Having
visited The Dish outside Parkes we couldn’t
resist a visit to CSIRO’s Australia
Telescope Compact Array at Culgoora as we made our way to Narrabri a little
further east. Although a bewildering science at the best of times we do find we
learn a little more from each of these visits, even if very simplified!
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We
were able to see five of these 22m diameter parabolic dishes set along a 3km
rail track as the sixth works from a fixed base some 5km away. All work
together as one telescope and can be pointed with an accuracy of better than
two arcseconds which didn’t mean too much until explained as the width of two
pinheads or a finger seen one kilometre away, to pick up faint radio signals
over a wider range of wavelengths. Thus astronomers are able to observe very
fine detail.
We
based up in Narrabri for a couple of nights to enable a visit out to Mt Kaputar
National Park. This park incorporates over 50 000ha of the Nandewar Range,
itself the result of volcanic activity that occurred about 20 million years
ago. The 20km road winds its way up to the summit through ironbark and cypress
pine forests (an elevation of about 300m above sea level) at a steady climb. On
reaching the height of 1510m above sea level we encountered tall stands of
sub-alpine snow gums together with some truly spectacular views of the
surrounding countryside. It was freezing cold at the first lookout and we
looked at each other wondering how we were going to cope even higher up the
mountain in light summer gear. We should have been more sensible. A play on words caught our attention ‘Window to the Sky’ - the lookout is named
after Douglas Hasting Sky (1899-1966); a civil engineer who supervised a major
milestone, in constructing the road from Coryah Gap up to Kaputan Summit. Prior
to that, an Alpine Club had, from the late 1880’s, taken hikes up to Coryah Gap.
They even held annual New Year excursions up to the gap regularly calling for
the protection of the Nandewar Range.
Thankfully
it wasn’t as cold up at the summit – as the icy plains wind had dropped. Must
say we were very impressed by the NP cabins and camping ground available at
Dawson Spring. En route down the mountain we stopped at Governor’s Lookout and
as it had warmed up we decided to scramble to the top of the large volcanic
plug known as the “Governor” before returning to Getaway for lunch. The northern
portion of the Park required a different access road on the other side of
Narrabri. That afternoon we took the trip to see Sawn Rocks – a very impressive
geological exposure or cliff face covered in what is known as “organ-piping” –
a massive series of tall, 40m high, polygonal columns of molten rock that had
apparently cooled so slowly the individual crystals within the rocks had been
able to align perfectly with one another. Fortunately, being west facing the
cliff was perfectly illuminated by the time we got there around 3.00 pm, so we
were able to get some decent photos. Lying below the cliff were large pieces of
the organ pipes that had fallen – their distinctive form reminding us of the
shattered columns of the ancient ruins we’d seen lying on the ground in
Greece.
Our
route from Narrabri took us through Gunnedah. Although we had enjoyed this
little town with all its wild koalas in the past we were more interested in new
places and the road to Quirindi fitted the bill. However, the strong gusty
winds across the flat Liverpool Plains made travel unpleasant and we pulled
into a roadside rest area for a lunch break. Despite the road trains and
weekend traffic whistling past it turned out to be attractive enough to stay
overnight.
Travelling
on to Quirindi next day traffic was much quieter. On approaching town we
spotted the curiously named Who’d a
Thought It Lookout which had been
mentioned in a brochure as the “perfect place to embrace the full beauty of the
area”. SKV slowly pulled her burden up to the 360 degree panoramic view only to
find the sun made photos east impossible and the western views were very hazy. We
took up a site in Quirindi Caravan Park- a small, open park set beside wide
green sportsgrounds. In peak time it would probably be most off-putting to us.
Now, it was virtually empty so we were happy to stay. Glad we did as laundry
was $2 (half the price of most everywhere), the shower cubicles were
beautifully spacious with the added touch of shampoo and conditioner in large
bottles and a well looked after camp kitchen provided comfy outdoor chairs, all
for a very fair price. We enjoyed a pleasant walk up into the picturesque town
but didn’t go and visit its Rural Heritage Village. From the plains to the foothills of the Great
Dividing Range came a change in night time temperatures and we were scrabbling
for rugs during the night.
