24 July 2012 - Grafton Showgrounds, NSW

Yet another day of good weather; how good is that? In fact, as we sat under the awning at lunch time, I saw the thermometer read 24 degrees in the shade, we are still over 300 kilometres south of Brisbane and we are in the last week in July!

Cattle grazing near sugar cane

After I had made another batch of milk up, prepared the corned beef for cooking all day in the slow cooker and pegged a load of washing on the line, we set off with lunch packed in the eski for a day’s touring. We headed north east, down river, crossing river flats alternatively grazed by beef or dairy cattle and planted out in sugar cane. Reaching Southgate, a locality rather than a settlement, we pulled in closer to the river and watched as the car ferry dispatched its load of vehicles and took on board those queued along the creek. Here the ferry comes right up into a creek off the Clarence River but on the other side appears to spill its load straight on to the Pacific Highway. The ferry here, like others we have come across on the Hawkesbury close to Sydney and on the Murray up near Renmark, is all part of the state road system and as such is free to users.

We continued down river until we reached Lawrence about thirty kilometres from Grafton. The official population is a mere 390 people, and yet there is a general store, a school, Post Office, Police Station, tavern, museum, a cricket field, soccer fields, a golf course, a public hall and a really good feel about it. There was little to keep us here and the ferry that crosses the Clarence here was at the time of our arrival undergoing maintenance, so we carried on, travelling north west this time, over hills clad with eucalypt bush, intercepting  the Summerland Highway which runs from Grafton to Casino. We turned south on to one of the best roads we have travelled here in New South Wales, returned to Grafton and were back in camp less than an hour and a half from departure. Needless to say our lunch was unpacked and we picnicked at home.

Early afternoon, we set off on foot down into the centre of Grafton and found our way to the Grafton Regional Gallery which is set in Prentice House, built way back in the 1880s. While we would not put a visit to the art gallery here as a must-do, we were pleased to have made the effort. The exhibits included Robyn Tychen’s “Secret Women’s Business”, brightly coloured studies of women in their toilette, all quite charming, a collection of photos, paintings and other media titled “The Horse: Art & Science”, sourced from a variety of collections, both private and public, the entrants to the Parliament of NSW Aboriginal Art Prize 2011, and a collection of photos by John William Lindt.

Lindt, a real eccentric by all accounts, took some significant photos of aboriginal people around 1873. Not only are these sepia records of artistic merit, they serve well as an historic record of the people of the time.  There was an informative DVD playing in the gallery about this man and the one fact that stood out as memorable was the story of his final demise. Lindt spent his late years near Healesville in Victoria, living and entertaining in The Hermitage he built at Black Spur. The property was set amongst the bush, surrounded in tree ferns and sassafras and all the other vegetation I grew to love in Victoria. In February 1926, bushfires consumed the bush all around The Hermitage, one of the great joys of his life. Then having survived that, he promptly up and died within two days, at the age of eighty one. Hardly fair, I would have thought.

Upstairs we found ourselves in an exhibition titled “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with….”, an exhibition to enchant and educate children. Most of the work was interesting to us, but what I really liked, given the theme of the exhibition, was that the plaques detailing the artist and the title of the work, and then a small story and question, were all placed low on the walls as were the works themselves. While it did not make it very easy for us adults to read or even view the work without bending down, it made the art work more attractive to junior would-be art connoisseurs.

We walked back home, calling into the Aldi supermarket to pick up a few well priced items, then on paying, the checkout girl insisted my handbag be searched. She obviously mistook my fatigue for shiftiness; lucky I was too tired to convey my disgust.