Galloping Home

Like a horse headed for home, once we turned back our ears pricked upright and we were off and galloping. From Hay it was a blur of towns; Balranald (where the bakery does an exceptional cinnamon iced loaf), through Mildura to Renmark.

At Plushs Point, a free camp on the banks of the mighty Murray, just outside Renmark, we were perplexed by what appeared to be a lost boys camp of small tents, surrounded by the detritus of odd socks, dirty saucepans and piles of oranges, but no inhabitants. Was this some Boy Scout or high school outdoor ed camp with the occupants out canoeing or hiking. The presence of the occasional empty beer carton mitigated against this theory, unless Scouting has changed dramatically since my day. Another mystery was the absence of grey nomad rigs that usually populate any decent free camp.

Part of the mystery was solved at sundown when a parade of battered vans, old station wagons and the occasional tired 4WD, driven by feral haired, beanie and fair isle jumper clad, backpackers streamed into camp. Of course, the fruit picking backpacker contingent. Still didn't explain the absence of grey nomads but perhaps they avoid the backpackers?

From Renmark we headed across South Australia via Berri, Morgan, Burra and up to Crystal Brook where they conveniently provide an overnight camp in the middle of town. We returned the favour by eating at the local pub and next morning we were off again, through Port Pirie, Port Augusta and all the way to Ceduna by nightfall.

From Ceduna it was back onto the Nullarbor with an overnighter just over the WA border. Next morning, from about Mundrabilla onward it was pissing with rain. They must've got half their annual rainfall that day because it was pretty constant so even had we wanted to there wouldn't have been much point in stopping. We made it all the way over the Nullarbor and camped just south of Norseman.

Next morning saw us up at sparrows and heading into Esperance where we stopped for a "big breakfast" before hitting the road again. Just past Ravensthorpe we stopped to pay our respects at the newly created Kokanerup Memorial to the one major massacre that occurred on the South Coast. The 1870 killings on the Phillips River. Back in the car again we were home in Albany by nightfall, 8 days after leaving Newcastle.

Just under 13,000kms in 3 months. The conclusion has been a bit abrupt but I guess circumstances create outcomes. At this stage this blog will go quiet for a while but I do intend to continue with Edward's trip once circumstances allow it. Next step will be to return to Sydney and travel by sea back to Albany and then, who knows when, continue on to Europe. Stay tuned!

Day Out at Dubbo Zoo

From Newcastle we headed back out through the Hunter Valley and had one last stop for morning tea at Denman to say goodbye. From there we followed the Golden Hwy through Merriwa and Cassilis. This is a beautiful road which winds its way through rolling hills and sharp rocky scarps that rear up alongside the track, It wasn't hard to visualize this country in Edward's time. Parts of it still seem rugged and foreboding today.

We camped at Dunedoo for no other reason than the name. While it is believed to be the local Aboriginal name for swans, it has a splendidly Aussie ring to it and every Australian should visit at some time in their life. Don't expect anything apart from the name though.

Next day we decided to visit the open range zoo at Dubbo. On 300 or so hectares, it makes a change from cramped zoos that exist elsewhere. The animals are in enclosures that in many instances are acres in size and you can either drive, cycle or walk the 6 kilometre route that runs between them, There are hippos, rhinos, tigers, elephants, monkeys and best of all Galapagos tortoises.

Matilda declares Galapagos  Tortoises fascinating.

However, the highlight of the day was witnessing an excellent ram raider in the making at the snack kiosk. While ordering a coffee at the counter, a tyke of about 4 made a flying leap past me up onto the counter, snaffled a bag of Smiths Crisps and then took off at high speed through the crowd with his beleagured mum in hot pursuit. Now I'm not sure if mum was a psych student carrying out a bizarrely unwise experiment, but it appeared that the little chaps name was "Bogan" because she was yelling "Bogan, stop. Bring them back Bogan."

Was mum trying to establish whether by calling him Bogan she could create a self fulfilling prophecy? If so, it seemed to be working fabulously. Eventually Bogan was apprehended and relieved of his booty. Probably needs some adjustment to his Ritalin dosage.

After an overnight roadside stop just north of Parkes we called in to the CSIRO radio telescope and had breakfast at the cafe there. Despite extensive interpretive signage I'm still not sure that I fully understand how the thing works but it was impressive and I couldn't help but wonder what Edward would've made of it all. I was pretty sure I could feel the space rays boring into my brain, telling me that I must join the robot army on  a mission of destruction but Trish said I was just imagining it.

The lovely Forbes Town Square. With most of the towns public buildings, plus a pub and several shops, facing onto it, its probably the nicest town focal point I've seen in Australia. 

