We had been tempted to visit Harrietville whilst 'Eastering' in Porepunkah, but just didn't get around to it. Today was the day. This small, predominately tourist town, lies at the end of the 'valley' section of the Great Alpine Road some 25 kms beyond Bright, at the foot of Mount Feathertop and Mount Hotham.
Beyond Harrietville the highway climbs steeply up into the high country mountains, past Hotham Heights and through the Dargo High Plains, on to the ski resort of Dinner Plain and thence to Omeo where the Great Alpine Road ends. From here the Omeo Highway descends the 100 kms or so south to the coastal plains of Bairnsdale and Lakes Entrance.
Our journey to Harrietville took us out through the Ovens Valley, and although we had traversed the stretch of blacktop on several occasions, I had been waiting for the trees to change colour before snapping away. And by now they had. It is time to share some of what we saw along this road.
As we pulled out of Myrtleford, the first thing you will note is that again this was a day when the atmosphere was marred by smoke. I had checked the wind direction and the announced location of the burns, and calculated that Harrietville should be smoke free...we shall see.
But at least at ground level the trees were doing their best to make up for what was going on above them.
But at least at ground level the trees were doing their best to make up for what was going on above them.
Just out of Myrtleford stands the quaint little 'Lupos' cafe. In any other part of the country this tin shed would look completely out of character, but here, its design in the shape of a tobacco drying kiln is entirely appropriate. I can only trust that the quality of the goodies sold is as smart as the concept of the building....we did not stop here other than to snap it.
A little further down the Great Alpine Road, in the tiny hamlet of Ovens, the Happy Valley Hotel presents a far more traditional picture, but we'll stop and take a closer look at this on the return journey.
As I have mentioned before, this entire valley floor, where the soil and climate are both ideal, was once home to never ending tobacco plantations. These have now all gone, but the 'ghosts' of the industry remain dotted throughout the fields along the highway.
The unique shape of the drying kilns can be seen time and time again on the narrow plains between the mountains throughout this entire area, even through the enveloping smoke.
As I have also noted previously, fortunately the conditions in which tobacco thrives is equally suited to many forms of agriculture and horticulture. That essential ingredient for a good brew, hops, does particularly well.
We had already celebrated the 'hops festival' some weeks ago in Beechworth, but now we were driving past a number of fields in which the now empty hop trellises were standing in readiness to support next season's crop.
As a quick aside, whilst on the subject of hops, I should mention that although the plant climbs vigorously up the support trellises, all of which are held upright by a series of overhead cross wires (this is what growing hops plants look like....thanks to 'pinterst.com')
it is only the flower of the plant which is used in beer production to provide flavour and stability. And in a final note about hops, the grounds on which they are grown have different names, depending on where they are located, including hop fields, hop gardens and hop yards. Why? I have no idea!
Moving on from a subject quite dear to my heart, let's return to another..... more splashes of autumn colour as we continue along the highway past the hop garden.
In many spots along the highway the 'Murray to Mountains Rail Trail' runs parallel to the road. This 100 km long cycle track extends from Wangarrata to Bright. It is a real feature of this area and draws thousands of passionate peddlers to the region. Some traverse its entire length, but many, such as those we saw occupying cabins in the Ardern's Caravan Park in Myrtleford, base in a town like that and ride sections of the trail on a daily basis.
Apart from the hops, nuts, berries and fruit which have replaced tobacco in the Ovens Valley, cattle, both beef and dairy, thrive here (the dots in the mid shot are beef cattle...take my word for it!)
This will be the last shot of a tobacco kiln, I promise. I couldn't resist this pair, standing high over the surrounding tin buildings with the backdrop of a steep mountain slope and a few colouring trees.....how 'Ovens Valley' this is!
From the old to the new....tobacco to wine. The praises of the cellar door and restaurant of the Feathertop winery are sung far and wide in all the relevant tourist blurb. As we approached Porepunkah, the entrance gates to this James Halliday awarded 5 star winery (2014) beckoned (complete with white, not pink clouds!!)
Up the driveway we ventured, past the surrounding vines, curious to see what all the fuss is about.
We were not here to either dine or sample the treats behind the cellar door. Our quest was confined to capturing the views, and from the vantage point of the car park we were not disappointed.
I have to say this is a stunning establishment. The iron structure of the cellar door is
complemented by, and stands in complete contrast to, the stone and wrought iron charm of the restaurant/cafe.
Here diners have the choice of venue....indoors,
al fresco on the open balcony, or
snacking away in the open garden area.
And at this time of the year this can all be done whilst gazing out over the vines and the autumn trees, all against the backdrop of the mountains and Mount Buffalo.
This is one instance when I can say that the promotional praise is matched by reality as far as the venue and views are concerned. I cannot comment on the wines on offer, and as far as the food goes, we would have to save for a fortnight to be able to afford a good nosh here (which came as no surprise). We had already worked out from what we had seen and heard, that many folk come to the Bright area (in particular) for a week or two of complete indulgence....and they clearly have deep pockets.
