23 March, 2011 - Lane Cove National Park, Sydney, NSW

Another sunny day in beautiful Sydney! Late home after a big day, and we dined too late to join the aborigine show on the lawn nearby however did watch it from our veranda.

This morning we made an effort to keep our rule about being out of bed before eight o’clock, something that has not been religiously adhered to of late. We needed groceries and had decided to try the shopping centre at North Ryde which the office people here had suggested was the nearest and most convenient, although it did only have a Franklins. Somewhere in this lengthy work I mentioned that the major three supermarket players were Coles, Woolworths and Aldi. I was wrong. Franklins is the third, at least according to an article I read in The Australian recently. We had however not had occasion to use a Franklins, and so this morning’s shop there was a first. Perhaps it was unfair that we should have chosen to shop at the one at North Ryde, but if it is indicative of Franklin supermarkets generally, we are not impressed. The meat selection was as inadequate as you would find in an obscure Four Square at a remote beach settlement in New Zealand, a small choice of vacuum packaged meat priced at at least fifty percent more than you would expect. The fruit and vege section was totally non-existent, and the choice of other lines was poor and over priced. Parking was under-ground for vehicles not exceeding 1.9 metres or outside in the delivery bay area in tight spaces better suited to Mini Coopers. We came out of the supermarket with a few desperate  essentials. Fortunately there was both a greengrocer and a butcher adjacent, and so we replenished our fruit and vege needs adequately but sparingly, and reluctantly paid out for some over priced meat balls at the butcher. All in all, an unsuccessful exercise. We have decided that we will need to get off the train at Chatswood on our way home one afternoon, walk to a Coles supermarket, then walk back to the station to continue our journey home, and hope that the time spent in the back pack will not rot the meat.

Once back at camp, provisions unpacked and stored, lunch made, we set off in to the city again for another adventure. Again we switched trains at Wynyard, for Circular Quay and waited to catch the 11.30 ferry to Parramatta, an hour long trip on the River Cat.

              

The ferry turning at Parramatta

Parramatta is now just a suburb of Sydney, but originally was an outpost settled in 1788 by the first fleeters when they realised that they would not be able to grow all they needed at Sydney itself, and recognised the area’s farming potential .  The first craft built in Australia in 1789, named the “Rosehill Packet”, or more familiarly “The Lump”, plied the river as far as Parramatta, sometimes taking a week to get there and back. In 1793, clinker boats had taken over the run, taking just 4 to 5 hours to make the journey, and by 1831 steamers could do it in 80 minutes. But by 1928 silt had made the river un-navigable, and so river traffic came to a stand still. It was not until 64 years later, in 1992, the River Cats, part of the Sydney Ferry fleet recommenced the service. If today’s passengers were typical of those who normally travel this way, I would say that the service is mainly for the tourists. Commuters can take the train in to the city in just half an hour, half the time it takes the ferry, but not nearly as enjoyable.

I cannot emphasis how lovely the Sydney Harbour is. The fact that most of the shoreline is built up with residences is a plus. There are green areas on points and in bays, set aside for recreation, which serve to add colour and variation to the scene. Just beyond the Sydney Olympic Park, the river narrows, and is lined with mangroves for most of the upstream trip. From Rydalmere, the last wharf before Parramatta, the river narrows yet again, and is only for the River Cat’s use. The wharf at Parramatta is at the uppermost extent of the navigable river; a weir creates a barrier for all further watercraft,.

We disembarked, then followed the signs to the Information Centre, which took us across that weir on a footbridge, and upriver along a pathway, mirrored on the opposite shore. I was reminded of the park like walks along the Waikato River in Hamilton, as we continued on our way. This 800 metre Riverside Walk is however painted  with symbols that reveal the history of this very interesting area. We ate our lunch watching a flock of cockatoos swoop and swirl above us from time to time, for no apparent reason, then climbed the steps to the street above the river.

The Information Centre which doubles as the Parramatta Heritage Centre, had an excellent exhibition titled “River reflections – River of stories” with photos and stories of settler families and those that came after who made a mark on the city.

The Heritage Centre library is manned by two (or more) wonderfully helpful staff who helped us source microfiche records and set us up with some quite sophisticated computers to read through these. However for all this, no further progress has been made in my search for Thomas Ingram. I do however have a better feel about the life and times in which he and Benjamina lived and will continue my search online.

We left the centre and walked up through the city centre to St John’s Cathedral, the building that replaced the original St John’s Anglican Church dedicated by Samuel Marsden in about 1803. It was here that my great great grandmother Margaret had been baptised in 1841. The doors of the cathedral were bolted shut, unwelcoming to history hunters, worshippers and the cosmopolitan population of this modern city.

The St Andrew’s church in Parramatta where Thomas and Benjamina had married, was carried away brick by brick many years ago, and moved to a place whose name meant nothing to me. 

So again we had done everything we could, and so ends my physical search for these particular ancestors. The internet in these modern times will remain the sole tool I have, however I do feel that the searches have not been entirely in vain. I have come away with a greater understanding about the people and places of the times.                    
                                                                           

Our return journey was equally a delightful, and we arrived at the central railway hub twenty minutes ahead of yesterday, however the crush of humanity was no less. It was good to arrive back home, and sit for a while under the awning with a couple of cups of coffee, listening to the chatter of the birds.