THE 'C's HAVE IT - CASTERTON TO COLAC - AND SOME REAL SURPRISES (7 OCTOBER 2017)

Today's journey of just under 250 kms across lower central Victoria, south of the Grampians,  provided us with another reminder of just how much there is to see and do in this wonderful country our ours. 

Initially the Glenelg Highway (Casterton to Hamilton) and thence the Hamilton Highway (Hamilton to Mortlake) took us south-east through beautiful grazing country before we joined the Princes Highway near Terang and found ourselves in the land of 'lakes and craters' as we made our way further east to the quite large southern Victorian town of Colac for our second overnight.

We had tossed up.....Camperdown or Colac? Obviously Colac won out, for two reasons. Firstly it meant that our third day into and through Melbourne would not be too far, but more importantly, our research indicated that there is much to see and do around Camperdown. For me there is nothing worse than arriving a little jaded into a new town and then feeling pressure to get out and about immediately and take in as much as possible in the limited time available.  When we drove through Camperdown, I felt smugly satisfied that we had made the right decision.

So let's get on with it, out bright and early into Casterton's main street, where we caught a passing glimpse of some of its grand old buildings (we plan a re-run through here at a far more leisurely pace in the future)

before we headed out 

for the hill climb hill at the far end of town.

As we had discovered on our arrival, Casterton nestles deep in a hollow in the surrounding hills, and a quick stop at a lookout point atop the range just east of the town provided us with confirmation of just that. 

With the flocks of sheep a mass of white spots across the lush green pastures and the buildings of the town just beginning to show up in the early morning light, this was picture postcard stuff.

The highway east out of Casterton initially traverses a high ridge, from which we could see right across the undulating country on either side. Cattle and sheep were gathered in groups (sorry herds/flocks) throughout, heads down, munching their way through the fine grasses at their feet (sorry, again..hooves). With a few farm houses in the distance, this was an absolute picture of grazing glory. 

We had not been too long on the road when we came across this rather desolate looking plinth. An advisory sign on approach told us that this was an 'historical marker'. We were in no rush...a quick stop was in order.

Sadly, or probably more accurately put, annoyingly, the plaque set into the monument was less than well preserved, but I could make out enough to recognise that we were looking across at the property known as 'Muntham', the home of Edward Henty, one member of a family, the name of whom is synonymous with  the early settlement and development of Victoria.

From what I could gather, the building which can just be seen as the a rectangular white structure centre shot, is the location of the original homestead. 

I had learnt about the Henty brothers as part of the Australian history taught during my primary school days, but I have to confess my recollection was dim. I later did some research and came across this excellent article about Henty by Ms Deborah Tout-Smith, which I reproduce (with thanks to her and 'collections.museumsvictora') for any who may be interested (as I was).

"Edward Henty was born on 10 March 1810 in Sussex, England. He migrated to Australia, as did his parents and brothers, in around 1829; his father Thomas had been granted a large acreage at the new Swan River Settlement. The soil was poor, however, and the family sought a grant in the eastern colonies. However, the system of free grants had ended, and the Hentys lacked the money to compete for land.

Edward urged that they petition the British government to release land in Portland Bay, Victoria. He was trained only for farming and had visited the area already, and urged his father to 'squat' the land in anticipation of title being granted. He received his father's consent to set sail, and sailed from Launceston on 19 November 1834 in the Hentys' own schooner, the Thistle, with stock and a small party. His brother Francis following the next month with a small flock of merino sheep, the first in Victoria.

Meanwhile the British government had not granted the land - but agreed to look favourably on any land brought into cultivation. The Henty brothers meanwhile began whaling at Portland Bay and took their flocks and herds inland to the rich area on the Wannon River. In the 1840s the Hentys were eventually granted pre-emptive rights over most of their lands.

Henty was known as a capable and energetic man and regarded as the chief actor in the early history of Portland Bay.

Henty married Anne Marie Gallie and moved to Muntham, a 60,000-acre property that became widely known for its merino sheep and Durham cattle. It was also known for its extravagant hospitality, to which Henty's social ambition and vanity contributed considerably. This extravagance and Henty's obstinacy eventually led to the degradation of the flocks.

Henty lived in Portland and in his Melbourne mansion, Offington, while he served as a member of the Victoria Legislative Assembly. He died on 14 August 1878."

Reading all this I concluded that if the Hentys had a family crest the motto would have to read 'Ask for Forgiveness Not Permission'.  This was clearly the Henty family mantra when it came to land ownership!

What I also discovered whilst nosing about the Internet was that before settling in what is now Victoria, the redoubtable Henty boys had landed at Memory Cove, just south of Port Lincoln and had also taken a close look at Kangaroo Island en route from Tasmania, but what they found there was not to their liking, obviously. 