From there we drove on down the Newell Hwy through Forbes which must have the prettiest Town Square in the country and eventually camped for the night at the Hay Caravan Park,

Changing Plans

My mother is 91 and my father is just shy of that particular landmark. When I started this trip they were both living independently in their own home. While they both had limitations, their abilities were complementary and what one couldn't do, the other could, so things usually went pretty well.

However, a few weeks after we left, dad had a couple of nasty falls that landed him in hospital and it was there assessed that a return home was probably not going to be a good idea. While mum has been coping at home it has been largely due to support from my son Tanwyn and his wife Kristal who live nearby. However, they both have responsible jobs and an active 2 year old toddler to deal with so it has been a big responsibility for them.

I had been contemplating interrupting my trip to return home and help out by staying with mum until more permanent care arrangements could be made. Dad looks like being admitted to a place not far from their home and ideally in time mum can go there too but when that can happen is not clear.

Combine this with the fact that our stay with my brother Tristram and his wife Angie in Newcastle reminded us how little we like manoeuvring through densely populated urban areas, especially with a caravan in tow. (How I detest traffic lights and having to hunt for parking, especially when you will probably have to pay for the spot you finally locate!)

Newcastle ends the land based part of Edward's route and from here on he called in by P&O steamer to the cities of Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide, before his final port of call in Australia, King Georges Sound. While we had intended to drive to each of these cities. I had also thought of visiting them on one of the P&O cruises that follow this route today. This would give a better sense of the trip Edward made and also mean that in each city we wouldn't have the responsibility of a car, let alone a caravan.

After a little contemplation we came to the conclusion that this latter was a better option and long story short, we are now heading home. We will drop the caravan off in Albany, take care of a few things there, and then head up to Perth to stay with mum until the long term situation for her and dad can be stabilised. I think its fair to say that live ancestors take precedent over dead ones!

The End of the Overland Trek

Having just spent a couple of days in the grip of a vicious flu-like lurgy, I have a new sympathy for those who got sick 160 years ago. With a very rapid onset, I went from happily canoeing the Hunter River on Monday afternoon to shivering with flu aches by midnight. Today we can ameliorate the worst of such symptoms with easily available Cold & Flu tablets, plus I was warm and dry in my brothers house but I couldn't help contemplating what it must've been like for previous sufferers. In the case of the original Australians with no immunities to such illness, the end was often fatal but likewise for Europeans, camped in a cold, damp, smoky shepherds hut, it would have been miserable at the very least.

Edward spent several days at Merton, resting and reshoing his horses before setting off with Denny down river towards Maitland. At Jerry's Plains they were rejoined by Smith who had had a few days off visiting his family. From Merton to Jerry's Plains now there is a long belt of coal mines although the road is still lined with prettily maintained horse studs. It took 2 days to reach Maitland where Edward boarded the fine new steamboat Coleroy, taking with me as many of the horses I could procure berths for and leaving Smith to follow with the rest on the morrow. 

A picture of the Collaroy held in the State Library of NSW. Edward was often a little slack in his editing, perhaps because he was writing from memory a while after the event, and appears to misspell various names. The Collaroy was new when Edward sailed on it and went aground in 1881 in the area that now bears its name, just north of Sydney. 

The Collaroy set off at sunrise and despite having to wait for the tide at the mouth of the river, they were in Sydney by about 10pm that day. Edward was singularly unimpressed however, when the crew, in the spirit of reckless, unthinking insubordination which has prevailed amongst men of this class since the discovery of the gold mines, refused to work, on the plea that it was too late. I imagine Gina Rinehart would love to have Edward to dinner. They'd have so much to talk about. Eventually after much expostulation on the part of the captain they did agree to allow the landing of the horses so they could be stabled and fed.

The greater Newcastle area now extends pretty well up to Maitland, the whole area being an urban conurbation of well over a million people. Central Maitland has some spectacular late 19th century buildings as does Newcastle. Edward probably wouldn't recognise either city now but he'd be impressed. I canoed from Maitland to Morpeth, a delightful paddle. Morpeth is a pretty little town that Edward might recognise because development has passed it by. It is now one of those period towns that appears to make its living from eating establishments, second hand/antique/junk shops and the kind of shops that cater to ladies who lunch.

The river has been "stabilised" with massive loads of stone lining the banks and seems too shallow now for any large vessel. Even my canoe grounded a couple of times in inches of water and I had to look for deeper channels through. Down closer to the mouth, it is just a dirty looking channel through mangrove swamps.

