Leaving Moree, the short road to Warialda began the lift out of flat country. A night of rain had cleared the skies leaving us with a perfect day for walking so as soon as we had set up in the cheap and delightful Shire caravan park centrally situated, we were off on two feet to admire its heritage buildings. The “Poison Anvil” Blacksmith’s Shop had us stealing much of ‘Smithy Ashley’s time not that he seemed to mind as he told us his ‘story’ and explained the makings behind many of his steel creations in his rustic showroom. There was plenty to delight us.
A former bull-rider, local farrier and blacksmith Ashley has turned discarded horse-shoes into pears like this!
The attractive Tumbledown Gums with beautiful pink to copper red bark gleaming in the sunlight, and general atmosphere of Warialda (place of wild honey) would happily have kept us there another night but just east of town was Cranky Rock Nature Reserve and as it had a few powered sites we thought it was worth moving on there. This first day of winter teased us with mild and beautiful weather and, along with emu’s hollowed drumming sounds, rainbow lorikeets swooping and shrilling, frogs sawing away in song (in a range out of George’s hearing ability!) the picturesque setting of broken country with massed jumbles of giant granite boulders, so evocative of Zimbabwe gave us a lovely day, gleefully occupied in walking and clambering around the Reserve.
A view of Cranky Rock and Reedy Creek.
Some years ago, author Bill Bryson brought Myall Creek to our attention. Looking it up, we erroneously marked it in our book as being on the coast (repetitive use of name catches you out in Oz). During 2008 we were disappointed to find we had the wrong creek. In roughly planning this exploration of NSW we had the intention of reaching Bingara by the 10th June to coincide our long awaited visit to Myall Creek, with the annual gathering commemorating the unprovoked massacre of 28 women, children and old men on 10th June 1838 by 12 stockmen. Coming from Africa, we are all too aware of the beliefs of some in a racial superiority, of a time when lynch law existed giving rise to a conspiracy of silence following an ‘arrogance’ in perpetrating deeds of inhumanity to man. The Myall Creek Massacre is an example of the same happening in Australia. Despite the uproar it caused, this case was taken to court only to have all eleven men acquitted. It took a second trial before some justice was brought about and for the first (and only time) in Australia’s history, seven white men were hanged for the brutal and premeditated deaths of Aborigines.
Leading a life of Riley we seldom give thought to the date, in this instance we found we’d arrived too soon - 2nd June and barely 18km from the Myall Creek Memorial site. We decided to go. Turned into what looked like a small rest area around a small turning circle, within which, a couple of memorial rocks. Not much, we thought at that first glance. Never-the-less we parked and walked over to read the small plaques. The one, marked the grave of an Aborigine woman whose skeleton, presented to Edinburgh’s Anatomical Museum back in 1888 was more recently returned amongst a large collection of Aboriginal ancestral remains and she was reburied here in 2001. Fortunately we noticed two other marked rocks, close to the bush. These turned out to be the entrance to a path that would take us “through a dreadful story to a place that made Australian history with the infamous Myall Creek Massacre”. In 2000, descendants of both murdered Aboriginal people and white perpetrators joined hands in reconciliation with this hauntingly peaceful memorial walkway.
Winding through the bush, we halted at seven stone markers engraved with a part of the story – a polished granite seat opposite each provided us with an opportunity to absorb and reflect as ‘we remember them’. A moving experience!
We continued to Bingara and took up a caravan site between Halls Creek and Gwydir River for a few days while we pondered over the prospect of hanging around 9 days for the Memorial Service. Decisions wavered after a visit to Ceramic Break Sculpture Park- a most unusual exhibition, in various mediums out in the middle of nowhere – Many works of art housed in beautiful galleries, which outwardly resembled large Aussie sheds. Adding to the experience were trails set within bushland and laid out around the base of an old volcanic cone. Kerry Cannon’s large bronze sculptures displayed along the way along with benches, in brightly painted ethnic designs, strategically placed to give panoramic views across rural NSW. Narida, a well travelled and inner-city girl from Sydney until she fell for a farmer in the district, welcomed us, introducing us to the owner and sculptor Kerry. Having just returned from the foundry in Melbourne he didn’t have work in progress but happily took us into his studio and showed us the processes involved in creating moulds with wax and plaster from the remnants of his squirrel project. We were to spot his zany humour in much of his work. As for Narida, she took us under her wing – adding a whole new dimension to our visit as she told us about the artists, whose works were on display – such characters reminding of us ones we have known or know, in our lives like Daisy Mills, Pauline Chisin and Kay. One gallery was being readied for the Myall Creek Massacre Memorial weekend- at last we had found someone who knew it about it and her incitement not to miss the occasion, on discovering our dismay at arriving too early for an event we had particularly wanted to attend, didn’t help. How curious we became, when Nerida disappeared, saying she’d find some ceramics for us? In time, we understood the name behind the Sculpture Park.
A camel piñata! Made for the Florence Biennale we passed on the way to the Gazebo...