We
moved on to Wallabadah next day and stopped at the Nation’s only garden
memorial to the First and Second Fleet. The Gardens were alongside a rest area
and the Quirindi Creek (a ticked site in Camps 6). Although it was early in the
day we decided to stay overnight as we could see power and water provided by
the Memorial Garden for a $10 donation in the Honesty Box. After aligning ourselves to a power box to
ensure we had an attractive view – we discovered no power and all the showers
had been locked. So that was that and we moved on after enjoying all the
history.
This
memorial for descendants of those who sailed on the First Fleet was instigated by
Ray Collins, himself a descendant. It provides
the names of convicts sent to NSW on the First Fleet, 6 January 1787; date and
where convicted; sentences given (predominantly 7 years); names of the ships
they sailed on and some descriptions of treatment received. From school history we recall these ‘poor’
folk were sentenced for very petty crimes and sent to Australia in an effort to
relieve English prison numbers. IT is only when you count the months do you
realise these poor sods, chained in pairs, didn’t arrive in Botany Bay until
over a year later! The First Fleet were eventually all anchored in Botany Bay by
the 26 January 1788 and henceforth became known as ‘AUSTRALIA DAY’. As for the Second Fleet, their treatment was far
harsher as these convicts were sent over “at least expense to the public” and
no incentive given to captains to keep prisoners alive. These ancestors were once
considered ‘skeletons’ to be kept locked away in cupboards...These days they
are a badge of pride. George searched
for the name Begg as he has been unable to trace six of his Grandfather’s
brothers so hoped one, at the very least had been a convict. Nothing! We did
see a Bell and a Baxter though...
The
hills of the Great Dividing Range make a beautiful landscape to travel through-
although cleared for cattle and sheep –
it has an amazingly park-like quality with large trees and short grassy
coverings rolling up, on and over in
different directions. It adds to the picturesque scene when we come across
cattle or sheep grazing or at rest. Even better when have to slow for stock
being moved along the road. Calves, lambs and foals aplenty to croon about! On arrival in the village of Nundle, set in
the Peel River Valley we took up a caravan site overlooking the Peel River and
nestled in the heart of the village. Nundle is an historic mining town dating
back to 1851 and it is estimated that over those first five years alluvial gold
to the value of $1,670,000 was removed. During the afternoon we walked through
the incredibly quiet town and found almost everything closed- it was only later
that we realised this was the day a horse race stops the Nation! The
townspeople were all out to lunch somewhere in their best bibs and hats for
Melbourne Cup Day. Although the Nundle Wool Mill was open, the historic wool
processing machinery was not running and the lady in attendance kindly suggested
we tag onto a tour group next day. Our interest was naturally tweaked a large
photo of a 1956 plywood caravan wearing a jumper! Information told us the ‘caravan jumper’ had
been a Sydney Royal Show entry. Nine ladies used 55 kg of 48 ply Nundle yarn
and took 5 weeks to knit the jumper and on hearing our lady had been involved
in knitting part of the roof, we included her in our pickie.
Next
morning we returned to the late 2000 purpose built Woollen Mill and enjoyed learning
how this delightful little Mill keeps an industry alive. As many as 60 Woollen
Mills in Australia have steadily been forced to close unable to compete with
overseas processing and poor demand for pure wool products. During 1999 a
Nundle couple decided to purchase the Victorian wool processing machinery of
J.L McGregor Pty Ltd to create, sustain and hopefully increase job’s within
Nundle’s tiny population. In turn, they hoped it would increase tourism and had
an elevated area overlooking their historic machinery (carefully restored to
preserve Australia’s wool textile history) incorporated within their building.
It also provides a wonderful educational resource while showcasing their ‘world
famous’ national fibre, range of fashion dyed yarns and hand knitted
garments. They also promote and preserve
the skill of knitting and crocheting as they suggest you gather friends and
enjoy two days of ‘Knitting in Nundle’; providing expert tuition, factory floor
tour, gourmet food and guest house accommodation in town as a package - worth
knowing! We were led through a most informative talk from the sheep’s backs to
the final products. We were introduced to most beautiful men’s shirts and
lady’s blouses looking nothing like wool and yet far superior to pure cotton -
or was that sales talk! Worth going on line and buying direct from www.nundle.com
We
were intrigued by the fossicking that goes on along the length of the Peel
River. It is obviously a popular
activity as we noticed roads signs relating to Fossicker’s Way. We saw
quite a few folk heading down to the river in wellies and carrying sieves. For a long while George watched a bloke
digging around and panning for gold. Eventually they got talking and he showed
George his container of gold flakes he’d extracted that day – and reckoned it
was all good therapy- like fishing!
