Travel in a time of Covid

3.7.20

A Von Blog.

I am writing this in the township of Tungamah, it is in Yorta Yorta Country. The people of the Yorta Yorta nation are comprised of 8 different clan groups and are the original ancestors of the land. I would like to acknowledge the Dhulanyagan people who are the traditional custodians of this land. I would also like to pay my respects to the elders, past and present, of the Yorta Yorta nation.

Travelling in the van means not only do we get to do a lot of looking out the window but also plenty of time to think through thorny issues and knotty conundrums. In recent weeks my thoughts have often come round to world events such as the Black Lives Matter protests and I have felt myself pulled in different directions. My internal Venn diagram would look a bit like this:

I was disappointed that protesters had taken to pulling down statues and graffiti'ing war memorials but, at the same time, I am furious that Aborigines, although only making up 3.3% of the Australian population, constitute 27% of the prison population. Ignore what social media or the Shock Jocks might tell you, this is not because the First People commit more crime, it's because everything (and I mean everything) is weighted against them; they do not have the benefit of 'privilege'.

I know I have privilege. I was born in a country that had free healthcare and free schooling. I was white. I always had a roof over my head. I had parents who were present, who looked after me, nurtured me and loved me. Despite being a woman, being gay, being a Northerner (!) I have privilege and I acknowledge it. My next step is to better understand how I might use my privilege to give someone, who is less privileged, a hand up.

These thoughts sit against the surreal situation of reading plaques and tourist signage which would lead anyone to believe that the first humans ever to find their way in this great land had white skin and spoke English. The dearth of aborigine interpretation is astounding but reflects a history written, in the main, by white men. I am not saying we should bin such history, in itself it is important but more modern interpretation or context would be beneficial. A bit like the statue arguments currently raging; I say keep the statues but, perhaps, move them into a museum and/or add factual information regarding the time and the place?

Oh that's right. This is a travel blog. We left the mountains and headed to the coast, and what a coast! The Great Ocean Road, or GOW as it is referred to locally, is proclaimed as one of the most beautiful road trips in the world and it certainly has merit. The ocean is a plethora of blues and greens and the cliff faces, stacks, towers and arches are breathtaking. However, whilst we were surrounded by immediate beauty it was underpinned by the obvious fact that we were travelling at a weird time. Places that should have been heaving, were not. Attractions that should have been open, were not. Cafes and pubs which should have been welcoming the hordes, were not. Like I said, it was weird. I mean, I hate crowds so actually was loving the solitude but I recognise that many of these businesses are unlikely to survive, how can they? The owner of the brewery and bar in Campbells Bay had had three nights where no one came through the door. He cannot afford to employ any staff because he is not getting enough revenue to pay them and so he is chief cook, bottle washer and server and cleaner and host; a tough gig and it showed on his face. Bugger! Got all analytical again - Shazza is not going to be happy.

It was our second time on the GOW. The first time was in April 2012 when we completed the GOW Walk, some 100km from Apollo Bay to the Twelve Apostles, it was an awesome walk but, this time, we had the benefit of high seats and heating! We also did really well in the 'jump out the vehicle, take a photo, jump back in the vehicle' stakes but I will refrain from putting all said photos into the blog as there are a lot of them - and I mean A LOT! I will also refrain from including too much information about how we got bogged down in a grassy camp ground and had to be rescued by a tractor; those kind of stories are best kept for the pub! So, here are some of our memories from the GOW.

The Grotto

London Bridge (the gap on the left was an arch until it collapsed in1990 - imagine the shock of the two unsuspecting tourists who were on the wrong side of the collapse...)