Shortly after moving on from this significant (if poorly maintained) historical point of interest, the highway left the ridge and took us through 

more undulating country on the approach 

to Coleraine.

Here the early hour 

meant that the activity along the main street was less than frantic and we were able to dawdle through without upsetting the natives.

We did note that the local pub looked promising but what we missed as we drove through this small town, one of the oldest in Victoria, 

was that it is also home to Glenelg Fine Chocolates. Here the German owners produce a mouth watering range of choice chocolates and much more (by all accounts). I rather suspect that our early transit of this town saved Liz, the family 'chocoholic' and also The Treasurer, from some difficult decisions! But this later discovery has added further impetus for a planned return tour of this area.

The much larger town of Hamilton was next on our list.....just over 30 kms distant.

The dual highway approach was a clear indication that this is a town of size and substance, 

and indeed it is (population over 11,000), although we saw very little of it. Unlike many Australian country towns, where the main highways form the central street of the CBD, things are very different in Hamilton. Here getting from one side of town to the other took us initially around the main commercial district,

and then briefly into it, before we turned left

to again make our way back out onto another dual road

which eventually brought us to our point of departure from the Glenelg Highway and onto the B140, otherwise known as the Hamilton Highway. 

As we wended our way through the seemingly endless series of turns and junctions to emerge out onto the eastern side of the town, Liz did manage to snap one of the many quite grand homes we passed along the way....homes which spoke eloquently to the wealth of this district and Hamilton itself.  

We left Hamilton along an avenue of trees

of two quite distinctly different but equally attractive types, now even more determined to spend much more time in this area.

The much smaller town of Penshurst, 30 kms on from Hamilton,

presented us with another directional decision. From here we could travel north to the Grampians area, south to coast at Warrnambool, 

or we could do as we did, push on south-east through this pretty little town for the next leg of 55 kms to Mortlake.

Within no time this quaint and colourful roadside sign told us we had entered the Moyne Shire, which extends from here down to the coast. That explained the surf board!

Beyond the tree lined main street of the next highway town, Caramut, 

the country through which we were now driving was thick with sheep

and cattle.  The stocking rate and the condition of the animals was testament to the good grazing to be found in this part of Victoria.

The town sign announcing our arrival into Mortlake, which lies at the foot of the now dormant volcano, Mount Shadwell, presented us with another highway challenge...what on earth is 'olivine'? And the answer is.......

Olivine is another name for the greenish coloured  crystal peridot, a semi precious gemstone which is the birthstone for August (for what that may be worth....author's comment!). Mortlake's boast to being the 'Olivine Capital Of Australia' stems from the fact that during the times of volcanic eruptions, Mount Shadwell hurled what are known as volcanic bombs high into the air. These often cooled into egg shaped rocks, and here around Mortlake, the centres of many of these contain olivine. Fortunately for all who live here, the volcanic bomb factory went out of business some 5,000 years ago, but its legacy abounds, and the good folk of Mortlake have been quick to make the most of it.

This town of just over 1,000 souls is also renowned for its fine stone buildings, many of which we saw as we drove through. I did actually rather poorly photograph one....the public toilets in Market Square where we stopped briefly for obvious reasons. 

At Mortlake we bade farewell to the Hamilton Highway which, from here, continues east to Geelong,  and took a secondary road south towards Terang.

As we made our way out of Mortlake we passed this stone farmhouse, and we were quick to realise that there is a reason for this choice of construction material around here.....there is masses of it.

We had no sooner passed this farmhouse when the quantity of stone to be found here became compellingly evident, as did the fact that labour was cheap and plentiful in the days of early settlement.

Here, for kilometre after kilometre (that never sounds quite as far as mile after mile, does it?), the highway was lined with drystone walls

stretching seemingly endlessly along the boundary lines and dividing the open spaces into defined paddocks.

These stone walls were even used though towns such as Noorat which was the next we traversed, 

and continued almost all the way along the properties between here and our next milestone for the day,

and our last highway junction, which lay just beyond the bridge at the bottom of this dip.

Here we turned left to join the A1, the Princes Highway, which would take us right through to Colac.

As this sign on the approach to Camperdown shouts, this is the land of lakes and craters, so called because throughout this immediate area are a series of extinct volcanic hills and associated lakes, all of which form part of a geological chain stretching from here over 200 kilometres west to Mount Gambier in the south-east of South Australia.

As we made our approach into Camperdown our decision to move on through and return here when we had more time up our travelling sleeves, was instantly justified.

The main street through this beautiful town is crammed with old and interesting buildings,

of both style 

and substance. Now that really is a pub,

and that certainly is a clock tower!

We left Camperdown, with a typical volcanic knob on our visual horizon,

and the waters of one of the many lakes to our left, knowing full well that we could spend a few days here without the slightest hint of boredom. 