On our return from the gazebo walk we found Narida waiting with a bucket of cleaning materials. She had decided to join us and check out the condition of exhibits. Much mirth occurred when she sprayed under the arms of “The Runner”. We thought she was being overly concerned about body odour- instead it was wasps. It was fun having her along, out in the open on another magnificent day chattering about all in sundry and hearing of her late-in-life five year old son, farm dogs and cat. Approaching “Ceramic Break”, she explained how Miss Navajo Nation 2002, broke the first ceramic pot in an ongoing participatory artwork that in time will convert a natural rocky mound into an artificial hill of glazed bits of ceramics.
Nerida photographed us having a smashing time on Ceramic Break!
We moved on to Copeton Waters State Park having decided ‘whatever will be, will be’. We couldn’t stay put with so many places to see between now and the 11 June. (Dreadful weather forecast for the long weekend made the final decision) Climbing ever higher we drove through the Gwydir River valley passing magnificent farms, with green pastures, fat cattle and ploughed lands studded with cockatoos, very similar to NE Lincolnshire fields riddled with seas gulls after ploughing. No wonder they call this region New England! The State Park turned out to be first class with a wide variety of facilities – some newly established. The caravan park we settled in had informal sites within a lovely setting overlooking the dam- Best, were the numerous kangaroos grazing or sleeping, in all directions, around us – we called them Ruben, Rubbles, Ruby then every R name we could think of, because our grandson is Roo! Despite their curiosity they were always wary. Companionable Apostle-birds joined us, skulking around with their never ending chatter; grooming each other just as baboons do and even came a beggin’ inside the caravan. Such humorous feathered creatures that we easily obliged. They obviously knew which side their ‘bread was buttered’- as they literally scuttled along in his footsteps, when George went to shower.
“Follow me, I’m the Pied Piper”!
On opening the door next morning, eight of them swooped down upon George- they had obviously been waiting for him in the nearest tree – such a tumultuous reception brought other inquisitive birds to the scene. Soon our “Hungry Jacks” joined by crested pigeons, blue cheeked honey eaters, magpies and yellow eyed mynahs were congregated around the feet of St. George dispersing seeded rusk crumbs. Lea laughed, thinking of her severe ornithophobia friend Sally from Grimsby as we gloried in these avian pleasures. No ways could we tear ourselves away so soon, after breakfast we took a lovely hike through the bush back to the Park office to pay for another night. Low coughs, sudden thumps and flicking ears alerted us to the marsupial take-over of this resort. Up at reception we found the new playground lawns over-run by skippies- what inspiration for a cartoonist! It’s impossible to grow tired of observing kangaroos whether they are bounding around in their inimitable style or relaxing while joeys’ peer out at the world or have tangled legs sticking out of pouches – quite at odds with little bodies inside. The numbers of wagtails we saw perched on ears and backs pecking at things until shrugged away or youngsters with arched backs merrily scratching their chests as if this was the sole purpose of their weak looking front legs with long nailed paws, indicates the blissfully hours we whiled away!
An evening stroll alongside Copeton Waters.
It was a short hop to Inverell after leaving Copeton Dam located on the western slopes of the New England Range –the road continuing to take us through most picturesque and productive land. We are amazed to find secondary roads and highways in NSW traversed thus far, well worn, unevenly rough and patchy in many places as to verge on being dangerous - an hour on roads in this state enough for us! We camped in the Showgrounds for the night and discovered the Inverell surrounds are renowned for fossicking, particularly sapphires. Woolworths was our enticement – we had been told it had a bakery and we were desperate for in-house baked Four Seed Bread- the first since leaving Broken Hill. During the night we awoke shivering with bed linen so cold, it felt wet. ON went the heater and it stayed on until morning. We knew we weren’t being wimps when we found icicles round the taps and ice covering the tops of the spare wheels. Another hour took us 1400m above sea level to Glen Innes – out came our warmest jackets and beanies as we made a first stop at the Australian Standing Stones. A momentary thought flashed through our heads- Where were we? Scotland? Bitter weather, landscape and kilted Scotsman all indicated so!
A unique National Monument to Australia’s Celtic Pioneers comprising 40 granite monoliths - the Standing Stones.
Sort of like Stonehenge, something of Culloden came to mind as we briskly checked out the raised stones forming an ancient Celt calendar. In a chat with the Scotsman that began with a concern for his bare knees in such bitter cold he blithely informed it was now warmer than the minus 4 when he arose that morning! He was there to explain the significance of the layout, the origins and dimensions of the Standing Stones before sending us to a view point with a wall, similar to those memorial walls in cemeteries awaiting ashes to be “posted within” as Lea’s Dad was wont to say! Still many to be filled only in this case, meaningful ‘stones’ from the Isle of Man, Scottish & Irish castles, Cornwall’s Tintagel and Wales had been ornamentally “posted”. This was another town with wonderful heritage buildings, particularly unusual was St Josephs School (1870) and St Patricks Church. We weren’t prepared to linger long outside and made for Poplar Caravan Park. We decided it was time to place our electric blanket (bought in Perth in readiness for the rigors of winter) onto the bed in case of another minus 4 coming! Lousy wet weather and hail was forecast so while the sun shone and wind blew we laundered bed linen and prepared for the worst. We were snug as bugs that night with electric blanket and reverse cycle heater going full tilt. NO water next morning – caravan water tank, hosepipe water supply to Getaway and water bottles outside, ALL frozen solid. George, cussing furiously, had to boil up water to defrost 10m of hosepipe before he could roll it up and pack away. It was a shockingly cold. It must be minus 4 we thought.
