Once upon a time, the Otways were extensively penetrated by timber tramways and walking tracks, for in the far-off days of the late 1800’s and early 1900’s, the ranges echoed to axe and saw whilst walking for leisure and enjoyment was the prime visitor attraction. And, walk they did – everywhere – with walking tracks and hidden destinations far more prevalent then than now.
Once upon a time, before the days of motor transport and rapid transit, Lorne whispered a gentler, slower, more intimate environmental message. But it seems that for many in our fast-paced world, connections to nature have sadly diminished.
Now the usual ‘plan’ is: rush to Vantage Point A, take selfies for 10 minutes, pile back into the car: speed – eyes and fingers only for our phones – to Vantage Point B to take more selfies: toss lolly wrappers, empty Coke cans and toilet tissue into the bush: grab some fast food: then repeat steps (1) and (2) at Vantage points C, and D…
Have we become tone-deaf to the deeper sense of ‘environment’? Have we lost our way? Did our great grandparents get it right, while we have not? Covid-19 isolation has allowed many of us to thumb through old photo-albums, old records: as evidence, the profusion of recent posts of old photos and nostalgic ‘memories’ on social networks.
In the confining isolation of Covid-19, it all too easy to slide into an internalising spiral. Our lives have suddenly taken a turn unimagined in our dreaming. Above all, I ache for our young: for their dreams that junior footy would blossom into a shot at the draft, or that smashing the VCE would open an ATAR door to a glistening career – though to offer them some reassurance, while most dreams are dreams and realities turn out differently, realities often end up being better.
For the upwardly aspiring to middle-aged, thoughts of home ownership, children, a successful and happy family, and job fulfillment have been challenged. For the older, thoughts of a hard-won retirement with travel, a grey-nomad circuit of our wonderful country, or simply the relieving sigh of down-sizing after well-raising a family have become more complex.
Covid-19 has rewritten all these playbooks.
Yes, it is easy to slip into an internalising spiral in these difficult days. Complaint, frustration, and anger; long faces (suitably disguised by wads of cloth); a creeping sense of sadness and the inevitable spectre of death… it is hard to set these effigies of our future selves aside.
I am put in mind of the Robin William’s film ‘Dead Poets Society‘ and his desk-top encouragement to his students… ‘carpe diem‘ [seize the day]… though Williams omitted the sobering ending to the original quote from the Roman poet, Horace…
‘Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero’ wrote Horace… which loosely translates to… ‘Seize the day, put very little trust in the future.’
Might we not – here in Lorne and in the beautiful Otway forests – ‘carpe diem’? Just as Howard Hitchcock ‘seized his day’ when he employed the returning AIF at the end of World War I to carve out the Great Ocean Road, there is an irresistible opportunity to upturn this Covid-19 downturn. An opportunity to retrace, renovate, remake, and restore some of the lost paths of the Otway past – both those of the Gadubanud, the original first peoples, and those of our intrepid settler forbears!
Paths overgrown and nearly lost. Paths once trod by Victorian-age women in long white dresses and nestled under delicate parasols, their menfolk snappy in braces and boater hats. Paths that weaved a web of day-long walks to falls and glens now relegated to musty volumes in the Lorne Historical Society.
Some of the falls in walking distance from Lorne remain district ‘household names’: Erskine, Phantom, Upper and Lower Kalimna, Won Wondah, Henderson, Sheoak, Cora Lynn, Splitters, and Straw. But… lost into all but memory are: Stony, Upper and Lower Cumberland, Wye, Margaret, Melba, Silks, Allen, Creswick, Mountjoy, Brunswick, Louise, Paradise, and Horseshoe Falls – all Lorne-area falls, all named, and all much-visited by our intrepid ancestors. Sadly, their tracks are now overgrown, lost, and ignored in favour of those more accessible for a quick selfie.
If we could pause, plan, rediscover, then renovate these pathways of the past, what a treasure trove of beauty we could retrieve.
Our hard-working National Parks Rangers and Forestry personnel do a superb job maintaining popular picnic spots like Sheoak picnic ground. They clean the BBQ’s, maintain the roads and services, and clear the more commonly trod paths along the Erskine, (St) George, Sheoak, and Cumberland rivers. But with the fire season approaching, their focus will turn to work with DELWP to maintain area fire safety. There is little (or no) chance that they will cut new or renovate overgrown bush walking tracks.
With pandemic-related unemployment likely rampant for some time to come, the opportunity to resource a low-capital, high-yield targeted ‘path and track’ creation and/or restoration program would be an excellent investment in the future of the Lorne area. It would offer useful re-employment and/or re-training. While oversight by Parks Victoria and Shire officials would be required, that should be possible.
A first task for the team might be to re-cut the old switchback track from opposite the 5-mile Track on Deans Marsh Road down the steep face to Stony Falls, and to restore the 5 km track down the creek via Stony Rapids, the Lily Pond and Camels Walk to the sea. I remember this as a beautiful but challenging walk from my childhood.
Re-establishing access to Stony and to the many other ‘forgotten places’, listed earlier, could be of true, lasting value to our Otway hinterland. It might prove a tangible way for Lorne to create opportunity out of adversity.
‘Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero’ might, with a single word change, be a suitable anthem for recovery … ‘carpe diem, quam maximum credula postero’ … ‘seize the day, put [your] utmost trust in the future.’
John Agar
