EASY FOR YOU TO SAY - NYNGAN TO GULARGAMBONE (15 APRIL 2017)

After our long haul into Nyngan, our next leg north was to be just over half that...220 kms, but we were not too sure about the roads.  There is only one way to find out, get up and get going. 

Today we were to travel on three major highways, the Mitchell, the Oxley and the Castlereagh, all old friends, well sections of them at least. It was the Mitchell first, south-east through the grazing plains outside Nyngan

and across yet another Shire boundary. From previous trips many years ago I retained a memory of the town of Warren which included many trees and green open spaces, a pretty town, one in which I had never stayed but been tempted to. I was looking forward to discovering if indeed age does weary them!

But first we had to complete the almost straight leg of 60 kms along the Mitchell to another of those quaintly named Australian towns.......'Nevertire', most aptly described in something I read as a typical 'Australian one pub railway town'.

But the name? This country hamlet lies on the edge of the great saltbush plain which extends to the west from about here all the way out into the desert country. It was said that this just went on and on and 'never tired', hence the name. I have been unable to positively verify this yarn, but it makes sense and is good enough for me in the absence of better information.

One thing which cannot be challenged is the fact that Nevertire also lies on the junction of the Mitchell and Oxley Highways, so here we bade farewell to the Mitchell 

and turned through almost 90 degrees to now travel the short hop north-east to Warren and thence almost easterly on to Gilgandra.

Here we left the grazing plains for cotton country once again. Huge fields either side of the highway were snowy white with cotton lint lying in the gentle clutches of the open bowls of the rows and rows of cotton plants, all awaiting a savage and final separation from their supporting stalks into the voracious maws of the cotton harvesters.

And now for the moment of truth......would the reality of Warren pass my memory's muster?

Well,so far so good....lines of large trees into town is a very good start.

And here we had the beginnings of a number of park areas of which we did see plenty as we 

made out way through the centre of the town in the glare of the early morning sun and out the other side. Unfortunately the camera focus was playing up at this point, and although the navigator snapped away with grim determination, none of the results are worthy of public exhibition. But was Warren as I had remembered? Mostly...sufficiently so that I confidently decided I was not yet ready for an aged care home!

With that comforting thought we continued to bash our way along the Oxley in the direction of distant Gilgandra. I use the word 'bash' advisedly. This section of the highway leaves a lot to be desired, something which was particularly disappointing in light of the fact that we had decided Warren would make a lovely spot for a stay of a few nights at some future stage. Sadly, getting there from either direction is not currently a pleasant drive.

East of Warren the road brought us yet again back into grazing and cropping country, where the scenery is virtually unchanging mile after mile.

We had been told of this section of roadworks by a fellow traveller in Nyngan, the result of a comment I had made about the state of his rig. To our great relief, the water truck had not dropped its load recently and we were able to reach the other end of this quite long unsealed section without gathering any muddy scars.

It was with real relief that we finally drove into the back end of Gilgandra where the enforced speed limits and much improved road surface brightened our moods considerably and diminished thoughts of chipped plates and broken glasses, not that we have ever suffered such damage....when it comes to packing our cupboards....Liz is a whiz!

Whilst we both accept that the standard of major Australian roads will and do vary enormously, it is never fun to be jiving and jolting over a rough and ready surface (or are we just getting older?). We are adding to our list of 'no-go unless unavoidable' every trip!

We have almost reached the stage of feeling a little sorry for the good and hard working business folk of Gilgandra. We have now driven through this town probably half a dozen times over the years, and for one reason or another have never stopped to spread a meagre portion of financial largess amongst those offering traveller services here.  

And from all we have seen it is a well found spot.....one of these days Gilgandra! But not today as we cruised down towards the main street

and made a left turn out onto the Castlereagh Highway, avoiding the surprisingly busy CBD (it was Easter Saturday after all). Gulargambone was now firmly fixed in our sights and to our great joy, the surface of the Castlereagh on exit from Gilgandra trumped the entry on the Oxley in spades.

At this point I feel it incumbent on me to explain why on earth we had chosen to spend some time in this oddly named little town on one of the country's lesser known and used highways, and moreover, why we had decided to add a day to our stay here at the expense of Nyngan.

Well, dear readers, it was a punt! For many years now we have been regaled by tales of Gulargambone, well, more to point, have heard accolades heaped on the town caravan park. The place is renowned for the quality of its sites, the friendliness of its owners, the daily happy hour nibbles provided and the sensational camp oven roast dinners available to all and sundry every Sunday and Wednesday for the princely sum of $10. 

