Our species has a natural—or perhaps innate—subconscious fear of giants.

Giants have likely inhabited our ‘id’ for as long as our species has existed, using ‘id’ in the still-debated Freudian sense of: ‘… the primitive, basic, and fully subconscious part of human personality’.

To complete the psychology tute, our ‘id’ contrasts with our ‘ego’, the conscious and realistic part of our personality.

While giants may sometimes stalk our id and haunt our dreams—especially those of the imaginative [and sometimes disturbed] young—they also populate our language as a superlative, entering our everyday speech.

Examples include: ‘he is a giant of the game’; ‘a giant step for mankind’; ‘a giant squid’; ‘the Australian Open will be shown on a giant screen’ … or, in archaeological and paleontological terms, ‘the giant megafauna of the Australian continent’.

In medicine, giantism [or gigantism] describes fellow humans over seven feet tall. Giants are all around us.

After the rise and rise of the popular but somewhat inane rhymes of Dr Seuss as ‘bedtime reading’ in the latter part of the 20th century, I wish our children could return to earlier staples like ‘Wind in the Willows’ or ‘Swallows and Amazons’ … before the moralistic woke can defile them with their puritanical revisionist claptrap.

That said, my own childhood favourites were ‘The Myths and Legends of the Norsemen’, the Arthurian derring-doo in ‘The Knights of the Round Table’, and ‘The Myths and Legends of Ancient Greece’.

I grew to love an odd monster, here and there … a Gorgon, a Minotaur, a Kraken, or a Moby Dick … to send me off to sleep. Indeed, a good slathering of giants is in a child’s DNA.

However, the monsters that taunted the Vikings, Greeks, and Romans and were the stuff of my dreams were always a step removed from and less frightening than the studio-contrived monsters that roar and drool from the TV screens or movie screens of today.

Exposing a child to tales of monsters may seem, at first bite, monstrous.

But it can be a valuable lesson to teach children that while there are scary things ‘out there’, they can always be defeated by the forces of good.

This recurrent theme in the old myths—that adversity can always be overcome—fuelled my inevitable triumphs over monster upon monster.

I thought of writing an article about monsters and giants when, after a fruitless search for a whale sighting [the true giants of the mammalian world], I turned inland to absorb the winter-quiet magic of the Redwood stand on Binns Track.

Then, having salved my soul beneath these botanic giants, I turned right to return along Turton’s Track.

There, I paused again to marvel at the giant Mountain Ash and the towering [and giant] Dicksonia antarctica tree ferns—the few remaining remnants of the forests of Gondwanaland.

Finally, as I returned to Lorne along Mt Sabine Road, I slowed to marvel at the even larger Messmates as they stood leaf to leaf with Mountain Ash.

It is impossible not to feel both awe and joy at the splendour quietly hiding in Lorne’s hinterland forests. Sadly, most seem blissfully unaware—or have forgotten—that giants are all around our town of Lorne.

As I stopped at my favourite small bush pond to listen to the songs of its frogs, the low hum of insects, and the rustling sound of the living forest, the silence was shattered by a groaning sound, then a splintering crash.

Somewhere close by, a giant had fallen.

Anyone who has walked the myriad walking tacks in the Otways will be familiar with the sudden sound of splintering, a thump or crash, the thrash of the wings of startled birds, and the shocked sound of silence that follows.

These giants of the forest may stand a century or two—some even more—but they cannot stand forever.

When a branch falls, it is commonly more of the thump, but when a whole tree topples—especially one that is a giant—the crash will reverberate throughout the forest.

Each time I hear that sound, the phrase ‘widow-maker’ comes quickly to mind, and I mutter my gratitude that my name was not on that tree.

A few of the more than 800 species of gum renowned for dropping limbs include sugar gums, yellow box, blue gums, mountain ash, and red river gums—so don’t pitch a tent under one of them!

As one source explains, ‘… gums preserve their health during drought by ‘allowing’ some branches to dry out and break off … self-preservation by self-pruning.

Sudden branch drop can occur at any time, regardless of the weather—whether calm, wind, or storm’.

Gum trees, strangely, are not as deeply rooted as one might expect.

As a case in point, the stunningly tall and majestic Eucalypt regnans [the Mountain Ash that typically grows to 70 – 115 metres in our Otway forests] first develop a fairly strong tap root and a system of surface-spreading laterals.

Later, as sinker roots develop and branch downward from the laterals, the anchoring tap root dies back. [See: CSIRO: https://tinyurl.com/5n962e9h]

As the laterals and sinkers are not as strong as the original tap root, I think it amazing that they can reach such a magnificent size without toppling over.

But, as anyone who walks the bush tracks will know, topple they do—and often without warning.

Circle the base of a fallen giant and witness for yourself how flimsy the roots that keep it upright appear.

Indeed, it is quite extraordinary that they don’t fall over more often!

For those familiar with the giants of the ocean that sporadically pass by Lorne between June and October, who have stood in reverence beneath a massive Ash or Messmate, or who have tried to compute the staggering age of a giant tree fern—these living giants, these monsters “… are such stuff as [their] dreams are made of” [adapted from Prospero; The Tempest: IV.i.156-158].

As these giants of our natural world re-populating dreams once tossed by the mythological monsters of childhood, what better way could there be to “… make the stuff of dreams”?

John Agar

Feature Writer

A word from the chairman

Hello,

As Lorne slips into its mid-winter hibernation (yes we are past the half-way mark!), Mother Nature showed her full force this week with wild winds (easterlies of course), driving rains and single-digit temperatures.

Fortunately, the worst did not come until after the school-holiday campers had evacuated the camping grounds.

To date, I am thankfully not aware of any significant damage.

Not to be deterred by our local weather, an enthusiastic group of local golfers recently made the trek to Barham on the Murray for a couple of days of sunshine golf.

There was some good golf and plenty of fun and social interaction.

Last Saturday saw the Lorne Football and Netball Club’s annual Black and White Ball held at the Peak at the Lorne Hotel.

Guests enjoyed good company and some enthusiastic dancing.

Fortunately our senior footballers got their kicking boots back on earlier in the day, so there was cause for celebration, and they have consolidated their position as second on the ladder as we head into the last five rounds.

*****
The Committee for Lorne meets this week and will receive updates from its representative members and on current issues.

Looking back on my column from this time last year, I see that the issues have not changed much (housing affordability, Point Grey redevelopment, the future of the Pool and Foreshore Precinct).

We will also be considering the recommendations of our sub-committee on the Doug & Mary Stirling Cup.

The Cup is awarded biennially and recognises outstanding community service.

More about this next week, but please mark Friday September 20 on your calendar for a special CfL lunch for the presentation of the Cup.

The Committee for Lorne is always looking for new members.

Anyone who cares for our town and is concerned about its future is eligible to join.

We would welcome your expression of interest.

*****
This week we said goodbye to one of our oldest residents, Bonnie Castle, just short of her 105th birthday.

You can only imagine the stories she had to tell! I did not know Bonnie personally, but the tributes to her speak of someone who was very much a part of the Lorne community over many years.

RIP Bonnie.

*****

And yes, you heard correctly, U-turns are now legal on the Great Ocean Road!

We awoke on Monday last week to learn of proposals to impose parking fees on all GORCAPA coastal land, but before the community outrage could build to a half-crescendo, the proposal mysteriously vanished on Wednesday.

Was it a bad dream, or did some AI gremlin get loose?

Whatever, it was good to see that common sense prevailed (although it would have made a great column!)

Cheers