had closed and cleaned everything in my rented property, and was wrapping up the power cable to my little Grey Chihuahua ( I decided to give my blog pseudonym to my mobile home, as really, she was the one doing all the hard work) for the last time, when the first peak appeared. I had met a lovely guy, Shane, who was the estate agent for the house,

whilst at Rye. Sometimes you meet someone that you connect with, someone that somehow is on the ‘same’ wavelength as you. Shane was one of those people. Creative and spiritual, but still living, quite sanely, in the real world. He had traveled a fair bit too, and learned a lot on his path in life. When we talked it was in the same language. He came to say goodbye and it was nice to know he considered me a friend, as I did him.

And so I left Rye for the last time. With no regrets, on leaving the beauty of the Mornington Peninsula behind, save one....

Rye Back Beach

Aquamarine surf.

Surf's up!. Great Surfing Beach.

All I could think of was Rye Back Beach. The friendly Milk Bar and few cafes, its long white sands and tumultuous aquamarine surf. And my feathered friends the seagulls. Who ate my chips and stole my heart, and perched on the rails surveying their stormy landscape with stoic familiarity.

The next stop was 75km away in Berwick, on my Niece Sarah and her husband Shanes’ farm. Sarah is gorgeous, inside and out. Another animal lover and a damn hard worker. Her father, my brother Brian, who had been my anchor and my safe haven here in Victoria, was there too. Brian is a big bear of a man. A huge 6ft 8inches tall and, in true Australian coloquialism, built like a brick shithouse. He’s outspoken to the point of rudeness, completely impoliticaly correct, and complains on every subject imaginable. And he has the biggest heart and softest soul of anyone I have ever met. (Though he would deny it with his dying breath!) He has never failed to make sure I am safe and happy almost every day for four years, since I returned to Australia. If he can’t get to see me, it’s usually with a phone call, which goes like. “Well, how are ya? Still sitting on yer arse? Well that’s good, don’t want to be doin too much at YOUR age! (I’m 12years younger than the bastard!). Well if you’re OK I’ll ring tommorra.” Down goes the phone.

Leaving him caught me unawares. Even though I know I’ll see him again, the trough was unexpectedly deep, as I drove away. And for some reason the landscape became part of that emptiness. I had always thought Sarah lived in a beautiful area, with the lush hills off Beaconsfield all around and the awesome Dandenong Ranges nearby, but I had never felt anything like the nostalgia I felt for them now. It was even sad to see the trees for the last time as I passed.

But as I hit the South Gippsland Highway, the trough slowly rose, not yet to a peak, but to some settled, easy place in between. The new landscapes were really old landscapes to me, as I had traveled them many times before. Yet the knowledge that I would not pass this way again for a while gave them new interest and new splendor. Gippsland has some truly magnificent scenery and abundant wildlife.

When I reached Foster (a very pretty little town and a big favorite of mine) I was happy to stop and walk through its’ lovely park and streets. The thing I have always found here is how friendly and helpful the people who run the Information Centre there are. And this was no exception. I wanted to get to Franklin River Rest Area, one of the few free camping areas left now Victoria Parks has seen fit to charge as much for their camping grounds as for a caravan park (but without the amenities!). I am sorry that Vic Parks has made these changes, because it is the little businesses in the towns like Foster that will suffer most. And the caravan parks will not see a great increase in visitors either, because people just can’t afford $30 to $50 per night on a regular basis.

Whereas people who were using the free campsites would use the bakeries, the supermarkets, the café and gift shops in the little towns at least. But the woman behind the information desk was friendly and warm. It was just 10min away, on the way to Toora, she told me, showing me on the map first then giving me all the maps to get there. It’s people like this that you remember places by.