The CrossingMelbourne, Properly
Actually Reaching Melbourne
Suburban Melbourne offered a roadside coffee, a tiny version of Perth-to-Brisbane and twelve kilometres beside Jo. By nightfall the sign finally said City of Melbourne, even if Albert Park was still seven kilometres away.
Melbourne had already been part of HAA for the weekend. We’d been there for parkrun, media, The Edge, food and a rest day. Day 81 was when I reached it on foot.
After driving back to Ballarat, I’d spent Monday walking east again. Tuesday began near Bacchus Marsh with BIG4 Braybrook ahead and Melbourne somewhere beyond the early light.
Five kilometres into the second session I was ready for a hot coffee. That was when I saw a roadside coffee van, half hidden by trucks, on Exford Road. Nate, the owner, was camera-shy but friendly, and I got the sense he had a regular stream of customers pulling into that lay-by.
We chatted about what I was doing. Then the penny dropped and he asked, “was that you on the news?”
So much for the bright yellow beanie and hi-vis being as distinctive as I had imagined.
Ten dollars bought me a hot pide and a large coffee. Perfect.
The first proper Melbourne marker came near Deer Park. There were still more than 20 kilometres to the CBD, but the sign officially welcomed us to Melbourne, so naturally it earned a photo. Welcome to Melbourne, part one.
Suburban Melbourne then started playing its own little joke.
First came Perth Ave, which made me read the sign twice and wonder whether we had taken a wrong turn. Then came Brisbane St, which meant I could declare that we had made it from Perth Ave to Brisbane St in under 60 seconds. Then came Adelaide St, which at least let me say I had been there and done that.
After everything it had taken to get from Perth to Adelaide, the street signs were ridiculous enough to help. If only the real Perth-to-Brisbane job had been that quick.
Cities brought their own nonsense too. At one bridge all I could think was: Australian capital cities, why you no have wider verges on your bridges? Empty highways had their own risks, but city bridges could still make walking space feel like an afterthought.
The next morning was already taking shape. I put out a call for Melbourne people to join me into Albert Park early, then through the city, past the Heart Foundation offices in Collins Street and onward toward Diamond Creek. There would be a massage stop somewhere in the middle.
And then there was Jo.
I had met Jo and her family at a Run Down Under lunch during the Gold Coast Airport Marathon weekend the year before. Since then she had followed no more mr fat guy and HAA online, supported what we were doing, and caught up with us at Albert Melbourne parkrun on the Saturday.
She turned up for about 12 kilometres of walking company. If my memory is right, she parked her car somewhere out there, walked with me, then got a lift back to it in the campervan.
She had asked Brad, her myotherapist at Performance Healthcare, to donate a much-needed massage. She made snack balls and zucchini slice for the team. She asked a friend whether we could park on their property the next night and hook up to power. She invited all three of us to dinner the following evening, with hot food and showers attached.
It was an extraordinary amount of help from someone who had decided to get involved and kept finding another useful thing to do.
By evening, 54.1 kilometres were done. I was still about 7 kilometres short of Albert Park, but the sign above my yellow beanie said City of Melbourne.
I took the photo and claimed it.
Images From The Day
