Coast Australia (2013–2017): Season 1, Episode 6 - Victoria: Mornington to Port Campbell - full transcript

Coast is on
its biggest expedition ever.

After exploring the coastline
of Britain and Europe

for almost a decade,

I've landed on the vast
island-continent that is Australia.

The air is clearer.
The light's brighter.

The colours are sharper.

It's a land that boasts
over 60,000 kilometres of coastline.

In this series, we're visiting
eight fascinating regions

revealing new stories
and revelling in the history,

the geography
and the people who connect us

with perhaps the most spectacular
coastline on earth.



This is Victoria's fabled
shipwreck coast.

The remains of over 600 vessels

lie scattered across
the seabed out there.

It's an elemental coastline,

hewn by winds,
strong ocean currents

and powerful waves.

For millions of years,

these shores have been under attack
from a fearsome foe.

The mighty Southern Ocean.

And here's where it comes ashore

with a force that impacts
on the landscape and on the people.

We're off on a journey
along a coast of contrasts.

From historic wrecks to stories
of heartbreak and ingenuity.

On our trip, we'll explore
astonishing feats of engineering



and uncover places
of incredible beauty

that are bristling with danger.

Anthropologist, Dr. Xanthe Mallett,
unravels the mystery

behind a tragic shipwreck
that marked the end of an era.

It's amazing
that after so much time,

we can come down here and see it.

Brendan Moar
finds out first hand

about the incredible risks
it took to build

the world's biggest war memorial,
the Great Ocean Road.

This is an incredible view!

But it is kind of terrifying.

Palaeontologist
Professor Tim Flannery

tracks down proof
of a truly massive predator.

- Hey, come on.
- Look at that!

- Can you believe it?
- That is the tinniest find.

And I discover the crucial role

this lighthouse played
in the birth of a nation.

This is known as a landfall light.
So what this is saying is, like,

"Hello, hello. This is Cape Otway
I'm here. You've arrived."

This is Coast Australia.

Our route covers
a coastline that stretches

from Flinders,
on the Mornington Peninsula,

through the beach suburbs
of Melbourne,

along the Great Ocean Road,
past Cape Otway,

onto Port Campbell in the west.

We start our expedition
at the top of Port Philip Bay.

That's where you'll find
one of the world's great cities,

Melbourne.

It's a place renowned
for its urban design and arts scene.

But before we set off on our journey,

I thought I'd better have
a cheeky wee dip

at one of the city's
more historic visual attractions.

That's British cold.

Of all Australia's capital cities,
Melbourne,

often dubbed the most European,
is not famous for its beach life.

But, ironically, Melburnians enjoy
more metropolitan beach space

than any other city dwellers.

But as you can see from this photo,

hitting the beach in 1879
was a vastly different proposition.

And for decades,

beach attire meant far less flesh
was on display.

So with the bathers came beach boxes
designed to preserve their modesty.

Today, there are about 1,800 left
across Port Philip Bay.

Look at these, aren't they brilliant?

Must admit this very much reminds me
of beaches back home.

Every one a little work of art.

- Morning.
- How are you? Morning...

But what are they
being used for and by whom?

- Hi, John.
- Hi.

- How are you doing?
- I'm very well, thanks.

- Suzi. How are you?
- Hi. Nice to meet you.

- Can I use your facilities?
- Yes,

- you're welcome to.
- Just get changed. Thank you.

There's a potty in there,
if you want that as well.

- Thank you very much.
- That's alright.

This box belongs to John Rundle,

a former president of the Brighton
Box Bathing Association.

He's owned it for over 20 years.

That's better.
Thank you very much.

That's all right.

How much
of a Melbourne tradition are they?

They've always been here.
They go back to about the 1870s.

We think the idea was copied
from England

where they had
the bathing boxes on wheels.

- And they had a similar thing here.
- Was this taken on this beach?

We believe these were taken
on the beach.

Eventually, things became
a little bit more liberal

and the boxes just got left up
on the beach as changing sheds.

Did you get to know
your neighbours

just as you would in a house
in an ordinary street?

Definitely.
Everybody here knows each other.

It's a very tightly-knit community.

It's also a rather
exclusive community.

Even though these huts
have no power or water

and you're not allowed
to stay overnight,

they're not cheap.

In 2011, one sold
for 260,000 dollars.

Today, there are 85 huts here.

Through the years, a number
have been washed away by storms.

But somehow, I get the feeling
that this now colourful

Victorian tradition
will be an enduring one.

