Back in 1967, just before Christmas, Australia’s Prime Minister walked into the waves of Cheviot Beach on the Mornington Peninsula for a swim and was never seen again.
Typically for Australia, he has a swimming pool named after him in Glen Iris. Why not?
I decided to get July’s Little Adventure done yesterday, because the weather forecast for the rest of the month was looking very wet and brisk. I googled ‘tourist destinations near me’ and saw that the place where Harold Holt disappeared was an hour’s drive away. Perfect! I’ll knock over a few podcasts and see something new.
He was originally the Treasurer before becoming Prime Minister, and was only 59 when he died.
OR DID HE DIE?????????
Apparently, there were many conspiracy theories, including that the Chinese picked him up in a submarine.
Fortunate Frogdancer arrived at the car park just in time to take a shuttle bus, saving me a long walk. The bus driver stopped, said, “The lady who wanted the Harold Holt memorial? It’s down there, and the rocks where he went missing are to your left.”
Here they are.
I decided not to hop over the gate and go exploring…
I was going to stay longer, even though it was cold and windy. There are a few short walks, the fort at the mouth of Port Phillip Bay, and the old quarantine station. But Kate rang, concerned that she was getting a few weird messages from Mum. I decided to head straight back and see what, if anything, was going on.
Spoiler: there wasn’t.
This is such a narrow spit of land. You can see the beach on both sides. The wind was moaning through the trees, but my fleecy jacket I bought for Antarctica was keeping me toasty warm. That’s a relief, because now I know I’ll probably be ok wearing this, a hat and cowl in Iceland etc and I’ll be fine.
I stopped at Rye and bought some chips to eat on the way home. They were bright yellow, which put me off a bit, but most of them mysteriously vanished before I got home.
A bit like Harold Holt…
Dad joke of the day:
There’s a shuttle bus?????
I made my husband walk to this several years ago when we were on a road trip. That’s when he discovered that the pain he was experiencing when walking was more serious than he thought and he ended up having surgery on both ankles a couple of years later (that was fun…not!). He always blames Harold Holt (and me) but seriously, the surgery would have happened regardless. Anyway, this little memorial is a fond memory (for me, not so much hubby….)
I had no idea about the shuttle bus either. It just happened to drive up as I was setting off.