Old Playgrounds

Recently after some discussion we decided to go on a trip with some of Ross’s Tuesday coffee friends to Portland. I was a little reluctant at first as I grew up near there and went to school in Portland via the school bus. Plus I’d only met one of the group going and was a little unsure about spending a couple of days with relative strangers.
We set off planning to meet the others at Port Fairy for lunch. My memories of Port Fairy are few but the main one was of the pub where you could buy ‘Sly Grog’ after normal closing hours. Pubs shut at ten in those days — my nursing days in the early seventies. Arriving we located the cafe and went in to meet some of the others. After being introduced to the three men there and enjoying a coffee I wandered off to look at the shops — that was what two of the women were already doing.
Then we headed to visit a small town and point of interest in Yambuk where one of the men had grown up and my parents had lived when I’d gone nursing. Interestingly when we stopped I asked one of the women if she knew a friend of ours as I’d thought their names were familiar. It tuns out that she was the bridesmaid and Ross was the best man for the friends wedding — small world.
Eventually we arrived at our destination — a lovely place called Trewalla Springs — which I’d highly recommend.
There were two cottages, one being an old schoolhouse that I was certain wasn’t there when I’d travelled past on the school bus. Later I mentioned this to our host when she came to check that all was all right. She asked where I’d lived and when I told her she looked at me and said “Christine!” then “Ive wondered where the Wills’s had got to.” So my world got smaller as we discovered we’d gone to school together. Also the school house had been moved there from a neighbouring area, so my memory was still good.
After a relaxing night getting to know one another the next day we set out to explore with me being the designated tour guide — it was after all my playground when I was growing up.
We headed out to Cape Bridgewater and stopped at Shelley Beach. It was a windy day but we descended to the beach and collected lots of shells before setting off for Bridgewater Bay. There is a cafe there that was called the Kiosk when it was built several decades ago, and where I had my first job. I pointed out landmarks including the highest point on the Victorian Coastline and where there had been an early whaling station.
Then we drove past my old home — looking sad and dilapidated — before heading out to the Blowholes which were only accessible through our farm and are now an officially designated tourist attraction. It felt strange to be standing on a viewing platform where I’d been used to running around (carefully) on the top of the cliffs. It really had been a playground for me, and much of it was the same.

After that we drove to the Bridgewater Lakes and had lunch in the sun. Along the way back I pointed out places of interest and told stories about them. That evening we got together for a bar-b-que with a roaring fire and listened to the bullfrog and a very noisy grumpy koala up a nearby tree.
All in all it was an enjoyable mid-week adventure and trip down memory lane.