A Weekend with a Twist on the Great Ocean Road

An exercise-purposed weekend end turned artistic discovery. By Isabella Casey

For one weekend every summer, the coastal town of Lorne holds two races, the Mountain to Surf trail run and the Pier to Pub ocean swim. In doing so, the Great Ocean Road holiday spot becomes a transient sporting mecca, spilling over with tons of fit bodies bearing event-sponsor giveaways, ready to race. This year, I decided to catch the ferry across from the Mornington Peninsula and make a comeback after an eight year hiatus from these events. However, a random artistic discovery became the main event. Here’s what happened.

On a blustery Thursday afternoon, we arrived at our accomodation in Eastern View. Our Airbnb was across from the beach and was a simple cottage made from old timber, full of cobwebs and beautiful, hand-made art in the form of ceramics. All that could be heard from inside the shack was the wind whistling through the tea trees, rain drumming down on the tin roof and the faint thud of traffic along the Great Ocean Road which was the only thing separating the house from the beach. Even though I knew full well from experience that twenty minutes up the road in Lorne there would hardly be a square inch of sand free on the beach, the shoreline of Eastern View was empty and untouched.

The first time I walked into the cottage, I immediately noticed a curved blue bowl, reminiscent of the Eastern View waves on a calmer day. I felt its soothing energy instantly as it softened my frayed temper after the long drive from the Queenscliff ferry. Straight away, I knew that our airbnb host was an artist - the bowl was too stunning and drawn from too deep a creative space to have been bought from the Target homewares section and I felt its connection to the cottage and the land. It turns out that I was right as next door to our bedroom was our host Andrew Allen’s artist studio. It was dusty with dried clay and scattered with his handmade works. (See picture below)

I decided to buy a couple of pieces. The most important to me was the curved bowl that had been placed for decoration on the bathroom sink (for some strange reason, I felt pulled to this specific bowl and not the others of the same type that were kept for sale in the studio.) I also chose a mug with soft, mellow ridges made from light sandy clay. Of course, it was a lot more expensive than a regular mug, but every time I take a sip from it i’m reminded of the force of the coastal elements that helped shape it, and that brings me joy. (Picture below on the right)

The third and final piece I bought was an espresso cup, made from dark, earthy clay. (Picture above). I love the rawness of this piece - to me it seems like it was made by mother nature herself, dug up from the earth already whole and carved, like a piece of driftwood which turns up on the shore, sculpted by the sea and her currents. I feel strongly about this: when you drink from such an espresso cup, made form rugged clay that was fired in an old kiln 10 metres from the Indian Ocean, painted in the sea air - your morning coffee is enhanced by the essence of the cup. It becomes a deep experience, there is pleasure in it, the same as going to an art gallery, it’s to be savoured - not just something to get through. It’s often the little pleasures in life that get us through hard times; buying croissant from a bakery that is still warm out of the oven, a stranger smiling at you in the street, watching a glorious sunset… As I am no stranger to tough times, especially recently, looking at and using these ceramics are my small pleasures and I am very grateful to have found them.

I should note that the races went well. The Mountain to Surf is probably the best possible way to start a summer’s morning - commencing in the hilly streets of Lorne before winding through the deep gully’s of the forest and coming out for a stint along the Great Ocean Road itself. This years race was 7.5km and the most memorable part for me was seeing two sleeping horses at the bottom of the gully in a tiny field, encased by thick forest. They were standing up, dozing whilst resting their necks on each other and it was a nice sight to behold, especially after toughing it out through 6km’s of dusty scrub and steep hills. There was also the largest number of sprained ankles I’ve ever seen in my life. About five people per kilometre were sitting to the side of the course, nursing their sprains - a sign of a gnarly race. I made it across the line without being one of those people, so that was good.

The Pier to Pub swim was the next day. Around 2pm I took to the sea and swum the 1.2km it takes to make it from the pier to the pub. On that particular Saturday, the ocean was a dark green in colour so I couldn’t see anything cool except for the golden fractals of light, suspended in the water. It was a good swim, but I find that ocean races are never quite as action packed as the training swims that proceed them. Naturally all of the stingrays, toadfish and seahorses are scared off by the thousands of people flooding the water on race day, though on any other day they are happy to accompany you on your swim (another one of life’s small pleasures).

The Great Ocean Road Memorial Arch, near our Airbnb

All in all, it was a great weekend. However, it was telling that when I arrived back on the Peninsula, I was more excited to break out Andrew Allan’s ceramics than I was the event T-shirts. It turns out that being forced to rent an airbnb in Eastern View due to no vacancies in Lorne (or closer) was the best thing that could have happened to us and I’m so glad that creative people like Andrew choose to dedicate themselves to their passions because it makes for truly great art.