Our
next stop was further north along the Peel River Valley at Chaffey Dam. A
delightful place spread around a well indented shoreline. A choice of camping within a small protected stock
free area or taking your chances out in the more spacious environs. We chose the
later as we enjoyed cattle roaming around and spent two nights with different viewpoints
for the time spent there and enjoyed both. Tiny grasshoppers appeared to
smother the grass lands and leapt away at each footfall. Around our gauze
windows, hovered many lake midges and trident tailed mayflies. The odd mayfly
settled inside the caravan and we found them shedding their exoskeletons. Once
the heat of the sun began to let up it was good to stretch legs around our
section of the dam for a good hour of walking. Cattle either ignored us as they
grazed or curiously watched our every move.
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Chaffey
Dam is run by The Bowling Alley Point Recreation Reserve Trust – a non-profit
trust run by volunteers for the benefit of the community. The five dollar a day
payments provided better amenities than some caravan parks. Although we’d
happily have lingered longer, curiosity gets the better of us and not much
further along the road another ticked site of approval beckoned at the Woolomin
Reserve - a free camping area beside the Peel River. We liked this too. Shortly
before our usual evening walk we heard the rumbling of thunder and decided to
go earlier rather than risk losing out. Out of luck- we’d had barely covered a
hundred metres than the first big drops fell, warning us more was on its way.
Flashes of lightening and claps of thunder scurried us back to Getaway before the skies opened...
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It
was a gently winding route through the fertile Peel Valley, much enjoyed from the
beginning to the point at which we left it to rejoin the New England Highway to
Kootingal. We settled in Kootingal Kourt
Caravan Park, north of Tamworth with wonderful views of the Moonbi
Range. We thought we had avoided the
steep Moonbi climb out of Tamworth but it lay just ahead... Next day we
unhitched and drove back to Tamworth hoping to find Woolworth’s four seed bread
in particular as well as restock with fresh fruit and veg. All went well and we
found ourselves dashing home in an effort to beat the gathering storm clouds before
they dropped their loads. Much needed rain fell all afternoon and evening
before clearing up. The very next morning leaden clouds ominously hung over the
Moonbi Range. We hummed and hawed about driving up the range in misty
conditions let alone a downpour. Decision was made for us when we became
engulfed in thick cloud and the rain came down in buckets confining us to our ‘cabin’
for the rest of the day.
Perfect
blue skies had us rise early next day and make our way to Walcha before any
more forecast rain arrived. Moonbi Range although steep, loomed larger in our
memories and was accomplished slowly and steadily with little stress. At
Bendemeer we turned east and followed the Oxley Highway through equally
attractive countryside dotted with granite outcrops to Walcha – the first area
on the NSW Tablelands to be discovered by British explorers and used by
stockmen for driving sheep north. Forestry also played a vital role in its
early history. Today this district is a
great primary producing area and one of the largest stock carrying areas of
NSW. We booked into Walcha Caravan Park to await the arrival of Lea’s maternal
rellie - Tessa and Geoff Hodson. At first sight, one could be forgiven for
thinking this small park didn’t deserve the rave reviews we’d been given.
Again, fully occupied it would not appeal to us but it wasn’t too busy for our
stay and we soon realised it was a gem, not only well situated in the
delightful country town of Walcha –
“full of civic pride” as Tessa was to so aptly comment; our caravan park
had fantastic ablution, laundry and camp kitchen facilities with a number of
cabins on the edge in well cared for and pretty surrounds. We spent the rest of
the day preparing for our visitors arriving the next day. Come evening we took our evening exercise
along the Apsley River walkway. We were
most impressed at how the local council had topped the levee with a cement
walkway inlaid in places with a wide spectrum of creatures with indigenous
plants used for landscaping on either side and interesting sculptures here and
there, enhanced by the light of a setting sun.