As you leave the sheltered embrace
of Port Philip Bay and head west,

you hit one of the most impressive
and perilous stretches

of coastline in the world.
The Shipwreck Coast.

In years gone by,
it would strike fear into the hearts

of those trying to navigate
its hazardous waters.

Tragically, for some,
this jagged shore

would be their first and last sight
of Australia.

Anthropologist,
Dr. Xanthe Mallett,

is investigating
why the Shipwreck Coast's

most famous victim perished
so close to safety.

This is a shoreline
that has extracted

a terrible human toll over the years.

If you look out
at the whole coastline,

you can almost feel the menace.

It's like these sheer cliffs
are claws reaching out

to draw the ships in.

I've come here to try and find out

why the ill-fated clipper, Loch Ard,
came to grief here

thirteen weeks after she'd set off
from England in March 1878.

In the early hours
of June first,

she was less than a day
from her destination, Melbourne.

But the ship was running
well off course in a thick sea mist

and just out here,

a lethal natural trap
was lying in wait.

Instead of following
her intended course,

the Loch Ard,
carrying 54 passengers and crew,

was well north
and headed directly for the coast.

To find out how this happened
and exactly why the Loch Ard sank,

I've come to Port Campbell.

I'm hitching a ride with local diver

and expert on the Loch Ard's
last voyage, Gary Barclay.

- Good morning.
- Morning.

- Hello.
- How are you?

- Welcome to Port Campbell.
- Good to meet you.

- Come on board the boat.
- Thank you very much.

Today, conditions are perfect.

A far cry from the night
the Loch Ard emerged from the mist

to find itself heading for disaster.

Seeing the sheer cliffs ahead,

the captain, William Gibb,
frantically tried to save his ship.

First, he tried to stop the Loch Ard
and push its bow back out to sea.

He threw some anchors
once he realized

he was heading straight for land.

And he thought if those anchors held,
he could wait for better conditions

and then sail back out to sea
and away he'd go.

Those conditions didn't come.

The strong southerly winds
that was coming in here

was pushing the boat backwards
towards the land.

Gibb released the anchors.
The bow swung to the west

and the captain made
a last-ditch effort to escape.

He tried to do a manoeuvre
where he'd done

a complete circle of the bay
and tried to come back out.

And as he was passing this point,
just in front of this island here,

he hit this submerged reef
which is just below the water here.

- So, literally, it's just here?
- It's just here beside us. Yeah.

To discover more,
we've got to examine the wreck.

The wreck of the Loch Ard
was only found in 1967,

almost 90 years after she went down.

It's just amazing,
seeing it like this,

in situ, after hearing the story.
It's just incredible.

What we're seeing here

is the hull of the ship wedged up
against Muttonbird Island.

This really gives you an idea
of the peril that they were in

when you can see, literally,
the ship touching the island.

The wreck's been protected
since 1976,

but it's clear to see

where looters blasted a hole
in the hull in search of artefacts.

But some cargo remains

and it's believed
these heavy railway lines

interfered with the ship's compass
and pushed it off course.

It was carrying a massive
amount of steel and stuff like that.

And that could have played up
with some of the instruments,

caused a problem
and that may have been

why he came so close to land
before he realized.

This heavy cargo
would've also have made the Loch Ard

an unwieldy beast to handle
once it got in trouble.

Tragically, the ship was one
of the last sail powered clippers

carrying passengers
from the United Kingdom to Australia.

Under steam, it almost certainly
would have managed

to escape the clutches
of the coastline.

That was just phenomenal
getting to see the wreck down there

and how close it is to the island,

- they had no chance, did they?
- No.

But this is only half the story.

What happened as the Loch Ard
foundered is truly remarkable.

Desperately trying to man a lifeboat,
18-year-old apprentice, Tom Pearce,

was washed into the water.
Clinging to the lifeboat,

he was miraculously pushed
through a narrow gorge

and onto this beach.

Rex Mathieson's dived
on numerous wrecks along the coast

and studied the Loch Ard extensively.

He was actually washed in here,
in the upturned lifeboat.

So, through this
little opening that we see, now...

And, I mean, it's a beautiful day.

But then, it was cold, it was dark,
completely different.

It's the first of June.

And in winter,
which is the southern hemisphere,

you can't see anything until seven
or eight o'clock in the morning.

And this is at four or five o'clock
in the morning.

After he'd rested for a little while,
he came out, it was daylight,

and that's when he heard the cries
of help from Eva Carmichael,

this young 18-year-old Irish lass.

