Thismorning I wake up, check the news and the urge to head
home is overpowering. The balance on the pandemic’s progress in Australia is
tipping and it’s time to draw a line under this walkabout. I’m on the road by about
7 am, enjoying the early morning drive. I don’t really have a firm agenda I’ve just
told PRB to take me home and I’ll ad lib along the way.
My friends and I have been very much enjoying the whole “Silo
Art” phenomenon and the ever growing abundance of art in small country towns.
Perhaps an upside of initiatives that have been undertaken to support
communities and diversify regional economies during periods of drought. Innovation and opportunities seized have
created a nationwide canvas of creativity, even in the tiniest villages.
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| Big Fish at Edenhope, Victoria |
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| Along the Wimmera Highway |
A little way along the road I’m moved by beauty and am moved
to pull over and capture the scene. There’s not much in the way of traffic and I
enjoy some time out of the car just soaking in the quiet rural scene. Overnight
rain has left a freshness and sheen to things.
Advance warning of the turn to Djuirite which the signs
still call Mount Arapiles, gives me time to make the turn. The European name of
the mountain was chosen by Major Sir Thomas Mitchell to commemorate the
anniversary of a significant battle in the Napoleonic Wars. It remains a place
of cultural significance for the Wotjobaluk people who are party to a number of
parks in their traditional country. It’s
not far to drive to the lookout at the top of the mountain, a lot easier than
climbing which is a traditional pastime here, extending back beyond Europeans
to the traditional owners who exercised extraordinary climbing skills to access
quarries where they sourced the silicified sandstone needed to make their stone
tools.
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| Summit Lookout, Djuirite (Mount Arapiles) |
The scenic impact of reaching the summit is somewhat
compromised by the presence of communications towers, but it’s hard not to
enjoy the full strength 4G mobile and data reception.
The track to the lookout platform is a rough set of rock
steps which from which the path veers around to a northern facing suspended platform
with views across to Mitre Rock and Mitre Lake. I take my time, but even so, it’s not long
before I’m driving back down the mountain and heading on my way...
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| Natimuk, mosaic sculptures |
... to Natimuk
where I am again delayed by some public art appreciation. This time it’s a
collection of quirky figures with features and fashion defined by skilful mosaic
work. Nearby is the eye catching sight of trees being hugged by colourful
crocheted trunk stockings. I’ve noted in the village that there’s an interesting
furniture store/manufacturer which research tells me makes reproduction period
furniture of high quality. Having had a nice break, it’s back on the road.
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| The Wimmera Rivera |
About another half hour finds me looking in wonder at the
Wimmera River, somewhat aghast at my poor primary school education. Most of
what I know of the geography of Australia was taught to me by my mother, who has
always emphasised the superiority of the education she received in Queensland
over that which was delivered in NSW. Well, to be fair, that wouldn’t be hard
in the case of the public school I went to. Somehow I always seemed to make it into the
classes that were deemed not to need the constant attention of the teacher due
to aptitude and ability, so one year with the choir master, the next with the
band master and finally a term loosely supervised by the Principal. Of course, Mum’s education focussed on Queensland
geography, so she had great delight in having us recite the rivers of Queensland
and describe where they ran… not that I remember all that now. But I had NO
IDEA not the remotest inkling that there was such a thing as the Wimmera River.
Or any river in the north west of Victoria for that matter. I had heard of the
region known as the Wimmera but no clue that the district was named for a
river. Quite a large river as it turns out. Here on the edge of Horsham, they’ve made a
lovely riverside precinct and there’s a riverside walk you can do if you have
time. I don’t of course, so I drive on to get fuel and do a superficial reccie
of the town.
My reccie proves fruitful as I find some high quality street
art on the Centre for Participation, but I’ve still got quite a long way to go so
it’s back to the driver’s seat.
