Driving the lengthy South Gippsland Highway towards somewhere better than home is a regular occurrence for many city folk. Many stop along the way to take in a breath of clean, crisp air while others trundle on through to their final destination. It’s these people who are missing out on quaint towns like Loch, where antiques are plentiful, quilts hang from rafters, locals tell you the best spots to shovel down homemade cakes and try all you like, you won’t find a monster called Nessie in any local lake.
It’s a countryside put together like puckered patchwork with air so fresh and crisp it feels like you’ve just received a lung transplant after being a two-pack a day smoker for twenty years. There’s no sign of condensed traffic or smoky industrial sites…just one road, in one town with more than one thing to enjoy.
With wicker baskets piled high with chopped fire wood, dogs snoozing in shop doorways and hanging baskets growing the first signs of springtime colour, Loch is different to many other country towns of Victoria. It doesn’t trade on any historical reference or landmark. No one famous died here and it’s not the founder of any particular brand or development. It’s simply a town proud to offer a wonderful stopover for those on their way to their final holiday destination, and if those people are able to avoid buying a coffee, cake or piece of art when they stop then they’re a lot stronger than me.
The main road is cluttered with home wares, antiques, art galleries and gorgeous cafes sporting lace doyleys, fresh cut flowers and cake that will make you forget where you live. “She makes the best cakes in town,” says a local pointing to Loch Pantry, which served up the most exquisite gluten free coconut and raspberry pie known to man, “which is really tough when you’re on a diet.”
Home to international quilting expert Julie Wallace, Loch holds an annual Quilt Hanging Day in February each year, layering the main strip with masterful handmade quilts and fabrics. They hang from street windows and eaves, swaying in the summer breeze, transporting visitors back to the days where Anne wandered the Gables of Green, when people knew how to ‘how do you do’ correctly and rocked bustles like no one’s business.
But probably the most fascinating aspect of Loch isn’t the shops or the people or the local wineries or even the low-lying seasonal quilts ready to take your eye out with one gust of wind and a skilful flick of a corner. But the bewildering monster that lies beneath. Beneath your feet that is.
It’s Loch’s very own Loch Ness. A little-known local called the Gippsland Giant Earthworm, growing up to 1.5 meters in length, laying eggs the size of translucent amber snow peas and living quite happily in the mud of Loch. In fact, locals have erected educational posters along the Loch Village pedestrian underpass between the now rarely used local train station and the town’s main street, Victoria Road, to help people better appreciate this protected species.
If thinking of their sheer enormity isn’t enough to make you squirm, then perhaps knowing visitors can hear them on wetter days may tip you over the edge.
“They make a ‘donk donk’ sound, like a faint emu,” says Jeannie Hicks from South Gippsland Council, leaving me cringing and stepping ever so lightly around muddy fields to avoid hearing an angry underground emu.
As sunset kicks in there’s no better place to be than the Cape Horn Lookout, 2kms up Loch-Wonthaggi Road. Watch as Loch’s green pastures turn crimson and peach. As dairy cows head home for their evening feed and as locals pack up shop and head home to open fires and hearty winter meals.
Now you’re free to continue on to your final holiday destination.