Walcha
proved a perfect place to meet up with Tessa and Geoff. We last saw them in
Canberra and they have since, retired to Port Macquarie, down on the coast
immediately east of Walcha. They drove up the Great Divide the following day in
time for lunch and that afternoon we set off to explore town together and found
even more artworks. All with little explanation that we were delighted to find
a brochure on Walcha’s Open Air Gallery
of sculptures and artworks with map at the VIC. The lady on duty explained how
a local farmer and sculptor (Stephen King) had approached the town council in
1996, keen to collaborate with them and produce a fountain sculpture for the
McHatton Park in the centre of town. They accepted and this first art
installation was accomplished; in turn it led to the formation of a Walcha Arts
Council and by 2001 the Walcha Council and other funding bodies boasted a
unique facility giving their country town a new vitality with over 41 pieces of
work by local, national and international artists. This included the school
children throughout the area being involved. Each made a ceramic which was
embedded in a mosaic depicting an eclectic ‘stream of life’ and set into the
top of a little wall protecting pedestrians as they crossed Middle Street
Bridge over the Apsley River.
That
evening we shivered over dinner and couldn’t wait to get inside Getaway despite owner Neil Smith (a good
host who moves around his park checking security and the well being of his
guests) suggesting we move into the camp kitchen and light the pot belly fire.
George had, however set up a ‘show’ so we hopped inside the caravan where we
were harassed by the DVD equipment playing up. Just as well the Hodson’s
preferred the comfort of a cabin in this cold mountain air and after lots of
talking we all retired to warm beds.
Lying
in the high country (at over 1000m
asl) Walcha is not far from the Oxley Wild Rivers NP. We packed a picnic and spent
a day, travelling in the Hodson’s car, visiting the area’s two famous
waterfalls - the Apsley and the Tia Falls – each at the head of
dramatic gorges with walking tracks to various lookouts and viewing platforms.
Although the Apsley Falls had no water coming over, the gorge (a deep chasm)
below made for a very impressive sight. The Tia Falls on the other hand,
receives water from a catchment that contains large tracts of rain forest, and there
was a lot of water coming over it. The Tia River has only once been known to
stop flowing (32 days in 1942). Acting like shepherds we found a number of
farmers watching their cattle grazing in the road reserve, a zone known as the
“long paddock” which they use when the grass available on their farms declines.
We
pay tribute to the Walcha Lions Club for their determined effort and expense in
replacing the original wooden staircase with a fine steel walkway in 1961 to
enhance the viewing area of Apsley Falls..
Sensibly,
George lit the pot belly fire in the camp kitchen and the four of us happily
settled in for sundowners and dinner
enjoying the warmth and comfort of a beaut wooden house very well equipped-
even ‘washing up’ was a pleasure with a tap that lit up in colours according to
the temperature of the water! The table
proved perfect for playing ‘Banana’ and we may well have kept playing but for a
sign warning lights automatically switch off at 9.30 pm! It was almost full
moon with a relatively clear sky despite a forecast of heavy rain in the area
for the weekend. Well out east, we had seen towering cumulus billowing upwards
along the coast.
We
awoke to overcast skies and after breakfast – farewells. Our rig pulled out of
Walcha hot on the Hodson’s heels. They went east and we travelled south across
the crest of the Great Dividing Range on what is known as Thunderbolt’s Way, a road with many badly weathered patches. In the
sky above a blue sky began to look promising... We were making our way to
Barrington Tops National Park, part of the Gondwana Rainforests of Australia
World Heritage Area. All these Great Dividing Range National Parks have been
collectively grouped under this WHA title. Further south, gloomy looking clouds
began closing in and the many hills, not to mention patches of mist, slowed us
down even more. We were taken aback at a particularly long, steep drop taken in
low gear over the edge of the divide Great Dividing Range into the valley of
the Manning River. In one section of the descent, leaves heavily carpeted the
edge of the road after recently being stripped off the trees by hail. Patches
of ice still lay beside the road and we breathed an enormous sigh of relief for
our timing! Consequently, on spying the rather crowded Bretti Reserve, a free
camp down on the floodplain of the Manning River, we felt a measure of relief
to pull off into the campground in time for lunch. The weekend caravan and
camping fraternity had taken up the best sites along the river thus we settled
further back amongst a veritable sea of cow pats, courtesy of all the cattle
feeding there! A cold wet afternoon
followed and at teatime George noticed the tell-tale signs of a leak. A pond of
water below one of the solar panels led George to applying a coat of hydro-seal
the next day. We thoroughly enjoyed two nights at Bretti despite inclement
weather and had it not been for a lack of communications (radio, TV or mobile)
we would have stayed longer.