Skeletal avenues of trees and hedges contrasting against lively red or burnt orange berried hawthorn bushes led the way up hills and down dales to Guyra at the ‘top of the range’ where we planned to overnight in the highest caravan park in Australia. Against its reputation of being a vibrant boom town – we found the opposite. One look around the caravan park had George declare it a dead end! We moved on to Armidale and settled in for an extra long Queen’s Birthday long weekend. Weather of great interest, we tuned in and were staggered to hear we were so wrong about our night in Glen Innes – It had been the coldest place in Australia - MINUS 9! Even the weatherman needed time to delve into record books!
Armidale boasts a reputation for being very cold straddled across the Great Dividing Range. Storm clouds were arriving and billowing around in readiness for the weekend. After a quick lunch, we took up the Park Owner’s recommendation and set off for Oxley Wild Rivers National Park, heavily rugged up for walking and keen to make the most of dry weather.
Breathtaking scenery around Dangars Falls with its 183m plunge into the gorge of the Salisbury Waters
Cinema! Newly released “Oranges and Sunshine” showing... We delightedly went off to see the horrific and moving true story of the mass deportation of a 100,000 young children from England into damaging Institutional Care in Australia under a shocking cloud of false records and abuse, concealed from public eye for decades. Fairbridge Foundation behind many of these child migrants from 1938 to early 1970’s had Lea wondering whether much the same may have happened in Rhodesia’s Kingsley Fairbridge Homes.
Arrangements had been made to travel east of Armidale along the scenic Waterfall Way down to Dorrigo to spend Saturday- considered the best bet for a very wet weekend, with Lieske Cogill. Her mother, Jean van Bergen, lived to 101 years and first came into the Begg Family lives when she taught George’s eldest brother in KG 2 back in 1942. A friendship developed between the Begg and van Bergen families as they lived in the same street in Waterkloof, Pretoria. It continued with annual letters over the decades. When Lea came to pack up her father-in-law’s room at Centenary Men’s Home in 1991 she found unopened letters – a couple from Jean van Bergen. She wrote to Jean explaining the lack of acknowledgement and old man George’s move to a frail care home. With much in common, a friendship developed between Lea and Jean. A flow of letters continued long after George senior’s death in 1992. On a visit to Sydney in December 1994 we went to meet Jean, a dynamic 90 year old lady, with a spirited interest in everything and met her daughter Lieske. In years to come, with Jean becoming frail and increasingly dependent on her daughter, Lieske picked up the correspondence with Lea and it continued after Jean’s death in 2005. Here we were, meeting up in Dorrigo adding a third generation to the friendship on meeting Lieske’s second daughter, Dorothea.
The Cogill/ Begg gathering in their cosy Dorrigo home joined by dog Max!
Our day with Lieske and Dorothea spun by, aware of swirling mists outside and a mountain road ahead we reluctantly dragged ourselves homewards, keen to be back before dark. Passing through Ebor in the Guy Fawkes National Park ( how did that name come about!) we couldn’t resist a quick leg stretch to see Ebor Falls as they were just 600m off the main road. Upper and Lower Falls with a 700m escarpment walk between the two view-points was perfect for a vigorous walk to warm up. Bouts of rain and thick mist followed by darkness intercepted our passage home. True to forecast, rain kept coming in intervals from thereon, sodden ground and our overcast misty skies our lot. Thankfully no hail as expected or minus temperatures!
An absolute bonus - sister Leecy, in Coffs Harbour for the long weekend, detoured home to Central Coast via Dorrigo Mountain Pass to us, in Armidale, despite the wild weather. This enabled us to meet Chris, the special man in her life these past eight months, as we shared a quick lunch in Getaway. Brief as it was, it made our day. All the more remarkable considering mudslides and water over the road closed Dorrigo Mountain, according to the evening news. Rain kept falling throughout the night putting us in two minds whether to stay or go. The thought of hitching up in the slush and wet far from appealing yet a third day of confinement not on. We could only hope we’d find a drier place. Windscreen wipers flying back and forth, Uralla and Bendemeer were soon left for a brighter horizon taking us through undulating wide pastures of golden grass with wonderful clumps of granite boulders – we had no idea these parts of NSW were so attractive. The steep decline of Moonbi Mountain with emergency sand traps reminded us why we did not want to cross the Great Divide if we could possibly help it.
