How not to do the Great Ocean Road
Don’t do this.
The Great Ocean Road on the south-eastern coast of Australia is a scenic route lined with many spots of natural beauty. A car is needed to make the most of it. Unless you lose the car on day one. Which is what I did.
I’m a Londoner. Not big on driving and never owned a car. Driven a bit in the UK and did two separate weeklong road trips in New Zealand at the start of the year. Winding mountain passes. Tricky to navigate but did just fine. Nice and slow. Dry summer weather throughout and quiet roads.
For this trip, in early July 2023, the plan was to take it slow and do it over five days, stopping along the way to see the sights and get a few hikes in. Cottage in Port Campbell for one night, then two nights at a motel in Apollo Bay and a last night in Anglesea at a backpackers hostel. All booked. All carefully planned.
This is how it went. Not as planned.
Tuesday
Picked up the rental car in the morning. Little yellow Mazda MG3. Then off, driving inland towards Port Campbell. Stopped off in Geelong for a quick look around. Coffee and sausage roll and off again. Stop in Colac for a quick wander. Many cows.
Raining steadily all day and picking up now, getting heavy. Small country road and about ten minutes away from Port Campbell. Around four hours of driving with stops. Almost there!
An alarm goes off on my phone and plays through the car speakers. Unperturbed, I tap the screen to turn it off. Forgot I’d set it back in Colac for the parking. Takes a few taps on the car screen and by then I’ve moved left onto the grass verge. Steer to the right a little to correct.
Then everything goes to hell.
Car careens to the right, onto the other side of the road. Hit the brakes but they do nothing. Aquaplaning is what everyone would tell me afterwards. The tires had lost their hold on the road.
I’m going off the road. Time dilation, out of control, wondering where I’m going to end up. And then suddenly the car is on its side and I’m saying to myself “I’m having a car accident.” Then it all comes to a stop.
Airbag has inflated but not touched my face. The impact wasn’t as jarring as I’d expected. I check myself and seem to be fine. Don’t notice my glasses are no longer on my face. The car is filling up with smoke. Turn the engine off and remove the key, it drops down. Notice the driver side window is shattered. Fumbling for my phone I try to recall the emergency services number. What country am I in? Australia. Right. 000. No signal. The iPhone Emergency SOS function has activated, I tap through some prompts and get to an options menu but can’t focus enough to navigate it. A little panic setting in. Try to WhatsApp a friend then remember. No signal.
Deep breath. Put my phone away and focus on the situation at hand. I need to get out of the car. Don’t know enough about cars to tell if the smoke/fumes are an engine fire or not. But I find the thought of surviving a car crash unscathed only then to suffocate to death deeply infuriating.
I need to get out. I’m in the middle of nowhere. “No one is coming to save you” is the overriding thought. Fear is replaced with rage. I can use that.
I reach over to the passenger side door, now above me. Handle does nothing. Okay, I need to get the power back on. Fumbling around I find the key and put it back in the ignition. Power back on but the door still won’t open so I roll down the window.
Hoisting myself up vertically through the window and propping myself up on my elbows, half out of the car, I take a look around. There are cars. People have stopped. I hadn’t noticed. I don’t know how long it’s been, no sense of time.
A woman calls out “are you okay?”
“I think so.”
Push myself out of the car completely. The underside is facing the road and the car is tilted towards a fence with some cows in the distance behind. They’d dispersed when I came crashing in. I clamber down into the bushes and push my way clear around the car.
Then I’m standing in the road. Looking back at the car. Blinking. Trying to understand what just happened. Definitely in shock. It’s still raining. I check myself again. Not a scratch or bruise. Still don’t notice I’m not wearing my glasses. My Barbour jacket, green felt hat and luggage are still in the car.
People are clustering around to make sure I’m okay. Someone gives me some water. There’s a family from Bendigo, I ask them “oh where were you going?”
“We’re doing the Great Ocean Road.”
“Oh, me too! Or I was…” point at the car.
Others driving by slow down to see what’s happened and offer to help. “Who’s in the car?” they ask, I respond “oh it was just me.” Bemused, they look from the car on its side to me just standing there calmly chatting away. It’s all so very surreal.
People leave, a small number stay with me until the state emergency services and ambulance arrive. They do. A paramedic takes me into the ambulance to do some checks, injuries, heart rate, blood pressure. Overhear the driver radioing in “no we won’t be needing the helicopter.” My inner child is disappointed.
A state police officer arrives. Friendly older guy, puts me at ease. I’m a big fan of the police, they used to tell me interesting stories and give me lifts home when I went on my solo adventures around London aged seven. But that’s a different story. Or is it?
