February 26
Ballarat to Halls Gap
I packed and breakfasted in leisurely fashion, leaving the motel at 09.00, when I assumed that the rush hour would have cleared. I was right. It was very quiet.
I drove due West through the centre, not finding anything particularly exciting until the far side, when I passed several posh looking schools, went through a magnificent arch and then through an avenue of trees. There are no photos, of course, as I was driving.
The road morphed into a freeway and back again several times. It was flat and dry and rather non-descript. At one stage, it became very cloudy but then brightened up again.
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After just over an hour, I reached Ararat, a small town with few distinguishing features. I wasted $1 whilst trying to come to terms with the parking meter, photographed the town hall and found an adequate coffee in a café.
The road continued reasonably flat and straight. I passed an horrific truck crash - two burnt out shells - which was to close the road shortly after I went through for the debris to be cleared.
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The Grampians Estate appeared and I pulled in. The coffee looked good. I should have stopped there rather than in Ararat and they had a good array of wines. Nothing exported, of course. The shiraz, both flat and sparkling, was good. The topacque would have been wonderful but not wise when driving.
The remainder of the trip to Horsham continued in similar, uneventful, fashion. The cloud had burned off and it was approaching 30 degrees outside.
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When I reached Horsham, it reminded me of Sale, in Gippsland, which I visited last year. Very flat, with straight, grid pattern, streets and a church spire at the end. I parked, wrestled with another parking meter and found a sandwich in a café.
After lunch, I drove to the other end of town, where I located the Tourism Office and two very helpful ladies. They gave me maps and directions.
I crossed the road into the Botanic Gardens, which were small and not very exciting.
I retraced my steps and walked down the road to the river. It was far too hot for a serious walk so I just meandered along for five minutes until I reached the flood level markers. These were quite impressive and showed the impact of a flood alleviation scheme.
Right: Wimmera River |
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I made my way back to the car, the thermometer of which was showing 33 degrees. I returned in the direction of Ballarat for about fifteen minutes before turning West. The road continued flat and straight for a while before starting to climb into the woods and the hills.
Right: The Highlands in the background |
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There were lots of signs warning me not to stop by the side of the road, so I didn't. We climbed up a fair way, with lots of bends but nothing too precipitous. There were a couple of viewing points which offered excellent views over the trees. They looked similar to views over the Blue Mountains, although without the haze.
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I finally descended into Halls Gap, a settlement strung along a tree lined valley. If anything, it reminded me of Hanmer Springs.
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My motel turned out not to be where I thought it was. I had booked a room four kilometres from the village so I definitely wouldn't be able to walk back to the local pub for a beer in the evening!
My room was dominated by a spa bath - I'm sure I didn't order one but never mind. There was little in the way of crockery and a strict instruction against cooking, supposedly for health and safety reasons. Never mind, I don't cook cheese sandwiches or muesli.
I drove back into the village, had a look round and visited the Information Office. This provided a map of short walks and I was able to overhear the guy at the desk extolling the virtues of the restaurant at my motel. That's just as well as they have me captive!
Attached to the Tourist Office was a tasting room for Seppelt, who have a vineyard on the road I drove along this morning. This is not to be confused with Seppeltsfield in the Barossa.
I returned to the motel, loaded some clothing into the washing machine and had a beer - bottle only - in the bar. The machine did its thing and I left my clothes on the line. The heat was starting to decrease but there was a breeze and it was just possible that my clothes might be dry by bed time.
I watched the TV news and then walked to the dining room, where there were about a dozen inside and another eight on the terrace.
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The wine list contained wines from the Grampian Estate, which I had visited this morning, so I ordered a glass of their Chardonnay. It was OK but not brilliant.
The dumplings were quite good, although they could have been warmer. The Bests Chardonnay, from another local winery, was not as good as the wine from Grampian.
The fish looked a bit dry but turned out to be perfect, moist and full of flavour. Very good.
Outside, there was a large Dutch party using the motel's barbecue. As soon as they started, the local sulphur crested cockatoos arrived. They observed the people and the people observed them. One chap started the feeding process and soon had one sitting on each of his shoulders. I tried to photograph this from my table in the restaurant but, with my long lens not working properly, the results may not be brilliant.
I returned to my room via the washing line. My clothes were 95% dry so I hung them in the room overnight and they were fine by the morning.