The posted notices along our only departure route out of Emu Point, which warned of road delays (due to the conduct of a local triathlon), saw us leave Albany a day earlier than we had previously planned. In our quest to cover as many of the different routes between Perth and the Great Southern in our various forays up and back, on this occasion we retraced our steps north along the Albany Highway only as far as Cranbrook. Here we turned left and continued north-west through the vineyards and huge olive groves of the Frankland River district to our pre-booked destination of Boyup Brook. Why Boyup Brook? Three reasons. One, it was about the right travelling distance, two it is the Country Music capital of WA and three, because we could!
Our contact with the local caravan park had left us believing things were a little laissez-faire at the Boyup Brook Flaxmill Caravan Park, and so it was, but charmingly so. Our indefatigable electronic navigator unerringly brought us to the the roadway leading to the park entrance where we first had to negotiate the quaint one-way system over the dry creek-bed bridge of Boyup Brook itself. In on the high road and out on the low (except when the creek is bubbling...then its first in best dressed on the bridge!)
Some of the remaining buildings of the quite significant flaxmill which operated here during the second World War house the office just beyond the entrance gate, but we knew that it would not be attended on our arrival. The Shire owned park is managed by a part time caretaker who had invited us to find any site we liked....he would pop around later in the afternoon to collect our fees.
We did just that and took occupation of a large patch of local real estate at the end of the row of non-ensuite sites. We had been pre-warned that there was a 'group' in the park (here for a long week-end tennis competition as it turned out....great in 35 plus heat!) but we should have no trouble finding a spot.
The ensuite row was certainly well patronised, more we suspect for the shade on offer than the ablution facilities.....and that's about the extent of this relatively small park.
This park is located on the banks of the Blackwood River, a watercourse of some significance which empties into the Southern Ocean at Augusta 150 kms or so to the south-west of Boyup Brook. The BIackwood is a pretty impressive stream in the Augusta area and I had harboured thoughts of a paddle whilst at BB. So it was with some anticipation I scampered across the un-powered camping area between our site and the river valley.
and was snuffed out completely as I surveyed my paddling prospects. The idea of dodging visible and submerged snags on barely flowing black water past the mud banks of a 'low river' had very limited appeal. Mind you, we were seeing the river at its worst....it hasn't rained in this catchment for ages
I mentioned previously that this park is on the grounds of a disused flax mill. There must be a story here, and there is.
The Boyup Brook mill was one of three established in WA specifically to assist with the British war effort and was the only one to continue operation after the war. Built in 1941, it ceased production in the mid 1960's.
Many of the mill buildings have been demolished. Those which remain are used as dormitory accommodation and so on,
and include the office, which is something else again. Just my sort of place...all clutter and history as this mere snippet shows.
And here we find a large model of the original flaxmill buildings. Hopefully this rather inadequate shot gives some impression of the scale of this enterprise.
I was somewhat puzzled to read that this had been a 'war related' endeavour until I discovered that the flax produced was the base product for the manufacture of a wide range of military equipment including boots, gaiters, canvas webbing, bandages and parachute harnesses to name but some. Another historical morsel had been ingested!
Boyup Brook is the 'Tamworth of the West' when it comes to country music. In fact the annual festival had been held here but a few weeks prior to our arrival as we discovered when our erstwhile neighbours at Albany headed off the day after our arrival there to join the throng of devotees who stream to this tiny town for the yearly knees-up.
The 'Guitar Man', strategically placed in this small public garden area, sets the scene.
A short stroll down the road towards the caravan park takes on to the very well established outdoor concert venue where patrons can sit on the grass under the many shade trees and enjoy the musical offerings.
The accommodation needs of those who tow to the festival is also well solved.....adjacent to the main park, in which space is limited, is this very large overflow park. One look at this facility served as a planning lesson for us. Any thought of attending this country music extravaganza next year was quashed by the parallel thought of the dust which would permeate the entire area when this park was filled with its temporary population. For me it would be unbearable....I would spend the entire time sneezing and wheezing....what a shame!
We have discovered that the best time in which to wander around a country town and take in the sights is Sunday morning. Boyup Brook was no exception. We were off bright and early not least because on our way in we had spotted what has to be one of the most pleasant and well maintained country swimming pools we have ever come across....I was keen to be on the doorstep when it opened at 1030 hours.