Entry into Tamworth, Australia’s Country Music Capital disappointed us- it somehow lacked the country town feel we had envisioned in our heads over the years. We passed two caravan parks too close to the main road and discounted the third, after George had taken a good walk round the split grounds. The Visitor Information Centre was nearby and within it, Walk a Country Mile Interpretive Exhibit, we popped in there and thoroughly lost ourselves over a couple of hours in the historic line up of Country Singers produced by Australia – many we have grown to love and others we knew nothing about yet recognised their songs! One caravan park remained- out on the Sydney road. Although it was not the direction we wanted, it seemed many of Tamworth’s attractions were out that way. We easily found City Lights Caravan Park- so named as Tamworth was the first in the Southern Hemisphere to have electric street lighting! We chose a site at the back with a lovely rural feel, overlooking a little farm dam with cattle and horses grazing the other side. It was late in the day and we were keen to go and see The Regional Entertainment Centre, easily seating 50,000 odd people each January for the Annual Country Music Awards of Australia. It was all locked up. Other than gain a measure of its size, we could only walk amongst the rocks near the entrance and read plaques honouring top artists for achievements. The sprawling stretches of hotels, motels, inns, youth hostels and boutique guest houses to B&B’s seemed so bleak and empty. A set-up reminiscent of Memphis yet devoid of people – who make or break atmosphere! As for the Australian Equine and Livestock Events Centre, we were able to take a peek inside this massive modern looking structure as clean-up was in progress. Bad TIMING, we had just missed a long weekend event and looking down at the arena, we knew we’d loved to have attended any highly competitive performance here especially camp-drafting or showjumping. A drive down the main street of Tamworth redeemed itself with its colourful autumn leaves just beginning to drop from the fine avenue of trees. Reversing back into angled parking catches us by surprise time and again in many towns around NSW.
Recently the Head of Tourism said Australians had outgrown a need to have BIG everything attractions. Dull day, poor lighting, nevertheless the BIG Golden Guitar proves we’ve been to Tamworth!
The mid-coast towns in north NSW have been evacuated and the main highway cut off by flood waters. Throughout the night the rain kept falling and we were constantly aware of heavy traffic forced to use New England Highway as access between Sydney and Brisbane. We moved on to Manilla grateful we had managed to stay on the edge and not within seriously flooded areas. We were drawn to Manilla as Harry Burrell had lived here while doing his groundbreaking research on platypus along the Namoi and MacDonald rivers during the early part of the twentieth century. Although Harry wasn’t a scientist, he was a man of many parts running Burrell’s Busy Bazaar (still in existence in the main street) besides being a researcher, film maker, photographer and entertainer. Lea had to forego being drawn in Burrell’s Bazaar as George was well ahead and ready to visit Royce Cottage, housing Manilla’s heritage museum. We had come to see Burrell Platypusary, a device H.B. designed in 1910 for transporting platypus to America. We paid our dollars only to find that particular room closed- our dismay visible enough to have the volunteer guide scuttle off and return with the Curator who opened it up and apologetically cleared passage through crates and boxes to the Platypusary!
The nature of their work had led Keith and Colleen to train as paragliders hence its relevance as a sport to us. Mount Borah, overlooking wide spaces of farmland earned Manilla an international reputation as a perfect location for aero-sport. Frequent rising thermals (currents of warm air) combined with the geography of Mt Borah make it one of the best launch sites in the world, allowing pilots to take off in almost any direction. In 2007, Manilla hosted the World Paragliding Championship. The first time the event had ever been held outside Europe. Our awareness of Mt Borah arose when we chanced to see a “Lucky to be Alive” segment on TV about the drama that ensued during these World Championships. Blighted on a training prior to competition, by a double calamity! The death of a Chinese competitor and the harrowing tale of a female competitor- both sucked into the updraft of a thunder cloud. The Chinaman either suffocated or froze to death - his body eventually found near Bingara. The German woman miraculously survived despite rising into the heavens at the height of a cruising Boeing 747. They were very experienced paragliders. Enquiring how to reach Mt Borah, we discovered thick cloud and road closure would prevent us seeing or getting there. We retired to a pretty caravan site close to the Namoi River. Shortly before dusk we took a walk along the river hoping for a sighting of platypus. The river was running far too strongly for any chance.
Eight days later, out came the sun - what a difference that makes! Although we knew we’d probably miss the ‘doona-like’ cloud covering keeping temperatures from dropping below minus at night. We arrived at Lake Keepit, stayed for two nights, promptly putting all the damp clothing into the laundry tub. Thirty kilometres from Gunnedah we saw our first road sign cautioning us to koalas crossing – we were on our way to the self proclaimed capital of koalas. Gunnedah Shire nurtures koala colonies and school children are brought up respecting these creatures sleeping in school ground eucalypts. Tree corridors further encourage safe passage in and around town. Our eyes rolled upwards with necks stuck in craned position scanning treetops in the hopes of a ‘hairy burl’ throughout our time in the Gunnedah shire. The Visitors Centre told us where to find popular hang-outs which included the only caravan park in town. We unhitched there and set off to explore – took in the Saturday market; went up to Porcupine Lookout with its panoramic vistas across one of Australia’s richest agricultural regions- the Liverpool plains edged with cone shaped volcanic outcrops in the distance. In spite of the 360⁰ view we could see no sign of coal mines. The only indication this was an important mining town was a statue we’d seen earlier in the day at the market, depicting its significance. Two strike actions took place in Gunnedah- the more remarkable one, in our minds being March 1983 when 14 Stay-Down miners (7 of whom hadn’t been sacked) stayed down the mine for 56 days and won back the jobs of 91 retrenched miners. From Porcupine Lookout we took the Bindea Walking Track and struck lucky - ONE KOALA!
LOOK! A Koala!
There’s much agitation, excitement and talk.
And manifestations of glee.
We’ve found a koala ensconced in the fork
Of a branch near the top of a tree!