Bretti
Reserve
As
we neared the village of Barrington it began raining again so, drawn by the
prospect of a hot shower, some contact with the outside world and a need for
information on the condition of the Scone Road via Barrington Tops, we took
refuge in Gloucester Holiday Park. At the visitor’s information centre we learnt
the Scone Road had recently been covered in ice as a result of a hailstorm that
had swept through and that the steep and winding nature of the gravel road was
regarded as unsuitable for caravans. The only real answer, once weather
permitted, was simply to see for ourselves. The weather report on TV gave us a
small window of opportunity to hopefully see something up in the high country
before rain was scheduled to reappear. We left the next morning and headed
towards Barrington Tops (altitude 1577m asl) in overcast, but reasonable good
weather. We made poor old Skiv slowly haul our heavy home over Copeland Tops,
crawl down the opposite side and take us to “Camp Cobark” – a campground alongside
the Cobark River on a cattle farm / horse ranch in the foothills of the “Tops”
region.
As soon as we’d unhitched and packed a picnic
lunch we set off to explore the mountain and simultaneously make an assessment
of the condition of the 100 km spine road that leads over the top to Scone. It
didn’t take us long to decide it wasn’t so much the grade of the road that was
off-putting, but it’s rough, rocky, pot-holed, poorly maintained surface. Once
on top of the plateau we stopped to undertake a number of the points of
interest marked on the crude “mud map” we’d been given at the visitor’s centre.
These either led to lookouts over mist shrouded valleys or through dripping
forests covered in tree ferns and huge moss covered Antarctic beech trees. On a
clear day we should have seen the sea from the top of the range! Although we regretted
having a misty day, it did not prevent us from gaining a good idea of the area,
lyrebirds included! We saw three of these long tailed birds fleeing across the
road and they reminded us of the “road-runners” we’d seen around Albuquerque.
So too, we enjoyed overlooking the sphagnum
(peat) swamp at Polblue where we stopped for lunch. As soon as we’d settled at
the picnic table the rain came and we had to scoot back to SKV and view the
snow gums, tufted and fine leaved snow grass from there. ‘The Firs’ completely
caught us by surprise and we were staggered at the size and density of the
beautifully straight Douglas Firs (Oregon pines), planted in this small area on
the mountain in 1966. We went as far as the Dingo Gate before turning around.
We decided to turn east following the Tubrabucca road into the valley of the
Manning River and do a loop back rather than repeat the ‘Tops’ road. Apart from a large number of red legged pademelons
leaping from the side of the road “like fleas from a dog’s spine” in one
particular section of habitat, the road turned out to be a long, rough, rather
unrewarding circuit through stands of tall stringy barks and mountain gums. And,
when we got back to Camp Cobark we were shocked to find the tranquil campground
we’d left earlier now resembled a “tent city”. It was over-run by rowdy
youngsters swimming in the river and playing ball games in all directions. In
all fairness, once we recovered from the shock of change – we found they
behaved very well! It placed extreme pressure on the one shower and two toilets
provided for each sex though.
