After a brief visit to the Vic Market this morning (for a breakfast bratwurst, some five foot tall plastic Elvises, and a kids’ soccer uniform), Cara and I headed to Melbourne Central to meet Heeney. As we waited for her train to get in, I decided to kill some time at the shops which, along with our trip to the market, resulted in me carrying a whole lot of unnecessary shopping all the way to Upper Ferntree Gully.
We chose our destination through a combination of random pointing at the train lines and ‘proximity to green stuff’ on the Google map. We thought that it might be nice to get out of the city for a while, and head head for the greenery, and made sure to take umbrellas and cardigans. I was also tempted to take a thermos of tea with us, but I don’t think I could have fitted it in with all of my shopping.
As we waited for the 2.18pm Belgrave train, I hoped that we would have some daylight left when we arrived. At almost an hour, it was the longest train trip we’ve had on our Sunday Savings so far. Without Doug (we were Douglas again), we had to try and keep up the witty banter by ourselves – Cara won the prize for best/worst pun, when we reached Laburnum station she said, “Laburnum Shirley.” We watched the leafy eastern suburbs fly past the window, getting further and further away from places that we knew. Looking at the train map told us that Upper Ferntree Gully was a ‘premium’ station – no standard stations for us, it’s safety zones and toilets all the way . . .
The first thing we saw when we left the station was a Tourist Information Centre – just the thing for city kids who have decided to go on an adventure without really having any idea where they’re going to end up. A little further down, in the station car park, was the Upper Gully Market where you could buy, among other things, ferns. We stopped at the Life for all Creatures caravan for some homemade lemon slice and coconut ice (80c a piece, that’s gotta be the best value snack around). We also bought some giant field mushrooms (some were almost as big as my head) from the fruit and vegie stall, which I think will be great stuffed with ricotta and thyme. We had a little explore of the shops (Heeney bought a pie at the A1 Bakery, I had a bite, it was indeed A1), and resisted the urge to go into the Royal Hotel for a drink, although we did admire its art deco facade.
At the Information Centre, we picked up a map of the walking trails in the Dandenong Ranges National Park. The very helpful man who worked there asked if there was anywhere in particular we wanted to go. I think I confused him somewhat by asking, “Are there any walking tracks that we can walk to?” until I explained that we arrived on the train. Given the topography of the park, I don’t think many people take public transport there – unless the weather is better, and they’re super-fit, and they intend to climb to the top of the mountain.
We decided not to wander too far off the beaten track in case it got dark – and we weren’t really dressed for bushwalking, especially carrying large quantities of shopping with us. We crossed the railway line and headed up the School Track and around to the car park on the Mt Dandenong Tourist Road. The Kokoda Memorial Track is closed for repairs for a few months, which was unfortunate (but also a relief because its other name is the 1000 steps trail, and there are only so many steps that inappropriate footwear and 1/2 a kilo of field mushrooms can ascend).
We didn’t venture too far into the bush, just across the bridge and into the upper part of the picnic area. I hugged a tree, studied the teeny tiny toadstools on the ground, and found several sticks that could have been substituted for the telescopic walking poles that the real bushwalkers were brandishing (and there were several of them about). We sat in the picnic area for a while to escape the drizzle, and decided to break out the plastic Elvises for a look.
It may seem like a strange thing to buy, but we’ve been having trouble with the possums eating the vegetables we’re trying to grow, and I thought that a plastic scare-Elvis might do the trick, even in the dark. It seemed a bit out of place, Elvis in the middle of the Australian bush, but at least we had something to shelter under if it rained again.
We headed back to the station before it got too late, and by the time we changed trains at Ringwood at 5.33pm, it was well and truly dark. The pun juice was running dry compared to other weeks, but it was replaced by songs (there’s nothing like singing ‘Country Roads’ to find your way back to the train station) instead. Upper Ferntree Gully certainly lived up to its name – much more so than Box Forest College, which was certainly a College but had no boxes, or forest, in sight.
