Benjamin Boyd, who was one of the earliest landowners in the district, initially named his property ‘Ulupna’. He later changed it to Strathmerton from ‘Merton’, the name of his family home in Scotland, and ‘strath’, a Gaelic word meaning ‘valley’.
Yarrawonga was founded in 1868 and made a shire in 1891. Its name derives perhaps from an Aboriginal term meaning “cormorant’s nesting place” or from a combination of yarra and wonga, meaning “flowing water” and “pigeon,” respectively.
We doubled back to Strathmerton to go to Cactus Country. This is a quote from ‘Aussie Towns’ ‘Cactus Country’ Located at 4986 Murray Valley Highway (less than two kilometres east of the town) is the largest landscaped cacti garden in Australia.
The garden proudly proclaims that it has over “4,000 species of cacti and succulents from around the globe.”
Spread across 4 ha it has eight different trails through the gardens, plant sales, a Mexican cafe and a gift shop.
It is open daily from 9.00 am to 5.00 pm, tel: 0427 745 271. For more information check out http://cactuscountry.com.au’ Better than I could have done.
Then on to Yarrawongo for shopping. (again/already) On return to the car, I found the side window on the canopy would not open. Too late for locksmith so West Side Caravan Park for the night. Lots of permanents. We were the second caravan in the whole park. Next morning locksmith says ‘Sorry. Only available Thursday.’
So free camping off Cullen Road Loop road with eco toilet for one night.
The next day, we drive into the rear yard of the locksmith as instructed down the narrowest lane with the biggest thing I have ever towed.
I think I had about a foot either side in the old language. We were sent off to have coffee which also turned into a book purchase as well, but when we returned, not only was the winow fixed but the other side had been checked and lubricated as well. Furthermore the young locky gave us directions to the cheapest and easiest access fuel. Another win.
There are two wildly conflicting meanings for Nathalia. One claims it is a Yorta Yorta world meaning “place with no stones” The other claims it was named after the Russian Tsar, Peter the Great’s, mother whose name was Natalya Naryshkina.
Cobram was the name given to a pastoral station settled by Octavius Phillpotts in 1845. It is believed that Philpotts took the name from an Aboriginal word, probably a Waveroo word, meaning “head”. Cobram was the head pastoral property in the district.
Barooga is named after Barooga station which was established by George Hillas in 1847. The historic Barooga homestead still stands on the Barooga-Tocumwal Road about 5 km west of the town. The word ‘barooga’ possibly means ‘my home’ in the language of the Wiradjuri Aborigines.
Heading for Cobram, we stopped at Nathalia for lunch. A pie and a coffee then to the local supermarket for a small stock up and we were about $63 lighter.
Good pie though. Made it to Cobram and the very helpfull lady in the info shop referred to Quicks beach over the river in Barooga for free camping. It was a great spot right on the River which we shared with a few others parked a polite distance apart.
We were about a five minute walk to the eco designed long drop up which we passed on the way in. We stayed there doing nothing in particular except enjoy the lapping of the water by sources from soft breezes to jet ski’s.
The last Day was 34 degrees and we registered our temperature of’ just a bit uncomfortable’ for future reference. Air conditioning wanted.
The town’s name is an Aboriginal word meaning “meeting of the waters”. Echuca is close to the junction of the Goulburn, Campaspe, and Murray Rivers. Its position at the closest point of the Murray to Melbourne contributed to its development as a thriving river port city during the 19th century. (N.B. Campaspe (/kæmˈpæspiː/; Greek: Καμπάσπη, Kampaspē), or Pancaste (/pæŋˈkæstiː/; Greek: Πανκάστη, Pankastē; also Pakate), was a supposed mistress of Alexander the Great and a prominent citizen of Larissa.
Straight to Thetford warrantee dealer Echuca Moama Caravans to check our van fridge. They put us onto a fridge mechanic and we invited him to come inspect the fridge at the caravan Park. Mr Sparky came to inspect the fridge and said he would contact the technician in Melbourne. It turned out, there is a built in facility which does not allow the gas to light the fridge for fifteen minutes when changing from car 12 volt source to gas. This is in case the car is turned off in a petrol station to fill up. They don’t want the gas flame automatically lighting up. Happy ending.