Next
day the hundred odd high school children were split into groups for horse-riding,
cycling, kayaking or floating down the Barrington River rapids on inflatable
mattresses (lilo!) We went to explore the Gloucester Tops region and followed
the Rawdonvale road through picture perfect grasslands dotted with rotund,
contented looking cattle, rolling hills and attractive farmsteads. We crossed the
Barrington River just as excited students were being given activity-
instruction) and they all waved in recognition of our truck. The gravel track
wound us over the Kerripit River until we reached the valley of the Gloucester
River. Here, the road up to the National Park was to cross the Gloucester River
half a dozen times over low-level causeways, each overtopped by crystal clear
water. The 18km drive to the top of the plateau took us through tall eucalypt
forests and patches of temperate rainforest
enlivened by distant views of flame trees in flower, the regular
sighting of blue and red eastern rosellas flittering between trees, the distinctive
staccato ‘tink’ of bell birds and, yet another lyrebird to dash across the track. Once at the top, among the trilling of a
multitude of cicadas, we walked all the trails available – another stand of
Antarctic beech forest; a cicada orchestral walk amongst snow gums along a
marshy tributary of the Gloucester River, and another to the Gloucester Falls.
The cicadas provided great interest. They were the most beautiful orange
colour, had brilliant red eyes and allowed us to take close up photos of them
whilst chirping away on the stems of the snow gums, the bark of which had been
etched by the scribble-bark insects that we have yet to learn the identity of.
These creatures, as well as water dragons at each river crossing, kept us well
entertained!
At
the same time, for a park that achieved world heritage recognition in 1986, we
were disappointed by the air of neglect apparent around every corner - poorly
maintained roads and walking trails, sub-standard picnic sites and camping
grounds; road signs that were barely legible; information boards - badly
weathered or covered in grime they were unreadable; cheaply made warning signs
(stapled onto cardboard of all things) lying on the ground advising visitors
about track closure; no suggestion of properly constructed boardwalks over
sensitive wetland areas; evidence of eroding paths and unkempt toilets. No sign
of a ranger or a ranger station. The NSW Parks and Wildlife Service are a bit
of a mystery to us especially after coming away from a place like Mt Kaputar
which filled us with admiration for what the organisation had achieved there. What
is it, other than the obvious lack of money and staff that accounts for the
neglect that is apparent in a place like Barrington Tops? The PWS have had 25
years to turn Barrington Tops, a wilderness area justifiably worthy of World
Heritage status, into something to be proud of - yet this is certainly not the
case. Many of Australia’s Ramsar sites, once registered, suffer from the same
problem.
Departing
Cobark Station, we took the Rawdonvale farm road in preference to the steep
climb back over Copeland Tops. It was a magnificent day – no sign of any rain
returning. George had to endure renditions from Oklahoma’s ‘Oh what a beautiful morning’ and ‘the hills are alive with the addition of
“by the sight of grazers” from The
Sound of Music as Lea, brought up in the era of ‘Musicals’ is a real tragic and
scenes easily trigger songs from the period. It was all very uplifting as we
travelled as far as the turn off to Gloucester Tops and onwards in rolling
greenness.
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Dungog’s
VIC told us about a caravan park at Lostock dam, 20km north of Gresford. That
proved a dead loss – and it was as well the dairy farming area set amongst
winding roads and steep hillsides gave us pleasure as we traipsed there and
back. We ended up doing a ‘long trek’ in the upper reaches of the Hunter Valley
as nothing appealed in Singleton and the
New England Road west was a nightmare of traffic particularly after ‘owning the
road’ for so long. Coal fields and power stations marred the landscape and we
sympathised with landowners on seeing many signs attached to property fences - Locked Gates to Mining; Save Our Rivers; Enough Mines Save Farms. It was a relief to see the turnoff to Lake
Liddell and get off the highway – as in front lay a dark and foreboding sky.
The sight of a large power station belching steam from a prominent position on
edge of the lake was off-putting however the Recreation Campground proved perfect.
We placed ourselves in the opposite direction to the power station overlooking
a small inlet, edged with sedges and alive with pelicans, geese, swamp hens and
black swans. Hills rolled peacefully into the east – all was well until a
strange angry bee like humming alerted us to the l-o-n-g train of coal wagons
being hauled through the hills by diesel engines. They regularly trundled back
and forth emitting a high pitched whine, noisily stopping on the campground
boundary if another lengthy train was coming from the opposite direction – day
and night. We decided this was small price to pay for a very reasonable
campground, in pleasant setting, giving good TV coverage over a weekend
heralding stormy weather. And from the west we could see black storm clouds
with menacing tinges of green bearing down on us and we waited their onslaught
– relieved when we simply caught the edges of storms as they continued through
in waves. Thunder and lightning all around us as damaging storms hammered the
east coast.
