Day five of my Gippsland cycling trip sees a glorious descent from the hills, followed by a trip to a lush river valley, hot showers and some odd characters.
“So you do have a tent site then? Can I make a booking?”
“Ahhh, ummm, errrrr, yeah, no worries,” the bloke on the phone drawled, a tad confused as to why someone would be calling a caravan park to book a camp site.
It was 9am and I was basically winning at life. I’d survived night two of spontaneous rookie wild camping and – now at the top of the Hedley Range Road – was rewarded with amazing early morning views from the top of the ridge, right out to sea.
PLUS I was looking not only to a long downhill stretch but a hot shower at one of Gippsland’s best camping parks.
Descending from the Hedley Range Road was an absolute joy. I breathed in the fresh coolness of the day as I cruised down a winding gravel road through dense bushland. Rosellas and lorikeets zipped by overhead. The forest gradually made way to open farmland and I criss-crossed open farmland to cover the 30 or so kilometres to the town of Yarram.
I really can’t tell you too much about Yarram, except that it contained an oasis in the desert in the form of an open café. Due to a some bad luck I’d been met with closed country cafes in a series of towns.
Tucking in to my second latte and an enormous serve of eggs benedict I overheard some gossip about the quirkily-named Fish Creek, a popular tourist town with an alternative bent, which had been more like a ghost town when I rolled through (Tuesday is its closed day).
“I live in Fish Creek”, a woman was explaining at the next table. “And it used to have five cafes. Five! Now that’s down to two.”
The beautiful morning turned moody again after lunch as I made my way onwards, the eggs benedict starting to feel like an extra passenger riding in my belly.
Tarra Valley tourist road
Like most destinations in Gippsland, I’d never heard of the Tarra Valley, but the photos online had showed lush rainforest with plenty of tree ferns, a cross between the Otways and the Dandenong Ranges.
Glimpses of the river appeared from Tarra Valley Road, with the two eventually running side by side as the hills rose up alongside, and I could see what the fuss was about. Even under gloomy clouds, this was a storybook landscape, the river flowing prettily thanks to the spring rains.
The road began to climb steadily and I was feeling tired but positive – this was yet another great route and I’d already covered around 45 of the 50 kilometres to the caravan park.
I slowed up to approach a road maintenance team that was in action clearing a huge tree, presumably a casualty of the previous weeks’ storms.
A worker holding a chainsaw stepped out to speak to me.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “This road is closed and you’re going to have to go back the long way.”
Glaring from under my helmet, I raised a single eyebrow.
Unable to string along the joke for any longer the young guy’s face broke into a grin.
“Just kidding!” he chuckled, going on to explain that back in the day used to bike tour with his mates.
“We’d just cruise, you know, just do around 40 or 50 K a day then set up camp. It was the best.”
Fernholme: Australia’s oldest caravan park
A sign outside the Tarra Valley (Fernholme) caravan park announced it as Australia’s oldest caravan park. It was certainly quaint and rustic, with a poster advertising Devonshire teas in the window of the original wooden reception building and a bird house with rustling green parrots.
A kindly woman in her fifties or sixties greeted me at the desk.
“Hi there! I’ve got a booking for tonight for Sonia,” I said proudly, still inexplicably smug at my ability to call ahead from the top of a hill.
“Oh, let me just check the system. Umm, no, oh dear… it looks like he hasn’t put you in.”
Something in her voice caused me not question this any further, and it mattered not since there were plenty of sites free, and the manager even gave me the option to occupy a prime spot right by the river so long as I vacated it the next day (I’d instantly made the call to spend an extra rest day here).
Huddling against the cold breeze in my little tent I pulled back the flaps to read and enjoy a magnificent view.
The next day and a half were spent happily drifting about, doing laundry and reading a book from a pile on top of the dryers, and avoiding an old duffer who periodically wandered over to warn me I would surely get run over soon, or attacked by an axe murder, or attacked by killer magpies… or some stuff like that, I can’t really remember. He would then walk off muttering something about ‘towel heads’ taking people’s jobs.
On the second day his extended family arrived and I overheard him complaining loudly that the park’s resident lorikeets wouldn’t eat the birdseed form his hand, only his wife’s.
“Well, maybe they just don’t like you, Dad,” was the patient reply.
Wandering about the caravan park I also saw the caretaker going about his business, who assume took my call the previous day, and wondered about these couples who seem to work without a break to run caravan parks all on their own.
I undertook a fantastic bushwalk along the nearby Diaper Track (which really deserves a more appealing name) crossing underneath a waterfull which gushed over the track.
Making my way back via the road I stop by the oddly shaped Tarra falls where water gushes down a surprisingly gentle slope.
A wonderful stone fireplace and eating shelter sat in the middle of the park, and on the second night the temperature dropped so quickly that – dinner fixings in hand – I retreated there in desperation only to find someone had left a stack of fuel in the hearth. Soon I was eating my tinned beef casserole in front of a crackling blaze. I was wearing all my layers and summer was only a week away.
Given the chilly weather undoubted highlight was the hot showers, and I wasn’t the only one impressed. A mother and daughter, a little girl of about seven, were occupying the next shower stalls as I went in for my evening wash on the first night.
“I LOVE this shower Mum!” the girl called out. “This is the best shower I’ve ever had in my LIFE!!!!
“I want to come back here again and again just for the SHOWER.”
Awww, I thought. It’s nice to hear kids being so positive when they come out into nature.
But the kid was just hitting her stride. “MUM!!! I want this shower to last FOREVERRRRR,” she said in a bright sing-songy voice, as if performing lines for the school play.
“I LOVE the middle shower. It’s the best. So warm, so cozy. This is the best shower EVER! Is this your best shower ever, Mum?”
“That’s nice,” mum replied in a neutral tone, with about as much enthusiasm as the bath mat. “Have you nearly finished your wash?”
“I want this shower to last FOREVER. I want to BUY this caravan park just for the shower! It’s the middle shower. The middle shower is the best. That’s my favourite. The middle shower. Is the middle shower your favourite too mum? So WARM, so COZYYYYY.”
This ode to the middle shower continued on with ever-improving voice projection as I finished up in my cubicle (the end one, but still pretty good) and got dressed, with the poor long suffering mother trying to explain that it wasn’t good to waste water.
A refrain of “So WAAAAARM, so COZY,” followed me for the fifteenth time as I hustled out the door to the warmth of my sleeping bag.