Another hour and a half of lovely open road and I’m back in
Murtoa. I passed this way on a quick road trip to Gariwerd (The Grampians) and
the (original Yarriambiack Shire) Silo Art Trail which passes nearby. A little
bit of exploring and I find a lead for my return with friends. This time I’m in
luck and my arrival is at a time when the Stick Shed is open for visitors, do I
leave it for the return or visit it now? Bird in the hand principle has me
turning into the carpark. I better get a shuffle on because it’s already after
midday and Mon-Saturday it closes at 12:30.
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| The Stick Shed, Murtoa - Cathedral of the Wimmera |
A brief video in the entrance building tells the context,
construction and vital statistics for the mass grain storage facility. It’s
simply astonishingly large and the construction methodology precarious and improvised,
real bush architecture. I ask from the staff whether there were any injuries or
fatalities during the construction and without hesitation I’m told that in the
entire time of construction and operation only two injuries were sustained,
both crush injuries one to a hand and one to a foot. Amazing. Heading out to
the shed itself, I find the frustration of trying, within the limits of the public
access area, to get a photograph that does justice to the scale of the place. With
time of the essence, I give it up and head inside.
I am presented with a complex webbing of bracing wires which
form quite an aesthetically pleasing artistry. Looking down into the distance
to the end of the shed, an art exhibition is displayed in cubicles defined by fine
gauze curtains. The theme is Land is Family, images captured in normal working
conditions on the farms, express the beauty of agriculture, a celebration of
the beautiful nature of talented and resilient communities in country townships. Photographic images are reproduced on an aluminium
composite medium to complement this, the “cathedral of the Wimmera” and
withstand the environmental elements within the shed. I wander through this amazing structure, imagining
performances which occur here from time to time, glad that the heritage value
of this remote architectural gem has been recognised. As I scan down the lines
of the visitor’s book, it’s clear I’m not alone in my feeling of wonder and
gratitude to have the opportunity to see this remarkable monument to Australian
rural ingenuity.
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| Rupanyup Living, Rupanyup |
There’s more around Murtoa to be seen, but with limited time
and a return trip with friends in the planning, it’s time to head on my way. My
next stop is at Rupanyup Living where I need to pick up some of their delicious
Gluten Free Brownie mix, a value-add enterprise using locally grown chickpea
flour. The lovely little shop in the centre reserve of Rupanyup, is also a
wonderful source of gifts. I bought up big when we were hear about a month or
so ago.
Rupanyup is of course a location for some impressive silo
art, and at the silo location they have established a wall with useful tourism
information and weather proof boxes for leaflets spruiking the charms of towns
across Yarriambiack shire. I don’t repeat my visit to the silo today, nor the
trail of chainsaw sculptures that is under development in the township. I am
doing OK for time, but I’m aiming for Echuca so I still have a way to go yet.
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| Gold Prospector, Garry Perry, St Arnaud |
On our February roadtrip, we skirted the township of St
Arnaud and I was impressed by the beautiful old homes. I’m very pleased to have
an opportunity for better look around, even though it could still only be
described as a reccie. The main street is lined with vine draped awnings and young
autumn trees and they’ve not neglected their street art credentials either with
moody murals in black and white paying tribute to gold panners and Country Fire
Authority heroes.
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| Tarnagulla, Victoria |
My next temptation for out of car exploration comes with the
tiny village of Tarnagulla, which seems almost a ghost town, but that is rich
in gold fields history and community. The local free camp is well populated
with vans, presumably occupied by grey nomads. In the township the information
centre is closed, but their public artwork is openly available in the form of a
Kangaroo Chair designed by local school children and dripping with symbolic
references to local community.
A giant chess or checkerboard is surrounded by seating.
Presumably pieces for a game may be available from the information centre when
it’s open. It’s such a charming little place, I can’t resist a little wander
and read about a series of local heritage loop walks and the history of the
town in the gold rush era, the source of an astonishing wealth of finds. On a
field that stretched 2 ½ miles along the main lead, some diggers were
recovering as much as 86 lbs of gold in only a fortnight. It’s a hot day, the
walks look enticing but are more than I have time or energy for in this heat. I
turn my attention to an information board covering the floods of 2011, pleased
to see that recent history is included in the story for visitors to consider. I
settle for a short walk along Commercial Road, utterly charmed by Tarnagulla.