She'd been in the water
for four or five hours.

How she survived in a nightie,
I don't know.

- Is that all she was wearing?
- That's all she was wearing.

It took Tom about an hour
to rescue Eva.

Somehow, he then found the energy
to scramble out of the gorge.

Look, he's only a young guy,

five foot four-and-a-half
inches tall.

The strength and fortitude
that he had is damned amazing.

Even more incredibly,

the pair had come ashore
near the only dwelling for miles,

Glenample Station.

A set of hoof prints led Tom
to two of the station's riders

and the pair were saved.

Tom and Eva were the only survivors.

Today, the gorge bears the name
Loch Ard,

in memory of a wreck that, for me,
truly symbolizes tragedy and heroism

along with both good and ill fortune.

The coastline near Lorne
is an often-inhospitable shore

and one that continually challenged
the skill and nerve

of those who wanted to settle
on its fringes.

Brendan's on a mission to unearth
the risks that had to be taken

to create one of Australia's
most incredible feats of engineering.

I don't reckon there are
many experiences that beat this.

It's just mile, after mile,
after mile

of smooth driving
through incredible scenery.

About a hundred years ago,

reaching the isolated towns scattered
along this coast was no easy task.

Particularly, if you weren't keen

to take to these notoriously
treacherous seas.

Basically, you had one option.

Traveling along awful bush tracks
like this one.

But that was all about to change.

In 1918, World War I
was drawing to a close.

Over 400,000 Australian men had
enlisted to fight for their country.

More than 60,000 would make
the ultimate sacrifice.

Back in Victoria, one man had a plan

to honour the dead
and wounded diggers,

and provide work for those
who would make it home.

He was Howard Hitchcock,
the mayor of Geelong

and he wanted to build a road.
But not just any road.

One that would cling
to the coastline.

In many places, it would be cut out
of sheer cliff faces.

So he set up a trust
and started fundraising.

In 1919, the work began.

But the job ahead
would be incredibly demanding.

I'm meeting historian, lain Grant
to explore the reasons why.

- Good day, lain.
- Brendan, how are you?

- Very, very good. Great to meet you.
- Thank you.

This is the Great Ocean Road?

This is the Great Ocean Road.

So they had the men,
they had the money.

- They had the resources.
- Yes.

And so what did they actually use
to build the thing?

Well, things like a pick
and a shovel.

And hard work. Hard work.

It was just physical,
physical slog all day.

Punch after punch
after grunt after grunt.

Living under canvas,
the men toiled

five and a half days a week,
in all conditions.

Many had left the trenches
of World War I for this.

It was hot, they worked.
It was cold, they worked.

It was raining cats and dogs,
they still worked.

- How were the safety conditions?
- Safety? Here?

Well, to fully experience
what the diggers went through,

I guess I've gotta actually have
a crack at the way they worked.

Man. Man.
I can't believe they had to do this.

So what they had to do was
they scrambled down the hillside

with a rope attached to them
and to a tree.

Once they were here,
they would start to make a foothold

into the side of the cliff.
And then from that,

they would continue their way
into the hillside, just making a V.

I can't even believe
that this is the way they did it.

This is an incredible view,
but it is kind of terrifying.

Now, I'm just faking this.
And I mean, faking it.

Whoa!

And it gives me a real appreciation
for what they did.

The work progressed steadily
and in 1922, the first section,

between Lorne and Eastern View,
opened. Complete, with a toll.

Each passenger cost extra

and as we know,
everyone hates paying a toll.

So, in order to save a bit of cash,

sometimes they would stop the car
just before the toll gate.

One of the passengers would get out,
walk along the beach

and try and join them
on the other side.

But there was just one problem.

Hey! What do you think you're up to,
you lousy rotten sod?

Trying to dodge
the toll up there?

All right, I've gotta get
a deena out of you.

Sneaking along here with a suitcase.

You didn't expect me
to be coming down,

- catching you did you?
- No, I did not. It's Doug, isn't it?

- Yeah. Doug.
- Brendan.

Doug Stirling
had first-hand experience

with the toll dodgers

and their fate at the hands
of the notorious

and much feared toll collector,
Mrs. Wright.

We used to play here as kids, and...
With the Wright kids.

And if they saw anybody
of the likes of you

walking along the beach
with a suitcase,

they'd know what was up
and they'd go up and tell mum.

- Was she a scary lady?
- Was she ever.

You wouldn't want to tangle with her.
No way.

So what's that bag
on your shoulder there, Doug?

