Flat plains sprawl far and wide, west of Melbourne. Grassy paddocks and bald hills, peppered with woolly sheep relentlessly stretch to the horizon, sliced perfectly by the divided highway. Just two hours out of Melbourne, the landscape starts to shift as massive wind farms appear on the horizon. Tall, turbines sprout upward from the crest of small mountains, spinning lethargically in the southerly breeze as long blades cut the bright blue sky.
Further along and about three hours in, the predictable plains abruptly come to an end as the plateau meets a sudden wall of rock and granite as mountain walls push up towards the sky, piercing low-lying cloud
Halls Gap
We coast into Halls Hap, a beautiful quaint town at the foot of the mountain range. Small town shops and pubs are dwarfed by massive, rocky peaks that overlook the community, shrouding it in a cool, late-afternoon shadow.
We finally arrive at the Grampians Motel, startling a large group of cautious kangaroos as they bounce off, disappearing into the tall grass. The hotel sits long and flat against a dramatic backdrop of rocky cliffs. The crest of the range catches the setting sun and glows orange in a fire-like brilliance. The air is fresh and crisp, and the surrounds are quiet. There’s nothing but the sound of birds and the ticking of the cars hot engine as it begins to cool down in the damp evening air.
As the sun sets, we sip bold shiraz and head into town to the Spirit of Punjab, an Indian restaurant we saw on the way through. The restaurant is lit up in bright colours with fairy lights and Indian statues. Lilly squeals and pauses to inspect a statue of the Indian God Ganesh. Our breath becomes visible as a vapour of condensation in the cold night as we wait for her to say ‘hello’ to all the statues. Finally, we tumble through the double doors and into the dining room, kept warm by a glowing fire that crackles, spits and hisses in the corner.
The food is sensational and reminds me of my time in Chennai and Mumbai. The waiter asks us “how spicy?”, warning us that even ‘medium’ is spicy. As a chilli lover, I’m used to such warnings and dismiss his concerns. Yet, when the food arrives, it’s bloody hot but, the flavours are incredible. It’s authentic and real. This is no Australian-Indian restaurant… this is the real deal.
With belly’s full of curry, we return to the hotel. I put on my jacket and take to the damp grass with my camera and tripod, setting up shots with long exposure and time-lapses to capture the abundance of bright stars that pierce the moonlit sky. The mountain ridge is still visible as a black mass that swallows the stars. It’s quiet and beautiful. I enjoy the moment by myself, with a glass of red wine, standing in the cold, waiting for the camera to finish the long exposure as I eagerly anticipate the results.
The next morning we wake to the opposite mountain range glowing yellow in the sunrise. The grass has turned silver in an icy frost, and the trees give off steam as the warmth of the morning sun begins to defrost their leaves.
We leave the hotel and wind our way up the rocky spine of the mountain. The road twists and bends back on itself, edging up the range as we rapidly increase in altitude.
Boroka Lookout
Our first stop is Boroka lookout at the top of Mount Difficult. We’ve caught glimpses of the view through the gum trees as we drove up… preview snapshots of what’s to come but, nothing prepared me for this. We follow the path from the carpark to the lookout and the view’s incredible. I look down at the top of the clouds and endless landscape out to the sharp horizon. On one side is the plateau and on the other side is a bright blue lake cupped by mountains in a perfect oval shape.
We take a lot of photos and video, trying to capture the expanse of space before us. Even with all my devices and various modes from panorama to video, I feel I can’t do this view justice. You need to be here with the silence in your ear and the fresh, crisp smell of the Australian bush to truly appreciate it. Once we’re done we sit for a while next to an Argentinian couple. They’ve been sitting at the lookout for some time, drinking traditional South American tea out of a thermos. We all sit in silence to take in the view, except for Lilly who decides it’s an opportune moment to show us her new ‘Indian Bollywood Dance’. I guess she’s been inspired by our Indian feast the night before.
We slowly walk away from the mountains edge and wind back up to the carpark before making our way along the top of the range to Reeds Lookout.
Reeds Lookout
As I edge our car into a small parking spot, I’m overcome by the view. Through the windscreen
We edge towards the lookout. A small steel fence protects us, marking a clear line between the safety of the curated viewing platform and the sheer drop down into the rocky canyon below. It feels as if you’re staring into an ocean with the water drained.
The Balconies
We decide to take the walk to ‘The Balconies’ named as such because it’s a rock formation that juts out from the cliff in two levels looking like man-made balconies rather than a natural formation.
The walk is a 2km round trip on a flat, easy, wheelchair-accessible path. The path takes us through beautiful passageways of dense gum trees, flat plains lined with boulders, and rocky creek beds full of colourful, orange-yellow rock.
We eventually reach another sudden drop and find ourselves on a viewing platform that protrudes out beyond the edge of the cliff. To the left are the rocky balconies that seem like nature’s perfect viewing platform to take in the vast valley below. The trees begin to whisper as the breeze picks up creating a peaceful soundtrack to compliment the sweeping views.
We make away back down the dusty path, through the dense trees and back out onto the rocky plains to make our way to MacKenzie falls.
MacKenzie Falls
As soon as we pull up at the MacKenzie Falls carpark, we can hear the sound of rushing water in the distance. Lilly gets excited as she’s never seen a waterfall in real life.
We take a small, narrow path that zig-zags down the cliff face next to woosh and sizzle of water streaming off jagged rocks.
We follow the noise of falling water and we’re teased by several smaller streams on the way down. The track becomes steep and even more narrow as we wind our way down into the canyon. When we reach the bottom, the scenery is spectacular. People sprawl out along the rock shelf in the sun, lounging and watching the water cascade in elongated strings, some thick and dense with
In the afternoon, the sun catches the spray from the rocks as the mist from the crashing water floats up in the air. It’s a beautiful spot with plenty of great photo opportunities. It’s definitely worth the walk down to the bottom but, just bear in mind that the walk back up is quite strenuous… especially when you’re carrying a 4-year-old like I was!
While we only spent one night and one full day in the Grampians, it’s the sort of place you could easily lose a week between the mystical rock formations, dense bushland and sprawling plains, all peppered with wineries, great country pubs, galleries and cafes.
It’s hard to believe it’s just under 3 hours drive from the centre of Melbourne as you really do feel as though you’ve fallen off the map into the endless wilderness. It’s one of those places that really does make you realise how lucky we are in Australia to have so much space, wild nature and abundance of fresh air and blue skies.