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| Wesleyan Methodist Church, Tarnagulla |
Back to the car, I take a turn up to the Poverty Mine
project and memorial, named in remembrance of Poverty Bay in NZ rather than
some symbolic reference to the range of trajectories that time on the
goldfields represents. Nearby the burnt out shell of the Wesleyan Methodist
Church, bright red brick of solid walls a surprising contrast to the roofless
state. Even in its state of distress, it is a beautiful sight against the soft
blue sky.
It’s nearly four o’clock but before I dedicate myself entirely
to the journey across to Echuca, I seek out the water in Bridgewater. The oral
history recorded on the sign about the flooding has made me curious and I’m
learning to assume that any place where a township has sprung up must have water.
Sometimes it’s a swimming pool or lake, or sometimes a river, but people
gravitate to water and it’s a great place to start the exploration of any town
or village. As I follow the modest street sign to the swimming place, I have no
idea of the treasure I’m about to find.
The parking area is basic, but determined to photograph the
water and perhaps the bridge I walk towards it. Swimming is in the pondage
created by a weir and there’s a lovely picnic area with shade sails and
electric barbeques, entry to the water facilitated by decking and ladders.
Checking out the opportunities for photographs of the
bridges, I find a most civilised fishing platform upstream, the meandering
pathway leading me on with more rewarding scenes. A huge flock of corellas is roosting in the
trees along the river. The constant chatter among the birds adding another
dimension to the riverside beauty spot.
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| Mural, Bridgewater, Victoria |
Passing under the first of the bridges which seems like it
might be an old railway bridge, I come upon a wonderful surprise in the form of
an intricate and beautiful mosaic. Hundreds of hand made tiles in a myriad of
shapes and forms have been brought together in representation of the town and
it’s history. It is simply beautiful. So impressive.
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| Corellas on the Loddon River at Bridgewater |
Between the bridges cut out rust textured canopies stand
like elevated lily pads above a picnic table. Suddenly in a chorus erupts as
the flock of corellas takes flight. They settle and rise again in their hundreds
over the water of the Loddon. I point and click hopeful of capturing the moment.
Crossing under the road bridge, the path, continues along
the river where signage indicates that motorised water sports is popular, before
terminating in an apparent dead end. I turn back and note with admiration the
water station. And then the final cherry on top. A welcome to country in
language and English translation from the Dja Dja Wurrung people noting that
this has been a place of crossing for the traditional owners as well as those
that have come after.
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| Bridgewater on Loddon |
It’s time I got back on my way. A quick snap, has turned
into half an hour and I could easily have stayed much longer. The township
feels remote, but really it’s only half an hour north west of Bendigo, or a
couple of hours to the heart of Melbourne. I love this about Victoria. So much
diversity and interest within such a compact distance.
I’ve still got a way to go yet, so I head reluctantly back
to the car and onto the first actual one lane roads I’ve come across in
Australia. The road corridor is of ample width and visibility runs into the far
distance but the sealed surface is much more restricted requiring vehicles to
move half onto the dirt to accommodate oncoming traffic. The landscape is beautifully
flat, the sky soft and grey in the late afternoon light.
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Entering Echuca, my attention is drawn by what I now see as
a blank canvas – Echuca Water Tower. Here my obsessive nature pays off. I bit of digging around to spark my memory of
where I took the photograph, I find that the Echuca Water Tower was designed by
John Monash. Yes, THE John Monash who submitted the tender for the job in early
1914. Construction was finished after Monash had sailed for Egypt with the AIF.
It seems John Monash did a fine line in
water towers having also designed water towers constructed around the same time
period in Tongala, Rochester, Mildura and Tatura (home of the superb vanilla
slice produced by Tatura Hot Bread).
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| Echuca Water Tower |
It’s been a very full and enjoyable day, but by now I’m well
and truly ready for settling in for the night. Eventually I go for something clean
but basic with the priority on budget. I’m very happy with the choice of the
Big River Motel which is worthy of the excellent online ratings.
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