The Young and the Restless | Defying gravity in the hills

But, you and I both know having nothing planned isn’t really cause for panic.

In fact, when you’re an adventurous crew, it’s often a cause for celebration because it frees you up for spontaneous adventure.

So, while racking my brain for ideas, the anti-gravity hill I’d heard whispers of made its way from the back of my mind to the front.

After a quick Google, I learned there are only six ‘gravity’ or ‘magnetic’ hills in Australia, and only one here in Victoria.

Apparently it’s one of the Woodend area’s best kept secrets, and rumour has it locals want to keep it that way, displaying a robust reluctance to help outsiders locate it.

Luckily for us, a few intrepid adventurers not from ‘round there’ have written blogs and posted YouTube videos about it, so even as the often directionally challenged humans we are, we found it without so much as a single wrong turn.

So, what is an anti-gravity hill?

Besides baffling and bizarre?

Well, it is a place where we put a ball on the road and gave it a tiny push uphill, only to watch it continue its path to higher altitude rather than return down the hill to where we were standing, as gravity would usually take it.

It’s a place where we poured water from our drink bottles on to the bitumen and watched it trickle upwards, instead of down.

It’s a place where when we got back in the ute, I took my foot off the pedal, whacked it in neutral and watched (and felt) it roll us uphill.

To the kids’ “OMGs” and “whaaaaaaats”, I really had no answer, I just joined in the chorus of my giggling, bamboozled passengers: “look Mum, no feet!”

In my Googling a couple of days earlier, I had looked further into magnetic hills to discover the science behind it, but I really didn’t want to burst the kids’ bubbles right there and then that there was actually a perfectly logical reason for the ‘phenomenon’ we were witnessing.

I mean, magic may just be illusion, but does that really take away the mystery unfolding before your eyes?

I don’t believe so.

While it is apparently just a slight downhill slope disguised as an uphill slope thanks to the geographical landscape of the surrounding area, it is still puzzling when you are right there watching balls, water and out-of-gear vehicles seemingly ‘defying’ gravity.

It’s just hard to wrap your brain around.

You know, it kind of hurts it a bit — similarly to when you’re trying to pat your head and rub your tummy at the same time.

Although a cool little excursion and a unique thing to witness, we didn’t drive two hours from home and spend that much on overpriced diesel for five minutes of oohing and ahhing.

So from the anti-gravity hill, we crossed back over Mt Macedon Rd and made our way to Hanging Rock for a picnic.

The irony.

Rocks hanging also sounds gravity-defying, I suppose, but the hanging rock at Hanging Rock isn’t so much hanging as it is just wedged on top of other earthed rocks, creating an archway for hikers to pass through.

Hanging Rock is not only picturesque itself, with its jagged grey rock jutting into the skyline, it’s also set in lovely, picturesque surroundings.

It has so many little nooks and crannies to explore, different paths to take, and, while steep, it has ramp access (as well as stairs) right to the top, so it’s wheelchair and pram accessible.

The picnic grounds are well facilitated to service large numbers of visitors, with tables, barbecues and toilet blocks.

At the visitor centre there’s a café, souvenir shop and discovery centre to learn the history of the area and take a look at skulls, skins and exoskeletons of creatures native to the area.

I don’t know how busy this place gets usually — probably quite, considering it’s only an hour’s drive from Melbourne — but the middle day of a long weekend in autumn when the weather is possibly most ideal for a wee little hike in the hills, it was like being on Bourke Street in Melbourne.

All I could think about while we couldn’t tread even five metres without passing another human was just how many thousands of dollars that place made in a single day with its $10 fee to park in one of its many overflowing car parks.

I’m not opposed to crowds entirely — obviously events need them to even be held in the first place, and I like events — but I do prefer my hikes in the ‘wilderness’ a little less people-y.

So, once we’d explored enough, we defied no more gravity, came back down to earth and transported ourselves back to the country with the ute resolutely in ‘drive’.

All is as it should be.