A
break in the weather enabled us to take a brisk walk around the campground next
morning and we were able to get the generator out and recharge everything
before the next onslaught caught us midday.
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Eerily
the light changed our turn had come...
Hail
pounded Getaway and we anxiously
hoped the dice sized stones wouldn’t cause damage as thunder and lightning flashed and
reverberated through the hillsides. Ponds of water surrounded us and during a
brief pause we decided to pull away from the fast becoming swampy lake edge to higher
ground, a few metres back. The rain kept coming and the light kept changing;
most importantly - we were dry inside our caravan. By Sunday blue skies smeared
with thin cloud were back and George went to pay for another two days. He
learnt a house had lost its roof further NE and rivers in the locality which
hadn’t flowed in years were doing so. So much rain, the New England freeway apparently
hadn’t coped well with water pouring down its length! We were safer where we were. Trainspotter!
Lea pondered the railway traffic and monitored the passing trains heading east
and west during a twelve hour period. Thirty one trains predominantly comprised
of two diesel engines pulling plus /minus a hundred carts of coal; a swift
passenger train of two carriages and twice we observed twin engines beetling up
the track without anything to drag.
We
had observed workers living in tents or camping trailers during our morning/evening
exercise around the campground. Judging by the amount of ‘stuff’ around each
rough encampment these folk had been there quite a while taking advantage of
the very low rates. Aware that we were not far out from Muswellbrook our ill
conceived assessment took on a life of its own as we reading a crime book on a most
gruesome murder that took place in Muswellbrook, February 2000. How easily a crime
like this can taint one’s opinion or expectations of a place. The ‘Speckled Hen’ worked in an abattoir at
Muswellbrook as did her family and she became a dab hand with her skinning
knives. Her tools of trade led her to
become the first Australian woman to
be sentenced to life imprisonment without parole. Now that we were
heading in the direction of Muswellbrook, Aberdeen and Scone - all places that
had played a significant part in her life – we felt a macabre curiosity towards
the area. How stunned we were to find a large bustling town with no overt signs
of deprivation amidst the surrounding green and rolling hills dotted with dairy
cattle all the way through to nearby Aberdeen. The peaceful normality
thankfully brushed away the infamy Australia's Hanna Lecteress had unwittingly wrought upon a community. Aberdeen- Speckled Hen’s birthplace
maintained a pretty Scottish air about it despite being nowhere near the size
of its namesake. We swung off the New England Highway here for Lake Glenbawn State
Recreation Park. Strangely the caravan park was well away and out of sight of
the water but there was a large campground without power on the eastern shore.
Difficult finding level ground for the caravan
and we eventually found a private spot in a boat ramp cul-de-sac and
spent the next three days overlooking the water.(cheaper week days than
weekends)
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Our
Glenbawn site at sunset.
We
enjoyed walking in the lake vicinity – plenty of bird life. Heard Choughs
making a variety of chirruping whistles as they socialised together which were
new to our ears. A pelican, crested grebes, Fairy wrens and hundreds of
moorhens inspired George to take out his water colours. We also spotted an
echidna hoovering up ants along one of the many ant trails to be found here.
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The width of the trail seems to depend on the
size of the nest and George noticed they’d often lead to a tree. The attraction
seemed to be aphids, as he found ants milking aphids in a tree. Temperatures
soared on our last day and trying to sleep that night was most unpleasant-
summer lurks!
In
the early hours we awoke to noisy wind and then rain arrived. We pulled out
early and made for Scone in a gentle drizzle. Caravan parks at either end of
Scone had no appeal whatsoever. Weather put any thought of laundry out of the
equation. Our best bet was Burning Mountain Nature Park. First, we needed to
resupply and since we’d struck lucky with a Woolies and Coles in Scone; both giving
20c discounts on fuel we decided to double the advantage before leaving. By the
time we’d finished in Woolies (no seed bread!) the rain was bucketing down.
