Kernot Bridge, 1934. The current closure is the latest chapter in a century of collapses, repairs and community perseverance.
By Rob Parsons
WHEN Bass Coast Shire Council announced in early December that funding had finally been secured to rebuild the Stewart Road Bridge at Kernot, many people breathed a sigh of relief.
For those of us who use it regularly, the closure has been frustrating, inconvenient and at times isolating. But as I spent the last year digging through old reports, newspaper clippings and family stories about the bridge, I realised that the frustrations of 2024–25 are only the latest chapter in a very long history of collapses, repairs and perseverance.
WHEN Bass Coast Shire Council announced in early December that funding had finally been secured to rebuild the Stewart Road Bridge at Kernot, many people breathed a sigh of relief.
For those of us who use it regularly, the closure has been frustrating, inconvenient and at times isolating. But as I spent the last year digging through old reports, newspaper clippings and family stories about the bridge, I realised that the frustrations of 2024–25 are only the latest chapter in a very long history of collapses, repairs and perseverance.
I’ve only been connected to this bridge for the last 20 years, but the deeper I went into its past the more I understood that Kernot has been dealing with bridge trouble for well over a century.
The earliest definite records I found date back to 1916, when the Shire of Phillip Island and Woolamai received a letter from a local resident, G. M. Pretty, reporting that the Bass River bridge at Kernot was “very unsafe”. One abutment pile had fallen away, another was rotten, and the third was “propped up with white ants”. Holes in the deck threatened the safety of horse-drawn traffic.
The earliest definite records I found date back to 1916, when the Shire of Phillip Island and Woolamai received a letter from a local resident, G. M. Pretty, reporting that the Bass River bridge at Kernot was “very unsafe”. One abutment pile had fallen away, another was rotten, and the third was “propped up with white ants”. Holes in the deck threatened the safety of horse-drawn traffic.
1916 Shire correspondence about unsafe bridge.
CORRESPONDENCE. Friday 10th March 1916
G. M. Pretty, Kernot, drawing attention to the bad state of the bridge over Bass river at Kernot. The bridge was very unsafe, one abutment pile has fallen away, another completely rotten, and the third is only propped up with white ants. The deck has dangerous holes in it.
Cr McGrath told me to repair the decking. - Mr Bonwick stated that the decking had been repaired - The Engineer to inspect and report on the bridge at the next meeting.
Bridges Destroyed in Phillip Island Shire. Thursday 11th July 1918.
Phillip Island shire yesterday asked the Minister for Public Works for assistance in the reconstruction of three bridges over the Bass River, along the Kernot - Krowera road, the collapse of which cut off access to the railway. The estimated cost would be respectively about £500, £200 and £150. A rate of 1/6d had been struck by the shire. Mr, Robinson promised favourable consideration.
CORRESPONDENCE. Friday 10th March 1916
G. M. Pretty, Kernot, drawing attention to the bad state of the bridge over Bass river at Kernot. The bridge was very unsafe, one abutment pile has fallen away, another completely rotten, and the third is only propped up with white ants. The deck has dangerous holes in it.
Cr McGrath told me to repair the decking. - Mr Bonwick stated that the decking had been repaired - The Engineer to inspect and report on the bridge at the next meeting.
Bridges Destroyed in Phillip Island Shire. Thursday 11th July 1918.
Phillip Island shire yesterday asked the Minister for Public Works for assistance in the reconstruction of three bridges over the Bass River, along the Kernot - Krowera road, the collapse of which cut off access to the railway. The estimated cost would be respectively about £500, £200 and £150. A rate of 1/6d had been struck by the shire. Mr, Robinson promised favourable consideration.
That same year the Shire engaged Charles Joseph Ware to construct a new bridge—the structure many locals recognise in the old photographs. Even the 1916 bridge quickly faced problems. In 1918 three bridges along the Bass River collapsed, cutting off access to the railway and forcing the Shire to seek urgent assistance from the Minister for Public Works.
Reading these old newspaper reports, it’s striking how similar the concerns are to our own: access, detours, isolation, and the endless demand for maintenance of timber bridges in a wet Victorian landscape.
Among the most evocative images from the early decades is a photo of two young men, Bill and Fred Miles, working on the Kernot bridge in the late 1920s or early 1930s. They were woodchoppers who also worked a local quarry and helped their parents on a share farm. Like so much in this district at the time, the bridge depended on local labour.
There’s something quietly admirable about the way people simply got on with the job, without waiting for someone from elsewhere to fix things.