It was ‘stinking hot’ and windy but we went for a ride on an old paddle steamer. Almost back to the wharf, we were called by the park to say we had to return immediately and hitch up as there was a Catastrophic Fire Risk.
We had to wait with the van or could do a voluntary evacuation. We and two other vans were the only ones to stay. It was very spacious. We ‘rebels’ enjoyed the evening and next day all was back to normal.
We looked around Echuca, found the Haggis store and bought more of the same, bought books from the book store (where else?) and generally enjoyed the town. Oh! and got an empty 9kg van gas bottle filled. The young guy carried it back to the car for us. I now notice a few advantages to becoming more ‘mature.’
Boort is a local Aboriginal word meaning “Smoke from the hill”.
Quambatook is situated on the former Reedy Lake or Bael Bael pastoral run, taken up in 1845. The run’s area was 1500 sq km extending westwards from near Kerang to Lalbert. It was later subdivided, one of the holdings being Combertook and two others being named Quambatook East and West. It is likely that both expressions were derived from the one Aboriginal word, thought to mean a camp near water.
The brochure promoting the ‘spanner man’ had an unfortunate map on the rear which suggested the spanner man was near Boort. I should have not relied on the god awful GPS (since named Ethel) in which case I would have seen it was nearer a place called Quambatook and Boort was well and truly out of the way. Hence we got to see Boort.
The main street had a fine street scape and the caravan park was basically the local oval and use of the public toilet block. Passable but we were on a mission to see the spanner man. We arrived twenty minutes or so before the time advised to view/arrive.
However a lot of the work was on display in the yard and could be freely appreciated at will. The work was nothing short of incredible.
Horses reared on hind legs with rider, A huge Marlin on the line and a boat on the other end, animals birds and etc etc. All made from spanners.
John Piccoli comes from an artistic farming family. He is in a wheel chair and this would limit most people, but not John. At the 2pm time John told his story to approximately thirty people and it was a good story. His grandfather(or was it great grandfather) immigrated to Australia at 16 year old and walked from Melbourne to Boort. He was given a ‘selection’ (land grant) and as other neighbours couldn’t make a go of it and left, they gave him their land. He ended up with quite a parcel. Years later John is creating magic in his shed with grinders, welders and the world’s biggest collection of spanners. He said he never makes notes or sketches.
John doing hid presentation.
He doesn’t sleep well so creates the finished item and method in his head over several sleepless nights. As he is in the chair and as sculptures start at the top and on the inside, he has a unique method. The sculpture hangs on a block and tackle and as he builds from the inside he turns it to build out. As it grows down from the top, he raises it on the block and tackle to do middle section and then the lower.
He also collects animals and exotic birds and they are all on display and some even free ranging. A walk around the yard and you will discover a big shed and vehicles as well as his work shop.
Nothing short of dramatic. even the toilet roll dispensers in the toilets were spanners. On to Quambatook twenty kilometres north. We are in the country now. Land of trusting. We had phoned earlier and been told we could have an ensuite site. We perusing the main street, we saw a van heading for the park so we did a U turn and arrived a few minutes after.
They were unhitching and I asked where the manager was. They said I had to phone her. I did so and was told to go to site 6. There was a key in the door. We were told, park the van (on the very lush, green lawn by the way) go into the ensuite, there is a clip board. Fill out the form, clip the money to the clip board and lock it and the ensuite keys in the ensuite when we leave.
Fair enough. Next morning, we parked in the main street and visited the general store where we bought a few items as it is our habit to support local towns.
The lady owner said her grandparents met in the store. Grandpa was in an office on one side and grandma had I think a haberdashery on the other side of the store.
Local history. Next stop was the coffee shop owned by a very nice lady with a Holden fixation evidenced by the photos all over the walls. She confirmed it was now her full time job.
She was a very nice lady with a friendly disposition where she used to refer to the elderly in the nursing home she worked in as ‘luv’ or ‘dear’ but unfortunately now these pleasant terms are not (politically?)acceptable. I guess that’s progress? A nice person doing a good job and enjoying it but has the audacity to refer to an elderly lady as ‘dear’. Be warned. You could be a nice person as well BUT it doesn’t pay. On to Echuca.
