Three Girls Down Under

The Great Ocean Road starts on the South Eastern outskirts of Melbourne and skirts the coast all the way to Adelaide in South Australia. We travelled as far as Port Campbell, usually the final destination for those intending on seeing the Twelve Apostles. Distance travelled: 283km

We set off on Friday morning, a quick pit stop at the liquor store left us $120 lighter in the pocket but well equipped with goon, passion pops, lager, cider and free hats. The journey began with a detour through Melbourne's frankly terrifying and poorly sign posted Central Business District. But we managed to get out eventually and onto the aptly named "freeway", which for three girls used to the reserved and civilised British roads where everyone obeys the rules, overtakes in the fast lane, indicates, and generally tries their best to avoid death, was nightmarish. It seems that Australians either don't have the same rules as us when it comes to driving extremely fast in a metal box down multiple lanes of tarmac for a very long way, or they must enjoy making the whole thing a bit more exciting. We witnessed undertaking, articulated lorries driving ludicrously slowly in the fast lane, and everybody seemed to like swerving around unpredictably without warning. Luckily we survived to tell the tale.

We saw lots of Australian wildlife once we got out into the countryside, huge soaring eagles and lumbering echidnas were a welcome distraction from spotting roadkill. Of course, we stopped at the first available opportunity to walk barefoot on the white sands of the south coast. The sea is very dramatic in these parts compared to the calm waters within Melbourne. After a picnic and a nap in the sunshine we headed off for pastures new. Isla really enjoyed the winding roads, and I can gladly say that I am relieved I wasn't insured to drive. The Great Ocean Road shames most places in Britain in the league of hare pin bends and manic overtaking on straights, save for perhaps the Snakes Pass.

Our first night was spent in Apollo Bay in a delightful hostel right near the shore. We went for a casual drink on the beach, dinner consisted of steak and chips in a friendly local pub whilst we awaited the arrival of our friends Hazel, Sinead, Georgina and Ciaco, who took the detour to end all detours through the hills and didn't actually see the Great Ocean Road at all until the next day. We spent an amicable evening on the veranda in mismatched chairs,  hammocks and blankets, smoking, drinking, laughing and revelling in the anticipation the days to come.

The next morning we set off again with frequent stops in the rainforest along the way. We saw wild koalas way up high in the trees, kookaburras, a lonely kangaroo and plenty of ancient and enormous Eucalyptus trees, hollowed out and big enough for all of us to comfortably stand inside. After deciding that $120 was extortionate to zip wire through the trees, we headed to a waterfall in the middle of nowhere which turned out to be a good half an hours walk away from the car, in the beautifully natural surroundings of ferns, more Eucalyptus, and the somewhat ominous threat of carnivorous snails. Eucalyptus forests give off a wonderfully fresh scent.The waterfall itself was magnificent, tumbling and cascading down bare rock faces interspersed with huge fallen trees and more ferns. We tried in vain to spot a platypus, and returned to the car park invigorated from a near vertical climb back up the hill.

 The next hour of our lives took a dramatic turn for the worse as our car, perhaps still traumatised from the freeway, decided to make an alarmingly loud and grating, whining, screeching noise every time we tried to drive. Myself and Isla were eventually abandoned to mind the car whilst the rest whizzed off to attempt a rescue mission with no mobile signal and the awareness that the nearest breakdown recovery would probably be a good two hour drive away. 

Grimly certain that our time of reckoning may have arrived as the scene roughly resembled something from The Blair Witch Project/Cabin Fever, we did the only thing that made sense, and rolled a big fat one. We were after all well stocked with alcohol and various confectionary and snacks, and the car was in no fit state to be driven any time soon.

 Just when we began to take our anger out on the car, thinking all hope was lost, through the misty dappled haze of Australian sunlight we saw our hero come driving forth in a gleaming white four wheeled drive. A friendly Essexian family stopped, and a bald gentleman proceeded to get on all fours and grapple around under the brake pads for a moment, took the steering wheel, and miraculously the grating noise of metal on metal had stopped! All I can say is, if you want anything car related doing properly, find someone rugged and manly. And English.

Triumphantly we set off again back to civilisation. We collected our friends and decided it was probably a good idea to head to our apartment for the evening, as Isla, in her inebriated condition, was finding the curving roads and flashing phases of sunlight and shadows rather an ordeal.

This idea was of course blown straight out of the water when we spotted signs for the Twelve Apostles. We arrived just as the sun was beginning its descent through the clouds, and the effect on the view was stunning. Dappled sunlight gleamed off the roaring frothing ocean, and haloed the clouds so brightly that we could almost forget the icy winds blowing straight from the Antarctic. I can honestly say that the Twelve Apostles are one of the most awe inspiring sights I have had the pleasure of seeing with my own eyes. The contours of the deep earthy orange protrusions remind you of how ancient this huge island really is. Millions of years have passed in which those rocks were created, only for them to be irrepressibly eroded by the unyielding ocean. Only eight now remain of the original twelve, the corpses of the fallen merely rubble scattered above the waves, whilst more are oh so slowly being carved out of the coastline with each wave that crashes into it.

Eventually we tore ourselves away to begin our evening of drink and debauchery. There is only so long you can appreciate the wonders of nature before you need a stiff drink to get over how insignificant you are. We got a bit lost again and Isla decided to drive on the wrong side of the road for a little while, but we arrived at our lovely apartment in Port Campbell, complete with spa-bath, in once piece.

Ciaco made a deliciously Italian dinner of prawns, courgettes (sorry, zuccini) and heaps of spaghetti. After that things get a bit fuzzy. We played tequila roulette, in which Isla bit the bullet so hard I'm surprised she didn't break her teeth, and Georgina became convinced that that her eyesight was failing her, so much so that she tried to put her glasses on, realised it was just the tequila, then crawled to bed with Isla embarrassingly early. The rest of us decided it was a good time for a jacuzzi, transformed the bathroom into a bar, and splashed around in the water happily whilst Hazel took on the role of mother and supervised us from the lofty position on the toilet seat. I can only assume she was making sure none of us drowned, which was a good job because Victoria had a good try when she got her leg tangled around the tap, so thank you Hazel.

The next morning heralded added confusion to our hung over packing, as the clocks had changed overnight and nobody knew what time it really was. We recovered slightly with a good breakfast at a steamy café on the esplanade and set off again on our journey back the way we came to pet kangaroos, wallabies and (for some reason) deer at a wildlife park. I decided that Emus need to learn some manners, kangaroos are lazy, and wallabies are shy in a rude way.

We waved farewell to our travel companions at Lorne, they had to go to work the next day, whereas we had to eat some serious fish and chips. They aren't like the greasy flavourless rubbish you get back in the UK, they are delicious and fresh in Australia. Lorne is lovely, they have flocks of wild Cockatoos terrorizing the town, which for some reason they seem to think is a problem. I loved it, they are much better than pigeons.

For our last day we went to the lighthouse at Split Point where they filmed "Going Round The Twist" and stared intently out to sea for an unusually long time in the hope of spotting a whale. We then attempted to find the beach in Torquay, failed, and headed back onto the freeway with heavy hearts.

All in all exactly what you would want out of a road trip; wildlife, breakdowns, detours, amazing views, fun driving, and copious amounts of alcohol.

5 stars Great Ocean Road, well done you.