Spending a day in God’s waiting room
Victor Harbour was a favourite place to visit on weekends. The locals call it “Victor”, or God’s waiting room.
When we migrated to South Australia, Victor Harbour was a favourite place to visit on weekends. The locals call it “Victor”.
“What did you do over the weekend?”
It’s the first question everyone in the office asked on a Monday morning.
“So, you went to Victor, eh?”
Victor is also referred to as “God’s waiting room”. It’s a cheeky reference, since this is a popular place to live for retirees and older folks. It is exquisite although far from the city. A foretaste of heaven as residents wait for their next adventure in the peaceful coastal surroundings of the harbour.
Last weekend, we went to Victor for a birthday lunch. And on the way home, we dropped by Port Elliot next to Victor because my wide wanted to show our Korean friend how beautiful it is.
I thought it would be a good idea to share the experience.
Port Elliot is a small, charming town on Horseshoe Bay, along the southern coast of the Fleurieu Peninsula.
The aboriginal name might have been “Witengangool”, but it was known as “Freeman’s Knob” before being proclaimed a port in 1851.
When we were there, it was late afternoon and most shops were closed. It was quiet except for the sound of wind and waves as we strolled along the edge of Freeman Lookout. A couple of locals walking their dogs smiled and nodded their heads as we passed. It was very peaceful. God’s waiting room indeed.
I walked past this flight of stairs. It kind of reminded me of a stairway to heaven. There was a certain sense of loneliness as we strolled along the path. Not in a sad way, but it almost felt like this was how every person’s last journey might be. The complete lack of anxiety and sense of familiarity pulled me going forward along the way. I wonder if this is how it would feel like when I walk the last steps of life. There was no valley of darkness, only a mountain of light.
Nice.
We soon came to the end of the path which led to the road where we drove in. The old cottages sit comfortably next to newer holiday bungalows. It was as if time stopped and blended between the past and the present. I really like this old hotel overlooking the open park.
We walked up the road towards our car and came upon the historical landmark, The Lone Pine. This tree was planted 8th August 1919 in memory of the Australian soldiers that fell in the Lone Pine charge at Gallipoli on 8th August 1915.
Fame gilds their far off lonely grave
On bleak Gallipoli shore
And ocean charts their funeral dirge
While loud the breakers roar
I often thought about those young men who gave their lives for peace. All those men who fought the wars so that we, the descendants, didn’t have to, who gave their lives that we might have ours. Lest we forget. But how can we forget? How can we ever forget?
We made our way to the car and drove home just as the sun set. For me, it was a solemn ending for the day. We spoke about what happened during lunch and the funny moments that peppered our conversations throughout.
“It was a good day.” My wife said.
It was such a very good day.
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