Kerang. … Its name derives from an Aboriginal term with several possible meanings, including “cockatoo,” “parasite,” “moon,” “edible root vegetable,” or “leaves of a tree.” Settled in 1857 and declared a shire in 1871, Kerang was made (1888) the terminus of a railroad from Koondrook on the New South Wales border.
Time to leave Lake Boga, but not without visiting the Catalina Flying Boat Museum. Fabulous place. Lake Boga was the WW2 flying boat maintenance and testing site as it was far enough in land to avoid any enemy attacks. They also flew missions from there and the museum had a full sized flying boat and more information than you can ever hope to remember.
We spent hours there and I will include photos to save on words. We had a tangent win as well. The cafe attached to the museum had a few unique items for sale. Summary, we bought Haggis and Black Pudding AND pork pies!
We noted they were sources from Echuca and made a mental note to chase them up in due course. But for now to Kerang. The Caravan and Tourist Park was privately owned and had the high section with levee during high river and a lower section very seasonal and permitting ‘right on the river’ camping.
We did a clothes wash and had a ‘whee haggis’ for dinner. Town was close enough for us to walk into town.
The big brown log in the middle is the Haggis. Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it. You will notice one should always have ‘a whee dram’ with the meal AND highly recommended is a little whisky poured on the Haggis. You will also notice our pet plastic budgie. You will also notice he is blue and white and hence named Andrew after St Andrew patron saint of Scotland and you will of course know the Saltire is a white diagonal cross on blue background. View from our kitchen window. Another sunset. Still not boring.
We bought up big. A $5 T shirt with pocket in the specials bin of a camping store, an anti mosquito electronic gadget, an Aussie flag AND found the best yiros store around the corner. Met a very nice couple in the caravan park and got to know them over a few days. They were well experienced in camping but had a new van and for the first time I, the novice, was asked for advice and help. Important as well. The toilet cassette was stuck. That fixed the side awning was a problem but a little experimenting and all was good and there was rejoicing. Time to move on.
Swan Hill was called “Matakupaat” or “place of the Platypus” by the Wemba Wemba people. In 1836 the first Europeans to visit the region were led by the explorer Major Thomas Mitchell, who was seeking new areas for settlement. He named Swan Hill after a sleepless night camped on a rise near a flock of noisy swans.
Lake Boga (the natural feature) was named by the New South Wales Surveyor General, Thomas Mitchell, on 21 June 1836, during his Australia Felix expedition. The inspiration for the name was reputedly the colonially named Bogan tribe of Aborigines in New South Wales.
We got not free but relatively cheap camping on Lake Boga at $7.50 PP per night as it had a civilised toilet block. The caravan park on one side of the lake administered the camp area on the opposite side of the lake. We noted it was usually blowing seriously on our side but calm on the park side. I asked the caravan park manager why so and he said it was because we were in the cheap area. How refreshing. A joker. One windy serve we got at about 4am and was reported as 90km per hour. So windy we lost our pull string bag we put over the gas bottles.
We were being buffeted so spent the day inside. We went to Bunnings Swan Hill for a few odds and ends. Perfect timing. There were about three police cars and some action in the car park. It turned out to be Bright Spark day. Apparently some seasonal worker, let’s call him Spark 1, had been in the day before and knocked off a pair of work boots. He got away with it, so bragged to his mate (Spark 2) and took him back to pick some for himself. Unfortunately, for him, Spark 2 wasn’t quite so sharp and got apprehended. When the police arrived Spark 1 was found waiting in the carpark and they both got a free ride to the police station. Then to the auto electrician to get the burglar alarm in the rear of the car fixed. Then Woolworths and a gas bottle refill. Now re-hitching we have a problem. The gas will not light on the van fridge so everything has to go in the car fridge. It runs on 12 volt when the car is running. No one was available in Swan Hill so we phoned forward to Echuca and ‘booked a look at the fridge’ then resigned ourselves to the fact that until we get to Echuca, we are on 240 volts when the car is not running so caravan parks.
I could not find any conclusive evidence of the name Tooleybuc, although it was apparently two words originally, Tooley Buc. Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe Fred Tooley got Bucked off his horse there?