Some of you with memories of the steel trap variety will recall that we had tried to spend time here when making our way south back to Adelaide last September, but had been stymied by the floods.

Well, there was no such impediment this time, and we were about to find out if all we had been told was true or merely a travellers' tale. We had been more than encouraged by the fulsome reception I had received when ringing to advance our booking by a day, but we were yet to actually arrive.

We had the first hint of things to come but a few kilometres from the town, when we spied a galvanised iron galah on a post in a paddock by the roadside.  We are not often caught completely unawares, but this one did us both.....the camera shutter did not move....and again, when two flashed by.

But we are nothing if not quick learners (well relatively quick at least) and from here on in our eyes were peeled. And then there were three. Gotcha!













With these winged iron harbingers in our mirrors we were soon at the outskirts of town.


  

By this stage, noting the galah on the town welcome sign, we began to wonder if the local luminaries were playing on words or whether there may be some deeper connection between these noisy cockatoos and the district.  Something for later!





We did continue to ponder this on the final run into the main section of the town,












but returned focus on the job in hand as we negotiated the small town park, where the main highway passes to the right and a short service road forms the left hand boundary.

A left hand turn at the end of this saw us in what we discovered was the main commercial street, one of very modest proportions indeed, 











which led to another left turn at the Post Office corner, with its impressive array of solar panels.

Surely we must almost be there. Ah, there it is. The sign we had been seeking soon appeared before us.

By now we had become just a tad apprehensive. Although it was the second day of the Easter break, and we did not expect to find milling crowds and a bustle of activity, what we had seen of the town so far was almost eerily quiet. Could the caravan park really be the place of fun and games we had been led to believe it is?

One last turn and we were about to find out.








A closer look at the park entrance sign provided some immediate relief. Vacancies, well we knew that......confirmation that our site fee of a modest $25 was accurate, even better.......a welcome for the Ship's Cat and advertising for the $10 roast dinner.....all correct so far.  

And best of all, we were about to take up residence in a park with a six galah rating! Now what could be better that that? We were beginning to chuckle already.



As we pulled up at the office to be greeted by mine host David (his equally ebullient wife Bernadette and he were born to run a caravan park), any niggling concerns we may have held evaporated in the warmth of our welcome and the ensuing chat which found us standing in the office for a good five minutes before we were invited to pick what ever site we liked. 



We felt like old friends already (and as it transpired we did have a mutual mate, now a resident of Coffin Bay just outside Port Lincoln).

Options, options. Whilst being given free choice has its advantages, we have often commented that this places the pressure firmly on us if we later discover that we could have done better.....at least if we have to go where we are directed, we can shift the blame if we are subsequently less than entirely happy!

Here the alternatives were threefold.....a back up site amongst others with some shade and close proximity to the amenities and the camp kitchen (although here nothing is too far away), a large, open drive-thru in the second row, or a site on the far side of the camp where we would have the world to ourselves. With the pros and cons of each bearing heavily, we finally opted for the site which offered some shade.






So, from the office it was off past the lovely little camp garden












some fifty metres or so to our new home for the next few days. 








And we could not have been happier. Level, lush grass, afternoon shade, great neighbours, functional amenities and one of the most interesting camp kitchens we have ever come across. This was all looking very promising.

With a lovely rear outlook across the boundary fence gardens to the lawns of the local (very good) swimming pool















we could not have been more settled. 









And there was much more to come. We soon discovered that this park's reputation is well deserved.

WHERE ELSE WOULD YOU FIND THE 'BIG BOGAN'? - NYNGAN (13 -14 APRIL 2017)

'Bogan', a word used these days to describe a lewd lout or rebel ratbag, usually unkempt, always loud and invariably stupid. So why on earth would one find a NSW Shire and a quite major river bearing this less than flattering name?  Well, as you may have guessed, the word had a very different meaning when the district was initially explored. 

John Oxley was the first into this area in 1811. He was followed by Captain Charles Sturt, who, on crossing the river on 1 January 1829 actually named it New Years Creek, but for some obscure reason this name did not stick.

For reasons equally obscure, by the time the next famous early Australian explorer, Major Thomas Mitchell, made his way through this part of the country in 1835 the river was already known as 'The Bogan'. Nothing has changed since. 

Mitchell's association with the area has a sad byline. One of his party, the renown botanist Richard Cunningham, had the habit of wandering off into the bush in search of new species. Unfortunately for him, on 17 April 1835 he did not return. It was later discovered he had been killed by local aborigines with whom he had made contact, allegedly after they became disturbed by his apparently erratic behaviour.