That's the actual toll bag.
Where they collected the toll in.

- I see.
- You can even see "Great Ocean Road"

is, like, scratched into
the front of the bag, there.

Then what's this?

Ha! Now, that's the lady herself!
This is Mrs. Wright.

Nobody got past her.

A bit like an encounter
with Mrs. Wright,

the new road wasn't
for the faint hearted.

Was it a dangerous road, though?

Well,
people thought it was dangerous

because they were frightened,
you see,

because they could see the sea
way down below them there,

beckoning them to come, you know,
just come over the side.

There were quite a few
went over the road

but they were pushed over
for insurance.

They didn't... They were.
They didn't go over by accident.

That happened a fair bit.

In 1936, the road was
fully handed over to the state

and the tolls removed.

I have very much
pleasure to open the toll gate

and declare the road
a public highway as a gift

from the Great Ocean Road trust.

Today, the Great Ocean
Road stretches 243 kilometres

from Allansford,
near Warrnambool, to Torquay.

And in 2011, it was added

to the Australian
National Heritage List,

in recognition
of its iconic status.

Above all, though, it remains
a premium Australian touring

experience thanks
to the diggers of World War I.

For the next stop
on our journey,

I'm back on the shores
of Melbourne.

But there's nothing genteel
about my destination this time.

I've come to a suburb
with a rather chequered past

and a little-known connection
with Hollywood.

St. Kilda. During the 1800s,

this place was a welcome retreat
from inner Melbourne,

where sewage and waste from houses
and stables emptied into open drains.

This was just a quick 15-minute
tram ride from the city centre.

It became the preferred suburb
of the rich.

They built their houses
on the surrounding hills

and down on the waterfront.

Everybody else came here
just to promenade

and peacock and people-watch.

But the great depression
of the 1890's

transformed both St. Kilda
and the mansions of the rich,

which were turned into brothels,
theatres and guest houses.

That changing status coincided

with the rise
of boardwalk carnival culture

that had sprung up in the USA

with the likes
of New York's Coney Island.

An American entrepreneur
and film fanatic, JD Williams,

wanted to recreate
that experience here.

And in 1912, he opened Luna Park.

This rare footage
of what is now the oldest

continuously operating rollercoaster
in the world

was filmed by Williams himself.

A year after Luna Park opened,
Williams returned to Hollywood

and set up
the film distribution company

that would later become
Warner Brothers.

In this photo, he can be seen
with Charlie Chaplin,

the biggest movie star of the day.

St. Kilda's Luna Park is no longer

the cultural game changer
it once was.

But don't worry,
this fun park is a stayer.

Apart from breaks for restoration,
it's never closed.

maybe because it lets us take
a step back to a simpler time.

And it's fun!

Honestly.

I could ride
this thing for hours,

but I need to say farewell
to this city

and we have to move on.

Follow the curve
of Port Philip Bay south

and you'll find yourself
on the Mornington Peninsula.

Nestled across on its eastern side,
facing the ocean,

is a town named after the great
explorer, Matthew Flinders.

Marine Ecologist Dr. Emma Johnston
is on an expedition herself

to uncover the secrets hidden
beneath the town's pier

and their link to a tragic piece
of history.

In 2002, the Victorian
government wanted to choose

a new marine emblem for the state.

So it organized a public vote.

Over 24,000 votes were cast
and there was one clear winner.

The little chap in this beautiful
photograph, the weedy sea dragon.

These beautiful creatures are rare

and in my years of diving,
I've never seen one.

It would be a thrill to examine
the weedy sea dragon close-up.

They fascinate me.

So I've tracked down
marine researcher Richard Wylie

who took that award-winning photo.

One of the favourite spots for weedy
sea dragons is near Pier Pylons,

so let's hope
there's a few hanging around here.

With the light
filtering down under the pier,

there's an almost ethereal quality
to the water here

that's actually rather beautiful.

The dragons are masters of disguise,
almost impossible to find.

But not long into our dive,
in amongst all the weed.

My gosh.
It's absolutely beautiful.

I think it may be the most beautiful
creature I've seen under water.

They're brilliant
little critters, aren't they?

It doesn't seem to be scared
by me at all.

They tend to spend
quite a lot of their time

just hanging around the one spot.
They don't move very far.

They're actually spend
most of their time just drifting.

In fact, an adult sea dragon

may only move about 100 meters
through their whole life.

Are you gonna be able
to get some good shots of it?

I think I can.

Today, however,
the conditions mean

there'll be no award-winners
snapped in my presence.

