Thoughts on a trip to the high country

This week we went to Swifts Creek and Omeo – a memorable trip to the “high country” of Victoria, Australia.

These are some of my thoughts as we travelled through this remarkable place. I share them as “scenes” I observed along the way.

There are sheep in the paddock, grazing in what looks like perfect circumstances, plenty of green grass, water troughs nearby, lovely sunlit day. Until I notice one Ewe, she is grazing, but half heartedly. As I look closer, I can see her dead lamb on the grass nearby. It’s poor little body very still. She is grazing to survive, but her head turns towards her lamb, and I feel such sorrow for her. Do sheep feel sorrow for a loss like that? I don’t know, but it did make me sad for her.

I see homes along the roadside. Some new and modern, hopeful of a perfect future, and others, old, weather beaten and beginning to decay. Once loved verandas, old chairs and cushions, blank and empty, staring at the scenery. What were the stories behind those verandas? Who lived out their lives there in times gone by? Gardens now overgrown, once planted in hope and the joy of growing new things, gone wild now. Roses long overdue for a prune to bring back their beautiful blooms, vines crawling unchecked over fences and rooves. Are there old eyes behind the bedraggled curtains, watching, listening, hoping?

Farm equipment left out in the fields. Tractors, and various implements, most of which I have no idea what they are, or were, for. Big impressive looking wheels and spokes and prongs. Why do farmers leave their expensive equipment in the middle of a paddock? Surely they didn’t just hop down out of the tractor and walk home? There are big sheds on most properties, big enough for all the equipment, yet there the tractors and implements sit, out in the weather.

One of the many lovely features of a trip to the high country, is the old buildings. I often wish I could stop and photograph each one, because I am sure they have stories to tell, well at least in my imagination they do! Most properties have at least one shed, even if it’s a modest, one door shed, it is still a shed! Country folks love their sheds! You have to have at least 2, and possibly more if you can fit them on your property at all.

As we drive into Swifts Creek, the trees are dropping their autumn leaves, and a small gust of wind, blows them over the road, forcing us to drive through them, causing yellow and orange leaves to flutter all around us for a split second. A special moment of autumn glory.

The high country features lovely old Poplar trees, reminiscent of Canadian forests, their now yellow leaves shimmering and shifting in the slight afternoon breeze. Groves of these trees, tall and slender, pop up unexpectedly in valley’s and on hills, contrasting their shape and color with the surrounding trees and vegetation, a stark and very pretty cacophony of color and movement.

The dominating mountains through which one passes, and which one must climb and traverse, are misty blue on the horizon, our Eucalyptus trees famous for their blue mist. The mountains and hills surround one on every side, giving wonderful vistas of cattle and sheep dotted on the amazing shades of green in the paddocks, shifting and changing with the changing clouds and sunshine, making patterns of light, shade and color.

As we traversed this spectacular countryside, a magnificent black horse caught my attention, his long mane, liquid black flowing over his beautiful head, which he held aloft, as though watching for someone or listening for something. His stark blackness, contrasted against the blue mountain background and the green pasture upon which he stood. His body shimmering in the sunshine, a truly magnificent creature, making me long for my riding days of old.

All along the route there are stands of gum trees. Some old and gnarled, their thick, blackened trunks standing as a testament to the many bushfires they have endured and survived. Along side of them, smaller, less mature trees, their crisp, irridescent leaves so different from the darker green of the more mature plants. There are stumps too, no longer holding leaves to the wind, just skeletons of what was once a beautiful tree.

You can see where farmers have cleared their land, leaving only a handful of trees standing, often in the centre of the paddock, or at the sides, crops now growing where once there would have been trees. In some, large pine trees shelter sheep from the hot afternoon sun, their wide branches providing much needed shade. The sheep making white pools of light in the dappled shade.

As I observe the trees and the sheep, I see a hawk lift off from the top branches of a tree close by the road. He wheels into the sky with effortless grace, and yet with deadly precision. He is silent on his enormous wing span, and he hovers, almost motionless in the sky, before diving at incredible speed, scoops up his prey and is away into the tree again, his catch firmly clutched in his deadly claws. What did he catch? I have no idea! He was so fast, so accurate it was impossible to see what he had.

Click on the images above to see the slide show.

Another intriguing feature of the high country, is the expanse of hills, valleys and paddocks, offering an ever changing panorama of color and light. The trees cast their shadow over green grass below them, the sun glinting through their branches, making dancing movements within the shadows. It is a never ending slide show that never ceases to intrigue me.

Much of the Great Alpine Road, follows the traverse of the Tambo river, as it makes its way from the high country to the sea. This river is at present, more of a stream, trickling over rocks and twisting and turning it’s way down the mountainside. But, history is plainly written in the vegetation and markings along it’s route. What is very clear is that the river has been to much higher levels in the past, astoundingly, scarily so! Many, many feet higher than at present!

