Country Roads, Take me home.

The Prologue – I have never watched a show staring a Kardashian. I realise this seems like an odd thing to brag about but I offer it by way of an explanation. Although the kid and I are thrilled to be sharing our travel stories, we have no desire to have our own reality show. Which is why any photos of us you see on the road will include lots of photos of the back of our heads and strategically placed props.

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With school looming ever closer for my only child, I had that feeling that I’m sure most parents have. Everything is about to change. We decided to plan a trip once a month for the rest of the year with the focus on making memories. Not waiting until I can afford the best hotel or an overseas cruise, just spending time together. Feeling a sense of nostalgia, I wanted to take the kid to a beautiful part of the country that I have being going to my whole life, Eugowra in Central Western NSW. Full of fresh air and history. It seemed like the perfect place to start.

Having chosen our destination weeks earlier, I packed well in advance, remembered everything we could possibly need and spent the afternoon before the trip baking gluten-free, sugar-free snacks for the car ride. At that point I woke up from the dream that had me acting like a modern-day Florence Henderson. It was 11.30pm on the night before we were due to leave. I had fallen asleep on the lounge. I had not packed a thing. While simultaneously throwing some clothes in a bag and some carefully chosen toys and craft supplies into a box, I wondered what I could buy at the service station in the morning that would not send the kid into a sugar coma on the 6 hour drive. You can almost picture the Mother of the Year award in my hand, can’t you? As a family, we never miss dawn service so being April 25, we woke while it was still dark. Music is such a big part of everything I do and that morning as they played the Last Post, I was overcome with emotion. With my baby girl in my arms and my Uncles Army boots at my feet, I thought of mother having to learn from a telegram that they had lost a child, of family members who had served, of my Poppy and my Uncle who I have fond memories of spending Anzac Day with and that now, I get to continue that tradition with my daughter.

Years ago, I worked with a well-known comic who wanted to serve this country so badly that he lied about his age to get into the Navy well before he was 18. During a conversation backstage, he told me that he didn’t wear his medals for years because of the way they had been treated when they got home. Protesters spat on people and yell abuse. I could see behind his eyes there wasn’t anger, there was heartbreak. I consider myself a pacifist and hate the idea of anyone’s child being sent off to war but I’m still eternally grateful for the sacrifices made by those who fought and died for everything we have. It’s that conversation that makes me unable to pass a Legacy stall without making a purchase.

I came home thinking I could sneak in a power nap. I managed to sleep through a child’s birthday party, which we had stayed in town specifically to go to, woke up in a panic, ran through a cold shower and we hit the road. Despite the total lack of organisation in other areas, the eclectic playlist for the trip was well and truly sorted. Ryan Bingham, Drew McAlister, Steve Miller Band, Kaiser Chiefs, Carole King, Taylor Swift, Paul Dempsey, The Choirboys, Teddy Thompson, Richard Marx and Cold Chisel all enveloped the confines of the car as we headed further west.

The kid and I were in the middle of belting out Bow River at the top of our lungs about 100km from home when I had a horrible realisation. I had left my hair straightener on the counter in the bathroom. That doesn’t sound like a big deal but for someone with a natural kink in her hair it’s like leaving the house without your pants on. The kid laughed as I muttered expletives under my breath and seriously considered turning around but I got over myself a kept driving.

It was nice to pass though all the small towns and see the War Memorials covered in flowers and we took the time to stop at each one. The unusually high amount of road kill and the occasional floral road side memorial were all sobering reminders to stick to the speed limit and watch the corners. There is something on this particular drive that I love. Most of the time you don’t even notice it’s happened. The previously unremarkable dirt on the side of the road turns a deep dusty red. For a girl from the country, there is something soothing about it.

Time and money are the big factors that will stop you getting away, so we decided to keep all of our holidays as cost-effective as possible. With that in mind this trip was something we refers to as a Lation-Cation (a holiday staying with the relatives, namely my Grandma). My Grand mother is the youngest of 6, all born and bred in the district and though there have been long periods when they lived elsewhere, all but one sibling moved back to Eugowra eventually. Every where I look there are such warm and funny family memories and after a long trip I couldn’t have been happier to see my Grandma’s driveway.

530 people reside in Eugowra according to the last census and each one of them happy to stop and have a chat. Weather you visit the local craft store, Craft on the Creek, the supermarket located inside the historic old imperial theatre building, The Museum, the bowling club or the Central Hotel, the locals couldn’t be nicer or more helpful.