So for us of more modest means, we were happy to revel in the delights of nature. Stands of high poplar trees are common, not only along the Great Alpine Road, but throughout both the Victorian high country and many of the grazing plains of southern New South Wales (as we discovered later) These were yet to display their autumn splendour,
but this was not the case with this magnificent tree which we found
amongst others hiding along the front of the Mount Buffalo Motel, a hostelry, which like most others in this region was displaying a 'no vacancy' sign.
We had reached familiar territory, the outskirts of Porepunkah, where to my delight, many of the large trees of this area were beginning to show off.
What a change from the constant green foliage of our Easter stay.
I just had to take the risk of a quick stop on Hoopers Bridge to marvel at the difference along the Ovens River reserve.....what a picture!
And this was only the beginning. We did travel on through Bright to reach the Harrietville turn-off, but did not stop or take photos....that is for another day.
With Bright behind us, off we went along the valley floor towards Harrietville until this sight stirred my memory from my skiing days all those years ago.....could this be the very top of Mount Feathertop? It is. Not far to go now.
On this occasion my recollections were correct. In no time we were driving under this avenue of trees
on the approach to the very small Harrietville 'CBD'.
Joy, oh joy! My projections proved correct.....there was not a smudge of smoke in the sky. We were in need of a long walk, and Harrietville was to provide the perfect venue.
Before deciding where to park we drove out through the far end of the town, where we checked out the local caravan park and the turn off which heralded the beginning of the climb up to Hotham Heights. Whilst doing this we came across what has to be the absolute epitome of 'the old slab hut'. We could but wonder about the stories of hardship and endeavour these walls could tell.
With this taste of Harrietville history fresh in our minds, we parked at what appeared to be the southern end of the 'main street' (which is actually the highway)
and took off along the well defined and maintained walking track towards the 'business end' of town.
One of the first things we had noticed on arrival here is that there is no defined ribbon of commercial and residential buildings lining the highway through town....open fields intersperse throughout, some with old homes nestled amongst the one constant of this area.....large trees. In absolute contrast to the somewhat ramshackle appearance of this group of buildings,
on the opposite side of the road, is the very well maintained Avalon House. This original mine manger's home, circa 1895, now offers visitors varying styles and standards of accommodation ranging from luxury spa suites to bunk rooms.
Tourism is a current mainstay of the local economy, evidenced by the percentage of buildings which are devoted to providing either lodgings or food. The 'Icecreamery Cafe' was having problems with the predations of the ubiquitous European wasps which were still marauding far and wide through the high country.
Their solution.....dark shade cloth draped around the tables....the perfect wasp screen. This may not have done much for the general ambiance, but it was a street better than sharing an ice cream with a wasp, and the level of patronage seemed to be fine.
Just beyond this testament to commercial ingenuity, we came to Pioneer Park where the metal scoops surrounding the rather odd looking cairn were instantly recognisable as gold dredge buckets. After all, we had been to El Dorado, but as I'll explain shortly, the monster which is the El Dorado dredge is a minnow compared to that which plundered the earth here at Harrietville.
This, of course, presents the perfect segway into a quick discourse on Harrietville's development, which, like just about all other towns along the Ovens and Buckland Valleys, was based on gold. Settled in 1852, at first alluvial gold was taken from the river bed by some 2,500 miners, 98% of whom were Chinese. When this ran out most of the Chinese left the area, but mining continued unabated, firstly underground when deep shafts were sunk to access the reefs, and and finally, with the use of a massive dredge, the Tronoh Monster.
This dredge was truly gigantic and deserved its title as the largest in the Southern Hemisphere. It measured 167 metres long, weighed 4,813 tonnes, and could dredge to a depth of approximately 41 metres. It was built by Thompsons of Castlemaine, and an electricity line to power the plant was installed from Bright. Construction costs totalled 380,000 pounds. The Tronoh dredge commenced operations in 1942 and ceased work in 1954. In 1955 it was dismantled, sold and shipped to Malaya where it was used for tin mining. The huge hole left by the rapacious clawing and gouging of this leviathan is now a tourist attraction in its own right.
The mining history of Harrietville is acknowledged by this stone cairn. As I gazed at it I assumed the various layers had some significance.
They do, as is explained on the blue plaque on the face of the stone. Well, now we know!
The representation of the activities of those who panned the streams and rivers was much more easily understood. As we crossed the Oven River via this park swing bridge
and looked back, the statue of the miners on the bank was more than lifelike. What a setting this is for such an acknowledgement of the efforts of those who first settled here.
We made our way along the path which took us past the road bridge and back on to the main highway
and soon came to the Harrietville Hotel/Motel, or at least at first to the section which is home to the Redgum Bar and Grill.
A little further down the road and the remainder of this relatively modern complex came into view.
So far so good....nothing unusual here in a tourist town, or is there? When, dear reader, did you last munch on a tasty jaffle? And dare I ask if any are prepared to admit they don't know what a jaffle is? I was tickled pink and instantly transported back to days and nights of camp fires and the peculiar, long handled implement with which these marvellous toasted meals were made. I was almost tempted to see what was on offer here, but time was of the essence and we moved on.
