Visited 7 January, 2012
As we strolled the street I was thinking about the geography of McCrae: the strip of white Bay-beach sand merging into tea-tree scrub; the Nepean Highway separating that scrub from the flat-land commercial and residential area; the freeway at the back of settlement, elevated but with the hill behind; and that hill, with scrub different from the shoreline version, harbouring residences blessed with a view. Then later I was thinking about the hill, and wondering whether it was simply a large coastal sand dune or, rather, a rocky formation; and I sought the answer in my school text, The Phisiography of Victoria by E. Sherbon Hills. Professor Hills, he of the unusual given name, was Professor of Geology at The University of Melbourne, and doubtless had to contend with jokes about being a geologist named Hills; and was doubtless consoled somewhat by his book being prescribed and placed on the secondary school geography curriculum. The book was published in 1940, and my copy is of the Third Edition 1951. The five intervening years before I acquired my copy in 1956 hadn’t produced a further revision, and I wondered whether a revised edition had ever again hit the streets; after all, geology (or physiography) doesn’t suffer from obsolescence or technological advancement. Having said that, I’m wondering at what stage the geology of Victoria was “known”. Professor Hills’s book is packed with certainties – as should be any learned dissertation – but query whether there has indeed been significant advancement in geological knowledge in the most recent 60 years.
As we strolled the street I was thinking about the geography of McCrae: the strip of white Bay-beach sand merging into tea-tree scrub; the Nepean Highway separating that scrub from the flat-land commercial and residential area; the freeway at the back of settlement, elevated but with the hill behind; and that hill, with scrub different from the shoreline version, harbouring residences blessed with a view. Then later I was thinking about the hill, and wondering whether it was simply a large coastal sand dune or, rather, a rocky formation; and I sought the answer in my school text, The Phisiography of Victoria by E. Sherbon Hills. Professor Hills, he of the unusual given name, was Professor of Geology at The University of Melbourne, and doubtless had to contend with jokes about being a geologist named Hills; and was doubtless consoled somewhat by his book being prescribed and placed on the secondary school geography curriculum. The book was published in 1940, and my copy is of the Third Edition 1951. The five intervening years before I acquired my copy in 1956 hadn’t produced a further revision, and I wondered whether a revised edition had ever again hit the streets; after all, geology (or physiography) doesn’t suffer from obsolescence or technological advancement. Having said that, I’m wondering at what stage the geology of Victoria was “known”. Professor Hills’s book is packed with certainties – as should be any learned dissertation – but query whether there has indeed been significant advancement in geological knowledge in the most recent 60 years.
Regardless, Hills was helpful. “The high land of the Mornington Peninsula is a horst, bounded on the west by Selwyn’s Fault, and on the east by the Tyabb Fault. The geological structure of the Peninsula is complex, and differential erosion explains the existence of the three chief mountains, Mr. Eliza, Mt. Martha and Arthur’s Seat, which are composed of resistant granitic rocks. From the southern end of the peninsula a long, low promontory, composed mainly of Pleistocene sand dunes, extends to Point Nepean.” So, question answered: the rise behind McCrae is an ancient sand dune.
And I am chastened for my foregoing flippancy about geology and Professor Hills – because, as I put down his book out of it fell his obituary, a clipping I’d saved from the University’s alumni magazine. Professor Hills, who was known as Edwin (why did he publish under the name Sherbon?) was clearly greatly respected and loved. Born in 1906, he was associated with the University for his whole adult life. Professor of Geology from 1944, he formally retired in 1971, but stayed as Emeritus Professor and Honorary Research Professor until his death in 1986. He was much honoured throughout the world, and published 113 scientific papers in a range of fields. “All were characterized by his command of language……Such a spread of research leadership will probably never be achieved again”. The Physiography of Victoria did indeed continue to be revised, until its Fifth Edition in 1975. In this book, the obituary states, “Hills developed and illustrated concepts of landscape evolution with respect to the gamut of geological processes, in particular the control by geological structure. This was a new approach in the 1940s, and found wide acceptance……[it was] of international significance.” Humble pie is not meant to be tasty, but I must eat some.
