Road tripping

One of the things that I was most worried about was being alone with my mind and having to face the wonders of the GOR. How surprised I was to be. This was a bam-bam-bam tour that Rowena so approved of. Essentially it meant fast-forwarding through all the mandatory lookout points, just take a picture and get the hell outta there. After all, with so much water and rock and sand, thats the only way to see the GOR innit?


12 Apostles. It's still so righteous there really shouldnt be any panic to see it before it all falls down.


Loch Ard Gorge. Frightening.



Muttobbird Island. Obviously im not much of a photographer.


The Blowhole. Ho Ah Chai would be so proud of me.


The Thunder Cave.


Broken Head. Check out the hugeass boulders sitting in the massive cave.


On the straight and narrow.


The only thing that made me feel slightly down. A river fails to meet the sea.


This road will never end!


London Bridge fell down and is now called Elephant Rock.


The Grotto.


Bay of Islands. The car refuses to start here and instead of stressing out, I take a breath and go for a long bushwalk. When I come back, everything is fine again.


Boggy Creek Pub. It's a scorching day and this historic pub is a good refuge. Most of the patrons here are leather daddies with shining bikes and when I stroll in in thongs and my sputtering car, I get quite a bit of stares.



Childer's Cove beach. At the turnoff and after a drive down the private road is a little lookout. But is that all there is to Childer's Cove? Nay! Ask me if you want to find out how to get to the private beach. It's 2kms of desolated sand where I strip down and go for a swim, and have lunch with the Southern Ocean and four rock stacks across my feet. Beaut. Just as I dress up to leave, a Jewish family (all the kids have pigtails) comes onto the beach. Bizarro.


At the end of it all I've swam in about four beaches and to one island. Dinner is burger, chips and coke on my lap as I drive home from Warrnambool. There's a cosmic smoke column rising from the distance in the northwest, and I leave it behind as I go back across the GOR again.


My Suspect Steed. A 1975 Mitsubishi Sigma with no muffler, bad lights, no speedometer, no fuel gauge, weak batteries, no power steering, and automatic gears that cant shift into drive. But still..