The small town of Tooleybuc has a very BIG Sporting Club.
Huge club and we are camped along the far fence. This photo is taken about half way to the fence behind.
The club allows free camping and also has outside flushing toilets for the bowling greens which are very convenient to state the obvious. Cuts the toilet cassette services to a minimum.
The club opens 11am and then the luxury toilets are available and of course the restaurant which has a seniors menu, sort of like a childs menu with smaller portions and smaller prices. Not all that much smaller. I am reminded of the sign I saw once: ‘No seniors discounts. You have had longer to save the money.’ We met more nice fellow caravanners including Jan and Garry. Our meeting and their Wedding Anniversary coincided so we joined them in their celebration at the Sports Clubs Sunday lunch.
We also shared 5pm drinks between the vans. It is here that Garry re-introduced me to an old, rustic friend, the wine cask. The quality of wine may be down a little, but not that far below a $10 bottle. However it is much more convenient as regards space and weight saving. About half the space and two thirds the weight. Two important factors. Most of the others had moved on and it was our turn. However it was coming up for 11am on the 11th day of the 11th month. Remembrance Day.
So we made our way to the sporting club entrance to be with others for our two minutes silence. The club didn’t open till 11am so we waited. In fact it opened at 11.02am so we had our silent time on the front door step. One chap rolled up but for a late breakfast drink and the lady who finally opened the door, didn’t know what silence we were talking about. Never mind. We had ours.
The Post Office opened in 1924 as Bumbang, but was renamed Robinvale in August of that year after Lieutenant George Robin Cuttle, a local boy who joined the British (he had been rejected by Australian forces), fought in France and was killed, aged only 22, over the Somme in 1918. The name means “Farewell Robin”. (Vale is Latin for farewell or Goodbye and pronounced Va-Ley)
Red Cliffs gets it’s name from the magnificent cliffs towering over the Murray River to the east of the settlement. Middens along the base of these cliffs are evidence that this stretch of river was heavily populated before it was named Red Cliffs. This land was part of the giant Yerre Yerre, later Mildura, Pastoral lease. (P.S. A ‘midden’ is an occupation site where Aboriginal people left the remains of their meals.
Off to Robinvale but not without a stop off at Red Cliffs to view a big tractor called ‘Big Lizzie.’ It was designed to carry various heavy loads in rural Australia such as wool bails. The camels were doing it tough and an alternative was needed.
Big Lizzie. Originally had two wagons it pulled .
It’s not big. It’s HUGE and one of the most interesting and inventive devices I have ever seen. A monstrous machine with what the designer called ‘dreadnought’ wheels. Each wheel had six large wooden pads evenly spaced around the wheel so as it moved forward in more or less walked, one flat pad at a time, six times per revolution so it could ‘walk’ pretty well whereever a camel could. it had just one almighty cylinder and general a speed of one mile per hour.
The dreadnought wheels. Three pads evenly spaced on one side of the rim and another three on the other side overlapping so one pad was flat on the ground at any given time and another was about to ‘tread’ on the ground.
It had two design complimenting trailers with dreadnought wheels and the lot put together made a mind boggling example of the old adage necessity is the mother of invention, even if it was in the early 1900’s.
Lizzie done and the town given the once over including a coffee and a lottery ticket, we were ‘on the road again’ to Robinvale. We Didn’t do Robinvale justice.
We wanted to keep moving. I will say the caravan park was very good with many spots right on the river and drive throughs if you don’t want to unhitch as well as good amenities. A nice neat town that had a large soldier settlement scheme in 1945 for returned soldiers. We did a big shop there and moved on. Sorry Robinvale. Next time.
The Mildura area is in the Mallee region. It was occupied as a pastoral run in 1847. Named Irymple, the run was renamed Mildura in 1858. The name is thought to have derived from an Aboriginal (Latje Latje) word meaning sore eyes caused by flies, or red rock.
We probably gave Rick and Diane a renewed will to live when we drove off in a cloud of adventure. We left via a weigh bridge to get the bad news but it wasn’t too bad. Though not perfect, we have found if we leave out water tanks just three quarter full, we are more or less spot on legal weight. The big brother of the dust storm we saw from a distance a few days earlier, decided to join us from Loxton to Mildura.