Meanwhile, the koala ignores all the fuss.
He sits there, and sits there some more.
We gape at him, and he glares at us.
Is it him, us, or each, who’s a bore?
This poem by Cole Thurney and Merron Cullum said it all! Aside from the ‘hunt’ for koalas the ‘Poets Drive’ added another pleasurable dimension to our afternoon. Beginning with Dorothea Mackellar (1885-1968) an Australia writer said to have been particularly inspired by time spent around Gunnedah to pen ‘My Country’ during a spell in England, feeling homesick. This iconic poem found immortal place within many Australian hearts and likewise ours, especially these lines which so easily course through our minds on many an occasion, as we roam Australia.
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding plains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror –
The wide brown land for me”
Map orienteering, seeking out poems around Gunnedah became a mixture of challenge and frustration- sometimes the plaque so small as to be easily missed or not there at all. In our search, we learnt much about the cultural and natural history of the area while providing good physical and mental exercise for our grey matter!
How’s this for extra-sensory perception? Our nomadic friends Al and Kerry Cushan phoned the very night we were in Gunnedah, to check our whereabouts! As this was their ‘home territory’, we had literally spoken about them on approaching Gunnedah. George and Alston have often discussed a small factory warehouse, Al owns in Gunnedah. It was up for sale when we met them in Maroochydore, May 2010. The Namoi River restricts sale possibilities and the East Coast floods December/January, had Cushan’s return to safeguard the property as it falls into a 1:20 year flood zone. They parked their caravan inside to watch and waiting... We were able to pinpoint the street immediately as we had noticed a Flood Post marking water levels over the years, close to the caravan park. Pulling-out next morning, we took the warehouse road for closer scrutiny, as we headed west towards Coonabarabran. We stopped at Waterways Wildlife Park on the Oxley Highway as the Cushan’s had told us their ex-neighbours, Nancy and Col Small had set up this wildlife refuge on ten acres of bushland and “what Nancy didn’t know about Koalas, wasn’t worth knowing”.
One, of many grey headed volunteers industriously busy around the place took us to the koala enclosure. En route we learnt Nancy cannot say “no” to any wildlife creature needing a home hence there are plenty of good sized enclosures with birds, reptiles, marsupials and dingoes to see. As for Col, he can’t say “no” to old “landys” – there were rows of them in different states of decay!
Up close and personal was special.
We learnt much from the volunteer sweeping up poop! So much more is known about Koalas compared to the years 1995-97 when Lea was teaching and koalas were considered unable to adapt; their eating habits restricted to the leaves of two species of eucalypt and their water requirements derived from leaf material only. Knowledge has moved on- they do drink water. White Box, Bimble Box, Yellow Box and River Red Gum are all favourites for the Gunnedah population of koalas and a different suite of preferred species occurs in other climatic regions where koalas occur. Recalling how her young pupils delighted in the fact that koalas weaned their young with ‘runny poo’ – it was interesting to hear how disgusted a photographer had been to capture a feeding youngster and find its mouth smeared with, to put it politely - ‘vegemite’!
SIX DOLLARS! Power, water, clean ablution block, bush views and galahs for company were an absolute bargain for a night in Mullaley behind the Post Office Hotel. Further down the road we came into Coonabarabran, immediately taking up a site in John Oxley Caravan Park and walking the length of town where we came across Diprotodon, the largest known wombat to roam Australia. A fine specimen that came to light at nearby Tambar Springs in 1979, when a young Jillaroo discovered a piece of a large fossilized skull sticking out of a creek bank. The dramatic mountain ranges of Warrumbungle National Park lured us further west next day. A scenic 36km along a winding, undulating road within a landscape of thickly forested ridges, barren spires and domes dating back to volcanic activity some 13 million years ago, an area with many contrasts for us to admire. In many places along the road we saw small, private observatories set in yards and we continued to have fleeting sightings of Siding Spring Observatory, large and prominent on a mountain top, first noticed en route to Coonabarabran. This is Australia’s largest optical astronomy research centre on the edge of Warrumbungle National Park, with a steep drive not suitable for caravans had us continue into the park, thinking we’d return in the afternoon. That was not to be as thick cloud billowed in and rain followed. Fortunately we were able to take a few walks during the morning, one up to Whitegum Lookout which gave us a wonderful overview of Warrumbungle Ranges from Crater Bluff in the south, moving northwards to a distinctive Belougery Spire, Breadknife and then the highest point Mount Exmouth and Belougery Split Rock. These intriguing formations appropriately named by the Aborigine as Crooked Mountains.
Confined to ‘Getaway’ in the course of the afternoon by a cold air mass with plunging temperature and rain, our thoughts again turned to the Chilean Ash Cloud arriving in the jet-stream above us. It’s been twice around the globe! Safety issues grounding air traffic in the SE of Australia for the second time in a fortnight. The unprecedented spate of volcanic eruptions interfering with air-traffic worldwide seems to be an unparalleled phenomenon in our life time. Sydney Airport announced its closure over the next 48 hours which may well disrupt sister Holly’s scheduled arrival on the 22 June from Cape Town. Should the ash continues to ground flights across Australia it may further jeopardise the flights of Talya, Saxon, Lil Holly and Carmen flying from Perth to attend their Aunt’s 60th celebrations too. The evening news reported our frontal system dropping snow over the Western Tablelands – where we are headed! It also pushed the ash cloud through in 24 hours and Holly arrived safely.
