21 April 2012 - Jindabyne Holiday Park, Snowy Mountains, New South Wales

Our front lawn

During the course of yesterday afternoon, the caravans kept coming in until the long strip of sites along the lake edge were all occupied. The sites are narrow; just enough for a caravan and awning but nowhere to park one’s vehicle. This has to go on the lawn out in front which in turn interferes with the view of the lake and mountains beyond. We wondered if there was a caravan club rally taking place here given it was Friday afternoon, however a bit of snooping suggested not. One of our immediate neighbours was an old caravan and a much more modern 4WD and two couples of our age, who had crossed the Bass Strait from Tasmania about nine days ago. They were heading toward the Murray River and planning an excellent trip, having survived the days so far. This I found quite incredible, because while the thought of travelling in the company of another couple, them in their own van, can be inviting (and here I remember the couple of days we spent with our friends Neil and Pauline at Macquarie Woods last year), the thought of being packed into the one caravan is not at all appealing. To top it off, one couple were smokers and that proved a problem for us when they sat outside their caravan puffing away on their cancer sticks. However we soon fixed that by shutting up one side of our caravan tightly as well as the roof hatches pointing that way. Passive smoking is not one of our fun activities.

As they were packing up this morning, we spent some time chatting with them and found out all the above, offering them some travel advice of our own. They were quite personable people and it just goes to prove that one should not prejudge people. Smokers can actually be nice people. And I say that with a poker face, having lived with some in past lives.

We were keen to check out the National Parks Information office as recommended by Katrin in Cooma and to buy our weekend paper, so set off around the lake shore in the sunshine. We admired the statue of Sir Paul Edmund de Strzelecki, the Polish born explorer and geologist, who made his mark here in Australia  from the year 1839 to 1843, and criticised the kitch art commissioned by the council to decorate this stretch of public land. Honeyeaters entertained us in the trees lining the walkway and we both agreed that Jindabyne was just wonderful.

Tightly packed

We then walked up into the village, found an excellently appointed Woolworths supermarket and the National Parks Visitor Centre which acts as a mini-museum. We were so absorbed by the film and interpretative information panels, that it was midday before we returned to the caravan park. Lunch was already sitting on the bench in the expectation of a picnic out somewhere, however that was not to be.

Instead we headed off after lunch eastwards to historic Dalgety, the one remaining township on the Snowy River in New South Wales; Jindabyne and Adaminaby both having been flooded  for the Scheme.

Dalgety is situated thirty five kilometres from Jindamyne, over lovely countryside still on the Monaro Plains. Here on these plains, a mixture of temperature and geography preclude the germination of trees and so they are mostly quite treeless, and thus very suitable for grazing of dry stock. At about the halfway point we came to the edge of a high escarpment, offering expansive views over the plain, and then we descended steeply down to the land immediately surrounding the Snowy River.

 
The approach to Dalgety from the western bank of the river is just delightful, especially at this time of the year. Here again was the golden foliage, some still tenuously on the trees and some as a great carpet on the ground. The bridge across to the township is the original one built in 1888 to replace the punt service.

The first settlement was originally known as Buckley’s Crossing after the farmer who first took his livestock across the river here for grazing in 1832. In 1848, it was renamed Barnes’ Crossing by which time it had become an important waypoint on the stock route between Gippsland in Victoria and the Snowy Mountains. In 1874, the town was formerly surveyed and named Dalgety after the maiden name of the surveyor’s wife.   She was the niece of the Dalgety of Dalgety & Co, the rural supply merchants and stock and station agents who I remember as being a significant part of New Zealand farming life in the mid-20^th century.

Then the population was twenty three, in 2006 it was seventy five.  In 1902, it was yet another location gazetted for the national capital, however it lost out because it was finally thought to be too close to Victoria.

Today, it has little to offer but a pub, a school, a general store than doubles as a café, post office and garden nursery, and lovely reserve along the river by a simple camping ground.

I had picked up a Town and River Walk pamphlet this morning and it proved to be a useful guide as we walked about the “streets” viewing the rather derelict houses and remnants of public buildings, dating back to the 1840s and 1860s, some still used as residences today.

 
We also checked out the last of the market that had been underway this morning. The three stalls still up were ever hopeful of custom; alas we were not interested in their wares, however we did engage in conversation with a young woman who suggested we might prefer to pop into the pub another day for lunch. She could recommend it; she worked as a part-time barmaid.

Platypuses live here in the river, and the water above the weir did seem to provide ideal conditions apart from it being the wrong time of the day. Signs nailed to trees warned that snakes were about; however we saw neither snakes nor platypus, only some very large ants which attacked me rather viciously working their way up my jean-clad legs.

Back on the road, we drove on through to Berridale, almost due north, a small settlement again adorned with the gold of autumn, we had passed through yesterday on our way through to Jindabyne. Today we paused long enough to wander about however the place seemed less attractive than I had thought it yesterday, even in the rain. That probably comes of the fact that a place out of reach always seems less once it becomes familiar.

 
It was only a further thirty one kilometres to reach our camp, the same route travelled yesterday. Today, about ten kilometres out of Jindabyne, we pulled into Tyrolean Village, a settlement of modern homes but little else, directly across the inlet from Jindabyne. We walked out to the point, accompanied by a very friendly young dog and were soon joined by his owner who spends most of her day apprehending her very social pet. She was as friendly as her canine companion, and kept us captive for probably half an hour  discussing or rather telling us of the lives of her children who live in obscure exotic locations of the world. While she was a most attractive and personable woman, we were keen to head home and so eventually tore ourselves away.

Still even closer to home, we paused to check the dam over the Snowy River. This is a rather strange shape and yet obviously effective. Despite the fact that the lake level is over part of the lakeside path, it seems that the lake is not at optimum level; it is well below the spillway.

And while on the subject of lake levels and spillways, we have come across a lot of discussion and written comment about the demise of the Snowy River in the context of the Snowy River Hydro Scheme. It seems that when the project was complete, the river was reduced to less than 1% of its flow as it left Jindabyne. Needless to say this was a concern to anglers, Greenies and average citizens who are as concerned about the environment as any other reasonable citizen of the world. The result of this depleted flow was silting and a change in the flora on the riverside, thus affecting the fauna who inhabit the water and the land immediately about, without starting on the frustrations of mankind. Increased awareness or rather, acceptance that perhaps the vocal few had substance, there has been on-going rehabilitation of the river. Part of this process is the occasional or rather, staged  release of water from Lake Jindabyne by 15% to 21% starting in 2009. Improvements have begun over the intervening years however there is still room for more. Legend has the Snowy River as mighty and impressive; we have observed it just south of Orbost, Dalgety and as it discharges from the lake; these words do not immediately spring to mind.