After travelling to the other side of the world, I love wandering in our own backyard. Just a month back home and we snuck away for some stolen days camping by peaceful Lake Beaufort complete with camp fire each night.
It's a lazy place - apart from the occasion group of travellers. This time it was the Fossickers club out to find gold in them thar hills - still loads around it seems. One chap showed us a small piece he'd found so I have now packed my panning dish in the back of the car! Who knows, I might get lucky. In spite of the occasional small group and the drop-in nomads, it's a tranquil place, just wonderful for chilling out - but best to book just in case! In summer they host the Rainbow Serpent festival and the whole town is packed.
My father's family lived in the area at some stage in another time. Dad delivered groceries on his bike when he was a young callow fellow - or maybe that was in Ararat. Names like Wotherspoon tease the corner of my memory. There were Gibsons and Wrights in the area back in the day so we visited the war memorial to look for family markers. Nice reaching back in time in such a gorgeous little place. Must consult the family genealogy gurus.
And the lake! nothing sensational but in the late afternoon towards twilight there alway seems to be a 'fizz in the gloaming' (ex Bereft by Chris Womersley, a favourite Australian writer). A time of slanted light when it is possible to see those things not usually visible in the harsher flat light earlier in the day - pollen motes in the air, slowly moving columns of whirling tiny insects, glimpses of shimmering floating spiders webs, gum leaves lighting up as the sun shines through oil-speckled veiny surfaces. And the mountains - so close by!
Just love Mount Buangor with glorious wattle dripping over its dirt tracks, tracks leading who knows where. Secluded camping grounds among the trees beckon us back - no question we will be back.
And Wartook yep! you guessed it is a tiny spot you shoot past via the Grampians. The Grampians are a place of romantic childhood and not-so childhood memories. Easter camps in the cold, the eeery echo of currawongs carolling through the trees on icy mornings, monoliths towering all around. Pre-Christmas climbing back in the 80-90s - Venus Baths (which inspired me to attempt writing poetry), Mount Rosea, Wonderland and oh so many glorious places mostly out of reach for me now but .... who knows? keep exercising Heather.
Bbq in the silence - smell of pine cones and frying onions. Doesn’t get much better than that!
My great uncle Will Cochran perished in WWI.
A memorial in every town - so there should be. So much senseless loss.
Mt Buangor - a special place to taste the rich Victorian bush. And see some unique aboriginal rock art.
Giants like these put you in perspective in the natural order of things.
Everywhere you look nature’s patterns astound.
Wattkebof every hue from cream to deep orange gold
The tiny yellow dots are oil glands givingnthe Australian bush its distinct aroma of eucalyptus. The oil was first exported in the early days of European colonisation.
Get up early and you are treated to beautiful morning mist riding off Lake Beaufort
This region has a strong aboriginal culture and heritage. Around the lake are images like this telling the stories of the creatures that protect the land.
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