I CAN HEAR BELLS!

Leaving the Snowy River Rest Stop at 8am, I continued down the 107 to Marlo, a small little village, hoping to find fresh drinking water there. Well it may have been, but I didn’t find it!  And I’d driven down to the quiet, pretty little jetty area, where Wikimaps had said it was. Not that it was such a big deal. The day was young and I still had 6litres left. What I did find though, was where the Snowy became a wide flat river, escaping to the sea. Perfect for fishing, as the pelican perching high on the electricity pole above me, testified to. I said hello to him, in an attempt to win his favour and maybe a bit of local pelican gossip, but he was having none of it. One scathing look at me said it all. Female, no fishing rod, travels in a tin can= no fish. Useless. Then he turned his back to search the waters again for breakfast.

I was tempted to go and find the paddle steamer promised on the free information map I’d snavelled in Orbost, but it was still too early, so, I did my best to equally ignore Mr Pelican and headed for Cape Conran, instead. Now, yesterday I had expected to spend a morning in Marlo and no time at all in Cape Conran. It just didn’t appeal to me. But as I followed 107 still, I caught glimpses of the beautiful shallows and beaches of Marlo which then turned to seascrub and indigenous trees. It piqued my interest, so I turned off towards the West Beach.  You know, when you

are least expecting it, sometimes you find the most marvelous scenery. Cape Conran was my scenic revelation. The boulders that strew the beach there rose like some giant stepping stones from the earth. Flat, smooth, easily walked up, I ventured out to a safe rock by the jetty, breathing in the energizing ozone of the tumultuous sea. It was a perfect pick me up for a tired wanderer. Alas, I didn’t stay too long, though I would have loved to have climbed over the boulders to the curving beach beyond. But I was overtaken by a large jabbering, excited, flock, flapping their wings ecstatically at each other. The Japanese had landed! Cameras flashed everywhere. Polite bows were given and smiles passed on. I like the Japanese. It’s just that they travel in flocks.

dancing the wet away

But Cape Conran had whetted my appetite. And so on to the East beach. And another revelation. The two beaches could not have been more different! The magnificent stark landscape of theWest Beach and the lush foliage and wide sands, with its abundant wildlife, of the East Beach almost vied each other as to which was the most stunning. The East beach was much more tourist friendly, however, with clean drop toilets, picnic benches and … outdoor cold showers! As I looked more closely at the white sprays softly arching over the waters, I could tell why. Surfies! The East Beach was for

Showers at East Beach

swimming and surfing. And what a gorgeous place to do it. I stayed there for a while, even when the Japanese followed me. But I outlasted them this time, sitting on the log fence, fascinated by some small black birds swimming with their bodies underwater but their heads stuck up like sharp little periscopes, then standing on the seaweed there, dancing off the water on their wings. I think I rivaled the Japanese in taking photos that day.

Leaving the beaches I drove through the wonderful, dense rainforests of the Cape, only stopping to check that a road kill ( a wombat) was actually dead and had no young with it, till I reached Cann River. I think it is important that everyone who sees a road kill, or worse is involved in one, does check the victim. It’s terrible enough that there are so many on our roads now, by checking at least you may save a life. If you love Australia and value its’ nature and wildlife, this is a way to show it. Another way would be to put tweeters on the front of a car, as I have, to warn wildlife you are coming. Or just damn well SLOW DOWN! The life you save may be yours, or your children’s, or, yes, some poor undeserving wildlife. 

And so on to the A1 to Cann River. A lovely, friendly, little town, which offers petrol, toilets and fresh drinking water, in the taps at the sides of the well-kept park, as well as great cafes and shops. I would have stayed but it was PACKED.  Then I realized it was Australia Bank Holiday Monday! So aside from HAVING to grab an Aussie meat pie at the Speciality Pie Place there(Oh come on- it was a Bank Holiday), I kept going through the long stretch of wonderful

forests and Parks till I reached Genoa and my stay for the next three nights at the Old Caravan Park there. Just past the turn off for Mallacoota, on the A1, it sits quietly away from the highway amidst rolling green pastures, where cows lazily graze, and sunlight spreads across the distant hills. As I drove down to it I thought that the cows were actually wearing bells, as they did in Austria! But the tinkling, chiming notes that charmed my ears I later found were the Bellbirds which rested in the tall with gums there. There are, in fact, an abundance of bird varieties to see here.

Dusk at Genoa

This is an awesome place! I cannot say how great it is of the local townspeople to keep it going. A large free camping ground, with a shady, tree lined drive, it relies solely, on the honesty of its users for donations to help with the upkeep. This ensures the large, grassed areas, for caravans to park on, are mown and tidy, the toilets clean and the benches, tennis court and BBQs in good state. I definitely gave, as we all should. Places like this are few and far between and a haven for all travelers.

And so, fellow travelers, remember- Watch out for the Wombats!

The Grey Chihuahua