After the grandeur of the Camperdown Hotels, the quaint little Mamre Hotel on the banks of the even more quaintly named Pirron Yallock creek, stood in complete contrast. But had a charm of its own, and just north of this fine country Inn is the southern tip of Victoria's largest lake, Lake Corangamite, a huge expanse of water. Ah, me, another item on our revisit list!

But soon the increasing traffic on the highway served to remind me we had almost reached our destination. Colac was just over 10 kilometres away.

And then we were in the thick of it.

Traffic lights, a very busy CBD

and roadworks...oh, joy!  Where is our park?

Here in Colac we had taken a punt. We had decided to try the local showgrounds where, by all reports, large sites and reasonable facilities awaited us.

We were a little concerned about the fact that the Colac Orchid show was on today, but as we arrived at the showground entrance,

and made our way past one of the exhibition halls, turned left towards the park office,  

and cruised on past the 'orchid pavillion' our fears evaporated. Visions of crowds, dust and cars jousting for parking spots impeding our entry were instantly relegated to the locker entitled 'fevered imagination'. 

The park office here in the Colac showgrounds was interesting, but the most avuncular manager (who could also be fairly described as interesting) could not have been more welcoming. We were invited to take temporary possession of what ever patch we cared to.

Off we went, into the designated caravan park section,

past the amenities block

and the surprisingly good camp kitchen

to drop anchor on the thick grass in the drive-thu powered section of the park.

  

Just beyond our patch in one direction, a group of permanents lined the back fence,

whilst in the other we overlooked the relatively quiet and open spaces which were the unpowered sites on the grass and others under the pines which surrounded the showgrounds oval.

More of these sites, which  I was sure would be at a premium with the onset of the summer months, could be found further around the oval perimeter.

And just to remind us where we were, the lush grass of the oval was dotted with the resident lawn mowing brigade, a flock of fat, very fine looking sheep with plump lambs afoot. All very rural.....and very tempting. Fortunately there was not a swagman with a tucker bag in sight!

We had our area virtually to ourselves on arrival, (that's us in the background), but by mid-afternoon that had all changed.

When we returned from a very quick gallop into the CBD and back, we found that by now were but part of the throng.

But with plenty of room between us, no noisy neighbours, rustic but very functional scrubs (the brick building not the tent!) and a site fee of a mere $25, we were content. 

I did mention that we did a quick hoof through the main section of the CBD, and I do mean quick. A few indicative shots to share is all I managed, such as this from the bottom end of the commercial section,










and this looking back towards the eastern exit from the town and the turn off to the showgrounds.







The Austral Hotel caught my eye (if for no other reason than the odd little circular tower at the front which seemed so out of place with the remainder of the roof line), 






as did the other large pub in this section of the CBD, The Union, but in this case because it was just such a bland building.








One of the things which stood out for me in this short section of the main business district which we patrolled, was the fact that two of the grandest buildings we found were no longer apparently in use.

When did you last see a motor garage housed behind such a splendid facade?















The 'For Sale' sign at the front of the old Shire Hall suggested that it had been sometime since it was the local seat of power.







At least the erstwhile Regent Theatre building, set here behind protective fencing (this entire part of the town was undergoing a major redevelopment of the footpaths) was still home to commercial activity....the local RSL Services Club.






But the absolute stand out attraction of this part of Colac had to be its magnificent War Memorial which stands as the centre piece of a large parkland  area on the northern side of Murray Street.

The words atop the two grand columns read 'The Shires Tribute', and what a tribute it is. Built of local sandstone at a cost (then) of 3,600 pounds, it was unveiled on 15 November 1924 by Lieutenant-General Sir Harry Chauvel. Good old Sir Harry (who insisted that he be knighted as such rather than under his given name of 'Henry') was the man who commanded the Australian Light Horse at the battle of Beersheba, a battle which has just been the subject of a 100 year anniversary celebration.

Initially built as a memorial to those who served during WWl, the two columns facing the pool of remembrance were added later to pay tribute to those who had taken their place in the ranks during both WW2 and the conflict in Korea.

In complete contrast to the towering grandeur of this extraordinary memorial, the surrounding gardens are also home to a delightful little rotunda set in the centre of surrounding low clipped hedges.




This park was undoubtedly the highlight for us of what had been a fascinating day on the road, a day in which we had discovered yet another part of Australia which demands a revisit, but this time in 'cruise mode' when we can stop for as long as it takes. 

It reminded me of the comment I had made six years ago when I was challenged about the fact that our van was not equipped for off-road bush bashing. I noted then, in response to the suggestion that this would severely limit our sight-seeing options, that I had worked out we could roam the country on the hard top for at least ten years and still not see it all. Today just proved my point, to us at least, and let's face it, in this game that's all that really matters!

But good friends are also important, no matter the joys of our gypsy lifestyle.  Tomorrow we were to take up temporary residence with two of the best of them.