Not surprising really, given that even the bushrangers are friendly out this way. In the 1860’s the Frank Gardiner Gang including it most famous member, Ben Hall, took over the town of Canowindra, just up the road, bailing up locals in what is now the Royal Hotel for 3 days. They kept everyone entertained and “well hydrated” which I always assumed was code for “got everyone drunk”. By all accounts, a pretty friendly hostage situation.

On June 15 1862, the gang also committed the largest gold robbery in Australian history just 5km out of Eugowra at Escort Rock. They stole 77kg of gold, which if sold today would be worth $4.3 million. Taking the kid out to the site, she was a bit annoyed that Mr. Hall didn’t leave any gold behind but with some research we did find something online called Geocaching. It’s a world-wide treasure hunt and luckily there was some treasure at Escort Rock after all. The kids little face lit up when she found it. Highly recommend it for parents wanting kids to get excited by something other than the ipad.

The reason we picked this particular week to visit was because for the last 5 years Eugowra has been hosting The Most Wanted Mural Weekend. Artists paint huge artworks of local significance which then adorn the side of buildings in the village. Project Coordinator, Jodie Greenhalgh and a committee of dedicated locals do such a phenomenal job. With no official grants or funding, they raise money across the year and people volunteer their time with spectacular end results. The sensational detail in the colourful paintings make the history of the area come to life.

The population of the village triples over the weekend, with markets, football games, a car and bike show, sheep dog trials all part of the action. The CWA were making food and coffee for all the workers and selling a huge array of slices and cakes for a dollar. The buzz of people in the usually quiet main street was electric and the most often heard phase was “what can I do to help”. It’s nice for kids to feel that sense of community.

There were four new subjects for the paintings this year. The old imperial theater, Mary MacKillop, the old convent and the iconic Fat Lamb Hotel. One of my earliest memories was at the Fat Lamb, I was maybe 5. My Great Uncle Stan and my Uncle Lachie took me to the pub, ordered a lemonade with red cordial and we sat at the bar while Uncle Stan taught me all the tricks that were printed on the back of the old Redhead Match Stick boxes. They even let me play the pokies with a roll of 2 cent coins. If anyone from the licensing board or gaming and racing is reading this, breath deeply it was almost 40 years ago and the pub burnt down in October 2012. Nothing to see here.

The Fat Lamb, originally called the Eugowra Hotel, was constructed in 1866. Although changed and improved over the years, nods to the original building remained. Some years later in the 1870’s, there was a bridge built across the creek which runs through the centre of village. Seemingly unrelated things but this fact always made me smile as I had visions of farmers wading through the creek on the way home from the pub and an angry farmers wife demanding the bridge get built because she was sick of hand washing muddy trousers. My Grandmother assures me that wasn’t the case and that there was a ford. Of course I knew she meant a shallow part where the water could be crossed but my mind went straight to a bunch of guys, three sheets to the wind, stepping on the roof of a Falcon. There really is no good explanation for the inner workings of my brain.

For those not related to half of town, it’s still the perfect place to base yourself. If you mark 100km radius around Eugowra, there is so much to see. My beloved mini human and I took lots of short day trips to explore the district. A huge fan of the D-Generation and all its incarnations, The Dish remains one of my favourite Aussie movies. Arriving at the CSIRO facility, just 10 minutes from Parkes we were relatively certain they wouldn’t let us on the 64 meter, multi million dollar dish to play cricket but we came prepared with a cricket bat and ball.

Thankfully we arrived at the same time as a young family who were just starting a travel adventure of their own. Leaving home in Victoria and taking 6 months off with their 4 and 1 year olds to explore the country. The kids played cricket on the lawn in front on this enormous structure which connects us to the universe. On top of some great science based, hands on demonstrations for the kids there was a scale that made my day. Letting me know that on the moon I would weigh 12 kilos, the size of your average super model. That alone was enough to make me want to book a flight on the next shuttle.

We also headed across to Forbes. For fellow fans of the Dish, this is where most of the exteriors for the film were shot. The stunning heritage buildings being more fitting for the time frame. Forbes is full of Ben Hall related sightseeing. Prior to our arrival, I wondered how long I could keep a 4-year-old entertained with the history of a long dead bush ranger but she was totally engaged all day. Even in the most unlikely setting, Forbes Cemetery, to see the last resting place of both Ben Hall and Kate Kelly, the sister of Ned Kelly.

Pulling up near Kate Kelly’s grave, we stepped from the car and I explained to my little princess as much of the story as I thought was age appropriate.. Leaving out the attempted sexual assault on Kate at 15 by a police constable which seems to have begun the whole families feud with the law. Resulting in her mother landing in jail and her protective brothers on the run. Also skipping the details of her sad marriage to a very questionable man. The relationship ended abruptly, when she was found dead in Lake Forbes.