We continued our march along the walking trail
which continues for over a kilometre to the northern end of the town.
We passed many delightful homes, some contemporary
others exuding old world grace and charm. Some, like this one, were right on the highway
whilst others stood in serene solitude, surrounded by swathes of sward between them and the road.
And there are the commercial ventures.
At first we could not make sense of this distant display of colour. As we walked on all became clear. From what we had seen to date and were to experience later, I suspect that any who move to, and live in, this district are expected to plant 'landscape' trees almost as a service to the community as much as for their own personal pleasure.
This would seem to be a good time to buy....the type of colour is assured, and there was certainly much from which to chose.
We had colour of our own as we continued on our merry way to the far end of the path.
Our return ramble took us past what really must be considered a typical Harrietville scene....a set of snow skis complete with boots standing on the front porch of an old timber cottage.
I was almost tempted to ignore the buildings of the Harrietville primary school, until the 150 anniversary sign alerted me to the fact that this was a venerable institution, to say the least.
Imagine the garb of the tots lining up here in answer to the stern summons of the morning school bell in 1866, and the curriculum they would have been presented.
On past the school and the hotel we roamed to cross the Ovens River again, this time on the road bridge.
As we walked on the opposite side of the road back towards the Cruiser, we passed yet another example of Harrietville visitor accommodation,
one clearly geared to cater for the snow season, if this sign at the entrance is anything to go by.
With this leafy carpet beneath our feet we continued on past Avalon House,
and came to what look a bit like a 'common' towards the rear of which was what turned out to be the Harrietville Community Hall. This building looked almost incongruous in its setting particularly when compared to
the magnificent home next to it (this is the side not the front!), but it obviously serves its purpose, not least of which is as the refuge point in times of raging bush fires.
A hedge of beautiful camellias caught my eye as we made our way across the flat ground towards the river flowing past the rear of the town.
Here we were greeted by a scene of utter tranquillity. The only movements were those of the leaves fluttering down with each gust of breeze and the gentle flow of the water as it gurgled over the rocky bottom of the stream.
The upstream picture was similar,
although looking at the bank below where Lizzie is standing, the cut away steep edge on the bend is clear evidence of the fact that during the spate this is anything but the tranquil brook we were enjoying today.
As we wandered back to the Cruiser we were treated to one last splash of Harrietville colour before we rather reluctantly motored out of town.
From what we had seen in our brief visit we had no difficulty understanding why we had noted so many caravans making their way to the local park, nor why this is a popular base for those who do not wish to live above the snow line whilst skiing. Harrietville just oozes charm and tranquillity.
We had one more stop to make on the way back to Myrtleford.....the local trout farm. Apart from the fact they are fun to catch (especially when casting into a stocked pond where success is assured) I have a cracker recipe for 'trout almondine'. It was time for a gourmet meal...from pond to plate inside five hours was the plan!
I drove across the access bridge with a real sense of anticipation, only to find........
bummer...closed. But why? Read the fine print, Marshie, in the yellow bit. Sure enough...closed Tuesdays and Wednesdays and it was a Wednesday. What made matters worse was that my immediate argument that the money we saved here could now be used for a visit to the Buffalo pub this evening fell on deaf treasury ears! Stymied at every turn!
But thing did look up when, a little later down the highway, I was able to capture this scene. This really is the Ovens Valley in a frame.
And to complete today's jaunt, as we again drove through Ovens, the welcome mat was out. For the entire time of our visit to date, the Happy Valley Hotel had been closed for renovations. At last we were to be able to see what had been done. Needless to say, the offer of free beer had been added to the opening sign by one of the local wags who was making merry in the front bar. I was not silly enough to ask for one.
What a great job the publicans have done with this iconic Ovens Valley pub, which first opened its doors in the late 1800's. The front bar was fairly rocking, I can tell you, notwithstanding the presence of two rather burly members of the local constabulary, here I suspect for two reasons, one to see the end result out of sheer curiosity, and two, to provide a precautionary presence for any who may have been contemplating a drive home after the festivities.
I didn't photograph the bar activities for obvious reasons, but happily accepted the owner's invitation to wander at large elsewhere, firstly down the entrance hall, off which I came to
this genuinely old fashioned 'snug'. What a venue for a foaming Guinness or two in front of the fire on a freezing alpine evening.
The two dining areas have been refurbished with equal verve, one old style,
and the other reflecting a more modern theme.
And for the warmer times of the year, an expansive beer garden provides just the spot.
This pub features quite heavily in much of the Myrtleford tourist information material. Both the publicans were a touch nervous about the way in which the forthcoming evening meal, the first they were to present in this refurbished venue, would be accepted. The staff was new and some of the systems were still in 'shakedown' mode. I was happy to reassure them that if the food was anything as good as the 'renno', they would be a shoe in.
So, all that now remains of our second Myrtleford sojourn is to finally face the crowds of Bright, or more to the point, sortie around the town in a quest for a final feast of autumn leaves. Dare we hope for a day without smoke?
Great article.
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