But I reckon just seeing the weedy
sea dragon was reward enough.

And these creatures have had
a fan club for over a century.

Well, before Richard snapped them
on this state of the art technology.

Back on dry land,
marine educator, Harry Breidahl,

is about to show me the proof
that the elusive sea dragon

was first documented
by an extraordinary artist

with an extraordinary story,
130 years ago.

Wow, what a beautiful drawing.

It is one of my absolute favourites.

I think I fell in love with it
many years ago.

And it's just a fantastic example

of how art and science come together
in a picture.

If you look at the next one...

- That's one of the local lobsters.
- Even more detail.

- It is!
- Wow.

And I just... I'm amazed
at the illustrator's ability

to show that detail.

And who did these pictures?

A wonderful gentlemen
called Ludwig Becker.

German born Ludwig Becker
was a genuinely fascinating chap,

who'd arrived in Australia in 1851.

A skilled artist, he was also
a keen astronomer and geologist.

He was like sort
of a gentleman naturalist of the age.

He was... He turned his hand
to anything and was good at it.

His talents were such

that in 1860, Becker joined
the Burke and Wills expedition,

which aimed to travel from Melbourne
to the Gulf of Carpentaria.

Once underway, however,
it quickly became clear

that expedition leader,
Robert Burke,

felt Becker's scientific activities
were holding things up.

Six weeks into the trip,
he took action.

- If you read his diary--
- It's a bit of his diary?

- Yep.
- "October 1860.

Mr. Burke told us that from today
we had to walk inch for inch

all the way up
to the Gulf of Carpentaria.

To me he said, 'From this time,
you have to give up

your scientific investigations
and work like the rest of the men.'"

Becker struggled on but sadly,
seven months later,

he succumbed to scurvy and dysentery.

It was a heart-breaking end
for a truly talented man.

But his work
is still being exhibited.

Proof of his ability to capture the
essence of the region's wildlife.

Wildlife which continues to inspire
Becker's modern day contemporaries.

The next step of our journey
takes us to Cape Otway.

This is where the Southern Ocean

hits the southern shores
of the Australian mainland.

The waves here are funnelled
into what is still

one of the most hazardous
shipping lanes in the world.

And for early immigrants,

running the gauntlet here
could be a terrifying experience.

I'm on a mission to discover

how one building that was constructed
in the nick of time

helped in the creation
of a new colony.

You might think
it'd be difficult to hide

a 240-kilometre-wide strip of ocean.

But for the first ten years
of colonial settlement in Australia,

that's exactly what
Bass Strait managed to do.

The Bass Strait is the body of water

that separates Tasmania
from mainland Australia.

But while some explorers suspected
its existence,

until 1798,

no-one could be sure
that Van Diemens Land,

as it was known then,
was actually an island.

That year, the strait was discovered
by Matthew Flinders and George Bass.

Now, ships on their way
to Melbourne and Sydney

no longer had to pass
underneath Tasmania,

but could take a shortcut

that shaved a week
off their journey from Britain.

But just finding the gap
between the mainland and King Island,

which is 88-kilometre offshore
from here, was no easy task.

Sailing through here became known
as "threading the eye of the needle".

The new route was also treacherous.

And from the moment
it was discovered,

the strait proved
a graveyard to shipping.

But a saviour was at hand.

But exactly what persuaded the
authorities to build this lighthouse?

I've joined Paul Thompson,

manager of the Cape Otway light
to learn more.

It was really 1845 comes along
when 399 people lost their lives

off the ship of the Catariqui,

crashing into the western coast
of King Island.

And it was really the fact Australia
needed a population to come here,

to emigrate,
that the authorities thought,

"We need a lighthouse at Cape Otway.
Let's find the money to build it."

I usually think of lighthouses
as being a warning,

you know, keep off
but it sounds as though

Cape Otway lighthouse is saying,
"Come here."

This is known as a landfall light,
so what this is saying is like,

"Hello, hello. This is Cape Otway,
I'm here. You've arrived.

You've made it to Australia.
Well done."

It's not telling you
to avoid a reef here,

- it's saying, "Keep me in sight."
- Yeah. "This way.

Come through here." And it was known
as the beacon of hope.

Immigrants coming to Australia,

they'd been sailing for two, three,
maybe up to four months

without seeing any land.

And when they see that beacon,
that Cape Otway light station,

"Thank goodness we've arrived.
We've made safe passage.

We've got the entrance.
The guiding light into Australia."