Followers of these Saturday Breakfast pieces will know that I am not averse to a long preamble, and today’s has been longer than most; but regard it as – literally - before the walk, the pre amble…………because the walk itself had little of interest.
The McCrae shopping strip is short. Short is not a politically correct word, I know, but it’s impossible to ascribe the words “vertically challenged” to something that’s horizontal. In truth, the strip is stunted. One hundred metres maybe: medical rooms, no place to buy vegetables or bread or groceries; and an abandoned mini golf course, overgrown, and a challenge even if armed with a wedge instead of a putter. However, there are four breakfast places, each with the same clear message: that local residents, while “doing their shopping” at nearby Rosebud, are happy enough to have breakfast coffee and cakes on the McCrae foreshore; that the area has lots of weekend visitors who do the same; but that these businesses are seasonal, and depend for their lifeblood on the summertime campers along the Peninsula.
We breakfasted at The Pavillion. A huge place, so huge as to cast doubt on my assumptions about the patterns of trade at McCrae; or perhaps to reinforce them. I can envisage the proprietors closing in winter, forced into an extended break in Tuscany. The Bircher muesli at The Pavillion was good, not the usual rolled oats but oats seeds (unrolled), soaked in apple juice, and served with yoghurt, stewed rhubarb and a few currants. The coffee was fine, and the service excellent. There was as much seating in the front outdoors as inside and, in acknowledgement of the significant outdoor seating, there was a kiosk near the front from which the tables were set, and from where the light refreshments were dispensed.
McCrae has a place in family memory, because we had several summer breaks there, staying at the vacation home of friends. The house was located away from the beach, on the edge of settlement, with bushland behind. It was on a steep slope, jutting out from the hill. It was suspended on metal poles with wire stays, and moved a little during strong winds. Footsteps were audible on the wooden floor with airspace rather than earth beneath. The full-length balcony facing the sea, with spectacular views, was a great feature – loved, in particular, by our dog Sheff…………………..a poshly-named Sheffield when we got him, but such a faithful and loving mutt that he soon became Sheff. The one shortcoming of the house was its distance from the beach, but that didn’t worry the kids – all downhill, under the freeway, past the houses, over the Highway, through the tea-trees, on to the sand, into the water (apologies to Dr. Seuss). If the kids were lucky they were collected by the folks and driven home; and if so, the usual collection point was near the lighthouse.
Yes, McCrae had, and still has, a lighthouse. This is McCrae on Port Phillip, at sea level – no rocky promontory, no storm-lashed rocks, no remote location. And no stone column either – it’s made of steel. On the sand a little inland from the water, at its base about 12 metres above sea level, it was fabricated in England in 1874, and shipped to Australia and erected in 1883. There had been a predecessor, a wooden structure built in 1854 – later dismantled and taken to Arthur’s Seat for a lookout tower. Modern-day navigational aids have rendered the present lighthouse redundant, and it was decommissioned in 1994. 111 years of service isn’t bad, though; and there has been restoration so that the structure can continue to stand as a reminder to the community of McCrae, and the community at large, that great service was once given here.
That service was not showy and dramatic, not the keeping of sailors off the rocks, merely the safe guidance of countless ships along the south channel of Port Phillip into the port of Melbourne. The lighthouse, more properly called the South Channel Lighthouse, was powered by mains electricity, and flashed every 15 seconds. At about 34 metres it was the tallest lighthouse in Victoria. The structural framework is external, and the central column has a diameter of 1.5 metres only, housing a spiral staircase of 120 steps – the effect said to be like climbing inside a 44 gallon drum.
Those who enjoyed Professor Hills’s technical description of the geology of the Mornington Peninsula might enjoy the technical description of the lighthouse lamp: it not only had dioptric, but also catadioptric and holophotal lens systems.
Gary Andrews
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