Something happened here ... or so believe many visitors to Victoria's Hanging Rock,such as Shayla Cosgrove,11.Credit:Ken Irwin
Hanging Rock's allure is partly its natural beauty,partly its mythic history. John Elder goes exploring.
JUST above Hanging Rock is a natural balcony of boulders and butterflies and the mercy of evening shadow.
You can hear people coming up,not scrambling as they once did in white crinoline dresses over steps shaped by rain and wind but trudging up the man-made staircase that sucks away a little of the mystery of the place,in exchange for cheaper indemnity insurance,one presumes.
Also,missing here is the bare-leg creaking of 19th-century sexual awakening and Gothic poetry from the lips of young women who climb slowly and dreamily.
Nor is there the music of pan pipes,and the sweet threat contained therein. Too many iPods,belly-buttons and backsides bulging in lycra.
Regardless,the memory if not the mood of Peter Weir'sPicnic at Hanging Rock lingers.
''Brandon! Don't go over there,''a mother calls to her son who has ventured too close to where the rocks fall away.''Brandon!''Just like in the film:''Miranda!''
And from the balcony you hear young and old folk making jokes about those missing schoolgirls,that maybe they're in the shadows watching. Do they believe it's a true story?
''Something happened,but who knows what?''is the most popular answer.