Land of Miracles

by Lynn Hurton

What exactly can I say about a country that I have just visited for the fourth time in my life? It is a magical land; so much has been untouched by the majority of humans. One finds so many species that one can experience nowhere else. The beauty and yet desolation of the place is immense and one leaves uplifted, but also with a sense of awe at its vastness and its majesty.

I travelled by train and plane for the most part. A rail pass can be a good idea as long as one does not mind sleeping upright and one chances one's arm about just who will share one's carriage or even sit next to one. There is no such luxury of a double seat to oneself, on the whole, apart from when there has been an administrative error, or when one moves for one's safety/peace of mind. One can meet many fascinating characters and have some amazing conversations. Many vignettes of conversation are long remembered for a myriad of reasons, as are the times when one has bitten one's tongue rather than have a strong political argument with very determined characters. Discussions are one thing, but sometimes it is easier to agree or simply to nod one's head sagely. Keeping the peace at all, or almost all, costs can be vital when one is to spend 30+ hours seated next to someone.

Victoria was in the throes of quite a bad winter, but still with minimal rain, so their severe drought continued. Having the reservoirs just over 30% full in the middle of winter is not a good sign. However, I still enjoyed the time I spent in that State and the activities I undertook.

I saw the magnificent Healesville Animal Sanctuary, even visiting its hospital and meeting a koala who was afraid of heights and therefore wouldn't climb trees. It took a whole day to see everything there and I loved the experience in spite of the torrential rain. Despite the drought I still saw some incredible waterfalls, including my favourite at a remote spot called Snob's Creek! I tasted some fascinating wines in the Yarra Valley (all the better for me not being the car driver) and even brought a bottle of one type home to the UK in my suitcase.

I stayed at the eerily beautiful Black Spur Inn at Narbethong in the middle of the Black Spur region, awakening to find frost and ice enveloping almost everything. The rooms were spacious and the beds the comfiest I have ever experienced. The only snag was the poor lighting upstairs and the hidden step. For once it was not me who tripped over and went flying, but... Then there was the Eildon Dam which emerged out of the mist, seeming the loneliest place on earth and the very slippery walk at Steavenson's Falls, not to mention the shady occupants of an old white banger at Maroondah Dam.

In Melbourne itself I perused an excellent Art-Deco exhibition, saw the musical Guys and Dolls and the play Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, went to the cinema (an excellent way to cope with jetlag, particularly when viewing the film Mamma Mia), visited museums, art galleries, the State Library and even the Old Melbourne Gaol (one can see parts of Ned Kelly's armour and exhibits in the latter two) and travelled at will up, down and around the CBD on its extensive tram network. Trams run through virtually all the central streets and some inner suburbs, are normally frequent and are relatively inexpensive. They are also very well frequented. Melbournians definitely know when they are on to a good thing!

A walk along a deserted beach is a must and beaches really do abound around the city suburbs and down both the Mornington Peninsula and the Great Ocean Road. To have a beach all to oneself on a bright, clear winter's day is totally exhilarating. One can rarely do that on England's crowded shores!

I hadn't been to an Aussie Rules Football Game for six years and "my" team Richmond's season really was in the doldrums, so a return visit to the MCG (Melbourne Cricket Ground) was a must. I was also able to enjoy a hot chocolate (a necessity on a cold winter's day), a pie at half time, a tour of the MCG museum with its homage to The Don (Sir Donald Bradman, the world's greatest ever batsman) and a tour of the new Museum of Australian Sport. The latter employed a plethora of enthusiastic guides who were only too happy to regale one with stories of Aussie sporting achievements and prowess.

However, my Melbourne highlight just had to be my lunch aboard the Melbourne Colonial Tramcar. Imagine riding the rails in a lovely old heated tram for over two hours and having a delicious three course lunch, accompanied by copious amounts of wine, good company, excellent music and waiters who actually believe they can sing as they give a superb first-class service. Sadly they couldn't (sing!) but that didn't stop them from trying, or adding to the general ambiance of merriment. The Aussies know how to enjoy their food in style.

They call Adelaide the city of culture. They are neither boasting nor joking. It really is! I managed to see four movies in three days in the Art House Nova and Palace Eastend Cinemas. For once only one of those wasn't in English...I'd decided to leave foreign languages behind for a few weeks. I also frequented museums and churches galore, walked at will (particularly around the Botanical Gardens and down the Torrens River), explored the underrated St Peter's Cathedral, paid homage to the Don at the Adelaide Oval and so much more.

 Also, on Adelaide's wettest day of the winter, I and eight other intrepid explorers of various nationalities ventured on a Prime Mini Tours Day Trip to Hahndorf and Victor Harbour. The view of Adelaide from the Mount Lofty Summit was very poor thanks to the rain, but the weather cleared from Hahndorf onwards (in spite of torrential rain in Adelaide all day) and I had a memorable experience. Hahndorf is Australia's oldest original non-English "modern" settlement. It was established in 1839 by a small group of German- speaking Lutherans, fleeing religious persecution in Eastern Europe. The 52 families sailed to South Australia on a tiny ship captained by the Dane Dirk Hahn. He helped the settlers to such an extent that they named their village in his honour.