I chose to tell the kid about the girl who after a rough start in life became an abolitionist, raised money for legal fees and took a petition to the governor pleading for the life of her brother. It’s not like she stuck up a Go Fund me page or sent the petition out on Change.org. In the 1880’s when women, particularly working class women, weren’t meant to have a voice, that would have taken some serious effort. Her commitment and her loyalty make her a pretty kick ass lady. When we got back in the car and turned the key, Avicii‘s, Hey Brother was playing on the radio. A little eerie but I’d like to think it was a sign that Kate was impressed by my story telling.

Moving the car the 50 meters down to Ben Hall’s resting place, I had a similar conversation. Explaining that despite to robberies and brushes with the law, history has painted Ben as a lovable rouge. Never directly responsible for any deaths and he was known to treat even people from whom he was stealing, nicely. He certainly had a sense of style. Killed in a police ambush just days before his 28th birthday, It seems like such a waste. As we turned the key in the car to drive away, My Hero by the Foo Fighters came blaring from the speaker. That time the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

As a mum raising a little girl, I like the kid to hear these stories. Not only because Australian history is important but because she needs to know that we all start from a very different place and you can’t expect people to reach the finish line at the same time or in the same way when some have been dealt an emotional, financial or educational handicap that you know nothing about. None of those things change their value as a human being. A philosophy passed down from my mum that has served me well over the years and one I obviously hope the kid adopts in life. Also wouldn’t complain if Peter Dutton did the same thing. Maybe he should spend some time with my mum.

As with the bridge in Eugowra, odd bits of information always stick in my mind and while in Forbes, there was a lot of details about the gangs robbery at Escort Rock. I read that during the confrontation, one of the troopers was shot in the testicle. Now the injury itself is not at all funny but given weapons of the day weren’t that accurate, that is one very unlucky man and likely not that thrilled about that particular detail being memorialised for the history books. Don’t panic, there is no photo for this paragraph.

We also got the opportunity to head across to my very first school, Cargo Public, which is in a gorgeous little town 40 minutes away. 145 years old and less than 20 student. Though there has certainly been lots of improvement and additions since I was there but the two original building remain and were just as I had remembered them. The staff were very accommodating and happy to talk and show us around. In a move than might not be able to happen these days, in 1978 when I went to the school for orientation in October, I loved it so much that they said I could come back for the rest of the school year. I came home after learning all the new Christmas Carols and my mum asked me which one was my favourite and I proudly said “the one about the guys in the band” …..there was a blank look. After asking me to sing it she realised that I thought the words were “We three kings with orange guitars”. A career in music was set from an early age.

The other thing I love about Eugowra is being able to shop locally. You know when you are at the dress shop, the butcher, the craft store or the pub the money is going back into the community. In a way that doesn’t automatically happen in larger towns. Something Mum did when I was young that always stayed with me was never going passed a road side stall. Whether it was a guy selling honeycomb straight from the hive or fruit and vegetables, it was important to her to support people who actually produced the product.

People I knew as a teenager will vouch for the fact that the phrase “ideologically unsound” was one often used by my mum. After a trip to the supermarket, she once asked me to return a punnet of strawberries because they were from France. Partly because there was no reason to buy imported in season fruit and partly because, it was the early 80’s she was still not that happy with the French. Explaining to the 14 year old behind the counter that I needed to return fruit because of the Rainbow Warrior was not an experience I was keen to relive in a hurry but it did force me think about my consumer choices.

Farmers being able to make a living wage, keeps small towns alive. Even if you live in the city and feel like it doesn’t affect you, their hard work keeps food on all our tables and milk in all our fridges. Worth thinking about next time you are at the super market and when you head to the voting booth in July. Don’t be fooled by pollies who talk about their concern for Australian jobs when they are constantly doing deals and voting on policies that are making the original Australian job unprofitable and unsustainable.

For a tactile reminder of just what small towns have done for this country, you only need to step inside the Museum and Bushranger Centre in the main street. Hand held shears and farm equipment all reminders that life on the land before motors, electricity and running water was back-breaking work. The kid and I also looked through two books painstakingly put together by locals of everyone from Eugowra who has served in the armed forces. Including the three eldest of my Great Uncles, it was nice to see photos of them as young men.