But what did 'Bogan' actually mean in those days I hear you shout. 

Well, just to complicate the matter further....two things. It was an aboriginal word meaning 'birthplace of a notable headman' and also the Gaelic word for 'bog'.. So here we have it...... two entirely different meanings from two entirely different languages a complete world apart.......take your pick!  

And I still have no idea who was responsible for naming the river which flows for just over 600 kms north-west across the Continent from its headwaters near Parkes to join the Darling River near Bourke.

Irrespective of the history of the river's naming, and the now entirely different and highly unflattering meaning of the word in the modern vernacular, the good folk of Nyngan have embraced it with verve as we discovered during our one brief jaunt around the town, 

a gallop which we began by making our way out of our park and across the adjacent reserve to the road bridge across the river.

As we plodded towards the span, I was immediately taken by the sign facing approaching traffic.

Now that's something we'd never seen before (we didn't see any horses either!)

Just beyond the bridge we came across an artistic reminder of Nyngan's past and present. 

Squatters followed Mitchell into the area and established numerous sheep runs. Wool remains a major industry in the Bogan Shire, together with cattle and cropping. The district is one of the most productive in NSW.

The town of Nyngan, named after the aboriginal word 'nyingan', meaning long pond of water, has a population of about 2,000 and is the main service hub of the district. Here the Mitchell and Barrier Highways meet. The Barrier, which we know only too well, extends west from Nyngan, through Cobar, Wilcannia and Broken Hill to end just south of Riverton in South Australia's mid north. The Mitchell, which begins life in Bathurst, takes travellers north through the country to its end near Augathella in Queensland. Interestingly, both are of almost identical length, just over 1,000 kms....and we have traversed most of them.

As we made our way in towards the main Nyngan CBD, I was again taken by a roadside sign.

The local vendors and purveyors of goods in Nyngan are not slow to encourage passing trade!

In no time at all we were on the final approach to the business district, which, given that it was now Good Friday, was all but deserted from a commercial perspective.

But not entirely. 

The local 'fisho' certainly recognised an opportunity to cater to those who feel spiritually or otherwise bound to eschew meat on this Christian holy day.

It was now mid morning, and he was doing a roaring trade. The thought of a tasty prawn tempted temporarily, until I was reminded that our planned evening meal was already in the process of defrosting. My raw prawn for the day did not come from the Nyngan fish vendor!

But my detour to the parking area next to the fishmonger's was not entirely in vain because this open space is also home to a marvellously rebuilt Cobb and Co coach.

Apart from the excellence of the rebuild, an explanatory sign nearby regales all and sundry with some 'fast facts' about the company which operated these coaches.  I have to admit I learnt quite a deal about the scope of this impressive organisation which was so much more than one which merely presented challenges to Australian bushrangers!


And now ladies and gentlemen, the very sight for which you have been waiting so patiently, the statue which, if not elevating Nyngan to significant cultural heights, demonstrates that the town fathers have been quick to seize on a tourist opportunity even if it is potentially at the expense of the town's social reputation!

The Big Bogan stands proudly in its own patch of park on the main street of Nyngan, the epitome of what the word has now come to mean. It sports all the necessary attributes.....a 'mullet' haircut, a Southern Cross tattoo on the left upper arm, the obligatory garb of singlet, 'stubbie' shorts and thongs, and an esky close at hand.  The only false note for me was the fact that our metal mate was raising his thumb, not a stubbie or a tinny.

Needless to say, the venture to capitalise on the modern usage of the Shire and district name and to encourage increased tourism by erecting this statue (in September 2015) did have its critics amongst the town's cultural elite. Our experience in the IGA supermarket late on Thursday afternoon would suggest that the presence of the statue may just be a case of 'be careful what you wish for' but that could well be viewed as an unkind observation!  



It would probably be equally unreasonable to make anything of the fact that the town's most impressive pub, the Overlander Hotel, is within spitting distance of the statue.....let's move on!






Further into the relatively small main business hub, 











four impressively tall palms (what was it with our forebears which compelled them to plant palms in the Australian bush?) mark the entrance to Davidson Park, complete with rotunda and public picnic areas.



And then we came to what was, for us, the most interesting section of the street, where the imposing building which began life as the Nyngan railway station now houses the town museum.

And, as you can see, the forecourt is dominated by a decommissioned Iroquois helicopter, that enduring symbol of the Vietnam conflict, the flying warhorse which took so many fit, young (and often outrageously conscripted) Australians into battle and sadly brought so many out again.....broken and bloodied......or worse.

