30 July – Narrandera and a Tiger Moth

Well, we are nearly there. By that I mean that we have just this leg of the journey to go before the final leg home. We are on our way to Gundegai where we are to stay at an Abbey, or so The G says. More specifically, we are staying at Lanigan Abbey.

The place we were staying at had provided materials for breakfast. Some readers of my blog will have concluded that I am a bit of a food snob. I do not care. I will not spread axle grease on my toast and nor will I put long life milk in my tea.

This is where we stayed in Hay. Very pretty and built in 1880 according to its owner. Crap breakfast provisions though.

We started the day hoping to see what Hay had to offer. There is a Saturday market and we thought that this would provide a diversion for the tourist. We were disappointed. I suppose that Hay is not a big place (its population is but 2,300 according to Wikipedia) so perhaps what we got was commensurate with the size of the place. We walked up and down the main street (called Lachlan Street) and The G was drawn as a magnet to the Tourist Information Centre. There we discovered that we would pass through a place called Nerrandera whose population at 3,800 is much larger than that of Hay. I was able to break my fast at Treloar’s Café in Lachlan Street where I had an adequate eggs benedict and we each had a cup of coffee.

The place to be in Hay

There is a fountain in Lachlan Street; it is called the Witcomb Fountain and, in the guidebook, it looked similar to a fountain that we had seen in Bathurst a few weeks previously. This is the Monro Memorial Fountain (it is in honour of Mrs Monro) and was made by Walter MacFarlane and Co. MacFarlane must have done pretty well out of fountains. There are several in Sydney and I was pleased to see that Witcomb’s was also a MacFarlane. You can even buy a facsimile of the catalogue.

The Witcomb Fountain was the gift of the then Mayor of Hay, Alderman John Witcombe, to the people of Hay. It was erected in 1883

The Jatz Perpetual Trophy
for Cracker Eating

We were beginning to think that Hay was a desert for tourists with a need for entertainment, excitement and general interest. We were pretty much museumed out but we decided that Hay Gaol was worth a visit. It was not bad … compared with some of the “museums” we have seen, Hay Gaol has at least been curated. The most interesting thing to me was the Jatz Perpetual Trophy for Cracker Eating (this or something similar was the title) awarded during something called the Hay Australia Day Surf Carnival. Having a Surf Carnival when you are several hundred miles from the sea is, of course, particularly ridiculous and, as a result, all the more desirable.

I can find no reference, after a quick search, to the associated competition but I did find useful information about how to eat six crackers in one minute and learned some useful information about a disorder called Sjögren's syndrome. Unfortunates with this syndrome are unable to eat two crackers without water. Doctor’s use this as the basis for the “cracker test” which they use to detect the disorder. There was no more information about the winner of the trophy on display but we can be sure he did not suffer from Sjögren's syndrome.

There were all sorts of dubious machines and devices in the medical section of the Hay Gaol Museum. Perhaps you have a pulsocon. I haven't.

Many of the exhibits are in the gaol itself; there are different displays in each of the former cells. Outside there was more stuff to see, though especially interesting. One exception was a gas-powered Ford ute. This was a conversion made during WW2 when there were petrol shortages. Unfortunately, there was little information on the vehicle though I did find some information on such conversions on-line.

This was an interesting vehicle but poorly displayed. You can just about make out the gas turbine at the rear.

The high road out of Hay is a glorious sight. It is straight and flat. We passed through Gre Gre which is one of a number of reduplicated place names. Gre Gre is listed in Wikipedia but apart from having a reduplicated place name, it is of no interest. We had passed through Grong Grong a few years previously and had been shocked to find it was not then listed in Wikipedia. It is now I see. A feature of Gre Gre, which is just a locality, and its environs, is that is is flat and grassy. There were green fields, unusually so for Australia, as far as the eye could see. One such field had more cows in it than you could shake a stick at. There were hundreds of them.

More cows than you can shake a stick at grazing in a field that goes on forever. 

Straight, as they say, as the proverbial arrow. And not a car in sight.