Two years
after the lighthouse was completed,

gold was discovered in Victoria

and the volume
of passing traffic rocketed.

That was the huge time.
The population explosion in Victoria.

You would've looked out on this ocean
and would've seen big clipper ships,

60, 70, up to 80 ships a day
passing through Bass Strait.

- Really?
- So it was an amazingly busy highway.

- So it was built just in time.
- Yeah, exactly. Yeah.

"Whenever I smell salt water,

I know I'm not far from one
of the works of my ancestors."

Those words were penned
by the Scottish novelist,

Robert Louis Stevenson, in 1880.

But he might just as well
have been writing

about this Lighthouse Station
half a world away.

Robert's own father was
one of four generations

of Lighthouse Stevensons,
as they were known.

Engineering men who built
every lighthouse in Scotland.

The Cape Otway light is based
on those Scottish lighthouses

built without any mortar,

but rather interlocking stones,
an inherently stronger design.

Such was the salvation
this lighthouse offered,

it's been suggested by some that
without the Cape Otway Light Station,

the colony in New South Wales,

and the birth of Victoria
might not have come to pass.

- You up there Pat?
- Yeah, mate. Come on up.

From 1987 to '91,

Pat Howell was the proud custodian
of the light and its traditions.

There was an enormous amount
of shipping,

An enormous amount of lives
were in your hands.

And that's got handed down, too,

through the decades, I guess.
Down and down and down.

And even at the end,
you were still dedicated,

you still, you know, come up here.
You still polish the damn thing.

Because Cape Otway was a beacon,

it needed a very bright light.

This Fresnel lens,
made of heavy lead crystal,

concentrated a one million
candle-power beam

that could be seen
almost 50 kilometres away.

It weighs 2.5 tons

and in today's money,
is worth about five million dollars.

Are there any of the practices
and traditions

of the very first lighthouse keepers

that you still maintained
in your time?

Yeah, actually,
the dedication was the same.

Because it was handed down.
As you become a keeper,

you just had certain things
that you were taught

that the keeper
that taught you had been taught.

You done the cleaning on the Friday,
same as 200 years ago.

You still come up here when
it was electric.

As a matter of fact,
when it was automated

and I didn't have to come up,
I'd still come up

and walked around the balcony
like I used to, look at sea

and put Bass Strait to sleep,
if you like,

just make sure
everything was right out there,

you couldn't see any ships
or smaller vessels in strife

and then go back up and watch
the footy or something.

As ships reached Cape Otway,

news of their safe passage
would be passed on.

It was here that passing ships,

laden with their human
and commercial cargo,

reported safe arrival in Australia.

The first anyone would've heard
from them after lonely months at sea.

And that information
was relayed back to London

from telegraph machines
like this one.

But as the populations
of Sydney and Melbourne grew,

the most important message
getting back to the motherland,

via Cape Otway, was a simple one.

"The growth of a brave new world
is well underway."

At almost 2,000 square kilometres,
Port Philip Bay

is the largest seawater bay
in the Southern Hemisphere.

It's basically a huge shallow pan
with a maximum depth of 24 meters.

Virtually unaffected by tide
or geographical features,

this bay is one of the world's
best waterways for sailing.

Andrew MacDougall
is the world's leading designer

of a unique sailing craft, the moth.

At the last moth world championships,
his design took the top six places.

And it's a class
he's passionate about

mainly because of the freedom
it offers designers.

The moth class
is a class like no other.

It's the only class in the world
that has no real restrictions.

And you can do anything.

The very first moth
was actually built

in 1928 in Inverloch,

only about 100 kilometres from here.

In the last 85 years, it's undergone
numerous design changes

but it was only ten years ago

that these craft started flying
on foils.

The moth would have to be

the fastest dinghy on the planet
by a long way.

The record is 32 knots,
which is just on 60kph.

It's just simply ridiculously fast.

Everything goes quiet.

Everything is smooth.
It's indescribable.

Andrew's boat may be futuristic,

but he sails it
within touching distance

of an unusual reminder
of Australia's maritime past.

This is the wreck of the Cerberus,

the first naval ship constructed
for the defence of Australia in 1869

and one with a colourful history.

Two crews mutinied
on its delivery trip from England,

and it was the first warship to pass
through the Suez Canal.

But once it got here, the Cerberus
never fired a shot in anger,

and it never left Port Philip Bay.

In 1926, it was sunk as a breakwater.

Today, it provides
a spectacular backdrop

to a boat at the cutting edge
of design and performance.

