First posted on January 8, 2013
I was too tired to do anything more than a quick drive through Chiltern on arrival the previous evening, so I started the day with a closer look. Was this sleepy little town ever a hive of activity! I had to give way to other cars three times in 15 minutes! Everyone was out, going about their Monday morning business. This is another beautifully preserved (by accident or design, who knows) old township.
It was home to Henry Handel Richardson.
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| One time home of Henry Handel Richardson |
The lake opposite the HHR home
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| Lakeside sculptures |
Also, Chiltern is the birthplace of John “Black Jack” McEwen, briefly Prime Minister of Australia following the disappearance of Harold Holt. From the town tour guide pamphlet, the home of his birth is, as far as I could make out, a ramshackle place going downhill, with lots of clutter and junk about. I couldn’t see any signs so I hope I’m wrong. Although it was a lovely house and would be sad to see it fall into total disrepair even if that’s not the historic home I guessed it to be.
I filled up at a kerbside pump then paid inside the produce and tack shop. The woman thanked me for not making her chase me down the street! How many fill up and drive off without paying, I wonder? Apart from being too honest, I was already too hot to move that quickly!
On the road again, really heading for home this time. My planned breakfast stop was at the Milawa cheese shop. When I got there, certainly, a beautifully shaded, vine-covered patio, but the food was no different to so many other cafes and nothing I wanted to eat for breakfast. Mistake! Back into the township proper, I went into a cafe where some people were sitting outside. It was one of those situations where as soon as you opened the door you knew you didn’t want to be there but couldn’t back out. Or perhaps I just lacked the gumption to do so. Thus, breakfast was a weak coffee (to my liking but I doubt to that of any coffee aficionado) and a not fresh, not stale muffin. Hastily consumed and hastily on the road again.
There was no freeway exit to the Milawa region where I’d been expecting one so I was driving by instinct to get back to the Hume. That took me to the outskirts of Wangaratta and out again at a different angle, without seeing the city centre. Whatever part of town it was, there were some substantial homes there. Another accidental sighting!
No more mistakes now. A stop at Seymour for lunch (yet another, though very nice, fresh salad sandwich) …
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| Seymour |
… then drive, drive, drive to … my place!
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| There's no place like ..... :-) |
