Nags, Yanks, a Creek and Electric Trains

One of my regular plods is a roughly 6 kilometre/4 mile excursion around Seaholme and Altona (western bayside suburbs of Melbourne). I call this walk my 'off-days jaunt'. By this I tend to undertake it when I am not away on a planned trip or to some exotic location, valid or not.

To start this roly-poly, I hopped on the familiar Bus to Altona, a not particularly interesting short 25 minute trip through grimier parts of the western suburbs of Melbourne. I alight at a place called Cherry Lake (which is a shallow man-made Lake expanded from an old swamp) and fed by a waterway called Kororoit Creek. This Creek is one of the principal sloshes extending for 80 kilometres/50 miles that meanders through the old lava plains of the north-western and western suburbs of Melbourne before emptying into Hobsons Bay (which is the northern reach of the larger Port Phillip Bay around which the City of Melbourne sprawls). This much abused Creek rises in the Macedon Ranges near the large regional City of Sunbury north of Melbourne. My mother tells me that when she was a youngster in the 1930s, she and her sister would go swimming in this Creek, upstream of a particularly obnoxious Tannery - one of many noxious industries that then (and still do to a much cleaner degree) avail of the Creek and not far from my home. I can't imagine anyone swimming in its matt coloured waters nowadays which at times look more like an extended oil slick than a Creek. On the other hand, Cherry Lake is a part of the Altona Coastal Wetlands and was created out of swamp lands in the 1960s as a flood retarding basin to protect housing estates that were being built nearby at the time. It is not a particularly pristine location in which to recreate; sludge being one of its products. Though on its 3.7 kilometres/2 miles long shoreline there are some recreational facilities such as picnic tables, BBQs and a sealed walking/riding track that attends to its circumference. There is a model boat club that undertake regular 'sailings' and a few large sports oval are nearabouts. It is a haven of sorts (flanked on two sides by an industrial zone) for a not immodest variety of fauna and flora that include: native sedge (Gahinia filum) which in turn provides a source of food and habitat for the rare Altona Skipper Butterfly (Hesperilla flavescens). I have only seen a few of these magnificent Butterflies on my walks, although one day I hope to snare a prized photo. Near the Lake and where the Creek enters and exits and where I start my ramble are the unmistakable and seemingly chaotic array of Industrial and Chemical Plants, belching out fumes, 21st Century chattering, colourful steams and occasionally questionable aromas, especially on summer days when a hot northerly is riled. There is also a large Oil Terminal and Bunker. On the opposite side of this maze of pipes and excited molecules is some quite respectable (for the western suburbs) residential housing estates, with every second backyard seemingly with an outdoor swimming pool.

The track I follow after leaving Cherry Lake and the infractions of traffic and industry, lips Kororoit Creek for a time as it loses itself in an enigma of reeds and scrubby plants. On rare days of flood, this corridor where the Creek splits industry and residential, can become a small sea of water held back by levees built on either side. As a child I used to sneak away from home, meet my mates, and ride down to this spot and go splashing about, probably ingesting all sorts of pharmaceuticals and minerals in the process. But like most children seemed none the worse for wear, though some may dispute this! As you follow the Creek on its way to draw off into Hobsons Bay the Altona-Werribee Railway Line is crossed. On the other side is a seemingly flat and quite large expanse of land (roughly 50 hectares/120 acres) adorned by some ruins and a single, striking Canary Island Palm Tree. This is the site of the former Williamstown Racecourse, though today you would hard pressed to realise its galloping past.