Don't Undermine Us

Whatever existed at Bengalla in Edward's time has now disappeared into a whacking great hole in the ground. From Denman down the Hunter, its all coal mines and the population appears to be seriously divided about their existence. On many farm properties there are signs saying "Don't Undermine Us" but there are shops, pubs and homes displaying signs in support of coal and the employment it provides. I don't know which side Edward would've taken but I suspect he would've been anti.

Bengalla today.

He wasn't a fan of gold mining because it took his labour and led to miners tramping all round what he saw as his property. He didn't appear to invest in any gold mining so I suspect he would've been equally as displeased by coal. Its interesting to see the impact of mining on a "whitebread" area, one with money and a pretty landscape. In the west mining tends to be limited to barren, red dust regions inhabited only by miners, blackfellers and the odd grazier so opposition is left to greenies and Aboriginal groups. 

I'm with the Don't Undermine Us mob on this. It seems a shame to dig up and pollute a fertile agricultural area for an industry that realistically is going to be obselete in the next few decades. Despite our glorious leaders' inexplicable recent opposition to renewable energy, the smart money has got to be on it. 

Merton front gate. Over the road is owned by the coal miners.

Edward reached Merton by lunchtime and while his parents had already left for Sydney, his brother William was there to meet him and Edward spent five days resting here catching up with William and talking over plans and projects for the future. 

An 1853 sketch of Merton by Conrad Martens, held in the Mitchell Library.

In Edward's day Merton was the principal centre of this area, the town of Denman not having been created yet. Merton was a complete little village but virtually none of it exists today. Over the latter half of the 19th century the town was gradually moved a couple of kilometres across the river to Denman, where we settled into the Denman Van Village, a comfy little park with all ensuite sites. Looxury. 

We cycled round to Merton where Kevin, who has owned the place for 30 years was happy to let us look around. Kevin said the mining companies have bought up all the land on the opposite side of the road but he is in the no mines camp. He has seen the impact the mines have already had on farming and the environment and feels enough is enough. 

Kevin & Trish with all that's leftof the original cottage. Kevin & his wife live in an 1875 homestead built by later owners. From 6000 acres at its  peak, Merton is now a modest 40 acres. 

Kevin explained to us where the Merton Cemetery is, a few kilometres back across the road in the grounds of the Merton Vineyard and told us to tell the Japanese winemaker Atsuko that he's sent us and she would show us the Cemetery. Kevin said that vinyard land is already owned by the mining companies so what will happen to the Cemetery is not known. 

Merton Cemetery with Small Forest winery in the background. The only Ogilvie buried here is Edward's older brother William Jnr. whose grave is inthe foreground. Edward never saw William again after this visit because sadly he died from an apparent heart attack (at the age of 43) before Edward got back from England.

True to Kevin's word, Atsuko proved to be more than helpful. Having been born in Japan and working for Wignals in Albany, we had lots to chat about. I told her about Williams wine making at Merton and that Edward was taking some Yulgilbar wine to England with him to see what interest he could generate.  Atsuko's brand name "Small Forest" is a translation of her Japanese maiden name and after a taste, we bought some Rose and Chardonay. 

Within Sight of Home

I'm still not sure why Edward took the Cedar-brush Pass rather than Murrundi, other than the fact that it does appear to be shorter, which would be important when travelling by horse. As the road appears not to exist now, we took Murrundi Pass which has been there since the 1830s and was the main route even then. Maybe Edward wanted to take a quieter road. With his horses roaming free at nights perhaps there was less chance of them being nicked. Who knows?

By taking Murrundi Pass, we were able to stop off at Burning Mountain where an underground coal seam has been burning for 1000+ years. While it was a fairly uninspiring sight compared to New Zealand's geysers and hot pools or Indonesia's volcanoes, its probably the best Australia has to offer in regard to smoke issuing from the ground. It was also a welcome opportunity to stretch our legs with a hour or so walk.

The view from Burning Mountain. Cedar Brush Pass runs up behind the ridge in the far distance.

On the northern side of the Pass it was all rain and mist with visibility down to a few 100 metres but the south side opened into bright sunshine and a glorious view over the hills and broad valleys of the Hunter and its tributaries just as Edward described. He got to the top of his Pass in daylight but had mistimed it and ere we reached the deep valley of the Dart...the daylight had completely forsaken us. In the hurry, they had dropped their meat-bag and although it was found in the morning, a marauding gnacom (wild dog) had eaten the contents, so dinner and breakfast was just bread.

Fortunately in the morning, Smith had discovered some old acquaintance, and provided himself with a famous supply of roast beef, a hot loaf and a bottle of home made wine, which he produced with great triumph. I should think so.