COO-EE! This is a well recognised Australian bush call to attract attention or someone within hailing distance so we wondered about a sign claiming Gilgandra as the ‘Coo-ee’ country town. Almost immediately a pretty caravan park close to the Castlereagh River in park like surrounds had us turning in without further thought to coo-ee! The leg out of Warrumbungle National Park had been easier than going in, weather had cleared and having travelled further than we’d intended we were content to spend a quiet afternoon in Gilgandra. Next morning, en route for Dubbo we stopped at the Gilgandra Coo-ee Heritage Centre and became absorbed in First World War history. Bill Hitchin of Gilgandra began a ‘snowballing’ recruitment march of 26 local men for Sydney, leaving Gilgandra’s main street on the 10 October 1915. Over the next three weeks of marching from town to town, receiving the best of country hospitality - banquet style each night, listening to speech after speech encouraging men to join the ranks of what was quickly dubbed the Coo-ee March. This teetotal column followed the example of King George V who’d pledged not to touch a drop until the War was over. Incredible peer pressure to do ‘your duty’ with those not joining up labelled “shirkers’. Bill Hitchin had hoped to gather up 320 fit men before reaching Sydney. He arrived with 351 volunteers and declared the Coo-ee March a success. Only 263 passed muster into the army and these poor recruits aptly nicknamed ‘Marmalades’ were about to receive jolts to their systems - army diet was tea with bread and marmalade! Worse – thanks to their Coo-ee March reputation they were invited to an upcoming Allies Day Carnival as the star event, given no breakfast and marched all day... Hardly fair on well fed country blokes but no doubt good training for the ghastly rigors ahead of them – sadly, many never returned home.
On resuming our journey we found the blue skies gone and before long drizzle set in. This made us twitchy and we decided Dubbo, as a big city, was likely to have caravan repairers. The leak we thought had been repaired reappeared overnight in the Warrumbungle and we didn’t fancy leaving the caravan ‘unattended’ for two weeks. We tracked down two places- both too busy and unable to help for at least another week. Both were quick to add that ‘seepage leaks’ prove particularly difficult to locate. This didn’t help our frame of mind as we went in search of a caravan park for the night. Dubbo is better known as the location for Taronga Western Plains Zoo and encountering animals from around the globe especially African beasts which held little interest for us. By the time we had gone from one end of the city to the other, peeped in at Old Dubbo Gaol before deciding the fee to time ratio wasn’t worthwhile, we happily returned to the warmth of Getaway. We also realised we were feeling rushed by our intention to reach the Blue Mountains before the end of June. Find storage for the caravan and drive down to Parramatta for the birthday celebrations. Leecy and Sheldon imploring us to stay with them in Killcare added further pressure. We made new plans giving us two weeks all up, with family.
Thick fog hung over Dubbo as we pulled out westwards where thankfully, skies were clear. Having listened to farming reports over the car radio for weeks and seen much on TV about the mouse plague in central NSW where densities of 8,000 mice per hectare have been reached; we couldn’t help scanning agricultural fields for any signs, especially keen to see farmers applying MOUSE-OFF! A product name that caught our imagination and tickled us no end; particularly as suppliers were left with empty shelves at the height of the planting season and the manufacturer unable to meet demand. Earlier this month Dubbo farmers reported being forced to replant canola fields as mice were eating the seed as fast as they sowed. We couldn’t help imaging their despair and sheer frustration, sighting seething masses of mice under hay bales and seed packets with no means of getting them to “MOUSE-OFF”! Humour was soon wiped from our faces with all the heavy traffic on the road, principally road train impatient to overtake us.
Nearing Parkes we took a break at “The Dish” – where a little curiosity takes you a long way...
We spent a good hour at the CSIRO Parkes Observatory Visitors Centre – a world leading radio astronomy research facility with a giant 64 metre “dish” used in the film “The Dish” and a radio telescope that has discovered more pulsars than all the other radio telescopes in the world collectively! Opened in 1964, Parkes Observatory played a supporting role in some of the most significant space missions in history. Most importantly, the Moon Walk in July 1969. We mention this as we have two moonwalk conspiracy believers in the family! Parkes also hosts growing numbers of Elvis impersonators descending upon the town every January for their Elvis Festival and there is an Elvis Museum but we’ve been to ‘Gracelands’ – and doubted it could match that. On this ‘zag’ we’d decided not to go as far west as Condobolin, easily brushing aside Utes in the Paddock considering it nothing more than a muster for Holden Utes. We found ourselves a ‘home’ in the Parkes showground for the night and during lunch hour, Lea’s eyes alighted on a little article in a weekly paper revealing Utes in the Paddock as a unique outdoor gallery. The suggestion of an afternoon ride out to Ootha, rebuffed as too far. Overnight the ‘gallery’ subconsciously niggled at Lea.
