Back Roads to Ocean Dreams

From Inverleigh's riverside tranquility, we faced a choice—the efficient highway through Geelong or meandering back roads through Victoria's farming heartland. True to our nomadic philosophy of discovery over efficiency, we chose the latter, trading speed for the possibility of unexpected encounters. These rural routes wound through landscapes of pastoral simplicity—paddocks dotted with sheep, weathered farmhouses telling generational stories, the occasional small township barely registering our passage. While perhaps no more picturesque than the highway route, these quiet roads offered their own meditation on Victorian countryside, each kilometre unhurried and undemanding.

Torquay marked our transition from inland wandering to coastal anticipation. Here, nostalgia guided our lunch preparations as we gathered supplies for a family tradition dating back to our children's younger years—Turkish bread, quality ham, and Swiss cheese. This simple combination had fuelled countless day adventures when our nomadic life existed only in weekend escapes rather than permanent reality. Now, sharing this ritual with Torrin carried particular sweetness, the torch of family traditions passing naturally between generations.

"This was always our adventure lunch," we explained as we prepared sandwiches beside the beach, waves providing soundtrack to memory. "You kids would demolish these after a morning of exploring."

Bells Beach demanded pilgrimage—that legendary amphitheatre of Australian surfing where swells born in distant Southern Ocean storms find perfect expression against sculpted reef. We stood transfixed as local surfers demonstrated the ballet of reading water, their bodies becoming extensions of liquid energy in ways that seemed to defy physics. Even Torrin, typically unmoved by sporting spectacles, found himself absorbed in the poetry of human and ocean collaboration.

The official start of the Great Ocean Road presented obligatory photo opportunity—that iconic archway marking beginning of Australia's most celebrated coastal drive. Despite avoiding peak tourist season, fellow travellers clustered around this monument to engineering ambition, everyone seeking their perfect commemoration of journey's commencement. We captured our own moments quickly, preferring movement to lingering among crowds.

Through Anglesea and Aireys Inlet we wound, the road now fulfilling its promise of spectacular coastal interaction. Ocean vistas alternated with brief inland diversions, each curve revealing new perspectives on this ancient dialogue between land and sea. Lorne arrived as afternoon light began its golden transformation, prompting detour to Teddy's Lookout—that elevated perch offering preview of coming coastal splendours. Despite sharing this viewpoint with numerous fellow admirers, the panorama's magnificence remained undiminished, stretching endlessly along curves and headlands that would define our coming days.

With daylight waning and formal campgrounds holding no appeal, we focused on Sheoak day use area just beyond Lorne's bustle. This strategy—occupying day areas after visitor exodus—had served us throughout our travels, requiring only discretion and early departure. The short drive through Otway forest depths revealed exactly what we sought: a quiet clearing where parked cars indicated bushwalkers still exploring surrounding trails. We positioned ourselves strategically, knowing these temporary neighbours would soon depart, leaving us in forest solitude.

Night brought rain's familiar percussion—heavy drops accumulated on high eucalyptus branches before plummeting onto our metal roof with amplified impact. This forest rain carried different character than coastal showers or highland mists, each drop seeming to contain the essence of leaf and bark through which it had filtered. We slept deeply, cradled by nature's lullaby and the peculiar security that comes from being hidden within forest embrace rather than exposed on coastal promontory.

Morning invited exploration before continuing our coastal progression. The small bushwalk revealed Sheoak's subtle charms—fern gullies still dripping from overnight rain, towering mountain ash creating cathedral light, the particular silence that comes from sound absorption by countless leaves. Our final local exploration led to Sheoak Falls and Swallow Cave, where overnight precipitation had transformed the trail into treacherous skating rink. Anth's usual surefootedness abandoned him on the slick surface, resulting in an ungraceful dance of slips and slides that had us all laughing despite the genuine risk of injury.

"Grace of a newborn giraffe," he muttered after one particularly spectacular recovery, mud decorating his posterior.

As we prepared to rejoin the Great Ocean Road proper, these inland diversions felt like perfect prelude to coming coastal drama. The forest's intimate embrace had provided counterpoint to ocean's vast exposure, reminding us that Australia's magic exists not just in famous vistas but in quiet corners where tourists rarely venture, where day use areas become night sanctuaries for those willing to bend rules gently in service of deeper connection with landscape. The road ahead promised internationally celebrated beauty, but these hidden moments—slipping on muddy trails, listening to rain through forest filter, sharing traditional sandwiches by lesser-known beaches—these would likely linger equally in memory.Read more