A trip to the Great Ocean Road 22. – 24. October 2001

My eagerly anticipated journey to Victoria took me through Naracoorte, Edenhope, Harrow, Coleraine, Hamilton, Penshurst and Koroit, until after six hours I arrived in Warrnambool. Isn’t it strange how the drive TO a place always seems to pass quicker than the return drive? I suspect it might be due to a high level of anticipation combined with a supporting tail wind.

From Warrnambool it wasn’t much further until I reached the turnoff to the Great Ocean Road. I had a fair idea that the best chance of any surf would be at this side of the Otway Ranges since it catches most of the swell. Maybe watching the film "Stormriders" with my favourite scenes of Bells Beach and Wayne Lynch riding the remote lefts of South Australia increased my thirst for a surf and photography trip. I was so excited to see this magnificent piece of coastline again that when I pulled into Crofts Bay and finally saw the ocean I took a deep breath of relief. I half expected to see Wayne Lynch surfing a remote break around every corner I turned.

View from Crofts Bay

My next stop was Port Campbell where I discovered new roundabouts in the main street and the relocation of the toilet block at the beach. Port Campbell is always bustling with people, but it was mandatory to stop at the viewing platform above the turquoise, kelpish waters, overlooking the reefs way outside. At first I didn’t notice but then I saw one surfer out on a longboard. I have seen this place huge, the outside reefs breaking at a monstrous size, but today it was relatively small. This guy caught a nice lefthander, just before he disappeared from my view, apparently heading directly into the cliffs.

It was warm, in the high twenties, and the wind was blowing very strongly from the northwest but the swell was consistent and not blown out. I continued my drive, decorating my windscreen wipers with huge horseflies along the way, passing the usual tourist attractions like Loch Ard Gorge, London Bridge and the new monstrosity that caters for viewers of the Twelve Apostles. No way am I ever going to stop at these places when it is crawling with tourists.

My next stop was of course Gibson Steps.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place flat and could not believe my eyes when I saw two guys on shortboards surfing the left, which was a decent size. I quickly grabbed my camera, fought my way down the steep stairs through all the tourists and walked about two hundred metres along the beach, where thankfully I was by myself. One of the surfers had just come in, leaving only his mate behind. As he was walking towards me I smiled at him and greeted him, but strangely enough there was hardly any feedback, which I find very unusual. Generally guys are always interested and make a comment when they see me with my camera around. Nevertheless, I climbed a rock that somebody conveniently had put there for me to take shots of the action. In my opinion the size of the wave was about twelve foot, and by god, the Victorian surfers are hardcore to go out at a place like this. Just looking down at it from the lookout is intimidating enough, not to mention those huge southerly swells that roll in straight from the Antarctic.

Feel like getting crunched? Gibson Steps

I can’t say this guy was catching many waves, nor was he riding very well, but he certainly had guts. Huffing and puffing I climbed up the stairs again and was asked by an Asian couple to "help them with a photograph". How come they always carry the latest hi-tech equipment? I didn’t even know which button the shutter release was, let alone that the tiny camera didn’t even make a sound, indicating I’d pressed anything! I felt like a dork, but think they will benefit from my photographic eye, because I didn’t just press the button but composed the photo, so that one of the Apostles was included as well. Battling masses of flies, horseflies, helicopters and tourists I got back in the car to continue my journey.

Past Lavers Hill it wasn’t far till the turnoff to Johanna. By now I was under a bit of time pressure to reach my destination before dark, but I couldn’t go past Johanna. I’d only been there once briefly before and could only faintly remember it. I drove down Blue Johanna Road which was a mistake, because as I later found out Red Johanna Road is two kilometres shorter and doesn’t have any potholes! When I pulled up at the carpark and had a look, I saw a handful of intrepid surfers further along the beach to the left but unfortunately didn’t have the time to drive down there. I promised myself to definitely check this place out on my way home.

By now I was now in a bit of a hurry and kept driving until I reached Anglesea and eventually Maroo Cottages. I parted with my money and went about to check out my accommodation for the following two nights. Rexi loved it too, plenty of wildlife and things to sniff and he could stay inside with me at night. It was a very quiet place with an open fireplace, wholly out of timber and very rustic. It had been a long day and I went to the Anglesea pub for a rump steak and then we retired for the night.