As a beautiful, crisp day dawned we took another look at our road map. It was possible to loop back along the Lachlan River to Forbes from Ootha. We sprang into action and set off to find the Holden Utes! Barely out of Parkes, we found ourselves enveloped in a mist George believed to be a Lachlan valley temperature inversion that would soon burn off. The fog grew thicker as 70 kms clicked over. It was more wide spread than we could have imagined. George Crum’s music “Voice of the Whale’ followed by “Mystic Chord” played over the radio adding eerily to the morning’s strange atmosphere and our growing misgivings of going out of our way, unable to ‘see’, on such an unexpectedly bleak morning. Following a sign, we took a short section of dirt through farmland before coming across a high fence alongside the road, behind which, swathed in swirling mists were 18 Utes in a paddock. The melodic whistles of a butcher bird and the sombre caws of a crow provided suitable sound track, while the many eyes of sheep, from the opposite side of the road watched our every move.
We spent ages pacing up and down the fence enjoying all the little idiosyncrasies artists develop within their work and when we were done, the noise of a tractor drew our attention back to the sheep. Amongst the large flock we noticed black headed Persians and dorpers – a sudden thrill to recognise sheep from our birthplace! We stood long moments visually enjoying this pastoral scene with tractor moving hay bales. As we began wandering back to the rig, we realized the amazingly smart looking farmer wearing a beige akubra had left the tractor, already over the fence coming towards us. Another special memory to the day – was our chat together, touching on many subjects until suddenly the fog lifted and George dashed to take another photo.
Our narrow strip road took us through more beautiful farming land displaying more sheep out in the tawny gold meadows, than we ever saw in New Zealand. Other views gave us horses and cattle while rolling hills of newly germinated canola fields appeared like shot silk with the green against the reddish soil, as we trundled along the Lachlan River towards Forbes – absolutely glorious. In a laundry (amazing what gems of literature turn up there!) we’d come across a Drive Tour pamphlet tracing the life of Ben Hall, a Bushranger. Not as innocuous as its sounds – for bushranger read highwayman! Australians seem to develop an empathetic bond with their criminals judging them to be like Robin Hood. We fancied learning more of Ben Hall although we’d be tracing his life backwards as a result of coming from Ootha instead of Parkes. While camping alone the young bushranger’s life came to a violent end in a spot not far off the road we were travelling. We decided against taking the dirt road into the shooting site, with a caravan. On the edge of Forbes, we halted outside the cemetery to see Ben Hall’s grave and that of Ned Kelly’s sister, nearby.
One reprobate overlooks another- Even in death Ben Hall was behind bars and locked up!
At Forbes Information Centre we visited the Ben Hall Room full of photos and other memorabilia before watching a 30 minute ABC film production of Ben Hall. As a result we gave Forbes Historical Museum a pass as we weren’t prepared to sit around waiting for its afternoon opening time and moved on to Eugowra, along another of the less travelled roads winding through more of picturesque, rural NSW. On the eastern side of Eugowra we stopped at Escort Rock, the site of Australia’s largest armed gold robbery. It was here in 1862, a gang of bushrangers including Ben Hall robbed an escort coach on its way from Forbes to Bathurst. So began Ben’s crime spree that was to write him into Australian History.
A perfect site for an ambush!
Late afternoon we drew into Cudal and took one of the two awkward drive-thru sites in a tiny caravan park whose permanent residents took up the back row. The following day we almost completed a circular drive that had begun in Dubbo. While on a larger scale, we had virtually completed a massive loop beginning back in Cobar. We continued along our back road until we reached Banjo Patterson’s Way outside Malong. This became an entertaining road full of ups and downs as we gently climbed made our way to Cumnock and onwards. First we remarked on a brightly coloured kangaroo on a bicycle. Then we noticed a frilled lizard on a variation of a bike followed by a large pink elephant holding a comparatively minute bike in his trunk. There after our eyes were peeled for animals on bikes! Unfortunately some we passed too fast, others had no safe place to stop on a narrow road and when we found some in the town the position of the sun made them unsuitable subjects. Cumnock’s town motto ‘come ride with us’ was emphasised by all sizes of bicycles incorporated into letter boxes to home fences while out of town little ‘monkey’ bikes dangled off a branch, in lone trees along the way. An annual bicycle ride is held every July from Wellington passing through Yeoval to Cumnock and landowners with an artistic flair have created animals on bikes along the route – we loved the snakes and their bikes suitably elongated!
GOT IT! A stylised kangaroo on a bike outside a shearing shed en route to Yeoval.
Driving out of Yeoval, a small yet very busy park with cars parked haphazardly in the vicinity had us slow curiously- it was Banjo Patterson Park; breakfast obviously on the go, rows of motor bikes and general socializing going on. We couldn’t stop safely and in scratching around amongst our brochures we discovered a Mulga Bill Festival is held to celebrate Banjo Patterson’s childhood spent in Yeoval every July. Perhaps we’d just missed a Sunday morning celebration of another of Australia’s most reputable and much loved bush-poets. Arriving in Wellington we turned southwards to Burrendong State Dam. We took three nights on top of a hill overlooking the pretty body of water and the rip-rap dam wall. For all these different impoundments we have found little uniformity in the way they are managed or laid out. Sites at this State Dam are predominantly old caravans with permanent extensions strongly indicating holiday homes; some guest cabins take up prime positions along one crest, while a narrow strip provided for caravan visitors gives a good view from sloping land! Fortunately we were able to set ourselves up in the best position possible, being the only visitors. The shabby ablution block here, have showers requiring 20c for 3 minutes of hot water which does not sit well with Lea as not only does ‘hot’ end abruptly, wintery weather further shortens the time limit making showering another seasonal difficulty to contend with.
