Famous for the 'Cowra breakout', the largest mass escape of prisoners of war during WW2, Cowra is a town I had long wanted to visit. Our route east into what is known as central east NSW saw the open plains of the country around West Wyalong soon give way to rolling hills and a much greener vista.
En route to Cowra we passed through the small township of Grenfell, the birthplace of Henry Lawson. The hills around this charming spot were also the haunt of the notorious bushranger, Ben Hall, who preyed on the gold convoys travelling from the fields in nearby Young. Hall and his gang, in one daring gold coach robbery in 1862, stole over 14,000 pounds in gold and cash. Hall was mortally wounded by Police in May 1865 and died without ever revealing the location of the gold he stole. It is rumoured to still lie buried in the Weddin Mountains. Grenfell is very much on our expanding 'must visit' list (with no thought of searching for Ben's stash)
Our trip thence into Cowra was a little tense. I had foolishly decided that our fuel was sufficient for the remaining 50 kms or so and we pushed on through Grenfell without adding to the tank. Bad decision.....and one about which I have given Liz full permission to engage in a major hissy fit if I ever contemplate the same again.
The fuel gauge dropped alarmingly as we climbed to the ridge of the hills we were traversing. I suspect it may have been just as well our approach into Cowra was a long descent. When we finally pulled up beside the most welcome bowser I have ever seen, I estimate we had about 10 usable litres left. This would not have taken our combined weight of over 6 tonnes very far. Liz's attitude was, I thought, remarkably affable as I nursed the rig gently on. All was clear when she later commented that she and Max had plenty to eat and drink whilst I walked into town, and could even have a snooze if I was gone for hours. She is such a support in a crisis - pragmatic to the end!
The fuel gauge dropped alarmingly as we climbed to the ridge of the hills we were traversing. I suspect it may have been just as well our approach into Cowra was a long descent. When we finally pulled up beside the most welcome bowser I have ever seen, I estimate we had about 10 usable litres left. This would not have taken our combined weight of over 6 tonnes very far. Liz's attitude was, I thought, remarkably affable as I nursed the rig gently on. All was clear when she later commented that she and Max had plenty to eat and drink whilst I walked into town, and could even have a snooze if I was gone for hours. She is such a support in a crisis - pragmatic to the end!
The park we chose in Cowra was another picture of green expanses and towering shade trees set on the banks of the Lachlan River.
For some inexplicable reason I forgot to take a shot of our site, but some idea of the general vista can be gained from one I did take from the town lookout the next day.
If you look closely at the centre of the picture, the two light coloured spots immediately to the left of the red leafed tree is our rig. Cowra is indeed a very pretty place, especially in autumn.
I did take one shot in the park. If ever we have seen an example of 'little and large', this was it!
It reminded us of something out of Thomas the Tank Engine.
Once we had settled into our site we both agreed that Bathurst, to which we had originally planned to travel the following day, could not possibly provide a more attractive camp and, yet again, Plan B was activated. Apart from the pleasure afforded by our surroundings, we had also decided that we were in need of a very long walk. Visiting the three tourist essentials in Cowra, the hologram presentation at the information centre, the Peace Bell and the Japanese gardens, which are some distance apart, would do the trick.
And so it was that we toddled off the next morning on our quest. And yet again, we were to be delighted.
The Lachlan is traversed by two bridges, one of pre-stressed concrete which carries the majority of the traffic through the town (and it is considerable in volume), and another quaint little one laned low bridge which is very much in demand by the locals but obviously useless in times of high water.
Each of the many piers of the larger bridge has been painted with aboriginal murals as can be seen here.
The information centre, which was our first port of call, is set in beautiful parklands, painted at this time of the year with wonderful autumn colours,
and a nearby rose garden which has been planted with dozens and dozens of different varieties.
The only jarring note in this otherwise scenic idyll was the raised arch of a bloody MacDonalds which was plonked amidst the trees nearby. I was too affronted to take a photo!
