Staying in touch with people has never been so easy, thanks to social media sites and smart phones. But keeping in touch with nature is a different matter. It’s been ages since I shut off digital devices and simply enjoyed my surroundings, and so it is with great anticipation that I set off with my friend Jun for a long weekend in the Otways.
Our trip begins with a drive along the Great Ocean Road to Beech Forest, where we stop at The Ridge Organic Food Store and Cafe to sample owner Sue Ladewig’s goulash pie – the one her mother warned her about.
“She told me I’d never be able to take it off the menu once I put it on,” Ladewig says with a laugh.
Full of chunky beef and served with a salad dotted with olives from the farm of Ladewig’s brother, the tasty dish sets us up for an afternoon of exploring.
We start in the redwood forest, a grove of sequoia trees whose appearance belies its relatively short history. Planted in 1938, the trees reach far into the skies, and in 40 years, a local tells us, will surpass their famous Californian cousins. Wandering among the silent giants is like entering a prehistoric age.
Similarly, in Maits Rest rainforest, our next stop, the tree ferns and lush greenery form an other-worldly backdrop, with one of its inhabitants – the black carnivorous snail – sounding like the ideal protagonist for a sci-fi flick. Fortunately, we elude the snail’s clutches (we learn later that it prefers to feed on worms rather than hunt down humans) and escape to the safety of Apollo Bay.
Arriving just before dusk, we check into the Sandpiper Motel and, on the owner’s advice, rush off to Marriners Lookout, an easy 10-minute climb to a hilltop where we enjoy panoramic views over the bay. A slow-cooked lamb shoulder dish for dinner at Chris’s Beacon Point – which itself is built to have treetop views – is a fitting end to a relaxing day.
The next day, we embark on what should be a 45-minute drive to the Cape Otway Lightstation, but are waylaid by the presence of a koala ambling along the road. Cue much clicking of cameras amid delighted squeals – neither of us has seen a koala this close up in the wild.
It’s sunny at the lightstation . . . then drizzly, then pouring, then sunny, a phenomenon we are assured is normal for the cape. We climb the narrow, winding staircase to the operations centre of the lighthouse to admire the stunning scenery and hear about its history.