Cold nights and glorious days followed, with two days to comfortably prepare ourselves for the two weeks away. We were leaving the caravan stored in the large yard behind Burrendong workshop for one dollar a day. George, always keen to be on top of jobs was out relatively early, washing down the powdery dust that so easily accumulates around our rig. Lea, sorted the laundry before she began digging out the things required for the time away plus Christmas presents she was keen to wrap on the chance space was available in family suitcases. A sodden pair of socks and damp shoes were the first to alarm Lea. Had water got into her shoe cupboard as George cleaned the back of the van- impossible! Domestics changed as we checked both low cupboards and carried out bedside mats. Could it be the result of simple condensation? Worse, a bag of clothes under the bed were soaking wet. Anxiety grew as we found moisture seeping into much of what we kept stored there. Here was a lesson to learn... Travelling in winter brings a new suite of problems. Soon the rocks outside our caravan were draped with drying paperwork, mats, cardboard boxes and shoes. Underway, in a laundry tub, the pile of wet clothing put us further behind. Eventually we lined the storage space beneath our bed with plastic and ruthlessly sorted through everything before repacking on raised surfaces to prevent absorption of any further condensation. By the time we were almost back to normal, it was well past lunchtime and George was keen to walk to the Burrendong Botanic Garden and Arboretum covering some 164 hectares across the hillsides, a couple of kilometres away. Lea preferred to stay, bring in the laundry in due course and catch up on time lost by the day’s turn of events. Three hours later George returned from his long walk beaming, as a result of a most successful outing. His enthusiasm settled on Fern Gully; horribly eroded until it was transformed into the most astounding exhibit of rainforest plants: tree ferns, palms, lilies and epiphytes, thanks to the dedicated work of volunteers suspending a thatched canopy over 3 acres along the gully thereby creating an artificial micro-climate. Topping his afternoon was an echidna literally bumbling its way towards George. Many people have never come across an echidna in the wild yet George is always most fortunate.
Next day while George cleaned out Skiv, a party of choughs arrived and their excited squeaks and wheezes soon attracted apostle birds – thereafter, all regularly called at the ‘van for handouts! Preparations for departure completed, a silent prayer for no rain, hail or snow while our caravan is left alone in a field, we set off in Skiv feeling as if we were going on a holiday! Retracing our way back to Wellington we turned north-east onto a minor road to Gulgong. We’d deliberately chosen to see Gulgong as a friendly camper at Copeton Dam had told us not to miss the little town featured on a ten dollar note. It may have been on old notes as we have only seen A.B. ‘Banjo’ Patterson’s portrait on blue notes. However, the heritage town celebrates the life of Henry Lawson. Born on the Grenfell goldfields, his parents brought him to the Gulgong/ Mudgee area as a toddler. Gulgong, a former goldmining town was the setting for many of his poems. His imaging in poetry and prose well reflects the Australian experiences with deep integrity that rings deeply within the soul of the nation. We took a break at the Henry Lawson Centre housed in an old Salvation Army Hall close to Mayne Street and soon realised we knew nothing of poor Henry but the gloss! Copies of Ten Dollar notes were everywhere and some places like TEN DOLLAR TOWN Motel had this written across their buildings. We felt as if we’d stepped into another era as Mayne Street’s town facade had barely changed since the early 1900’s. A portrait of Henry Lawson with a view of Gulgong was an earlier ten dollar decoration! Eye on the time with the mounting excitement of our ultimate destination - Killcare, soon had us back on the road making for the Golden Highway at Cassilis, passing through unexpected coal mining towns – how surprising to find them fitting pleasantly into the bountiful landscape. Another stop at ‘The Hut’ in Merriwa with its recycled corrugated iron art work and wonderful collection of ancient letterboxes plus a barn sized display of arts, crafts and local produce distracted us – we used up further time walking the aisles seeing everything instead of having our lunch and ended up eating our sandwich on the move. Travelling down the Great Divide was equally a pleasure – particularly in the Upper Hunter Valley as we passed magnificent horse corrals that oozed wealth, never seen before. We understood the Hunter Valley to be a wine growing region but this upper end seemed cattle and dominant horse land with a tiny scattering of vine. However, at some point, descending rapidly towards the coast we almost believed we were in a Capetonian scene of “How Green was my Valley”, the leafless vineyards adding another texture with their woven lines to the green landscape. Roads were wet from passing rains ahead and by the time we left the Golden Highway for Broke, we needed intermittent windscreen wipers for the beautiful scenery twisting through the mountains. The narrow road hovering above a river where an error of judgment would easily have a car hurtling down into the drink! Dusk fell fast on approaching The Pacific Highway to Gosford; wet roads and evening traffic jams not our idea of fun, as we crawled our way to Killcare.
JOY was arriving safely at destination and joining the ever gathering family for time together and celebrations.
JOY was arriving safely at destination and joining the ever gathering family for time together and celebrations.