Hahndorf soon became the food bowl of Adelaide and developed a renowned artistic heritage as both the museum and art galleries will testify. Many of the original settlers' traditional German timber and brick cottages still abound.

I took a brilliant 30 minute steam train ride on the Cockle Train from Goolwa to Victor Harbour, and viewed a picturesque mixture of beach, ocean and hills in very close proximity. Victor Harbour itself did not disappoint either. After a bracing walk to and from Granite Island I really did appreciate the fish and chips on offer. I then visited the Encounter Coast Discovery Centre and receiving a unique insight into that idyllic part of South Australia. No trip into that region would be complete without a wine tasting. Hardy's Tintara Winery in McLaren Vale provided the perfect end to a perfect day.

By contrast, my two and a half days in Brisbane were not exactly the highlight of the holiday, to put it mildly. Brisbane is normally dry and warm. It was very wet, very windy and very cold. I had to splurge on a taxi in order to reach my motel in a reasonable state. That was after I had finally located my luggage at Brisbane airport. There really was a dearth of signs at that place.

The lady at the motel reception reminded me of a fierce, bad-tempered old school ma'am. She barked out endless rules and regulations, most of which went in one ear and out of the other almost as fast as the speed of light (or so it seemed). The motel turned out to be noisy both inside and out. A fellow guest decided to put on his TV full blast at 5.30am daily and leave it on and on and on. It did go off by 10pm, but I could not watch a different channel as it was ear-shattering.

The room itself was squat and had huge, dark brown furniture in abundance. One could have suffered from very severe claustrophobia in that place, not to mention insomnia, deafness, high blood pressure...I had horrendous nightmares when I finally did sleep, including those of collapsing wardrobes and of being chased by one-eyed teddy bears!

When I did venture out to explore Brisbane, the heavens opened once more. I will only return when hell freezes over. I would not have wished my experience upon anyone (especially the teenage illegal rave in a disused city centre building). I did enjoy the Botanical Gardens until I became completely lost and came across a dead end covered by barbed wire. The river was a putrid brown colour and the Brisbane South Bank, its supposed cultural Mecca, was a concrete jungle, modelled on its London namesake. It had a few points of interest, including a very extensive Sidney Nolan exhibition, but I would not have felt that I had missed anything had I never been there.

Cairns was a complete contrast and a truly memorable four days. It provided the base for forays into the Daintree Rain Forest (the world's oldest rain forest) where I could see a completely different way of life and unique flora and fauna: bathing in an isolated creek, seeing crocodiles at close quarters, sighting the elusive southern cassowary, spotting a frog that even our guide had never seen before and then hand feeding rescue kangaroos and wallabies.

 Kuranda, by contrast, was a tourist trap where even the Sky Rail and the Scenic Railway could not entirely wipe out my disappointment. It was a town at the edge of the rainforest...too close to civilisation for its own good, and it was principally full of second rate art, for the most part, and of tourist tat. Prices were unnaturally high and the town's only saving grace had to be St Saviour's Church. That was a beautiful oasis of calm amongst a main street heaving with day trippers intent on experiencing their notion of what construed the "rainforest".

Retirees love Cairns and many over-50s head north from Sydney, Adelaide and Melbourne to escape what they consider to be the "cold" winter further south. All I can say is that everything is relative! It was an experience and I loved its airport (smaller and more personal that its larger brothers) but, having been there, I would never return, no matter how pleasant the experience.

Sydney was its usual busy, uncaring self. For me it is always on the way to somewhere else, but I loved my four days there, especially a return cinema visit to reacquaint myself with Mamma Mia. I did the entire tourist route too, including the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge. One Sydney highlight was the musical Billy Elliot, a long way from Geordie land or the West End, but fascinating nevertheless. Another was a lunchtime cathedral concert of the combined Australian Army and NSW Police Bands, conducted by a Scot (we British get everywhere). Sydney is cosmopolitan, big and brash.

I travelled on a train that I thought would never arrive, I had a 4.30am fire alarm about which the hotel staff appeared clueless, I met real Aussie "bushies" as well as a woman-hating ex-jailbird who had been released that morning. I experienced such a variety of life in all its senses, travelled the length of Australia's east coast (and quite a bit of its inland too), I sweltered, I shivered, I laughed, I cried, I gasped in awe and I swore in frustration. Australia is a rich land of marvels and also, at times, of frustrations. There is so much in that unique land that still remains undiscovered. One has the sense that almost anything can happen and, sometimes, it does. One feels privileged to witness this modern miracle. Even so...

 One wonders how much better things would have been had man not interfered in far too many ways. So many species would not have become extinct, or be in danger of becoming so, had non-native species not been introduced. Were rabbits, foxes, camels and cats really needed and, for that matter, did the Aboriginals ever need the white man to wreck their traditional homelands and ways of life? There is no magical solution in that area to right centuries of wrongs.

Saying "sorry" now is all very well, but the past can never be undone and the repercussions will continue into the very long term. Living in Western style cities on beautiful coasts, and closing one's mind to problems, is all very well, but it solves very little. Maybe some things can never be resolved? One can watch the film Ten Canoes and ponder how things were and how they might have been. One can reflect, but does man ever learn and, in any case, can one individual really make a difference?

 First published in VISA 83 (Feb 2009)