The skies were overcast and our hearts were heavy, but it was time to go. We had chosen a Victorian public holiday Monday to make our way north out of the city.
As took in our last glimpse of the waters of Port Phillip Bay on our approach into Frankston,
and found our way onto the broad highway expanses of the M3 Eastlink tollway, the wisdom of this decision became apparent. In the several times I had driven this route, or one closely parallel, I had never seen it so devoid of traffic. This made travelling very pleasant.
On we went a a steady 90 kms along the M3
until we reached our turn off at the Ringwood junction. We were heading for the Maroondah Highway
which would take us through the outer suburb of Lilydale and on up into the Yarra Valley (well that was the plan).
It succeeded. We were soon well on our way through the last of suburbia with the rather threatening skies over the ridge of the Yarra Ranges in front of us.
"Yea, verily I say unto thee...that is your immediate destination". (sorry...feeling a bit frivolous this morning)
It was soon obvious we were in wine country but visits to cellar doors were not on this morning's agenda.
We were not far into the Yarra Valley proper, when this strange looking trailer appeared in our windscreen. What on earth is that, we wondered? And then we took a more informed look to discern a wicker basket with the gas burners on the frame above it. We were trailing the passenger end of a hot air balloon, a pastime much practised here in the Yarra Valley (not that it would have been much fun in today's gloom)
Gloomy indeed it was as we continued on through the heavily forested region which is the Kinglake National Park. Surely this murky nonsense will end soon.
It did. Things brightened considerably as we made our way over the ridges and into the flatter land on the way to Yea. Here we began to run into what became an almost constant stream of traffic heading back towards Melbourne. We presumed they were folk returning home early at the end of the long weekend holiday.
As we drove into
and out of Yea we recognised this as just the sort of pretty little town in which we would call a halt if in mere gypsy mode, but today we had a pre-set destination, and this was not it.
With another 45 kms of the highway behind us we descended into the bustling town of Seymour
with its leafy streets and many reminders (an old Leopard tank and the shell of a Huey helicopter, to name two we saw) of its connection with the military. This is entirely understandable.....the Australian Army training base at Pukapunyal, made so famous (infamous?) during the Vietnam War as the first port of call for conscripted soldiers (I won't bore you again with my views about conscription) is a mere 10 kms to the west.
Our passage through Seymour marked a real change in our journey north. Just beyond the outskirts of the town the blue highway signs ahead of us heralded
our imminent entry onto the Hume Highway, that two laned ribbon which stretches between Melbourne and Sydney. It was to be ours for the next 50 kms or so
until we turned off and made our way in along the by-pass road to Euroa.
As we were soon to discover, Euroa is not a large town, and we had little trouble finding the entrance to the Euroa Caravan and Holiday Park where we planned to lay our heads this evening.
When Liz had booked she had been warned that a requested drive-thu may not be available, although she did receive the promise that, "I'll make sure I get you in somewhere, love". Apparently this park had been host to a myriad of visitors who descended on the normally sleepy township for a significant tennis tournament. Many apparently leave late.
We did, therefore, approach the entrance with a little trepidation, soon found to our delight that the masses had departed and a large, grassed drive-thu spot was all ours. No need to unhitch...marvellous.
This is indeed a pretty (and surprisingly extensive) park, which is actually bisected by the muddy waters of the Sevens Creek
with the two areas connected by a small but pretty important bridge (particularly from the point of view of those on this side of the park who wish to access the heads).
Speaking of which, the amenities block here is large, is reasonably well appointed and was close to our site, but unfortunately, to our annoyance, (and it is one of our long held pet park peeves) the flow from the shower head was but a dribble. I know water restrictions are in force, but these so called showers are anything but.
At the far end of the amenities building is a more than adequate camp kitchen
and an outdoors BBQ area, again well set up with good appliances.
All the park roadways are well sealed against dust, and the cabins area is neat and tidy.
It is such a shame about the showers, because the park itself is delightful. Plenty of grass and shade, and a very practical outdoor undercover setting in which largeish groups can gather for happy hour.
And from what we were told by a very miffed fellow camper, we had arrived not a moment too soon. Apparently the 'tennis crowd' who had taken over almost the entire park for most of the long weekend, had in tow gaggles of rowdy and unsupervised children who ran amok all day until very late into the evening. From what he said, site boundaries were irrelevant to these ratbags as was any form of adherence to the normal noise and behaviour rules. He was right.....we were very pleased we had avoided that nonsense.
For us, The Euroa Caravan and Holiday Park presented as a very pleasant, pretty and peaceful place, where we did enjoy our overnight stay (once clean). We had arrived in plenty of time to take a quick gallop around the town during the afternoon which I'll share with you in the next episode.
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