We turn a corner and there, in the vista laid out before us, are new lambs with their mothers! Beautiful little, cuddly lambs, cavorting and playing in the sunshine like some scene from a children’s story book. The paddock they are in is as green as you can imagine, the lambs as white as you can imagine, their tiny legs and cute curly little tails making a comedic scene you could not better if you had all the resources of Hollywood at your disposal! I spent the moments enjoying this scene and therefore did not get a photo!

There are many homes nestled in the bushland along the roadway. Some close to the road, some distant and only glimpsed through the trees. Most have long, low verandas to protect their owners from the Australian heat. They are homesteads, the center of the property, the hub of all things for their owners. A safe, quiet and cool sanctuary after a busy day working the land. The Aussie dream! Wife at home cooking the meals, cleaning the house and taking care of the children, the husband out in the fields, working the land to provide for his family, Truly the Aussie dream,

The scenes continue to unfold before us. Here a big black bull stands lazily in the sunshine, his harem of females grazing under his watchful eyes. He is an immense beast, large and ponderous. His giant head moving slowly as his eyes follow his females. Childhood memories of a similar beast belonging to my Uncle, about which we were sternly warned! I mean about the bull not about the uncle!

A dusty currawong lifts off and circles, it’s pretty song reverberating across the stillness.

A red barn door across a paddock is caught in a shaft of light.

Washing on a typically Aussie rotary clothes line in the backyard of a homestead, stands alone in the garden, turning slowly.

An old church, identified by it’s spire and cross has been long abandoned and left to tumble into oblivion. It’s stained glass windows, once magnificent, broken now and casting fractured beams of light onto the overgrown garden surrounding it. A broken gate in a falling down fence defying natures attempts to destroy it,

A crow makes his mournful “ahhhh” from the top of a silver silo, his call answered in the distance by another sad “ahhhhh” Are crows really sad, or do they just sound like they are, and we as humans interpret their meaning?

A for sale notice, weathered and beaten by time, on a piece of land, testimony to stagnant land sales in high country areas. Has the dream of a country home been lost? I like to think there are still those who dream of having a plot of land on which to build a home for their family. To tend the earth, grow crops and prosper. Old fashioned it may be, but the dream has stood the test of time and many have found true meaning for their lives in doing just that.

The charming village of Swifts Creek – peaceful and quiet.

The high country town of Omeo – bright and welcoming on a sunshiny day.

We lunched in Omeo at our favourite cafe there. Lovely food and good coffee and very pleasant surroundings.

There were some classic cars in town, this one caught my attention particularly, a Chevvy Corvette

A trip to the high country of Victoria, is more than an experience, it is an adventure, to be lived, to be savoured, moment by moment, scene by scene. To be committed to memory. Each shadow, each shaft of light, each new scene around each new corner, a delight for the senses of those attuned to see and hear. Take your children to the high country, teach them to see it in all it’s beauty, in all it’s shifting, marvellous enormity. If you do not teach them how to see it and enjoy it, and use their imaginations to envision new horizons, while they are young, when they are old, they will not be able to immerse themselves in it’s tranquillity and serenity.

In my imagination, looking at the various scenes along the way, I can picture “the man from Snowy River” (although out of context) on his horse, his image outlined against the blue sky. A huge white cloud forms on the horizon, framing him exactly in it’s whiteness, as he turns his horse towards the rolling paddock below him, and begins the downward descent to the valley below.

I can see a man, also on a horse, his face turned towards the homestead on the plain below him. His face is wistful, though with a slight smile as he recalls his wife, down there in the homestead, already preparing his evening meal. His horse neighs, as though impatient to be in her stables, and her turns her head to the path leading down the slope, his easy, gentle guidance familiar and trusted. Together in unison, they traverse the path and arrive at the stables. He takes care of her before going to the house, brushing her fine, golden coat and filling her feed bag for the night. He pats her neck affectionately, talking softly and affectionately, she whinnies and nuzzles his face as is their custom. He secures the stable doors and she is safe and protected for the night. The bond between man and beast is unfathomable. The man understands the needs of the horse, and the horse, forever faithful to the master, understands her role.

In the evening light of the high country, it is easy to see the romance, if you have been trained and educated to see it. Many will just see hills and valleys, endless, boring countryside. But for those of us who have been educated and allowed to “see” it is a feast of vision, sounds, and forever endless inspiration for stories and tales!

See that pool of light there on the hillside? In my imagination there was once a house there. It was a small, one bedroom home, but it was filled with love, laughter and joy! The young couple who bought that bit of land, and built that humble home, lived their entire lives there, raising a family, watching them grow and leave home to start homesteads of their own. It was filled with the laughter of grandchildren, and the sadness of death. But it was the center of the universe for that family. That is what living in the high country is all about. Living, loving, raising a family, working the land and handing that land on to future generations. It is hard at times, but it is always rewarding.

(The images below are a slide show – click on the first one to see them all in full screen)