It’s still raining so we sit in his car. I run through what happened. The trip I’m on, a bit of backstory about the journey I’ve been on since December. New Zealand, Australia, Indonesia, Singapore, Vietnam, Thailand and Australia again. He takes my details and some notes.
The accident happened around 1530. It’s been a couple of hours. The tow vehicle arrives and the car is towed. I take some photos for the insurance claim. They get my belongings out of the car. Backpack, jacket, hat and “Billy” my trusty day bag and constant travel companion. No sign of glasses but I have a spare pair in my backpack. But these are special so I ask them to look more carefully. Eventually found but in two pieces. Clean break. The lenses are a bit scratched too.
It’s 1800 and dark now. Winter in the southern hemisphere. Police officer offers me a lift. Still only 10 minutes away from the cottage. He drives me into Port Campbell and first goes into town to show me where the local pub and shops are, then back out again to the cottages. He points out a cemetery. Convenient. I resist the urge to make jokes.
Cottages are dark and no one is at reception. So I call the number and am told mine is ready, the door is open, the key is inside and that I’ve been upgraded. Officer comes inside with me and has a look around, remarks on how nice it is, and may consider it for a trip with his wife. He makes sure I’m okay before heading off. Really great guy.
I’ve been upgraded. It’s huge. Can sleep six people across two floors! I sit down and take stock of everything that’s happened. Aside from it being a couple of hours later than planned, I am where I expected to be. Just without the car. So I call the rental company and explain what’s happened. Sincere concern for my well being. Tell them the car was towed. They offer me another one but won’t be able to get it out to Port Campbell. That’s fine, I really don’t feel like driving. I also message a few friends to let them know what’s happened and that I am completely unhurt.
Then it’s time to unpack a little, get the spare glasses out and head out for food. Peter, the manager, comes over to see how I’m settling in. I tell him about my day and show him some photos. His eyes go wide, “right, you need to go to the pub.” Yes. Yes I do.
We get in his car and a few minutes later we’re at the pub. I get fish and chips and a pint. Hadn’t noticed how hungry I was. Turns out almost dying is an amazing aperitif. Peter’s friends are there too. So a few more drinks and chatting about the day’s events helps. Helps heaps. They all say “heaps” here. Later they drive me back and it’s time to settle in for the evening.
While at the pub I update my Instagram. On trips I run an almost real-time off-the-cuff/stream of consciousness story feed. It’s been a while since the last update. So a photo of the wreck with the words “I AM FINE. REPEAT: I AM FINE.”
Wednesday
Next day I sleep in a little. Message with friends and take stock of my situation. Go back to Melbourne? How? Where would I stay? The place I had in North Melbourne (until August) was booked up for those days, partly the reason for the trip. So I’d have to find somewhere else to stay at short notice. Whereas I did have accommodation booked on the ocean road.
Carrying on and making the most of the trip seemed best. It would give me time to process. With that I set off for a day of exploring Port Campbell. Lunch at a little cafe and a walking trail for some coastal views. Nice clear day unlike the one before. That felt like a long time ago. I’d probably still have the car if it hadn’t been raining the day before.
I get some superglue at a local shop and fix up my glasses. The two halves bond easily. Lenses scratched but otherwise okay.
Later on I try to figure out next steps. This cottage was booked for one night. It’s low season and Peter has offered me a great deal to stay on longer if I want to. But I’ve got a motel booked in Apollo Bay for two nights and was meant to be driving over around then. There’s not much else to do in Port Campbell. A bus runs along the ocean road Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Missed the Wednesday bus in the morning and would have to hang around until Friday for the next one. By which time I’d planned to be in Anglesea.
Mulling these options over while eating a microwave meal I decide on getting a taxi. Phone around and find one. $300. It is what it is. Also phone the motel in Apollo Bay to say I’ll be arriving later than planned. It’s another Peter.
Taxi driver arrives from Warrnambool. His name is also Peter! So being picked up by a Peter to go from a Peter to a Peter. All Petered out by this point. Need to peter out my Peters after all this. Ahem.
We set off. Good chats. Nighttime so miss the views along the way. No kangaroos jump out. Eventually we get to Apollo Bay.
Great motel room. Been upgraded here too after I told them what happened. Feeling good. Back in control and looking forward to a run along the beach in the morning.
Thursday
Get up, go for a run. Blustery. Uphill around 4 km in becomes difficult so turn back. 8 km total.