We came back up to the track into the south side of Cedar Brush Pass a few days after settling into Denman and called in and spoke to the manager of Thornthwaite.He confirmed that the Cedar Brush Pass road is no longer passable. He told us that Thornthwaite had been the major station here since the 1840s so it may well have been there that Smith found his bounty. The sandstone 1847 homestead still exists but is private and not able to be visited.

Thornthwaite c1855. Is this where Smith found his roast beef? Trish had the roast of the day - beef - in the Royal Hotel when we stopped for lunch in Scone. Coincidence? 

Edward was disheartened by what he saw coming down the Dart because the discovery of gold had led to the desertion of the area. Deserted houses, gardens choked with weeds, and broken fences, now everywhere meet the eye and depress the spirits. 

Near Scone he came across a shepherd tending his flock among the dilapidated enclosures of one of the ruined farms and he recognised him as Coolan, son of a chief of the once powerful tribe that dwelt in this neighbourhood. Coolan and Edward had been friends since their teens and that night over roasted possum he told Edward how the Camilarrai people had been decimated, not by hostilities but by disease and the dejection that still affects some Aboriginal communities today.

The main street of Scone today.

Edward would probably be pleased, however, with the Scone of today. It bills itself as the "horse capital of Australia" and you can smell the money here. Everywhere there are horse studs with miles of timber horse fence, manicured paddocks and grand restored, or new, homesteads.

The site of Muswellbrook's first block of land sold, utilised by pubs from 1835 till today. Not sure what Edward would've  made of the Lingerie Ladies (Tues, Wed, Thurs) but I'm  sure he would've enjoyed the $10 lunch.

Next day, near Muswellbrook, Smith left the group to visit his parents who lived a little way the other side of town. Denny and Edward continued alone and camped the night near Bengalla, less than 15kms from his parents home at Merton.

Where Is Cedar Brush Pass?

Being unable to cut across country, we followed the New England Hwy down to Wallabadah and then west to Quirindi. Edward just headed directly south west and came upon the great northern road near Loder's. Loder's Station is now the site of the town of Quirindi but again we were unable to find anything remaining from Edward's time other than Loder St which marks the location of the original town. When the railway came through in 1877 the siting of the station caused the town to gravitate a couple of kilometres north east from Loder St, to where it sits today.

Edward arrived at Loders (Quirindi) from this direction...

The main street of Quirindi lies along the railway and creek and most of it appears to date from about the turn of the 20th century. The great northern road from here up Moree is now called the Kamilaroi Hwy after the original custodians of this immense region. Apparently its the only major highway in Australia to be named for its original inhabitants.

... and departed in this one.

Not me. Lifestyle blocks in Quirindi today.

After crossing this road Edward shortly again left it, and took the track to Warah. Warrah was an outstation of Goonoo Goonoo and was subdivided in 1912 into much smaller farms. The original homestead burnt down several times in the late 19th century but there are some fine photos from the late 1800s and other interesting information at www.warrah1912subdivision.com/127469402 if you're interested.

On the plains of Warrah, Edward cut some of the finely scented Myall wood that grows on these plains ... to carry a few specimens to England... whilst Smith baked a damper. Is that sandalwood I wondered? I asked Professor Google but it seems that it isn't. Its a type of acacia.

From these plains rose the bold chain of the Liverpool Range, the Cedar-brush Pass by which we were to cross, showing clear and distinct like a wide portal in the huge dark wall. I'm not sure why Edward chose this route. The current road goes through the Murrundi Pass about 20 kms to the east, as does the railway, which suggests that is an easier route. Murrundi Pass was known then but Edward's route does look marginally shorter so perhaps thats why he came this way.

Either he'd been sniffing too much of that finely scented Myall wood, or he was looking from a slightly different angle. His description of Cedar Brush Pass seems a bit over enthusiastic to me.

I'd asked a number of people if the name Cedar Brush Pass meant anything to them and got blank looks but there is a Cedar Brush Nature Reserve, south of Warrah marked on maps, with a rough track marked across the ranges. We left our caravan in Quirindi and drove out through Warrah and then down the track. I stopped a man with a big hat and an even bigger Landcruiser ute coming off a farm on the track, because he looked like he'd know. I asked him if it was indeed the old Cedar Brush Pass. He confirmed that it was but that the road is pretty well impassable, especially when wet like now. He said that he'd heard rumors of a tree up on the Pass, carved with the initials of some of the first Europeans to cross it. He didn't know who, and despite looking for it on a number of occasions, had never been able to find it. We drove on a bit but finding our way blocked by running water, turned around and headed back to Quirindi where we enjoyed a lovely curry at an Indian restaurant, opened by 2 young Indian brothers just a week ago. Beats beef and damper.

Just for the record, that light shading on the hills just east of Cedar Brush Pass, is snow.