Swift, metre wide ‘rivers’ swept down the road spreading even wider at storm
water drains. Keen to get the ice-cream into the freezer at the first sign of easing,
Lea hot footed through the wet. It was a battle to unlock Getaway – as the fast flowing water built up around the caravan. With umbrella in hand she returned for George
and the trolley. A short break in the weather allowed us to nip into Coles and
successfully complete the required expeditions. Back on the busy New England
Freeway heading north towards Tamworth in drizzle with worse weather ahead;
over-size loads and road trains keen to pass the crawling Rubber Tramps left us feeling fraught! North of Wingen (‘win-jen’)
we were relieved to see the Burning Mountain NP turn-off and were somewhat
dismayed to almost immediately pull into a rest area. No level ground and traffic
flying past down the hill side. All very off-putting... We decided to weigh up
our options over a cup of soup.
There
were no alternatives... A night here would have to be bearable. The intended two
nights to bring us to the start of December, was out of the question. Tomorrow
we will return to Scone and head south to Merriwa. A lull in the wet weather had
us scuttle out to do the 2 hour walk to the Burning Mountain (hoping a man who
offered to escort George didn’t see us disappear as he quietly imbibed from a
carton of wine in the picnic shelter).
In
1828, a farmer came across the Burning Mountain and thought it was a volcano.
Over the years it was found to be the result of a natural underground coal seam
fire that has been burning for around 6000 years. It is burning southwards at
the rate of one metre per year. It is the only known example in Australia and one
of three to be found in the world. A good walking track began at the rest area
boundary with a style. The first section was steep. Many steps led us into the
surrounding hills giving attractive views despite grey skies. Cattle and calves
eyed us as we strode briskly along hoping to beat the next downpour. At the
current vent area with its vaguely sulphurous smell, an Eastern Grey kangaroo
attracted by the warmth at the surface was warming itself. Wispy plumes rose
out of small rocky vents, just visible to the eye from the boardwalk
safe-viewing of the burning head. After seeing the kangaroo and obvious signs
that cattle roam over the ‘head’ we couldn’t resist a closer inspection. Here, we could feel the warmth although
hardly the reported “toasting of 350⁰C”. And, we could see ‘ash’ around the
vents which we subsequently learnt was sinter, a product of emerging hot gasses
on cooling. There were also colourful patches of crumbled red oxides and yellow
sulphur stones baked by the underground heat. It was all a most interesting
vista. It had definitely been a worthwhile trip to come out here after all.
Returning to the rumbles of thunder we had a clear view of the Wingin Maid. This is the ancestral figure of a woman who
sat waiting for her husband to return from battle at the tip of a sandstone
cliff. Distraught, when he didn’t return she begged Biami (God) to take her
life. As he turned her into stone her tears rolled down into the valley and
ignited the Burning Mountain – hence the Maid holds mythological importance to
Aboriginal people.
The
Hunter Valley is known for wine. In 2011 we’d travelled down the valley to
attend Leecy’s 60th and we had noticed magnificent horse properties
more so than vineyards! Never-the-less, we were surprised to find the Aberdeen/
Scone region abounded with picturesque post and railed properties containing
many beautiful thoroughbred racehorses grazing peacefully. Judging by fancy signs,
this was not merely horse territory it was an Equine Paradise. Returning through
Scone (without shopping or rain on our minds) we were able to enjoy the many
horse silhouettes dotted around and in particular, a touching statue.
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We
came to realise this statue is a historic icon to Scone’s reputation as Horse
Capital of Australia. Newmarket in England, Kentucky in America and Scone in
the Upper Hunter Valley form the world’s most dominant thoroughbred operations –
There! We have learnt a thing or two... The calibre of breeding stock around
here is not to be sniffed at.
We
continued on south to the mostly agricultural community of Merriwa. We
remembered dashing through Merriwa on the Golden Highway en route to Leecy (2011)
and unexpectedly stopped to photograph a corrugated iron artwork that caught
our eyes. The caravan park beside the Merriwa River was a stone’s throw from
‘The Hut’ and the wall covered with
corrugated iron cut-outs of sheep commemorating Merriwa’s early history
of sheep grazing/ wool industry. In June Merriwa holds a Festival of the
Fleeces with its signature event of a flock of sheep running down the main
street wearing red socks! We enjoyed
wandering around Merriwa to end of last day of November.
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