I still can’t climb (yes, I’m having physio) and must also rest from repetitive upper arm movements, so no paddling either. We were pretty much down to diving or walking this weekend! For some reason diving didn’t appeal; I feel like I’ve been on and off fighting a cold for the last couple of weeks and cold and wet, along with unknown visibility & quality from the continuing dredging couldn’t entice me in. Probably just as well since hoiking heavy diving rigs on and off my back probably doesn’t fall into the rest category either :)
We decided on Lake Eildon National park since I have not been there and Ross hadn’t been there since a school camp (of which is strongest memory was breaking his nose by running into a classmate playing some-kind of running game in the woods near the lakeside).
Lake Eildon National Park is only a couple of hours from Melbourne (just beyond Cathedral ranges where we walked last spring). It is not a natural lake but was created, first as ‘Sugarloaf’ lake in the early 1920s when the Delatite river was dammed. Before that, the Delatite valley was inhabited by Yauung Illam Baluk aborigines who were driven out in the 1830s by European squatters who set up a few homesteads. In the 1850s gold was found and several mines operated until the 1880s when the land was farmed. To ensure water for irrigation and the small town the river was dammed and the ensuing lake became a popular boating and vacation spot. A much higher dam was constructed in the 1950s, flooding a huge area and covering several homesteads. It seems that year was particularly wet and the lake filled rapidly to a high level. Since then, though with a few fluctuations in wetter years, the water levels have been going down due to drought and the privatization of the state water supplies. Today, the lake is less than 10% full and the boating and tourist industries that thrived at the lake edge have been left high and dry. Literally. The current state government thinks it can solve Melbourne’s water problems by building a pipeline from the Goldburn, which feeds Lake Eildon, to this side of the dividing range. I think they must be hoping that nobody from here will go to look at how very little there is to that promise …
We drove up Saturday morning, had lunch and walked up a steep track to one of the ridges. The forest is nice and open to walk through, though thick enough to prevent any spectacular views. We set up camp and a campfire and read books until night fall when we cooked a spectacular curry to eat with roti, heated on the fire grate.
Next day, we thought we would check out the boating area close to where we camped since, in season, houseboating and fishing is very popular, though not as popular as when the lake was actually full. The road down to the area is actually the old boat ramp. But now there are a few hundred metres of dry mud slope before the useable boat ramp… The high-water edge was visible high above us.
We then headed north into another part of the park, where Ross had had his school camp. The visitor centre is not open at this time of year so we picked an area and hoped to pick up a track to the lakeside. We found a track but after a few metres we decided it wasn’t heading in the right direction. The vegetation was pretty light (kind of) so we decided to walk straight through it to the lake. We walked and walked, pushing branches and small trees aside. Eventually we came to a dry creek and jumped down into it, thinking that it would open up to the lake. It did, kind of. the lake here must have been shallow because the water has receded a long, long way since Ross’s junior camp.
We walked for quite a while across the old lake bed, disturbing groups of lazy grey kangaroos. Eventually we came to some large dead trees, fences and building remains. Without a map or guide (and without having followed a track) it is hard to be certain but we think that we were in the old Merlo (or Coller) Homestead. This was covered by the lake when the 1950s dam became operational but is now dry again, revealed by years and years of drought …
The largest of the area’s goldmines was the Solferino Mine operated by John Merlo and Co. between 1868 and 1881. He stayed in the area and built a homestead called Glen Hope. In 1924 this was sold to the Coller family who farmed there until the land was claimed for the reservoir in 1952. The arm that covered the homestead is known as Coller Bay. The homestead was covered until a dry spell in 1968 uncovered some of the roofs. Again in 1983 there are reports of boats and jet-skis touring the flooded and fragile buildings. The farm was covered again for a couple of years but since 2002 they have been visible with the lake receding further and further from them. Now they stand on dry land with small trees growing through them and grey kangaroos lazing in the mussel shell strewn paddocks and sheep pens …