We hear about how the farmers are doing it tough, but it’s not till you are driving along with flat, dry, empty, red fields either side of the car with orange red dust cutting the visibility to about fifty metres that you really start to feel for those poor sods doing it tougher than we can possibly imagine.
Fruit inspection station on the other side. We are going from South Australia and that’s OK. you only get checked coming into S.A. By the way, see the magic word, ‘Phylloxera?’ It’s a grape disease and not loved. I had to study it in a Land Brokers course years ago. I can still spell it! The soup. Even rained a bit. This is roughly the density when the truck came past us. A little thicker I think because I could no longer see the back of the truck closer than that.
Notice the sand drifts coming across the road.
The Bloody Truck. Truckies carry the country and I have great respect and regard for them. However, as in everything, there is always a dribbling cretin ready to prove you don’t need a brain to appear human. So due to visibility, we have cut speed to eighty kilometres. The mobile monster with double trailer barrelling up behind us apparently saw no need to compensate for such conditions and without hesitation swung out and overtook like a giant serpent snaking through thick, orange soup. (My! How metaphoric and descriptive) Anyway, this total twat has his first trailer past us and I can see the start of the second when, I am guessing he saw the headlights coming towards him at the same time as I saw them. He immediately floored it but it didn’t exactly surge forward. So I hit the anchors as hard as I could. This is not such a good idea towing a twenty foot caravan unless you are imaging being run over by something ten times your size. My braking let the second trailer slip quickly past and that was just as well because he had decided he was coming across to where we were anyway. He just made it with a very rocky end trailer and disappeared into the soup without reducing speed at all. At the same time of course a small sedan also passed the other way I imagine thinking he had just been through similar to a scene from Jaws.
The world would be a better place without that lame brain truck driver. With help from the GPS, we managed to NOT find the free camp we wanted to stop at, so proceeded to the Buronga Caravan Park just over the bridge from Mildura.
Dust still thick even at the Caravan Park
As a mad coincidence, the next day happened to be the first Tuesday in November.
The Melbourne Cup! The Park was filled with yearly regulars there specifically for the Cup and they all congregated in the grassy square for the race that stops the nation and also forces people to drink in the middle of the day, which we did. Band (of old musos with old songs. Perfect!) BBQ and Booze.
The magic triple B formula for a great day. On the way out we could not go past the Holden museum.
An hour or two of nostalgia and regret as I viewed examples of the four GMH cars I had ‘got rid of’ for next to nothing and would now sell for total well over $200,000.
1965 HD Holden. I had the Premier X2 with twin carbs 1956 FC Holden. My first car. 1971 HQ Holden Monaro. Mine was an LS.
For just one example, a 1968 HK GTS Monaro with V8 engine. I had a silver one.
AND the 1968 GTS Monaro. I had a metallic grey with a V8 engine.
‘The town was proclaimed in 1907 and named after William Charles Loxton, an employee of Bookpurnong Station, who lived in a hut beside the river in the late 1870s. Even after he moved on, the hut was known as Loxton’s Hut and the residents of the district voted to retain the name when the town was proclaimed.
A lot happened here in Loxton. I will try and condense and it won’t be in order. Rick and Diane are good friends from way back. Rick as far as school. They are fine country folk and pillars of the community as lifelong residents and supportive contributors. Rick had a few breaks to go to school in Adelaide. They had a couple of kids that magically transformed into two very clever and successful young ladies and they have gone on to make unique lives for themselves.
Our Weight Was showing. We had camped in their driveway four months earlier when we took the van on a shakedown trip there. I had had the car and van GVM and GTM upgraded. (legal weights with payload) The car can carry 133kg more than standard and the van about 150kg. All approved and registered. ‘Oh yes!’ says I. ‘The car and van are totally legal, weight wise. AND once more, the car can pull 3.5 tonne and the van is just a bit over 3 tonne.’ Cocky with confidence. Have you heard the saying, ‘A little knowledge is dangerous?’ I didn’t know about the GCM. The Gross COMBINATION Mass. That is the max that the whole lot can weigh including the two bods in the front seats. For the Ranger, that was six tonne. We were 200kg over. It was in that driveway that I took a week removing ‘things’ from the car and van. The second spare on the hinged arm on the back of the car was great, but weighed 47kg. Bye-Bye. The second van spare I had ordered was 27kg. Bye-Bye. The very professional slide in the tunnel boot, handmade by yours truly was a work of art but weighed 20kg Bye-Bye. Plus various tools and optional extras that became no longer optional. Bye-Bloody-Bye! At least Rick had the super big and well stocked workshop to handle the jobs.