Then some late breakfast. Sharing my dramatic story with people I meet, they’re all telling me to buy a lottery ticket, including a friend I’m messaging with. Now I’ve never actually played the lottery in the UK or anywhere else. Never saw the point. Anyway, I go into a shop and buy a couple of tickets.
That done I walk up to Mariners Lookout for the view over Apollo Bay and a slower uphill walk to make up for the incline that defeated me earlier during the run.
A very active day so time for fish and chips by the sea. Been on the road for 8 months or so by this point and really missing cod or haddock. Flake is a passable local alternative. With vinegar. Plenty of it.
Then some more logistics and planning. Go to the tourist information centre in town and get bus tickets for the next couple of days. To get me to Anglesea on Friday and back to Melbourne on Saturday. They tell me I can get on the bus and resume later with the same ticket. That’ll let me stop off in Lorne for a few hours before continuing onto Anglesea.
Having run 8 km, walked up to a lookout and stomped around town I decide to make an early evening of it and turn in.
Friday
Time to get the bus to Lorne. Big windows and great views along the ocean road. Arrive in Lorne with my huge backpack. A local hotel is kind enough to stow it for a few hours while I explore. So a walk along to Lorne Pier and a wave towards Tasmania while messaging a friend who lives there. Spent a week in February.
A look around town, a big brunch followed by a vanilla slice and back on the bus. Onwards to Anglesea.
Getting to the backpacker’s hostel and a couple of cute little doggies try to warn me off but the owner Barbara sets them straight. Have a comfy private room for the night so drop off my things. Good chat with Barbara, she gives me some local recommendations and offers to drive me to Point Addis for the lookout and a nice walk along the sea back to Anglesea. Lot of walking during the trip which partly makes up for the walks I didn’t get to do in the Otway National Park.
Last evening of the trip so go to a restaurant for a proper meal. Cocktail, wine, three courses and finish with a large scotch. I need it.
Saturday
Finally time to head back to Melbourne. Tuesday feels like a really long time ago. Barbara is heading into Melbourne to visit family and offers me a ride. Just perfect.
We set off, just over an hour’s drive. Good to have company on the way back. Dropped off at Williamstown and it’s only a short train ride to North Melbourne. But it looks like the trains aren’t running, engineering works. Just my luck. Taxi time.
I get back to the apartment with a sense of immense relief. I’d made it. I vow never to go anywhere ever again. Until the next time.
Home
Well close enough. Don’t really have one. Home is a feeling and for the moment this was it.
Reflecting on everything that happened. Catching myself each time I use the word “misadventure.” It was an adventure. Just not the one I’d planned. I’m a meticulous planner and a bit of a control freak, ironic given that “embracing uncertainty”, responding to change and adapting to new situations were all a big part of what I advocated as part of my work in a previous life.
Was I harmed in any way? No. Pride was bruised and confidence knocked. Getting behind the wheel again will be difficult but will happen eventually. There was the insurance to deal with and it would end up costing me a not so insignificant sum, not everything was covered. Perspective. It’s fine.
I met people I wouldn’t otherwise have met. Had experiences I wouldn’t otherwise have had. The sights I didn’t get to see, the Twelve Apostles, the lighthouse from Round the Twist (we got that in the UK too) will all still be there. As will the hiking trails and waterfalls. Unless climate change has other ideas.
I am very glad no one else was hurt. No one was with me and there wasn’t anyone on the road. I’m not sure how I would have dealt with injury or worse to someone else as a result of the accident. Not well.
In the subsequent days the ambulance service sent me an invoice. I was pleasantly surprised to find the state Traffic Accident Commision was willing to cover it, despite not being a resident. It’s sufficient the vehicle was state registered. They offer other services to those who have suffered a road accident, such as trauma counselling. I signed up. Good to talk through what happened and its after-effects. It’s insidious. Creeps up on you. Particularly the memory of being trapped in the car. Alone on the other side of the planet. “No one is coming to save you.” That moment stretching out to eternity. Dealing with the loss of control, sense of failure. Have had monthly sessions since.
Reflecting on the aftermath it’s clear I doubled down on some schemes I’d been hatching. Like deciding to settle in Melbourne. Suddenly needing certainty and security. Surged ahead with getting everything together for a permanent residency application. I have since slowed this down, deciding to live somewhere should happen naturally and not be forced. It’s a relationship. I wasn’t in the right headspace to be making life changing decisions. It can wait. I have all the time in the world. Maybe the laid back attitude here is rubbing off on me?
I am still processing and working through all of this. No regrets. No beating myself up (well there was a little) and no feeling sorry for myself. I have been very lucky.
Oh and I won $41.10 on those lottery tickets.
