Port Fairy to Port Campbell

Day 4 Port Fairy to Port Campbell 95 km Progressive total 405 km Maximum Temperature 37C (Motel not air-conditioned) In the pre dawn light a patron from Massachusetts ...... who had been a musician at the Port Fairy Festival that weekend .... eyed off our brekkie which was set up in the lobby. We all had our breakfast in Sandra’s room, sitting around the perimeter of her 16 m square bed. Following a Ban Ki-moon thought for the day to remind us of our mission; “every child has the right to start life with equal protection from polio” - we were off. Crossing the Moyne, and glancing back at the fishing fleet, we were reminded of last night’s fabulous fish and chips at Wishart’s Fish Restaurant on the Pier. After a brief stop at Tower Hill to appreciate the relatively recent volcanic event which had sculpted the local landscape – 3000 years ago and a part of the Aboriginal dream time – we entered Warrnambool for an early morning tea. The busyness of the road on this - the first working day after a public holiday - continued out of town to our turn off to the Great Ocean Road. Caravans and motor homes with occupants luxuriating in air conditioned comfort passed us by as the temperature slowly rose for the day. Undaunted, our road escorts – Margaret in the van and Sandra in her car – kept pace with us and slowed the traffic. Tony, Bruce and David, with heads down and flying due to the great tail wind, sailed past our lunch stop at Nullawarre and had to be brought back. A succession of straight roads and right angle turns took us to the coast and what a welcome the sea breeze gave us as we approached the Bay of Islands for a photo shoot. At a later photo shoot at the infamous London Bridge, a chap took a photo of us and after an explanation of what we Rotarian cyclists were about, kindly gave us a donation of $50. Feeling the heat, but nonetheless buoyed by the fact that the wind was generally favourable, we pressed on to our afternoon tea stop at Peterborough. Graham was seen to investigate a chap under the bridge who was netting bait shrimp in the weedy shallows. Having loaded up with warm water flavoured by Gatorade we headed off on our last leg to Port Campbell. This was interrupted only by a quick overlook of the township at the lookout. A magic descent into the valley was spoilt only by a sharp pull up the hill into town, but redeemed later by the view of the beach from the motel and a cold soak in the sea at that ‘peach of a beach’ called Port Campbell.