Flowers and Fairs As mentioned before, The Renmark Flower Show had spread throughout the Riverland and that included Loxton. We visited private houses with loved gardens and the drive in. That is to say, entrepreneurs had purchased the local drive in and turned it into boutique accommodation with a variety of sculptures both metal and other, set in a colourful and carefully planned garden. A fabulous old historic house, ‘The Pines’ was part of the flower exhibition, it’s garden more than worthy. It also served as the perfect venue for Fairs and Fundraisers which we attended, over ate bought ‘things’ and generally had a fine time. Pleasant weather, venue and company. Diane had been on the committee for The Pines and knew all there was to know about this time capsule.
She still conducts hour long historical tours including stories of its inhabitants both past and apparently one that has come back again. Yes. Every old house usually has a ghost story and The Pines is no exception.
More flowers at the Burrundi Homestead about half an hour from town. Nothing short of spectacular. It also happened to be the perfect place to practice ‘The great Australian Salute.’ It was like the place also happened to be the world’s biggest fly farm. We left when our arms started getting tired from amusing the flies with our pathetic attempts to wave them off.
Lunch at the Renmark pub. More flowers, paddle steamers and a Harley Davidson ‘gopher’ or mobility scooter. Might get one if I live that long.
Rustic Art. I never saw Rick as an ‘artist.’ Now I have to admit he is talented. He makes ‘things’ out of scrap metal. Their front yard displays a full sized cart and driver pulled by four horses. The cart is real and the rest are made from rusty steel. I think he uses old hot water service tanks for the horses bodies.
Displayed around the yard and all from scrap metal are birds, dogs, pigs, a canon, giant spider and the list goes on and on. Oh! And the coat of arms, in fact quite a few kangaroos. He should have an official exhibition but just potters for self satisfaction and the odd sale when talked into it.. We tried to contribute, whether cooking or buying meals when Diane would let us. She seemed to be forever whipping up feasts with little or no effort. So ‘inter alia’ we provided chicken cacciatore, chilli concarne, fish and chips as well as other cuisine delights like Vili’s beef pies. Also BBQ times three. More condensed events.
Goanna. Every home should have one. … and should have at least two sleepy lizards.
In the yard or near, sleepy lizard full time residents, shamelessly mating in front of the picture window, goanna and king brown snake. Numerous birds. In the drive way and workshop, auto electrician to fix burglar alarm in back of car, rewired car to avoid battery going flat, sawed van stabiliser legs down a little to make more practical, tested generator running van air cond. Installed a Klaxon horn (every car should have one), installed ‘Kangaroo whistles’ to scare roos off (how naive I am).
Made a bug screen for the radiator. Purchased ant spray, fly nets to pull over our heads at peak fly season, multi-meter, fly swatters, boot polish. Inside, paid phone bills, helped install Netflix, forced everyone to watch The Da Vinci code and Waking Ned Devine against their will. Also walked along the river and talked to house boat owners. You know you can get one for around $40,000 but of course it won’t be real flash. Stayed inside 23rd because it was just too damn hot and had a dust storm, helped deposit and rake spread the front garden with fertiliser or manure, but pig s**t is more specific and descriptive.
What was the quote out of Apocalypse now? ‘I love the smell of napalm in the morning.’ Well, you can’t say the same about Pig S**t.
We called it ‘Pig S**t Friday and Sunday’. Took two sessions.
Special mentions. Don’t miss the Pioneer Museum.
The Pioneer Museum had it’s own resident ‘Roo’.
Or tree of life on the river bank. Did more than this. Laughed and talked a lot. Could have stayed for ever but decided to release them, so we moved on.
