Torquay beach, pfft. Lorne’s got it all over Torquay, hands down.

Not just the beach and magnificent coastline, but the town, its people and institutions, the glorious hinterland’s gullies and bush, the town’s stories and history – it even has its own myths and legends.

Where do you start?

History-wise, maybe the king parrot Gadabanud people, or the timber cutters who arrived in the 1840s.

Perhaps Captain James Louttit, whose sheltered in the bay to retrieve cargo from a shipwreck. Or the Mountjoy brothers who built Erskine House. Or Rudyard Kipling’s ode to the Erskine and Cora Lynn.

People and places, old, new or gone, are revered in Lorne: The Arab, the Grand Pacific and Cumberland, the surf club, footy club, beachfront trampolines, old bathing boxes, the pier and its giant resident manta rays, the fishing co-op, the wonderfully mad late poet Christos …

The Aquatic and Anglers Club is a monumental hub of locals, holiday-home owners and visitors fully sold on its pier-side ocean views, bargain booze and magnetic sense of community. Thousands of members.

The beach is a mecca for its surf and swimming, its Pier to Pub, wild New Year’s Eve bashes, whales, palaeontological rocky edges and eucalypt-lined shoreline, and withering sunsets over the back of Lorne’s western hilltops that reflect out into striking pink-grey skyscapes over the water.

It’s hard to match, anywhere, the beach views through the hillside trees down. Likewise, the smell of the bush and the innumerable flowers, natives and otherwise, it harbours.

Lorne’s architecture, expertly exploiting beach views, is a living museum of high-end design from Victoriana to contemporary.

Nostalgia’s big. You’ll find black and white pics of old Lorne settlers, surfers, houses and seascapes through shops, pubs, homes … everywhere.

While you’re hoeing through any of the clever cuisine on offer, you might think of the sense of the mystical afflicting Lorne, with its Big Kahuna wave-maker, the odyssey octopus beneath the pier, Louttit Bay seadragon, bunyips and black panther legends.

I tend to ponder the beachfront airplane beach landings and white-knuckle ocean road travel of the 1930s, the inland coach rides of old, the town’s art deco glory days, the multitude of waterfalls inland …

Oh, if there’s anything else you might to know about Lorne, call in at the anglers club and ask for Hutch. He’s your man.

This story appeared in the Geelong Advertiser 21 July 2025