For many Nyngan residents, this iconic chopper played an equally critical role in their lives. The story unfolds on this nearby series of plaques, the first of which details the flood crisis of 1990 when the decision was taken to airlift the entire population of the town to safety once the levee walls were breached and the town was totally inundated. This in itself was a marvellously managed exercise, when the military aircraft were supplemented by helicopters from various media organisations and others in private use.

As you can read, RAAF Iroquois A2-1022 was later presented to the town to commemorate the role played by these helicopters in the evacuation.

But this is only the beginning.....for the next nineteen years A2-1022 stood as a symbol of the flood and its immediate aftermath. What no-one had realised during this time was that this aircraft had been one of several flown by members of RAAF 9 Squadron during the Vietnam War, but more significantly, it had been this very helicopter and her sister ship, A2-1020, which had been flown to resupply the troops of D Coy, 6 RAR with ammunition at a critical stage of the battle of Long Tan on 18 August 1966.

I am sure most will know that this was the most intense and challenging battle fought by the Australians during the war, one in which the heavily outnumbered diggers (26-1) fought 2,000 North Vietnamese and Viet Cong troops to a standstill in the rain soaked rubber plantation where they had been surprised. What you may not know is that, as a direct result of this engagement, the commanders of the North Vietnamese army took the conscious decision to avoid deliberate direct engagement with Australian troops for the remainder of the conflict.   

I'll again rely on one of the plaques to complete this extraordinary story.

So there you have it......two incredible stories of hardship and sacrifice intertwined in this one Nyngan main street display.






We did not visit the museum, but took the opportunity to climb the nearby bridge over the railway line from where we could see the front of the old station and the still well used railway tracks. 





These are part of the main western line which originally ran from Sydney to Bourke, but which now terminates at Cobar. Just as this section of the line has been closed, so too have the passenger services to Nyngan....today this line carries freight only.

And with the railway comes another story of local significance, because until it was built and finally reached Nyngan in 1883, this town did not exist. 

The small town of Canonba, some 20 kms or so north-east of Nyngan, was the site of the initial settlement of this area. From the early 1840's it was the service centre for the nearby Canonbar Station and other grazing runs. The coaches of Cobb and Co ran through the flourishing little town, which by 1880 boasted four hotels (of course), banks, a police station, telegraph station, churches and several stores.

And then came the Western Railway line, which by-passed Canonba and crossed the Bogan River at Nyngan. The result.....the entire town upped stakes and moved, to what is now Nyngan. By 1890 Canonba was no more. The Municipality of Nyngan was proclaimed in February 1891 with a population of 1355. What a difference a railway line can make! 

But the name of the original town still lives on in the main street of Nyngan in the form of the Canonbar Hotel.

Enough history.....let's return to a pictorial jaunt through a few of the streets of the town, beginning with the large RSL-Services Club which of course was closed for Good Friday.









As too was the equally large Khan's IGA store, one of a chain of such establishments, the last of which we had visited in Lightning Ridge in September last year.




  

From here we wandered into a few of the back streets, where this towering tree was one of several which are a feature of this part of town.












From this corner, another all but visually obliterates











the old Court House building which stands at the head of what is probably Nyngan's most significant street from the perspective of buildings of interest.










The Town Hall and adjacent Council Chambers looked to us for all the world like a Peters Ice Cream cake with their mix of pastel colours, 








and as we looked more closely it was obvious that 











the elected leaders of the community at the time of the completion of these important town buildings were determined that their names should be preserved for posterity.










The present seat of power of the Bogan Shire is far less ornate.








As is the case in just about every country town we have visited, the Nyngan post office can be easily found by merely raising one's eyes skywards to locate the now ubiquitous communications tower which is such an essential part of everyday modern life.



Well, that's about it for our very limited and somewhat disjointed wander around an almost deserted Good Friday Nyngan. 



Let me conclude with another of those signs which so tickle my fancy and prompt me to stay alert, even in the back streets. In this case, as I looked beyond the gate to that which Fierce Fido was ostensibly protecting, I quickly gained the impression this owner may have delusions of grandeur......









....but perhaps that's a harsh judgement...I'll let you make up your own mind!







I have to say that Nyngan is not a town which would readily draw us back, particularly given the state of the highways by which it is reached, but we had enjoyed what we had found here in our brief visit, the highlight being the extraordinary story relating to the RAAF Iroquois.

Tomorrow we move on to the even smaller town of Gulargambone on the Castlereagh Highway to take up residence in a park which we have been told is 'fun central'. We shall see.