We noticed a small cemetery on the roadside at a place called Burrabogie. There had been much rain and the roadside was flooded so I was unable to get near. Had I got near I would have seen the graves of the following folk:

• Fox, Jim: died about 1876 or 1878
• McConnon, Alec: drowned whilst bathing about 1880
• Niah: an aboriginal who died on the way from Beabula Siding.
• Plumb, Tom: a shepherd found dead in his camp in the very early days
• Shepherd, Jas: horse driver, drowned in very shallow water
• Thompson, Charles Dunstan: who departed this life at Burrabogie Station NSW 8.9.1879 aged 30 years
• Till, Tom: drowned at pumping station off Vardry about 17 years
• Unknown: A traveller who died of a bee sting at the hut near the wool shed about 1880.

Fascinating.

The small cemetery at Burrabogie

Burrabogie is a large property and we were intrigued to see signs for Kolora and Carathool in the same style that probably dates from at least 50 years ago. I found some interesting stuff about a chap called Andrew Agnew Nielson Mills who had owned all these. I found some stuff about the Burrabogie Pastoral Trust but I leave you, Gentle Reader, to do the research if you’re interested. And there’s no reason why you should be. I found a reference to Burrabogie in a song called “Flash Jack from Gundagai” which starts “I've shore at Burrabogie and I've shore at Toganmain”.

The sign at the front of the Burrabogie property

There’s much farming here. Rivcott seemed to be a company big in grain. Its website has the tagline “your cotton, your gin”. Its website helpfully has a map that shows where the nearest pub is (at Carathool). We saw Olam whose sign advertised “edible nuts”. We wondered what nuts are not edible and if there are such nuts who would want them. There is a list of Olam’s edible nuts.

Rivcott's website is keen that you should know where to get a drink

The road was not of the quality to which we have become accustomed. The G called the problem “exploding road syndrome”. There was much water at each side of the road and we assume that this has caused the edges of the road to lift. Darlington Point is a spot en route but we shot past at high speed as we were running late and had decided that Narrandera was the place to see and be seen in.

Tubbo Station

Just before we reached Narrandera we spotted a big house on the left called Tubbo. The G counted 6 chimneys. There was a big shearing shed on the right with shearers’ quarters that all looked pretty well-kept and seemed to be still in use. I found out more about this place: apparently, there are 3,000 acres of laser levelled irrigation, whatever that is. There is an album by John Williamson called “In Symphony” and Track 8 is called “Tubbo Station”. You can find it on Spotify.

Coming into Narrandera there was a lovely old wooden railway bridge that ran across the road. Unfortunately, the wooden bridge was too low so a chunk had been villainously hewn from it to allow the road through. There’s the usual sign telling the traveller that he has reached Narrandera. Underneath this sign was a sign whose information contained the word Soroptimist. I was so taken aback by this word, if which I am sure I had never heard, that I could absorb no further information without driving off the road. Follow the link if you are interested.

A lovely old wooden railway bridge heinously and criminally destroyed in the interests of the highway.

This is what the bridge looks like.

The biggest playable guitar in the world used to be at Narrandera. This guitar is on display in the Tourist Information Centre (as you will already know The G never misses a chance to visit a Tourist Information Centre). In 1991 some American somewhere built a bass guitar that is even bigger (and playable). There is a sign on the left as you enter Narrandera that advertises the biggest guitar in the world. That sign is clearly out of date, of course, as its claim has been invalid since 1991.

A big guitar.

Nonetheless, and unperturbed (for, in Narrandera, we expected to find a town lost in the past) we headed for the Tourist Information centre to find it closed for lunch. So, very much a small town. When we did get in we were able to play this vast machine between us with The G on strumming duties and me doing the fingering. It did not have the finest of sounds. Next door to the Tourist Information Centre there is a Tiger Moth. It is a handsome beast and painted yellow. I sent a picture to my Father as I recall him talking about Tiger Moths when I was a young fella.

A Tiger Moth. I doubt that it was originally painted yellow.

