A winding road that stretches from Geelong to Warrnambool, that hugs the unstable cliffs over sapphire seas: Australia’s famous coastline of the Great Ocean Road seems to rise effortlessly from the water. As my bus passes through Lorne, the coastline is rocky, the continental shelf visible as the tide recedes. By the time I am at Port Campbell, three days later, the cliffs are rising ten stories from the golden sand itself, no inkling that these giants are below the surface.
Welcome to the Great Ocean Road.
I don’t quite know where to begin with it. I started from Melbourne on a hot sunny day, arriving in Apollo Bay around sunset. Apollo Bay is technically on the Great Ocean Road, but you’d never know it. There are no rock stacks, no arches, no cliffs that recede far into the distance. Apollo Bay is, instead, a destination. Music wafts from the cafes in the morning, the sound of children laughing comes from the playground in the park across the street. The dark blue water at the beach is only a gently rolling surf on the white sand.
#sorrymom
Two days later, I hitch a ride from the corner of Apollo Bay into Port Campbell, two hours down the road. My ride is an American couple, Tiffany and Anthony, from the Sunshine State. They’ve only just arrived in Australia, ready for a three week vacation. The Great Ocean Road is their first stop. We only make a few detours on the way into PC, and all are stunning. The first is a roadside stop at Joanna Bay, where we can see the surf pounding the sand. Here – less than an hour from Apollo Bay – the cliffs are already rising from the sand. Anthony wants to check out the surf at Joanna Beach so we head there next, down a tiny road to the end. Signs point to the dangerous swimming conditions, the riptides, and the European wasps.
We don’t stay.
Our third stop is the famous Twelve Apostles. I’ve seen pictures of these since I was young, and I have always wanted to be here. It’s crowded, but its not as bad as I expected. I’m able to get all the photos I want before we decide to abandon the Gibson Steps and head into town. After lunch, I leave them to their exploring.
Port Campbell is a tiny town, smaller than Apollo Bay, but I find that there are way more people here. My hostel is deadly quiet until sunset, when tours pour in for one night only. The next day, I hire a bike (only $25/day) and kit out to go west. My destination for the morning is the London Bridge, a once-double archway that collapsed rather dramatically in 1990 stranding two tourists on the remaining bit of land. No one was injured. Signs still call it London Bridge, but some tours and websites refer to it now as London Arch.
Doesn’t matter; it is still breathtaking.
From London Bridge, I continue west on the Great Ocean Road to The Grotto. Storm clouds are brewing on the horizon but I am still in a tank top and sunglasses. I wonder how long I have until the storm finally rolls in. The grotto is stunning. Waves crash on the rocks below, but the small pool under the arch is as still as a painting. The colours against the dark grey sky are worthy of a Van Gogh.
I leave the Grotto because the flies are too much. Australia’s flies are menaces. I do not like them. I decide to bike into Peterborough, and maybe onward to the Bay of Islands, but an information sign at the entrance to town dissuades me from this. It’s another 15 to 20 km away and its getting darker and darker. I’m torn. I want to see them, and I don’t know what my plans are to get out of PC, so I don’t know if I’ll have the chance to stop later.
Then I hear a crack of thunder. Not a gentle rumble but a crash. I make a hasty decision to head back to PC for lunch – making a quick stop at The Arch on the way – instead of the islands or Timboon, where there is a distillery and chocolaterie. I’m at the arch – not as impressive as London Bridge – when the sky lets loose. I make a mad dash for the only tree but even that doesn’t shield me from the deluge. I fumble for my rainjacket, tuck my phone into my pocket, and crouch down for the ride back. It’s at least 6km back to PC and my legs are burning as I make the final slight hill into town.
Its the end of my bicycling day; the rain doesn’t let up until it is too late for me to go back out. I find a ride to Mount Gambier, and all is well. Tomorrow is another day, and another chance to see it all.
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Wow so beautiful