For many modern residents, the first major disruption they remember came in 1997, when the bridge was closed for months of repairs. Several locals have told me how farmers parked their vehicles on one side and walked across the bridge to reach the store.
For many modern residents, the first major disruption they remember came in 1997, when the bridge was closed for months of repairs. Several locals have told me how farmers parked their vehicles on one side and walked across the bridge to reach the store.
1997 closure: farmers’ vehicles were parked on the west side.
 Sentinel Timestender notice, 1997 |  The bridge where Susie Stewart crossed, 1997 |
Susie Stewart, whose family gave the road its name, walked across every day to collect her mail. She remembered the workers as “extremely helpful”- a small but meaningful memory from a period of inconvenience.
Some of the photos from the late 1990s and early 2000s show a bridge that already looked worn, patched and ageing. Nobody could have guessed that two decades later the structure would finally reach the end of its life.
Kernot Bridge, August 2000
When engineers closed the bridge again in early 2025 due to structural failure and repeated overloading, the response was a familiar mix of inconvenience and concern. The detours were long. Emergency response times increased significantly. Families, farms and neighbours found themselves unexpectedly separated by a river they had crossed without thinking for generations.
Council’s updates over 2024–25 tell the story: structural assessments, heritage checks, environmental surveys, meetings with ministers, and the slow wait for a federal grant.
What many outsiders saw as “just a small local bridge” was, in reality, the spine of a spread-out rural township. If the closure exposed the vulnerability of Kernot, it also revealed the strength of its people.
Residents began documenting safety issues, gathering historical information, and pressing for answers. Community members contacted councillors, MPs and local media. Questions were asked in Parliament. Council was urged to repair rather than replace, and in a way that honoured the bridge’s timber heritage.
Council officers did continue behind-the-scenes work - designs, environmental studies, talks with Melbourne Water and DEECA, and liaison with Minister Catherine King’s office. Still, the community kept pushing.
Month after month, updates came:
I was encouraged when the council confirmed that the new design will respect the heritage character of the original bridge. It will keep the same alignment and simple, familiar appearance. Timber features will be retained where possible. The structure will finally meet modern load standards, giving it a much longer life and reducing the cycle of ongoing closures.
It won’t be the exact bridge Charles Ware built in 1916, or the one Bill and Fred Miles worked on, or the one Susie crossed to fetch her mail. But it will still sit in the same quiet bend of the Bass River, carrying the same rural rhythm of life it has for more than a century.
Writing this history has given me a deeper appreciation of what the Stewart Road Bridge represents. For 110 years it has been a link between communities, farms, families and the outside world. In 1916 locals worried the bridge was unsafe. In 1918, its collapse cut off their access to the railway. In 1997, people walked across for groceries and mail. And in 2025, a community once again pulled together to ensure its future.
What many outsiders saw as “just a small local bridge” was, in reality, the spine of a spread-out rural township. If the closure exposed the vulnerability of Kernot, it also revealed the strength of its people.
Residents began documenting safety issues, gathering historical information, and pressing for answers. Community members contacted councillors, MPs and local media. Questions were asked in Parliament. Council was urged to repair rather than replace, and in a way that honoured the bridge’s timber heritage.
Council officers did continue behind-the-scenes work - designs, environmental studies, talks with Melbourne Water and DEECA, and liaison with Minister Catherine King’s office. Still, the community kept pushing.
Month after month, updates came:
- May 2025 – design work begins; engineers confirm extensive damage.
- September 2025 – grant application lodged; cultural heritage studies complete.
- November 2025 – tender drawings finished; earthworm surveys underway.
- December 2025 – funding finally confirmed.
I was encouraged when the council confirmed that the new design will respect the heritage character of the original bridge. It will keep the same alignment and simple, familiar appearance. Timber features will be retained where possible. The structure will finally meet modern load standards, giving it a much longer life and reducing the cycle of ongoing closures.
It won’t be the exact bridge Charles Ware built in 1916, or the one Bill and Fred Miles worked on, or the one Susie crossed to fetch her mail. But it will still sit in the same quiet bend of the Bass River, carrying the same rural rhythm of life it has for more than a century.
Writing this history has given me a deeper appreciation of what the Stewart Road Bridge represents. For 110 years it has been a link between communities, farms, families and the outside world. In 1916 locals worried the bridge was unsafe. In 1918, its collapse cut off their access to the railway. In 1997, people walked across for groceries and mail. And in 2025, a community once again pulled together to ensure its future.