October 29, 2000

Melbourne to Lorne, Victoria, Australia

When you dash out of the airport in Melbourne your first sensation will be one of having robbed a bank. The Australian dollar, sagging like an aged stripper, will, when exchanged from U.S. currency, leave your wallet full to overflowing. Melbourne is a wonderful, world-class metropolis, and we consequently recommend that you bypass it completely. As the Ozzies like to brag, they’ve got world class indoors as well as out, so we’ll take their word for it and head for the coast road.

Driving in Australia is a cinch except that the gearshift is on the left side, the turn indicators and windshield wipers are reversed, and everybody is coming at you the wrong way. You will find, after only a few miles, that your vehicle, regardless of its make, has a tendency to drag you along the lefthand edge of the road. On the freeways this isn’t a problem since the shoulders are more than ample, but further up the road it has rocky consequences: hanging your wheel too far over to the left will put you down on the basalt stones several hundred feet at the bottom of the cliffs. The reason your car drags the lefthand edge of the road is because your eye unconsciously orients to the left side, which is where, in America, you always find the center stripe. Concentrate on looking at the center stripe, and by the time your visit to Oz is completed, you will have adapted perfectly, making you a certifiable road hazard back in the States.

The first place to stop is in the town of Geelong, pronounced differently from whichever way you’re going to say it. Ozzie English is hard enough, let alone Native Australian words that have been Ozglified. If you go down to the center of town, spelled "centre" by the nation that has inherited British cuisine, orthography and nothing else, praise Jesus, you’ll find a good bookstore, Griffith’s, where you can get a comprehensive road atlas. There’s also a Vietnamese restaurant across the street from Griffith’s that is good and cheap.

But who comes to Oz for its Chinese food? The misguided and the disappointed, that’s who. The thing that Australia does better than any other place on the planet is nature. Giant eucalyptus trees line the freeway, and spectacular birds make appearance after appearance with the express intention of showing you color combos you’d never before thought possible. The Australian Magpie is a particular standout. It’s not only ubiquitous, which newbie birders in Oz will appreciate, but it has such startling marks that you will have little trouble identifying it.

Once through Torquay, veer off at the traffic circle for Surfing Beach. Surprisingly, this is a beach where many people surf. If it’s flat, the waves will still be a couple of feet high, and if the wind is offshore they will be wrapping around the rock point in awesome formation. The colors here in Oz are protected by the Pan-Universal Copyright Convention; no other country on earth is licensed to use these stunning contrasts of blue, green, tan, and yellow in its sky or its landforms. You can stand on the grassy slope that overlooks the beach and watch the longboarders as they pick off the perfectly shaped swells and cruise along the crystal, pitching face of the wave.

In the parking lot there’s a mudflat that should be a winner during migration; in late spring and summer it will have naught but Silver Gull, and perhaps a Caspian Tern or two. The trees around the parking area will, however, add a number of common residents to your "been there, seen that bird" list. One of these will likely be the Willie Wagtail, a bird that deserves some sort of prize simply on the basis of its name. Scoring highly with me, it’s a bird that does what its name implies–it wags its tail as if it were of the very first importance. It also has bold markings that include a white eyebrow painted over a black upper body, all-white below, and a long, relatively broad tail that is so big it doesn’t wag, it flaps. And then, to endear itself even more, it is fearless and lets you get right up close.

Get back on the scenic coast road, from which the coast is completely invisible, and keep your eye peeled for the sign directing you to Bells Beach. Be sure to pack plenty of incense and shave your head before arriving at this high holy site in the surfing world. The first turnout gives you an intimate view of the point break Winki Pop, where you can watch surfers drop in on the perfectly formed waves and ride them off around the bend. Off to your right is Bells Beach. From late March to early May, Bells and Winki Pop get some of the biggest rideable surf in Australia. This is a great time to try your hand at this easily mastered sport. Just rent a board and paddle out in the fifteen-foot surf–anyone coordinated enough to walk and chew gum will quickly master even the biggest surfing conditions. Don’t be intimidated by the ocean or its power; you are a human being and much more powerful than the puny forces of swells that were generated in fierce Antarctic storms and have traveled ten thousand miles of open water to come crashing down here at Bells Beach.

The local surfers will be thrilled to have you join them in the water. "What are you doing out here, you dork?" and "Get the hell out of here, mate," are common Ozzie greetings meant to make you feel competent and welcome in the water. In any case, if you aren’t immediately drowned by the shorebreak or the rip, have a go at one of these fun, easy waves. Although larger than a two-story house, they are easily mastered simply by taking a quick paddle or two, then standing up. Gravity will do the rest, and if you do it a couple of more times you will soon be able to successfully compete in local contests such as the one held here every year at Easter.

At the very least take a couple of snapshots before getting back in your car and making the drive to Lorne.

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