Travel just a few kilometres
along the shoreline

from the wreck of the Cerberus
and you'll find yourself

at a beachside suburb where
the first Australian impressionists

drew their inspiration.

And it's not hard to see why.

But Palaeontologist
Professor Tim Flannery

hasn't come here to paint.

He's come in search
of pre-historic monsters.

This is Beaumaris. And if I'd been
here five million years ago,

these waters would have been
really shark-infested.

I'm meeting Victorian palaeontologist
Dr. Erich Fitzgerald.

His passion is investigating
the evolution of aquatic vertebrates.

And this is virtually his backyard.

- Hi, Erich.
- G'day, Tim!

How are you, mate?

- How are things?
- Yeah, good.

So, Erich, what's
so special about this place?

At Beaumaris, just underneath
the surface of the water here,

we've got fossils of lots
of extinct animals,

but also animals still alive today.

Okay, what were they like?
How big were they?

Well, for example, there was a shark
the length of a city bus.

There was a penguin
as tall as a man.

And there was even extent
killer sperm whales.

Well, I wanna get my hands
on some hard evidence

that these incredible creatures
actually existed.

It's time for a fossil hunt!

All right, mate. Look. I've got
the secret weapon here just in case

- we find the big fella.
- I can't believe it.

I should've done that!
It is an unfair advantage!

Five to six million years ago,

the climate here
was two to three degrees warmer.

There was a diversity of species
simply not seen here today.

This really was the lost
Serengeti of the seas.

I'm just hoping I've found
better proof of that than Erich.

Look at this.
Got a good swag here.

- The old swag bag came in useful.
- You actually found something?

I did look.
There's a lump of whalebone.

Yeah. Yep, so it is.
Very nice.

And a beautiful fossil oyster.

- Right. Yeah.
- Quite a large one.

- Yeah.
- That's a nice thing to get.

And a rib of a probably a dolphin
or something like that.

- Fantastic.
- Quite nice.

But Erich's come up
with something exceptional.

- Come on.
- Look at that!

- Can you believe it?
- That is the teeniest find ever.

I see. I see
it's got a museum number on there.

All right, all right, all right.
You're right. I didn't find that now,

but that is a tooth of the giant
extinct shark, Megalodon.

- Aren't they magnificent things.
- It is.

That is extraordinary.

Erich's trickery aside,
this massive tooth is real.

The Megalodon did swim

in what would ultimately become
Port Philip Bay

up until about
one and a half million years ago.

And this pumped up great white
was a true terror of the seas.

But I want to know
just how big it was.

So we're going to compare it

with its direct descendant,
the great white.

- ...five.
- You're gonna give it six?

- Six!
- That's a huge great white, isn't it?

- That's a big great white.
- Most are three to five metres,

but we'll give him the benefit
of the doubt at six?

Yep, six metres,
and that's an exceptional specimen

by today's standards.

But the great white's a mere
baby compared to the Megalodon.

Sixteen metres!

That's a whale sized
predatory shark.

- That is extraordinary.
- Certainly is.

And this monstrous predator
had a mouth to match.

- At full gape, Tim.
- My goodness, look at that.

That's going to be able
to swallow you and I

straight down the hatch, almost.

- It wouldn't need to chew.
- No.

- We'd just be going down the well.
- Exactly.

If our earliest human ancestors
had felt like taking a dip,

they could 've encountered
a creature that could exert

the most powerful bite in history,
around 15 tons of pressure.

But why did it and the other giant
creatures around here

disappear from the waters
of Beaumaris?

What actually happened
to cause that extinction?

Well, the key here is food.

Take away a bounty of food resources
that can support giant sharks

and that amounts
to a big change in environment.

And I think that's the key.
Climatic changes,

changes in ocean currents
and temperature

and also decreases
in production of all the food

that these animals feed on
led to the end of that lost world.

Right. Less productive environment,
less food,

the things that eat the most food
go extinct.

Exactly. And so today what we're left
within Southern Australia

is really but a shadow
of the former glory

of the mega fauna of Beaumaris.

Our trip now takes us beyond
the confines of Port Philip Bay

to a coastline of wild weather,
waves and beaches.

Across Australia,
there are over 11,000 beaches

but here in Victoria,
there's one that's renowned

for both the quality of its surf

and its role
in Australian surfing history.

It's called Bells beach.
And Miriam Corowa

has tracked down someone
who can unravel its secrets.

It's not hard to see
the surf here is something special.