They were all in their 50’s by the time I was born but thankfully I was able to spend quality time with them in my teenage years and into my early 20’s. It only take a quick look around to realise how lucky we were that they all came home. On the walls hung photos of Roy, Robert and Vivian McMillan. Three members of the same family who were all killed in the great war. That kind of loss is hard to wrap your mind around.

Aside from the history of national significance, there is so much in town that reminds me of my family and of just being a kid. Walking into the Bowling Club and seeing my Great Uncles name on the wall, The site of the Fat Lamb. Even though the building is gone, I can still picture two of my Uncles pulling up a stool.

The house my cousin owns has had several family members living there at different times. When I pull up out the front the memories feel like yesterday. My Great Uncle working on cars from the mechanics pit in the huge shed, The other great Uncle bringing home a camel (don’t worry it’s a massive block). Big family dinners, Christmas and Birthdays all celebrated here. The house was always full of love and laughter.

For a kid, it’s also in the best spot in town, across the road from the pool. We would all spend time together over the holidays in the days when 20 cents worth of mixed lollies was a big deal. The house itself is now for sale and when you think about the housing affordability crisis, I’m sure the person who grabs this gorgeous family home on an acre block for under $200k will be as happy there as we all were. While writing this, I found a photo from the early 80’s and me roller skating on the huge front verandah. Given the sad one piece swim suit and the huge amount of safety gear, it will never see the light of day.

I’m blessed with a family that are natural story tellers with a wicked sense of humour. I could listen to them chat all day. A story I have been hearing all my life is about two of my Great Uncles. They had two identical tins one containing tea and one containing sugar and they were constantly picking up the opposite of what they needed, so in a moment of brilliance one night (I’m sure after a few beers) they have written “not tea” and “not sugar” on the canisters. My Great Uncle did explain to me during this visit, that is wasn’t a fool proof plan. The canisters also obviously had identical lids, so you only had to take them off at the same time and put them back on the wrong container and you were no better off than you were before.

A while back during a visit to my Grandma’s, I was on the phone and out of the corner of my eye, saw her pouring cask wine into wine bottles and of course I started to laugh but Grandma insisted that it was merely so that it fitted more efficiently into the fridge? During my next visit, I swung open the fridge door to find a wine bottle with McWilliams crossed out and NOT written in red pen.

A trip down the street is like a trip down memory lane. Calling into what is now the Escort Rock Cafe. A gorgeous modern space, which for most of my childhood was an old fashion milk bar. As the kid and I walked out after out lovely morning tea, I looked above the door and there was this beautiful etched mirror which had always been behind the counter in the original space, retaining the history was a nice touch. Even driving passed the old Golf Club which has now been converted into the most sort after caterers in the district, Eat Your Greens, made me think of my cousins 21st. I was about 8 and spent the night dancing with the relos and sliding around on the floor in my socks.

Just after 10am on the last day in town we headed across to the Central Hotel as the upstairs balcony has some of the best views in town. There had been a band on the night before and I’m sure everyone had worked late but they were still happy to make us welcome and have a chat, the kid even scored a free lollipop.

There is so much to do in and around Eugowra but for me it’s all about the people. So if you are heading out this way take the time to go and meet Bill and Helen at the Butchers, Danny and Diane at the Supermarket. Call in for a look around the Museum and have a chat to Elaine. Say hi to Tim when you stop in at the Bowling Club for a great Chinese meal or a roll on the green or pull up a bar stool and order a schnitzel at the Central Hotel where Trudy, Sandi or Brad will look after you.

A big thank you to my Grandma, all my relatives and the people of Eugowra for having us for the week and thank to Elliott at RokFM in Parkes for having us on air to talk about our little project.

For Jodie and all the locals who put such a huge effort into the Mural Weekend, I wanted you to know that not only has your hard work made a difference to the town but to me personally. In October 2013, two years into the project, My Uncle Lachie, my infant daughter and myself were all visiting my Grandma at the same time. Even though it’s not something we would normally do, I was so impressed with the paintings that I dragged everyone out for family photos.

My Uncle died very unexpectedly the following March and these are some of the last photos we have together. He was laughing and sticking out his tongue to make my daughter smile. Those memories are something that I’m very grateful for.

To end on a funny note, during the trip, I met several good-looking, genuinely lovely, salt of the earth guys. My thoughts were the same during every conversation…I can’t believe I left my freaking straightener at home. Vanity and my sad ponytail aside, for the single ladies, if you are looking for a nice country boy don’t fill out an application for Farmer wants a Wife, head west, pull up to the local pub and order yourself a beer or a chardy if you must and start a conversation. Save the public humiliation for something with a cash prize or a dream job.