Established in 1869, it was for most of its sporting life, considered one the premier racecourses in the State of Victoria, closing in 1948. The great Australian horse, Phar-Lap, won a number of races here in the 1930s, the decade considered to be the peak of the racecourse's activity. Meetings were so popular that a special railway line spur (to Williamstown Racecourse Station) ran off the main railway that ribboned from Melbourne to Geelong in order to deliver patrons via rattly old Electric Trains right up to the entrance. It is reputed that on Williamstown Cup Day, crowds in excess of 70,000 would attend the course. Racing continued right up until the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939. In 1940 the Australian Army established a large Camp at the racecourse that from 1942 onwards also housed large numbers of US Servicemen, an association that continued until the end of the war in 1945. It was hoped that meetings would re-commence after War's end but a suspicious fire broke out in the magnificent Grandstand which completely gutted the mostly wooden building along with surrounding stables and venues. Following the ruinous fire, the racecourse was formally abandoned in 1948 and became derelict for decades; with only a portion of the ruins of the lower level of Grandstand (photographed) now remaining. You will also see a scattering of concrete foundations and an assortment of bricks from other now long gone buildings, some of which were moved to other racecourses. It is near impossible to discern the route of the racetrack itself of which nothing remains. Oddly, there is single and thriving Canary Island Palm Tree; the survivor of what was a lengthy stand of Palms in an area of the track called the Birdcage. This was a part of the course where the ladies would assemble in their race going finery whilst the gentlemen elsewhere grappled in the pretence of placing bets, boozing and other nefarious activities. Both the ruins of the Grandstand and the Palm Tree are listed as part of the Altona Wetlands Heritage Overlay.

Being at the old racecourse can be at times a rather bleak place, if you take it at face value. Spooky at night too. Yet, I can attest to having spent many hours looking at the variety of flora and fauna that are slowly reclaiming the site, which is reverting to its near original state (as best can be). In the spring you will see small clusters of native wildflowers and tiny native orchids making their seemingly absurd claims of fecundity, in spite of the conditions. Often, I would wander along the fragile Creek bank, behind the old Grandstand and mostly tidal at this point, to its mushy mouth where you can see a small stand of Mangroves endeavouring to turn back Nature's clock. On one side of where the Creek enters the Bay is a collection of ramshackle huts and precariously ship worthy fishing boats. The huts are set on Crown Land, so it could be argued about their legality and whilst nobody officially resides in them, some seem quite well fitted-out: a quirky adjunct to the racecourse and one of the curiosities of Melbourne. The Beach is also very quiet, though not pristine. You could easily become bogged in the sandy mud. I did once, to my acute embarrassment, and had to be helped out of my mire by a very kindly bunch of teenagers who heard my plaintive shouts for help, more so as the Tide was coming in. Naturally, the teenagers thought me a stupid old duffer for getting in the position I found myself in the first place, as did I, of course. A plodder's brain-explosion moment you could say. There is a lot of matted seaweed that thrives of the agricultural and industrial run off that drains from the Creek too. The resultant smell at low Tide can rip apart your sinuses. But in this glug you will still see Cranes fishing, Pelicans waving their huge beaks, Skuas soaring in flight and hundreds of Seagulls screaming orders at each other. You will also see small marsupials scurrying about in the undergrowth carpets and a host of insects, bugs and creepy-crawlies, some quite colourful and exotic looking. Once, I almost stood on very irate Wombat burrowing after some grubs and not the least deterred by my presence. In the height of our long Drought that was still thirsting last summer, I spotted a small mob of very shy and poor of appearance Kangaroos - where they came from I have no idea? Though I suspect they were drawn to the area in search of food and water. For the few days they were spotted (and so close to inner Melbourne) quite a crowd was drawn to the location.

Continuing on, my walk took me away from the old racecourse and followed the Bay's shoreline passing through the suburb of Seaholme with its quite large boat ramps and modest sailing club. In parts of Seaholme you come across almost million dollar seaside homes (some of two and three stories high) behind the unobtrusive storm barrier built to hold back the high Tides. After an hour or so of rambling I reach my regular haunt of Altona and its iconic Pier (which I tend to photograph every time I visit in one form or another). In the summer this manicured foreshore is full of colour, glitz, laughter, fish n' chips, ice-creams and a lot of sunburnt bodies. But on a July day nary another person except an occasional Eskimo could be found.

It is the link with the racecourse that always holds my attention, irrespective of when I undertake the walk. I always find or spot something I have never come across to tickle my curiosity. I swear, at times, on calm sunny days, if you sit atop the Grandstand ruins (keeping an eye open for Redback Spiders) you can hear the clop of hooves as horses gallop up the home straight and the raucous cheers of the crowd. Too, you can hear the distant clatter of old Electric Trains pulling in or moving away from racecourse station. In my mind's eye, it is the early 1900s and not the rather forlorn sight with the nearby Chemical plants that in today's vista threaten such a memory.