We are saying our good-byes in Melbourne after spending two days with our friend Damien, a jazz musician we met in New York four years ago, when he asks, “Where are you headed now?”
“I’m not really sure,” Ryan says. “We’re heading towards Sydney and we thought we’d hit the Great Ocean Road on the way.”
“Um. You know that’s in the other direction?”
“What?” Ryan says, pulling out his iPhone.
“The Great Ocean Road is between Adelaide and here. On the coast. It’s in the other direction.” Damien says.
“Shit. We missed it?!” Ryan looks at me, crestfallen. I just shrug, feeling a little guilty I never looked at the map myself.
We were so desperate to reach civilization after crossing the Nullarbor that we made a bee-line for Melbourne in search of good wine, real coffee and, well, people.
“Ah well. Maybe it’s not that nice?” I say, trying to comfort Ryan.
“It’s the most beautiful road in the whole of Australia,” Damien says.
“Shit. I guess we’ll have to go back then,” I say, looking at Ryan and shrugging my shoulders again. “It’s the most beautiful road in the whole of Australia.”
With that, we drive off in the wrong direction to go find out if the Great Ocean Road really is as great as everyone says it is.