Prom Night
Ross has been a workhorse on this trip, loading and unloading the trailer every day. He’s always first ready and diligently waits for the dawdlers to get up-to-speed. This morning was no exception. On the upside, he did get in lots of reading time, sitting in the trailer waiting for our bags.
We were ably guided down the motorway by Miss Molly today, with mostly rural scenery out the window; lots of cows, bulls and sheep. Sam wondered aloud what a bull would cost, something we’d never really had cause to ponder, so Ross Googled the going rate for cows, bulls and all things bovine. They’re not cheap. For the next hour or two we were calculating the worth of each full paddock we passed. Another good alternative for I-Spy. The lush, green rolling hills were reminiscent of the Microsoft screen saver and the wind farm we spotted on top of one of them reminded me of the intro to the Tellytubbies.
At one stage of the journey, Sam called out to Molly from the backseat, “Speed check, Molly!” Collectively we looked up from whatever we were doing, suspecting Molly had given it too much gas and was hooning along at the risk of getting a speeding fine. On the contrary, Sam was just reminding his cautious younger sis that she was actually doing 60 in a 100 zone.
Our first pit stop was at the pretty town of Stratford, not surprisingly, built on the banks of the Avon River. They seem to really embrace their ties to the Motherland, with manicured rose gardens along the main street and cute antique shops. The little cafe we parked outside was doubling as a bottle shop, proffering East Gippsland’s own “Olde Horney Fruit and Honey Mead”. Rossco couldn’t resist its label, boasting “sweet, warm and wicked”. With adjectives like that, it’s easy to see why he succumbed to the temptation and bought us a bottle (I can attest, it did taste good!) The Wellington Council library was just up the road and had great toilets (we’re always looking for an alternative to the grungy servo loos wherever possible) If the tub of free books out the front of the library was any indication, the Stratford locals aren’t big fans of 1950s nautical fiction, with titles like: Seafaring Lore and Legend, Piracy On the High Seas, A Mariner’s Tale and The Master Mariner up for grabs.
We passed through Sale, where Molly commented that the Sale Ford sign was a bit misleading and through Port Albert where the pine trees were wrapped with big, red Christmas bows.
Reaching our destination of Sandy Point - a sleepy village on the edge of the Wilson’s Promontory National Park - in the early afternoon, we were met at our accommodation by an apologetic cleaner who had worked up a sweat and was running late, desperately trying to get the place back in order after a party of ten had departed that morning. With a lot of eye-rolling, her sheer disgust was evident at the way “those pigs” had left the place. Yikes, I hope we are never described as pigs for the way we leave a place.
To kill some time, we checked out the main street of Sandy Point, which really actually didn’t kill too much time at all since it only consists of a General Store, a Cafe and a Real Estate Agency. That’s it. We had been warned to stock up on groceries as there wasn’t a supermarket at Sandy Point but this place really is tiny. The jewel of the ‘Prom Coast”, it’s actually gorgeous, with quiet leafy suburban streets, pretty gardens and a distinct community feel. The General Store is the hub and the locals were out in force, walking dogs, catching-up, sipping coffee and getting ready for their Sandy Point Community Christmas Party tonight. The Sandy Point surf beach was also really picturesque, timber boardwalks lined with bright yellow and purple dune flowers. The sand stretched for miles in both directions as far as the eye could see. You could go for a casual jog along the beach and never be seen again.
Sandy Point also seemed very fresh, clean and new (especially since those pigs had left town). A modern surfclub graced the sand dunes and the cafe where we lunched was super modern. As we gave our orders individually to the lady at the counter, it seems we each unknowingly ordered enough hot chips for the whole family, resulting in a veritable mountain of hot, salty potato goodness being plonked on our table, wrapped in old-school butcher’s paper, that we were never going to get through. Tobes came up with the brilliant idea of saving the chips and making chip butties for dinner. Good call.
The cleaner had done a stellar job and our house was gleaming when we returned, no sign of the aforementioned mud-loving guests in sight. Landlord Judy had the greenest thumbs around, her garden an oasis of fruit trees, brightly coloured flowers and bowling-green-worthy lawns. The bird bath on the back deck attracted a hoard of feathered friends that filled the trees with their musical chirping.
There were lots of options for this afternoon. With Wilson’s Promontory just a hop, skip and jump away, the array of hikes, cruises, bushwalks and tours available was staggering. We were spoilt for choice. Can I just say, I’ve always had trouble pronouncing “Promontory”, thinking it’s “Prominent-ory”. I just can’t get it right. Prom-on-tory, Prom-on-tory. No wonder they call it the Prom. Much easier.
Maisy wasn’t feeling 100% today and Tobes was also in need of a rest so they decided to stay at home while Ross, Sam, Molly and I headed out. We’d decided to go on the Prom Wildlife Walk and do a little Australian fauna spotting. Those yellow ‘watch for wildlife’ signs that inform you of the wildlife you may encounter in a particular area, usually have one animal on them - a kangaroo, a deer, a koala. The signs in this national park though, looked like a who’s who in the zoo, plastered with multiple little animal faces. In full David Attenborough mode, we trod lightly and whispered to one another as we entered the walk, checking for scat (very technical stuff) to see what we might find. Ross was the first to spot something - a kangaroo with a joey. So cool. We felt like we were on safari. Next we noticed a group of emus right up ahead. They were so close! A wombat moseyed on over to say hello and was so tame. The vegetation was fairly sparse across the vast plain and the mountains rimming its edge were majestic in the dappled sunlight. It was such a fantastic experience, despite the masses of incessant little prickles that kept getting stuck on our shoes and socks. As we were about to leave, I was marvelling at how cleverly camouflaged the kangaroos had been when Sam said: “oh you mean like that Mum?”, pointing to one that had been only a metre or two away and we’d totally missed it.
Climbing back into the car, we continued along the winding roads of the Wilson’s Prominent…er, Promontory… away from the wildlife walk and down to see the beaches. The water of Whisky Beach came into view as we rounded a bend and the scenery was breathe-takingly beautiful! It was insane. Bluest of blue water, lines of surf rolling in, huge rocky cliffs, smooth black boulders gathered at their base, blue sky, lush green foliage…it was paradise! Wow was all we could say and we were totally overcome by the beauty before us. Though we took plenty of photos, they could never do it justice. It was just so beautiful.
A short drive around another bend revealed another stunning beach, where the Tidal River met the sea and there was a camping ground on the shore. We FaceTimed Toby and Maisy just so they didn’t miss out. What an incredible place.
After a quick scamper back to Sandy Point Beach to watch the apricot sunset over the Bass Strait, it was a dinner of chip butties, washed down with a glass of mead and a family chocolate game before bed.