We took refreshment in Narrandera at a café whose name I did not record. I do recall that I had a handsome piece of cake and an average cup of coffee.

Headline news in the Narrandera Argus. Mind you, the bloke in question was asked by the reporter what would be the first thing he would do as an Australian citizenship. He said, like a good Aussie, "I am going down the pub for a pint."

Thus fortified we set off to Wagga Wagga (another reduplicated place name: this one well-known to all Australians) 95 kms down the road. Just out of Narrandera we found Sandigo which seemed to have a village hall and a single house. Indeed when I looked at Wikipedia there were but two pictures and three lines to describe this little settlement of 170 souls. A little further along there is a turning to the left labelled Settlers Road so this place, which is quite near the river, must have some sort of history.

The main road through Sandigo, a sleepy little place ...

... but with a fine Village Hall

Then we passed through the wonderfully named Galore which seemed larger than Sandigo. Wikipedia confirms that it is larger than Sandigo in a sentence that says “at the 2006 census, Galore had a population of 224 people, including both Jack 1 and Jack 2.” There is a footnote to this sentence but I am darned if I can see what or who are Jacks 1 and 2. I am sure there is a fine brick church in Galore; we did not stop for a photograph and I cannot find a picture on-line.

Greetings as you enter Galore ... what a wonderful name for a small village!

The road into Wagga runs alongside the Murrumbidgee so there was much water at the roadside include one or two obviously ephemeral (I am getting to like that word) lakes. We sort of bypassed Wagga which meant an interminable sequence of traffic lights passing by an interminable sequence of industrial establishments. Coming out of Wagga the roads deteriorated which is possibly because they are more heavily used. We passed through Gumly Gumly (another reduplicated place name), described as a suburb of Wagga Wagga.

The road to Gundegai is another 85 kms. The landscape is increasingly interesting after the last few days of flat scrub. There are bends in the road and hills to climb and descend. We were back in countryside that was more familiar to us with green rolling field and hills and sheep and cattle grazing. The road travels through a locality called Tarcutta whose name seemed to grace every signpost for about 40 of the 85 kms between Wagga and Gundegai. It turns out that Tarcutta is a town (if we passed through it then we missed it) of equal population to Galore.

The Sturt Highway (which is the high road east out of Wagga) joins the Hume Highway at a place with no name on the map. The Hume Highway is a proper road with a dual carriageway (or, as the Australian would say, it is a divided road). A few kilometres after the Snowy Mountains Highway branches off the Hume Highway, the road follows Hillas Creek. I neither know nor care who is or was Hilla but she has a fine creek named after her. It is a significant enough creek to boast a magnificent bridge. The Hillas Creek Bridge is a beautiful piece of civil engineering. It was constructed in 1938 and carried traffic until 1986. It is made of cast concrete which was cast on-site. It is nicknamed the Little Sydney Harbour Bridge.

The lovely Little Sydney Harbour Bridge

It's an historic monument, and rightly so

Then we were on and into Gundagai where we were to stay at Lanigan Abbey. This place was bought and restored by a man who had in a previous life worked with our travelling companion, Terry. The Abbey (I think it was not actually an abbey) is apparently Italianate in the Romanesque style. I may have got that the wrong way round and, frankly, I don’t care. Its owner was a crashing bore who insisted on taking us on a tour of his restoration. He had been an art dealer. The Abbey is “furnished in the elegant style of the High Victorian Period. Throughout the Abbey, there are extensive and valuable Artworks with all having been chosen to compliment the particular room that they are in.” The quote is from the website and I am pleased to note (a) the capital “A” for artworks which is unnecessary and (b) the word “compliment” which should, of course, be “complement”.

There were pictures and furniture all over the place. I think I can safely say that, while I have no doubt they are admired and valued by some, I would not have taken a single piece home with me.

On the other hand, our quarters were very comfortable. We stayed in and watched the television and crashed at an early hour knowing that we had but 350 kms to go until we could sleep in our own bed.