Every holiday has one – that day when things don’t go quite to plan, so you end up doing something that you’d never even considered, and it turns out great.  Today was that day.

We woke to gloomy skies and much cooler temperatures.  With a load of washing to do (me) and a payroll to run (Ian), we were never going to be leaving early, but we figured there was plenty of time for our excursion to the Rubicon Valley.  Until we realised it was raining … a few light drops at first, then some fairly solid showers. The radar suggested this would continue until mid afternoon.  Chores completed, we scoured Google Maps for other options, knowing that we could go to Rubicon tomorrow, en route to Marysville.

We settled on a scenic drive to Yea, taking a delightful back road to bypass Alexandra, cutting through a low valley before a couple of small hills and a descent before Molesworth.  In Yea, we headed for the Wetlands, a hidden treasure developed by the local community over the past 15 years.  Walking trails wind their way around lagoons and grasslands.  Rustic bridges invite you to explore around the next corner.  Flocks of cockatoos and water birds vie for spots in the eucalypts.  A suspension bridge connects the wetlands trail to the information centre and the small town. The rain had cleared by the time we arrived, and we could see the clouds continuing east; we had made the right choice.

We began our exploration from the picnic area, taking dozens of photos of the reflections in the large lagoon.  Twisted shapes were mirrored perfectly in the water.  Click on a gallery to view full size images.

We followed the trail anti clockwise, along boardwalks which passed head high jungles of grass and other vegetation. 

Ahead, I saw a man with a very large camera lens, peering intently at what looked like leaves on a bush.  “Frogs” he told me. “Tiny frogs – they climb up from the ground onto the leaves”.  It took me a while but eventually I spotted the little golden creatures, not much bigger than my thumbnail.  My new acquaintance and I discussed topics such as speed versus aperture, while I envied his obviously superior macro lens.  Mine did OK I think …

As we wandered along the next bridge, he called out “Is the copperhead still there?”  Resisting the urge to scream and run, I put on a brave front and tried to sound casual.  “Um … what copperhead?  And where?” It was relaxing in the leaves beside the bridge, unconcerned and at a safe distance. I guess when you have frogs and water, you get snakes too.  Had we seen the sign at the far entrance, we might have been on the lookout.  Without my new friend, we would have missed both amphibians and reptiles.

Another gorgeous lagoon and more reflections to photograph; more wooden bridges; then across the cable bridge, which swayed a little disconcertingly sideways as well as bouncing up and down a bit.  In our final few hundred metres, we spied and heard the birds.

What an idyllic place – tucked in right next to the highway, but a world away, and another place we would probably otherwise had bypassed.  Slow travel always turns up surprises.