First thing next morning at dawn I went to Bells. It was pathetic. A piddly little wave and nobody out, not even at Winki. Then I went to Torquay where nothing was happening either. I picked up a tide chart from the servo and figured that low tide was another three hours away. Then I drove to Point Impossible – same thing: nothing happening. It was overcast and started to drizzle. So I went back to the cabin to have some brekkie and return at low tide. It was drizzling on and off. When I came back to Bells at dead low tide, there was one guy out. I reckon even I could have paddled out, just to say, "I surfed Bells!", leaving out the part about a one foot tiddler. No wonder they’d often shift the Bells Beach surf competition to places like Gibson Steps or Johanna. Strangely enough the lack of surf didn’t bother me though, I had plenty of time to do what I wanted to do. At Winki Pop there where about a half a dozen shortboarders and I took a couple of photos.

Winki Pop and Rincon

Then I drove all the way to Wye River with the rain starting to intensify, only to find not one decent wave breaking. I did stop at Fairhaven though, watching a group of learners battling in the shorebreak, which reminded me of my struggling surfing days (not that they are over yet!) In the afternoon it was shopping time. I went to Surf City at Torquay to shop for some bargains. The prices for longboards have skyrocketed, you can almost by a second hand car for it – not that that would do a nice bottom turn on a wave though. Twelve hundred dollars for a board; I reckon it pays to give your current board a bit of TLC! Meanwhile it was pouring down with rain while I meandered from shop to shop. In the McTavish shop my favourite video "Stormriders" was playing. I guess the sales guy was a bit surprised when I recognised it because he wanted to know how I knew. I am pleased to report that I did not succumb the temptation to buy any surfers’ socks, surf backpacks, surf bikinis, surf wallets or other superfluous accessories "made in China".

Wednesday morning it was time to drive back home. I left at sunrise and my first stop was the Aireys Inlet lighthouse. How many times had I passed it without actually taking the time to have a closer look at it? The weather was sunny but the wind was already up, again cross offshore. I took Rexi for a little walk along Kennet River beach with not a soul in sight. One day I would like to surf this place.

Castle Cove on a small day

True to my promise I turned off at Johanna Beach. When I arrived, looking to the left I saw again a handful of surfers at Red Johanna while here a few guys where contemplating whether to go out. I approached a young surfer who was standing at the lookout and we had a little chat. I am always fascinated by the fact that everybody has a story to tell, you just got to lend an ear. He grew up in Port Campbell where he learnt how to surf. We also talked about South Australia and he wanted to know what winds are favourable etc. Last year, he said, him and his mate had planned a trip to Cactus but changed their mind after the second shark attack over there, so they surfed Tathra and Merimbula Bar in NSW instead . Eventually he went out and I drove on another three hundred metres to Red Johanna Beach. At first it didn’t look like the guys were catching too many rides on the heavy breaking, five to six foot waves. Camera in hand I climbed down the beach and positioned myself on top of a rock smack in the middle of both breaks, so I could get shots of both lefts. These guys have the spot wired, they surf here all the time and you could tell. I was amazed at the quality of surfing they performed. It is much easier to take a photo of a good surfer who knows how to make the best out of a wave. Watching this was worth the trip alone. When I got back to the car I observed one of the guys pensively looking at his board which had cleanly snapped in half.

One last look... near Pt. Campbell

Sad to leave this awe inspiring coastline behind for dreary old Adelaide I decided to get some energy for the tiresome drive home in the form of some cheese tastings at the Allansford cheese factory, followed by my favourite pies from the Hamilton bakery. As I was whizzing along at 120 km/h I saw something spiky moving along the embankment. Screeching to a halt I did a U-turn and said hello to an Echidna. I approached him very carefully because usually they roll themselves into a protective ball, but this one didn’t hear my big feet coming. He was so cute, waltzing through the grass, undeterred, pointy nose first. He reminded me a bit of a panzer tank actually. Cute little fellow he was too, his black eyes staring at me curiously.

My next wildlife encounter was with what I initially thought to be a big rock on the bitumen, which upon stopping turned out to be father turtle who was all tucked in and at such an advanced age that he’d already grown moss on his shell. When I safely carried him over the road he was attempting to cross to get to the wetlands on the other side, he decided to pee at me but fortunately missed because due to past rescue operations I’d already expected this. All that remained was a decidedly musty smell on my hands.

To complete the family, I concluded my heroic deeds for this day by saving mother turtle (sticking out her long neck to inquisitively stare at me definitely proved she was female!) and baby turtle.

"Beware - Turtle X-ing!"

copyright S. Martens 2007

photos and story by Sibylle Martens