Ballarat to Campbells Creek
A lovely sunny start to the day.
I must confess I was glad not to encounter anyone else on the tower staircase, which was very a very narrow spiral and I descended very carefully.
So I walked along a little valley sampling various mineral waters, none of which had a particularly pleasant taste, but I'm sure they're good for me. Each had its own interpretation board and mineral analysis.
Despite that, a young woman with two boys appeared on the outside of the barrier. They clearly had been slipping and sliding judging from their muddiness.
It was certainly different to last time I walked it, which I think may have been in 1980. There is now an asphalt path most of the way to the summit.
There was one formation on the way down that looked little like a person I had to speculate on whether to call it. Miranda or the headmistress.
A campsite just opposite me was occupied by a tiny tent and a bicycle and I had to reflect how intrepid that young man is; though he is, no doubt, a few decades younger than me.
I thought I'd go to the farmers market as my first stop, but it does help to read things more carefully. It's on the 2nd weekend of every month, not the first. So back to my itinerary.
I did note that Lake Wendoree provides lots of opportunities for recreation; at one stage the traffic stopped and I wondered why, but there was a small flock of swans crossing the road. Slowly.
As I headed towards tonight's destination, the namesake of the birthplace of the Wild Colonial Boy, I passed through Creswick and wondered whether I wanted to visit the woollen mill, but I figured they probably didn't have anything super wonderfully fine so I kept going.
I was puzzled at one point when maps told me to take the fifth exit from the roundabout; why she wanted me to go right round the roundabout before I exited, I have no idea, so I just turned left.
As I drove, I passed through forest and farmlands with some gentle hills; today's golden offerings were not of the valuable type, but the wattle in prolific flower. Many brown signs along the way attempted to distract me from my purpose but I was able to bypass most of them.
I stopped at Daylesford to visit the convent and art gallery therein, and was rather impressed.
It is a mixture of old and modern in terms of the renovations and a lot of the original material either retained or reused, for example, in the altar bar which reused a whole lot of broken components of the altar that were found in a back shed by the new owner; it created an interesting feature.
I appreciated the stained glass windows in the chapel - there were a few
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| Joseph the carpenter with the young Jesus in the workshop |
Some of the art I liked very much and would happily own some of it. Other I admired but certainly wouldn't find space for it in my house, sometimes due to size,
and the rest I would say I would classify with the question of 'why' but I guess it appeals to some people.
I did the little scenic drive of the Wombat Hill Botanical Gardens, and then climbed the tower at the top of the hill for the scenic view over Dalesford and surrounds.
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| Part of the panorama from the top of the tower |
I chose to skip the Lake Daylesford walk, preferring a little walk by Springs in the Hepburn regional reserve but I found myself navigated to the wrong end of the reserve and actually at the Hepburn Springs Bath House area. I was also told that the Lake Daylesford walk is lovely and incorporates one of the earliest mineral springs bathing sites.
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| The Hepburn Springs bathhouse where one 'took the waters'! |
I enquired at the bath house, and the only thing on offer was the big pool which is $60 for an hour and a half. Adding up that hour and a half, plus everything else I wanted to do today, would have me in Campbell's Creek around about midnight. I decided to walk back to the car and keep going.
But not before lunch in a rather lovely location by Sulphur Spring .
It was a delight to eat lunch without layers of thermals, but I don't think it's quite warm enough to do as a little note on my itinerary suggests - maybe finding somewhere to swim.
Onward to Trenton Falls, which is beautiful.
A sign warned of the imminent collapse of some of the basalt columns that make up the falls and the inadvisability of going past the barriers.
Another couple ventured to the edge of the top of the waterfall and then messed about a little bit further. upstream to get the perfect selfie in the middle of the river. There's just no fixing stupid.
In the interests of time I skipped my next stop, which was to have been the potentially delightful Forest Glade Gardens near Mount Macedon, and proceeded straight to Hanging Rock, which was just as well as I arrived and set off on a walk 10 minutes before the last permitted departure time for the summit.
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| The Hanging Rock |
Anyway, I had thought I probably wouldn't walk to the summit but given it was noted on the sign as only a 50-minute return walk of 1800 m, I thought 'why not'. And I had a picnic on top, comprising a small number of mandarins from my tree.
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| I made it! |
It was certainly different to last time I walked it, which I think may have been in 1980. There is now an asphalt path most of the way to the summit.
On the way back down I stepped aside to let a group of four young Asian people pass me and then the young man at the back turned around to see if I needed a hand down because that section was rocky, and he paused again at the bottom of the rocky section just to make sure I got down okay, which was very sweet of him.
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| Miranda or Mrs Appleyard? |
There was one formation on the way down that looked little like a person I had to speculate on whether to call it. Miranda or the headmistress.
Resuming my journey. I headed to Kyneton and drove slowly through its streets admiring its historical buildings and then to Kyneton Springs, where I tasted the water and topped up a bottle. Though I must admit, I shall be sipping it slowly as one does medicinal materials. It's not exactly the best tasting stuff in the world.
The route to Kyneton Springs took me through the Avenue of Honour and not only were there trees to mark those who paid the ultimate sacrifice, but also an incredible display of daffodils along the length of the Avenue.
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| The Avenue of Honour at Kyneton |
Kyneton itself appeared to be having some sort of daffodil celebration/festival. There's lots of daffodils in the town and they are rather beautiful.
On to Castlemaine and a brief stop at the supermarket before going on to my Airbnb for the night. It's a lot more comfortable than my accommodation for the last two nights, although there are no cooking facilities but my hostess was happy to heat my leftovers in her microwave.
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