And I was, and had a lane to myself and a great swim.
We began our earlier toddle around Boyup Brook by walking past the small park which took us from the caravan park into the main part of the town.
As we find so often here in the west, this small strip of irrigated green grass was in stark contrast to the 'natural' park directly opposite.
The red brick Boyup Brook post office is utterly typical of this type of township and of the era in which it was established.
From here we made our way to the major intersection in the main street where, looking one way we gazed over the small line of shops on one side of the divided road of 'Boyup Brook central'.
Turning through 180 degrees, the rather imposing town RSL Memorial stands sentinel at the beginning of
the equally impressive avenue of trees which line this road out of town.
Another fine stand of trees, this time eucalypts, runs along a third road leading up a hill away from the main drag. As to the fourth street, it really doesn't rate a mention!
The original Town Hall, complete with the mandatory entrance hall picture rail row of sepia tinted photos of past Shire notables, which occupies a position of prominence on this intersection, is obviously now little used.
Walking on past its more modern replacement, the current Shire offices,
we came upon a totally unexpected gem. In this somewhat dessicated park setting is a memorial dedicated to those who suffered and died at the hands of their Japanese captors on the infamous Sandakan to Ranau death march in the latter stages of WW2.
The actual memorial cairn itself is understated and moving in that it bears the names of all who died in this unspeakably cruel and shameful episode in the Japanese occupation of the Pacific. Its very existence is another story of the Australian bush.
Ted McLaughlin, a Boyup Brook farmer, was also a POW of the Japs during the war. On his return to Australia he became increasingly incensed that nothing was apparently being done to honour the memory of those who died on the Sandakan march. With typical Aussie determination he set about righting this wrong.....the small Boyup Brook memorial and park is the outcome.
And on the pathway to the memorial stands a monument to the man himself. Looking from this angle it is impossible to tell that the entire figure of Ted is actually gouged out of the block of stone. Only his hat and his boots protrude from the flat surface of the block in this ingenious production by a local artist. We were to see more of her work later.
And then our day brought us another of those 'you could only find this in the Aussie bush' episodes.
Like all areas of the Great Southern, Boyup Brook is in the grip of a seriously dry season. Public parks and gardens throughout are suffering, as are, we have found, many caravan parks where the normally green areas are nothing more than dry, brittle mats. But nothing was going to deter this lass from maintaining her patch of green. The noise gave her away. This enterprising soul has trucked water to her modest home in the tank on the back of the vehicle in the driveway. The noise we could hear was of the pump being used to transfer this liquid gold to her front lawn. I actually went over to ensure that a photo would not unreasonably invade her privacy....we had a good chat....this Boyup Brook local is a real wag!
Back to the main street. If there was any lingering doubt about the importance of country music to Boyup Brook, that is quickly put to rest when looking at the location of the relevant advertising in the main street. Although now a little tattered and out of date, this triangular sign occupies a position of undeniable prominence.
And then there is the store in the main street dedicated to the genre. It is equally hard to miss.
On closer inspection I was particularly taken by the window notice relating to the forthcoming 'debrief' meeting by the festival organising committee. The agenda made complete sense to me...a sausage sizzle provided by management (a feed) followed by a discussion (timely...no rumbling tummies) and then a 'social wind down to conclude the evening' (read piss-up). An excellent strategy all round was my thought...pragmatists to the end these country music folk!
And on the subject of liquid refreshments, we were far too early to sample the offerings at the local watering hole which presents but a fairly modest exterior. After a peek through the locked dining room door, Liz did suggest that the interior held more promise.
Now for that other product of the local artist in residence about which I spoke earlier. Just beyond the pub we came across the Boyup Brook information centre, a charming stone building set in leafy and green surrounds. And here is a tribute to all those whose efforts on the land have helped create the economy of Boyup Brook, once again with the main figure hollowed out with the old plough projecting forward from the stone block.
Well, so much for our quick tour of Boyup Brook. We did enjoy our two night sojourn, but now it was time to put our feet up for the afternoon, pull down as the cool of the evening approached (it was stinko whist we were here) and ready ourselves for the jaunt to our next overnight stop on our journey to Rockingham...Pinjarra....on the River Murray (seriously!)
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