Bacchus Marsh

We like to wander from the home base at the weekend. The Spouse always asks: “Where shall we go?” And usually I don’t have a clue. But one day I fooled him and said “Bacchus Marsh!” (It was the only place I could think of).

Setting out on a journey into unknown territory involves programming the car navigation system first. The Spouse was busily doing that when someone loomed up at the driver’s side of the car and signalled wildly at Don.

“You’ve got the engine running,” said the gaunt character peering at us from under this straggly hair.
“Yes?”
“We have to save the planet,” the man said, waving his Daphne du Maurier paperback at us and adjusting his hemp shoulderbag.

The Spouse started to explain that we were about to drive off but that the nav system couldn’t be programmed unless the motor was running. But the tree hugger wouldn’t have a bar of it. He rapped on the window again. “Turn it off!” he demanded.

Jointly and severally we instructed him to move along and mind his own business. But he just got more frantic. He then wrenched the door open, no doubt intent on turning off the key himself. Except this car doesn’t have one. The Spouse leapt out of the car and the man quickly assessed Don had height and weight on his side and ran off down the street, trousers flapping.

But the drama was not over. The car was in drive mode and started edging forward. And I was buckled into my seat with not a clue how to turn the engine off. There were just a few metres between our front bumper and the neighbour’s rear one. I heard myself shouting fairly manically as I tried to turn the steering wheel.

Fortunately The Spouse had the presence of mind to let the skinny man flee, and ran back to the car to save his wife - and mother-in-law who happened to be in the back seat. What about the handbrake, you might ask. Well that’s one of those silly ones you hit with your foot – and it’s not accessible from the passenger seat. Not when you have short arms.

Just to be on the safe side, we drove round the block before completing the route selection. We didn’t want another encounter with Mr Ozone Layer.

Anyway, blood pressure restored to normal, we did get to Bacchus Marsh. It’s surrounded by market gardens and orchards and is set on the edge of a fertile valley. We drove through a gorgeous avenue of large elm trees, regarded as the finest elm avenue in the world since Dutch elm disease devastated many of the elms in Europe.

The trees were planted to honour those men and women from the district who had fought and died in World War I. It consists of 281 North American elms. The other elms, oaks and plane trees which line Main St were planted in 1884 so you can imagine how huge and beautiful they are 120 years later. There’s more about Bacchus Marsh here.

We found a roadside trading post selling masses of fruit, vegetables, pickles, jams, sauces, drinks, bread, confectionery, baking, you name it. And kitchen gadgets. While it’s my firm belief that most gadgets can be replaced by a decent cook’s knife, I still get sucked in every time. I found an implement like a potato peeler for peeling soft fruit and vegetables. Of course, I bought one and it works a treat on tomatoes and peaches. It has little sharp teeth instead of a straight blade.

We stocked up on luscious stone fruit and continued on to the township where we found a bakery and ordered a couple of pies for lunch. Well, I actually had a pastie. Not a Cornish one, however. It was filled with a wodge of smoothish spiced meat and it did benefit rather from the liberal application of tomato sauce.

There are other eating places in the town. One even boasts a special menu for people with celiac disease or diabetes and a range of gluten free bread, pastry and pasta.

Attractions within town include the historic Court House, the Tudor-style Border Inn, the Blacksmith's Cottage, and a number of churches dating back to the 1800s. The Chicory Kiln, to the south of town, has been preserved since its construction in 1885 when chicory roots were roasted before being ground and added to coffee.

In many places still the root of the chicory plant is sliced, kiln-dried, ground and roasted to a rich dark brown color, like coffee beans. When added to coffee, it adds body, aroma, color and mellowness. Chicory is supposed to be good for the liver, which figures as it is a distant relative of the dandelion which is also used for liver health.

Bacchus Marsh – scene of some Bacchanalian revelry in the mud during the 1800s, I wondered? Apparently nothing so interesting. It was named after Captain William Henry Bacchus  who occupied the valley when Clarke headed west in 1838. The valley was once full of marshland associated with the river system, although these were drained and the riverbed altered by early European settlers.

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