Victor Harbor

We can no longer distinguish between what’s lizard and what’s not. Burnt wood and debris at the side of the road in Australia appears as a mirage of snakes and spiders; all of the dangerous things we (I) desperately want to see but not encounter. Victor Harbor (our next destination) gave us the promise of true wildlife. Just beyond it’s limits, across a wooden causeway sits Granite Island, home to shingle back lizards, penguins and who knows what else. I have been fixated on the island for some time, even before we started the trip, for no good reason beyond the fact that it looked cool.

As it turned out, its promise was fulfilled before we even got there when Australia’s most dangerous species came whispering at our door in the middle of the night. A busload of drunks invaded the hotel at 2am – falling into the furniture, threatening each other, knocking on every hotel room door in search of someone they would never find. The hotel was an old Victorian listed building so it should have been quaint, but actually it was just falling apart. With these drunks passing through the whole thing was shaking and we just wanted a good night’s sleep. They were walloping each other, screaming; it felt as though they were falling through the building. Eventually the police showed up and swept them away. Apparently people travel to small seaside towns to go out on their “schoolies”. There are holes in the ceiling above the toilet.

Granite Island was pretty good in the end. The rocks are coated with orange lichen so it’s easy on the eyes, and we did see a couple of shingle back lizards buried in the bush. We also watched Blade Runner at Victa Cinemas. The local adverts before the film were hilarious and voiced over by the usher. The cinema itself was perfect – sound, screen and architecture – and definitely worth the visit.

Aside from that, the highlight of this part of our trip was actually on the way there. The satnav said something about crossing on a ferry, so I was going apoplectic thinking we were going to have to pay to cross on a boat. As it turned out, there was a free raft over the Murray River into Wellington, operated by two blokes from Men at Work. The sign says drive slowly and only at the mens’ discretion; make sure you switch on your parking brake. You can imagine us two fools ending up floating down the river in a wrecked car, but we’d still be laughing. My review of the hotel’s not going to be great.

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