The noted author Bill Bryson in his book 'Downunder' (he is one of my favourite writers....his 'Short History of Nearly Everything' should be mandatory reading for all students) described the hologram presentation of the events of the Cowra Breakout as "the most enchanting thing he has ever seen". Bill got it right again.
Once seated in a small, galvanised iron shed within the Information Centre itself, at the far end of which is a stage set with various items of relevance to the era and the town, the lights dim and lo and behold a tiny figure of a woman, which has hitherto been standing stoically as part of the display, springs to life and begins her narration of life in Cowra during the second world war and the history of the breakout. Not only does this local lass speak to us, she moves throughout the set interacting with many of the solid objects it contains.
Unfortunately this photo really dos not do justice to the set, but it was the best I could manage with our limited equipment. To provide perspective, the little figure you can see is approximately 15 cms tall. She walks from one end of the set to the other, sits from time to time and even mounts the small box seen to her left.
The highlight of the presentation, which is both personal and detailed, came for me when 'Clare' actually lit the candle which can be seen towards the right hand end of the set. I have to confess to being moved to tears.
The story of the 'breakout' is quite extraordinary. The Cowra POW camp housed a mixture of Japanese, Italian and Indonesian (long story) prisoners of war. On the night of August 5, 1944, the Japanese orchestrated a mass escape, driven in part by their military code which found total dishonour in capture. Armed with rudimentary weapons such as sharpened sticks and clubs, all of the 1104 Japanese prisoners, in four separate groups, charged the perimeter fence at 0150 hours. They threw blankets over the barbed wire, and, as the few guards on duty open fire with Vickers machine guns, many used the dead bodies of their comrades as a human bridge across the wire.
In all, 235 were killed in the attempt, but 344 managed to escape into the surrounding countryside. They were all later recaptured. Four Australian soldiers were killed directly or indirectly in the action.
To quote the tourist blurb on the matter, "what makes the history of the event even more remarkable are the actions and efforts of the people of Cowra in the years following the mass breakout. These included a fight to have the bravery of two of the soldier killed during the breakout recognised and the caring actions of the Cowra Sub-Branch RSL who informally maintained the graves of the Japanese soldiers as a mark of respect for an enemy who were fighting for their country."
And, as another paradoxical result of this event, Cowra has developed close ties with the Japanese, to the point where Ken Nakajima, a Japanese garden designer of world repute, was commissioned to design a garden on the slopes of the town. The result is breathtaking in its scope and the sense of tranquillity which prevails as one strolls through the expanses of this enchanting place.
It was very difficult to adequately photograph all that is on offer in these gardens, which apparently were designed to represent all aspects of the Japanese countryside. Hopefully these few offerings will convey some of the beauty to be found here.
I must confess that I approached our visit to these gardens with some scepticism, an attitude which evaporated completely as we strolled along the pathways and sat on the benches of this quite remarkable place. It truly is a place of peace and tranquillity.
On the subject of peace, our jaunt from the information centre across Cowra to the gardens took us past the Peace Bell which is located near the Council Chambers in Darling Avenue.
These bells are to be found all over the world, usually in capital cities. In Australia's case, the bell was sited in Cowra "in recognition of the town's long standing contribution to world peace and understanding".
Cast from coins and other personal items, the bell is a symbol of world peace. Visitors are invited to sound it using the wooden striker seen here. We did so, but did wonder at time how annoying this may become to those working in the nearby council offices!
Darling Avenue, on which the bell is located (to be seen on the left of the shot), is one of many in Cowra which boasts magnificent trees
but the town also has its fair share of impressive buildings.
of which this most imposing (you guessed it) Catholic church and adjoining seminary (I couldn't fit the school in) and
the local hospital, an equally imposing but quite different building, are but two examples. There are a few interesting buildings along the main street, but for us Cowra will always be remembered for its natural beauty and our understanding now of that singular event of WW2 which resulted in the development of Cowra as a town unique in Australia.
We left Cowra for Mudgee with the feeling that we had indeed made the right decision in spending the unplanned extra day there. And so on to the planned week of festivities and other nonsense with our eastern states friends in Mudgee. We were about to experience the culmination of a plan hatched in Shoalhaven in October last year.
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