South Australia

Setting off early, we left Melbourne in rush-hour traffic for Ballarat, a gentle three hour highway drive into Goldfield country, with Tom and Lisa following closely in their classy Ford Falcon. Ballarat is Victoria's largest inland town, a development springing from the discoveries of gold in nearby Bunninyong in 1851, attracting thousands of diggers to the area in search of their fortune.

We were here to see Sovereign Hill, a popular attraction where a recreated mining town serves as an entertaining living history of the era, complete with actors in traditional period costume. The town itself struck us as a little Disney-esque, but within a few minutes we knew we were in for an enjoyable time.

After a quick wander around the classicly Victorian architecture of the theatre, stores and taverns in the main dusty street, we stopped in at the gold pouring demonstration where one of the resident experts turned a big gloopy pot of fourteen-hundred degree molten metal into a solid bar worth a whopping thirty thousand quid. Unfortunately, the young chap was far too quick to stash it away before any of us could distract him and get our hands on it.

Moving on to the Diggings area, a cheerful chap showed us around the gold field area and taught us how to successfully pan for gold, a skill we were pretty unsuccessful at mastering despite numerous attempts. A quick pantomime (quality performances all-round) was followed by a delve into one of the mines itself for a quick tour and a look at a replica of the biggest nugget ever discovered, weighing in at a whopping eighty-two kilograms.

Some ridiculously simple bowling followed, where it is physically impossible to miss no matter how hard you try, and a quick look at the candy-making was all we had time for and we returned to our barracks accommodation for a well-deserved barbeque.

That evening we all headed back down into the gold town where some not very 1850's-like open-top buses pulled in and were soon delivering us to the 'Blood On The Southern Cross' sound and light show which tells the colourful story of the 1854 Eureka rebellion.

Tensions during these times were high. The gold-fields were over-crowded and the government had imposed strict licensing laws which were crippling the miners and their hard-up families. Added to this, the workers were constantly policed for these licenses by a specially formed force of violent ex-convicts who received good rewards should anyone be found without their pass, a situation which obviously invited abuse. Things finally blew up when a local landlord killed an enebriated worker and the miners became disgruntled when the governer's let the publican off the hook. A large-scale rebellion was steadily building, which eventually culminated in the tavern being burnt to the ground. After months of debate, the combined armed forces finally went to work on the outspoken community with a surprise invasion one early December morning and the startled rebellion was crushed within about 15 minutes. The troopers and police then went wild, destroying tents and property without reason, bayoneting the wounded, and shooting innocent bystanders. Eureka was descirbed as a massacre. Despite the loss of life, the Eureka Stockade highlighted the need for fair treatment and justice for gold miners, and is still hailed as of crucial importance in the making of Australian democracy to this day. This entertaining show played out as the finale to an informative and interesting day.

The next morning we all visited the on-site gold museum and a classically victorian street in the town centre to round off an enjoyably entertaining couple of days in the historic area, before the four of us parted company once again. The other two were heading back to Melbourne, while we had plans to go and see some of the highlights of the Great Ocean Road.

We took a brief stop in the small town of Torquay for some fish and chips, and paid a visit to the world famous surfing spot of Bells Beach, star of the final scene in the film Point Break and recently in the news because of a savage shark attack (aiding our decision to leave well alone), finally reaching our destination of Lorne, a small beachfront town just past the gateway to the Great Ocean Road. We hung around in this meditteranean-style resort for two days as it consistently hammered with rain, unfortunately foiling any plans we'd had to go to the beach or see some of the local sights.

It was in this torrential rain that we set off along the coast once more. Rocks from the surrounding cliff-face were sliding off and littering the road, making the drive along the famous highway slightly treacherous and making many of the stunning views obselete. Luckily the mist had cleared by the time we reached the Twelve Apostles, a famous selection of rocky stacks which have been abandoned to the ocean by eroding headland. There are now only six or seven remaining apostles, the name giving the whole spectacle a little more grandure than it probably deserves, but a nice picture postcard moment nonetheless.

We took an overnight stop in the relatively large town of Warrnambool, still smarting a little over our lack of Great Ocean Road scenery, and headed straight to The Grampians, a forty-square kilometre National Park containing some of Victoria states most outstanding natural features. This wasn't the location I would have ideally picked to spend my thirtieth birthday, most of the happy day being spent driving to and admiring some rather unique rock formations. Party on! We did have a pleasant, but fairly uneventful day however, the highlight being a splendid cappucino ice-cream from the local parlour where I had an enlightening conversation with an old bloke, followed by a less than inspiring beans-on-toast supper, all making for a lively welcome to middle-aged life. I'd like to subtly add at this point that my darling girlfriend of five years didn't even bother getting me a card. Nice that. Send all hate-mail to her usual address...

After a couple of nights we took off again for our final destination, the lengthy six-hour journey slightly out-doing our more optimistic estimates. Once in Adelaide I was secretly hoping we'd get a decent night out and we were in luck as our Irish room-mates Kit and Grainne (pronounced Gronya) turned out not only to be particularly friendly, but also keen to help me belatedly celebrate my big day. We all went to a slightly backward pub (there aren't many forward one's in fairness), where the barman took a bit of shine to us and kitted us out with Australia capes and a multitude of free drinks. Hard to argue with that.

We used the hire car for one last beach trip to the little bay at Glenelg, and then spent our last day in town joining the locals in their Australia Day celebrations. Capes at the ready, the morning parade featuring many of the local communities from all over the world led us to the park by the river where the days main activities were taking place. The Lord Mayor raised the flag, and a twenty-one gun salute brought the festivities to their open. Staged entertainment kept the crowds happy, especially the cheesy boy-band singing their selection of pop covers earning them a number of girly screams. The afternoon drifted by, and although it wasn't the riot we'd quite expected it was soon over, and we were back at the hostel packing our bags in preparation for our late night flight to Western Australia.

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