But to find out just why
the waves here are so good,

I'm meeting geo-morphologist,
Dale Appleton.

He's both an expert on the local land
and sea formations and a keen surfer.

What's happening here at Bells beach
to make these waves the way they are?

The secret, Miriam, is pretty simple.
It's two things.

It's the bathymetry, that's the shape
of the underwater seabed out here.

And, of course, the waves.
I mean, look at the waves.

So it's the swell and also what
is going on underneath the water,

that's the secret.

That's right. It's a mix of the both.

If you look over here
at Bell's headland behind us here,

you can see that angle driving down.
That's solid limestone.

That limestone exists
as a beautiful shelf

that goes right the way out to sea.
It's a constant slope out like this.

I couldn't imagine an engineer that
could've done a better job, I guess.

Bells perfection
has led it to play a key role

in the development of surfing here.

In 1962,
it hosted its first competition.

Eleven years later,
a 2,500-dollar prize fund

made it Australia's
first professional event.

Today, the Bells Beach Easter Classic
is the longest continually-running

professional surf contest
in the world.

Each year the world's top surfers
converge on this spot

and vie for the right to ring
the bell on the winner's trophy.

As the saying goes.
"You've gotta win it, to ring it."

But year upon year,

the consistency
and quality of the waves here

continue to delight
pros and amateurs alike.

What's it like for you
when you're out surfing those waves?

I well remember
the first wave I ever

caught out there,
when I took the bottom turn

and I looked along the face
and went, "Whoa."

It's like roaring along the side
of a block of flats that go forever.

Yeah, it's great.

This beach has inspired
passion and progress

in equal measure.

But it's only when you see
these waves with your own eyes

that you really appreciate
how the elements,

the earth and the sea
have all worked together

to produce a genuine
surfing masterpiece.

We're getting towards
the end of our journey now,

and we may have saved
the best until last.

Because this is, without a doubt,

one of the most spectacular sights
in Australia.

But it's a sight that can change
before your very eyes.

I've come here to see
how an Australian icon

is both vanishing
and being re-built at the same time.

This is Port Campbell National Park.

For millions of years,

coastal erosion,
working on the softer deposits

in the bottom layers
of the limestone, here,

has carved out hollows in the cliffs.

Over time, those hollows became caves
and the caves became arches.

During the last 6,000 years or so,
and that's a blink of time

given that the
Port Campbell limestone is pegged

at between 15
and 20 million years old.

The arches collapsed
leaving behind these spectacular,

almost sculpted features,
known as sea stacks.

Every year,
over a million people come to see

what are now called
the 12 Apostles.

Although when
Victorian tourism officials

gave them that name in 1922,
there were only nine stacks standing.

Today, just seven remain.

In 2005, this apostle
tumbled into the sea.

Four years later,
another followed suit.

It's anyone's guess
which one will leave us next.

But don't worry about the Apostles.
There will always be more.

Monumental forces are still at work
borrowing, ferreting,

finding the paths of least resistance

so that these cliffs are always
being reworked and re-sculpted.

Just give it a few centuries
or even millennia.

But there's really only one way

to fully appreciate
this magnificent construct of nature.

Given that this is
the shipwreck coast,

it's probably safer to see it
from the air than from the sea.

I'm leaving this journey

and the company
of the seven remaining apostles.

I just wonder how many will be here
when I return?

This coast has been hewn
by great forces,

that have given life
to great stories.

But it's the people along this coast
that are truly inspiring.

We've witnessed stories
of determination and survival.

We've learned how tough and tested
men built an incredible coastal road.

And how a tradition
of diligent light keepers

saved the lives
of countless new Australians.

Some of the people here
are willing to pay top dollar

for their spot by the sea.

Others are happy enough just
playing on the waves

whenever they can.

Look hard enough here

and you'll find treasures
in the most unlikely places

and proof of why our relationship
with the coast never stops changing.

This is undoubtedly a coastline
marked by triumph and tragedy,

and by wild weather and waves.

Next time, Coast travels
to the Northern Territory...

and there will be blood,
as Dr. Emma Johnston discovers.

We've got the croc blood.

Professor Tim Flannery unearths
an uncomfortable truth.

It was this country that
defeated the greatest empire

the world's ever seen.
The British Empire.

Dr. Xanthe Mallett confronts
a floating wall of death.

Do you reckon that's anchored
to the bottom, then?

Absolutely.

And I investigate a siege.

The attack has gone down in history
as Australia's Pearl Harbour.

But for now, it's goodbye.
I've got to fly.