15 April 2011 - Cabonne Country Caravan Park, Molong, NSW

We were woken this morning by absolute raucous, not from the birds, but from fellow humans. A woman was ranting and raving in the distance it seemed and the particulars of her language were largely indecipherable, however the man whom she was berating responded from time to time with a repetitive “F… off, Joanne,” whenever he could get a word in. They seemed to be out on the road but we were well insulated with all our windows firmly shut and buried far beneath the covers on yet another cold morning. Then I heard a low male voice intercede closer so I peeped outside the blinds to find that this drama was unfolding on the site right next to us. And then soon they were gone. We had not heard them come in last night and so were baffled by the whole scene.

Our morning, having started rather early, was otherwise very quiet. I occupied myself with the mundane chores that woman do; re-sorting the pantry, culling the tourist brochures that have been weighing the van down more each week, laundry for a second day, shaving my legs and ironing. Chris and I unpacked the shade curtains that we had purchased from Barnes Caravans in Lansvale, Sydney and installed them, attaching ropes and working out how they all worked with the awning struts. We were happy with our results and look forward to setting them up when we are next settled in to a free camp for some days such as the one we were in at Macquarie Woods. This was the type of camp we might have stayed a week in had the weather not been so inclement.

I prepared toasted sandwiches on the new sandwich maker we bought a week or so ago, and was satisfied with the results of these, vowing to repeat the treat whenever we were on power and the day was winter fresh.

Molong's marvellous embroidered panel

We had just completed lunch when Paul, the caretaker, came over and explained what the commotion had been this morning. The campers, towing a caravan, a middle aged man and a younger couple, the latter two being “special” not drunk as we had suspected, had booked in for tonight, but arrived at 5.45 this morning, knocking on Paul’s door to announce their arrival. Paul was not amused as you would expect, and while reminding them they were about six hours early, said that they could move on to site if they were very quiet as there were thirty campers sleeping. So they did arrive at the site next to us quietly, but started to rave as they commenced unpacking. The neighbour on the other side of them went over to Paul’s cottage and told him what was happening. He duly arrived over here and told them they would have to go in no uncertain terms. This was of course after everyone had been woken in the same fashion we had. He apologised profusely for the ruckus.

After he left, Chris and I set off for a walk around the town of Molong, firstly along the river walk, and then up through the residential streets then down into the town. We were impressed with the charming old buildings, churches and public buildings in the town, all graced with the autumnal trees planted throughout the town. We called in to a small cottage labelled “The Yarn Market” which doubled up as the Information Office, and were given a tour of the old stables previously adjacent to a large pub. These have been lovingly restored and are the depository for a marvellous four panel embroidered wall hanging telling the story of Molong’s history. The volunteer talked us through each symbol and feature of the work, putting together the history which had hitherto only been gleaned by snippets here and there; the eucalypt forest and the stones, the exploration and survey of the route through this region by Sir Thomas Mitchell, whose name the Highway bears, the Aborigine guide , Yuranigh, whose courage and fidelity were applauded by that same Mitchell, Copper Hill, the site of the first copper mine in Australia, Samuel Marsden’s sheep settlement (the same Marsden who spent time in New Zealand converting the natives to Christianity), Charles Packham’s pear orchard (he used to provide pears for the Cobb & Co passengers and then collect the cores for seed), the arrival of the railroad, and so much more. It is truly beautiful and took eighty women to complete over a period of two years, working every single day.

Cattle at a water hole

Yuranigh's grave

After returning on foot to camp, we drove out to the grave site of Yuranigh, referred to above, just a couple of kilometres out of town. The gravesite is a fenced reserve in the middle of farmland, about half an acre with a headstone paying tribute in a European manner, and several trees which did once upon a time have carvings in aboriginal tradition. The cattle, water hole and gums full of galahs surrounding this now National Park, added to the beauty of the place.

Back in camp we relaxed for the rest of the day, a very quiet day for a change.