Paynesville to Orbost

Leaving Paynesville we followed the lakeside up to Bairnsdale where we joined another rail trail - the East Gippsland Rail Trail (EGRT) - to keep us off the busy Princes Highway all the way to Orbost, with an overnight in Nowa Nowa.

Accompanied by blue skies and a gentle breeze, we cycled up from Paynesville along the coast. A quiet back road led us through the Point Fullerton Reserve and Wetland, leading onto a foreshore track, with views out to the flat blue calm water of Eagle Point Bay.

The water shimmered and the Mitchell River Silt Jetty - a long 8km spit of land - disappeared to a vanishing point
in the distant bay. We passed gangs of relaxed kangaroos bathing themselves in the warmth of the sun. One ‘sentry’ stood alert to our presence and kept a beady eye on us. Another kangaroo sat in a field with some cows. One cow and the roo seemed to be looking at each other, in a sort of nonchalant faceoff.

Pausing at the Eagle Point Hub, next to a lovely barbecue and picnic area overlooking the bay, we stopped to have a coffee bought from the community cafe, run out of the new multi-purpose community building. A council facility, it had a glorious outlook, where we sat and watched the black swans glide gracefully back and forth on the blue lake. The majority seem paired up. Occasionally, the males fluffed themselves up, posturing to other nearby stragglers to stay away from their pen, or showing off to other pens to sway them from their accompanying male.

Following the Mitchell River, we spotted cormorants, darters and herons, fishing or drying their wings. The odd fisherman sat patiently, waiting for the fish to bite. Joining the road for a few miles, we entered the town of Bairnsdale to pick up food supplies for the next few days.

The large tower of the catholic Church of St. Mary had dominated the horizon as we approached the town and we popped in. Inside the walls and ceiling were covered in frescos, showing religious biblical scenes, along with depictions of heaven, hell and purgatory. The church seemed to us to feel Italian, somehow. We learned that the decoration was done by an Italian migrant, and former art student, who was a local farm worker, and who migrated to the area during the depression. The light poured in through the stained glass and being the only people inside, we felt a great sense of peace and calm.

Pressing on through the busy hubbub of the town, we joined the East Gippsland Rail Trail. The trail follows the old Bairnsdale to Orbost line, extended from the line originating in Melbourne and opened in the early 1900s to serve the burgeoning timber and agricultural industries. The line eventually closed in 1987.

Passing through farmland, the line’s raised embankment gave us views across rolling green fields. Crossing several dry creeks and cocooned from the wind, the silence was only broken by bird calls - kookaburra’s gabbling and the ‘ogle ogling’ of the Australian magpie.

Running through and past the old stations of Nicholson and Bumberrah, we bypassed a horseshoe bend in the trail to save time by diverting at Tambo onto some backroads to climb up into the fringes of the Colquhoun Regional Park and rejoin the trail there. At the location of the old Bumberrah Railway Station, a sign informed us that the native grasslands and grassy woodland here are incredibly important. Less than 1% of the former 1800 square kilometres that existed on the Gippsland plains and covering 1/3 of Victoria prior to European settlement remains.

Following a B road initially and then turning onto a gravel road, we climbed up a hill, past red gums and arriving at the top, enjoyed the vista as parrots cackled in unison as they flew over our heads.
Rejoining the trail took us through an expanse of forest, criss crossed by thin lonely gravel roads and remote sandy tracks. It was very peaceful and we had sight of only one person in a truck the whole afternoon. A feeling of wilderness in one small area of southeast Victoria - just one state and small part of this massive island continent.

As the afternoon light made the colours of the red gum tree and white bark of the eucalyptus pop, we arrived at the Stoney Creek Trestle Bridge, spanning the large cutting and its marshy creek below. The trestle bridge is magnificent and is made from local iron
bark and grey box timber and is about 250m long and 20m high. It is one of the longest examples of this type of bridge. A chorus of frogs echoed in the wetlands below the bridge, the moon hung in the pale sky, above the tips of trees touched by the lasts rays of the sun.

We had booked a pitch at the Mingling Waters Caravan Park in Nowa Nowa, a small town of 200 people set in woodland, alongside the Highway. After setting up the tent and making dinner, we went to the bar next door to the campground. Friday night saw the small bar quite busy with folk. Rugby league played out on the large television. A musician was perched on a stool with his acoustic guitar, getting ready for his set. When he sang it was amazing. He sang in a blues style and his guitar picking and gravely voice fought against the loudness of the chat of the bars patrons. We really enjoyed listening and clapped appreciatively and he kindly smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. A lovely memory to take away as we retired to our tent for the night.

Next morning we awoke to the sun as its rose and cast its rays into the tent. It was going to be a warm day cycling to Orbost and very spring like. Leaving Nowa Nowa the trail undulated upwards through thick forest all day, through Wombat Creek Conservation Reserve, a vast old growth temperate forest populated by huge eucalyptus. Every so often the forest was pockmarked with blackened reminders of devastating fires, remaining trees stood like carbonised totems. Signs adjacent to the track provided dates of the fires, giving us an indicator of how long the new growth forest has taken to establish itself.

We descended down to the river flood plain at Orbost, passing the Snowy River Rail Bridge. This heritage 770 metre long trestle bridge built in 1916 is the longest rail bridge in Victoria. A community group is aiming to restore it to a condition suitable for walking and riding and create a stunning start or finish to the rail trail. At the moment the restored section is limited to a hundred or so metres at each end, each ending at a barrier viewing platform.

A train of cows passed beneath the cycle path, driven by a cheery and robust farmer on a quad bike helped along by his enthusiastic working collie dog.

On the outskirts of Orbost we again experienced Australia’s magpie swooping season: dive bombed repeatedly by a cross magpie (the second time in a week we had fly by magpie rage). It threw itself at both of us with brave gusto. How Amanda filmed this without falling off her bike I don’t know but it was quite scary and we moved off quickly!!

We rolled up to the Orbost Caravan Park. Amanda nipped to the shop whilst I set up the tent. We ate in the basic covered outdoor kitchen. As we were doing so, a man came over and introduced himself as Richard. He was looking for the kitchen to cook up some dinner for him and his two dogs, Dennis (😂) and Rudy. The ‘Rude Boys’ as he referred to them, were a couple of mixed cross breeds, the size of a Staffordshire Bull Terrier. Richard was staying at the campground and had travelled down from Sydney to view a property he was thinking of buying. We proceeded to chat about all things. Property, immigration into Australia, dogs, travel, work, business and the kindness of people. It was one of those conversations that could go anywhere. Amanda escaped to join a phone call with her mum and sisters, whilst I tidied up our pots. A chore I was distracted from by a lengthy discussion with Richard about many things. An intriguing person, I warmed to him as the evening wore on and we talked for about an hour, broken by his cooking of a large quantity of meat which he shared with Dennis and Rudy, who snapped into a single fixed state of trance like obedience, devouring the sausages, steak and other items with polite gluttony.

We bumped into him again the following morning, and as we parted wished each other well. With his charm, interesting stories, apologetic candidness and honest revelations about himself and his life, we certainly were richer from the encounter.

We cycled through town to the start of the Bonang Road. Now we go up, up and up! Rising from the coastal plain of Victoria to the highlands of the Monaro region of the Great Dividing Range, and Snowy River country, where we will cross the state line into New South Wales. Legs be prepared!

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