Those who ‘know’ Lorne might believe that they also ‘know’ the Great Ocean Road and, by default, the Otways too, for in the minds of many, the road, the town, and the ranges behind them are almost synonymous.
Those who know the Great Ocean Road love the vistas, the sinuous curls around rugged cliffs, the unexpected coves, the secluded beaches, and the occasional winter thrill of a glimpse of passing Southern Right whales that this iconic drive reveals. Indeed the ‘GOR’, as many abbreviate it, is listed third among the greatest ocean drives of the world by one authoritative reference.
Their list includes: The Pacific Coast Highway [California, USA]; the Hana Highway, [Hawaii, USA]; the Great Ocean Road [Victoria, Australia]; the Atlantic Ocean Road [Norway]; the Strada Statale Amalfitana [Amalfi Coast, Italy]; the Cabot Trail [Nova Scotia, Canada]; the Captain Cook Highway [Far North Queensland, Australia]; and the D81-Calanches de Piana [Corsica, France] For more information, refer here.
The GOR is also known as the largest and longest single war memorial in the world. Both of these labels – greatest and largest – are worn with well-deserved pride.
While the GOR offers many a destination and delight, Lorne is the unarguable centrepiece jewel in its crown. But, for many – if not most – their Lorne ‘experience’ is populated by the lure of alfresco and fine dining restaurants, an azure sea, the deep green backdrop of its’ thickly forested hills, its’ boutique shops and relaxed pubs, and is topped off by safe walks around flattened rock-shelfs and evening drinks on expansive, view-rich decks. Some, but only some, may expand these pleasures with an occasional walk to a nearby ferny waterfall or two. These are the horizons that border the ‘Lorne’ most know!
But while all indisputable tastes and slices of Lorne, they are as instant microwaved fast-food might compare to slow-cooked lamb shanks on a bed of puréed potato mash, root vegetables and a fine Heathcote shiraz … for they are but the superficial face of Lorne. The deeper, more satisfying Lorne is a degustation to-be-savoured-slowly, not fast food in a cardboard box.
So, it was – with more than a little shock – that I learned during the recent pair of Covid-19 lockdowns just how many ‘I-have-been-coming-here-all-my-life’ beach-house owners who chose to adopt Lorne for the lockdown duration[s] are strangely ignorant are of the deeper charms of Lorne’s Otway forests and the hinterland.
Over the long months of the second 2020 lockdown when Melbourne was off-limits to and from the rest of the state, a good and long-time friend chanced to introduce me to several of these new ‘locked-in’ Lorne citizens over some late afternoon beers at the Aquatic. A surprising number of these long-time Lorne holiday homeowners had chosen to hunker down in Lorne for the winter months yet they seemed blissfully ignorant of the magnificent ranges that backdrop the town. There was no collective knowledge and/or understanding of what could be on offer ‘out there’.
My suggestion ‘to go bush for a Bunnings’ [a sausage in bread with tom-sauce] was met with stunned silence. Quizzical looks clearly posed the question: ‘why … is there really anything out there to see?’ Unknown to our newest citizens, the Otway ranges are simply breath-taking. Nearby, a score of hidden, lesser-known waterfalls beckon with Ruby, Hidden, Amphitheatre, Simmons, Sabine, Upper Elliot, Lower Elliot, Stony, and Cumberland Falls [plus several more] added to the more visited and better known: Erskine, Phantom, Sheoak, Upper and Lower Kalimna, Straw, Splitters, Henderson, Won Wondah, and Cora Lynn Cascades, with the beguiling Canyon between Henderson and Phantom Falls a place of beauty and silence. Further distant are Urquhart, Marriner, Beauchamp, Hopetoun, Stevenson, and many other beautiful waterfalls.
But beyond falling water, it is the deeper Otways I love the most. To walk the stand of temperate rainforest at Maits Rest; to stand in silent awe of the majestic stands of re-growth Mountain Ash, thick green Blackwood, and massive Messmate on the Wye Track or the Grey River Road; to spy an occasional surviving old-growth monster, its top-most levels wind-challenged or missing but whispering of the extraordinary height that a living organism can attain; the heart-stopping remnant beauty of the temperate rainforest that once gave shelter to some of the largest hardwood trees on the planet.
Yet none of our new Lorne residents had seen – or were even aware of Lorne’s backyard. None had ever been to the Cape, had enjoyed the vista over Parker River, had walked the strangely sheltered beaches of Blanket Bay, or had seen the pristine Aire. None had lain back on the fine needle mattress underfoot to look upward – awestruck – in the eerie silence of the stand of towering Californian Redwoods on Binns Road. None had ever marvelled at the ramrod straight mega-Ash on Turton’s Track, breathed the damp petrichor of a centuries-old tree fern gully, or marvelled at a tree-base more than 4 metres across and 15 metres in girth. None had seen the axe-notched, moss-encrusted, remnant stumps of the mighty forest old-growth trees down Kaanglang Track or understood their significance. None knew of Lake Elizabeth, its cataclysmic formation in 1951 or the platypus families that call it home – and yes, they saw one – or of Forrest with its eateries, pub, B&Bs, and boutique beer brewery. None were aware of the mountain bike tracks behind Forrest, or the tranquil strolling loop beneath the West Barwon Dam. None had heard frogs calling from their deep forest fire-ponds, seen blue and red rosellas dart to the startle of a car, or rolled slowly up to a black wallaby grazing the green roadside verge. None were aware of the deep caves – some filled with swimmable small fresh water – that dot the cliff faces of Big Hill, Defiance, or [especially] Cape Patten, though great care, an acute awareness of tide and wave conditions, and appropriate torch and wetsuit equipment is mandatory for any who might consider some exhilarating entry level spelunking.
And none could tell a Mountain Ash from Messmate, or a Blackwood … none, that is, until now.
The full Lorne ‘experience’ lies beyond the 50k speed limit signs that bookend the town. The full Lorne ‘experience’ – indeed, the full Wye River, Kennett, Skene’s Creek, Apollo Bay, and Forrest ‘experience’ – lies deep within the dense forests that spine this magnificent peninsula on the southern coast of our vast country. Without experiencing the deeper Otways, a stay in any of the coastal towns or a drive round the GOR itself – while clearly wonderful – remains a blunted version of the whole.
As an unintended consequence of Covid-19, a small band of Lorne homeowners have now enjoyed this wider, deeper ‘Lorne’ and now know that it is but a bush-Bunnings sausage away. To see more images of the giants of the Otways, visit this site.
John Agar
