Under a hotter Sun; The big clean up;

The bulls;

The big clean up.

The grassland around the home paddock looked messy, strewn with discarded roof iron sheets, bricks, broken tools, wooden, broken carts, rusted cars with and without wheels, many old water tanks with rust holes in them lots and lots of sherry flagons who probably kept a few of the McPhee ancestors happy. Tangled fencing material and fallen trees brought by we don't know how many previous floods ago. Peter had to call a bulldozer to make a few big holes in the ground to bury everything.

Peter had already bought a tractor, bright orange, his toy, and a slasher to cut the old grasses.
The Rep., Gary was his name, came many times until Peter had bought all the machinery he needed. He would always stay near the window, look out into the countryside and say:" Lovely view, nice cup of tea. My wife she is a funny lady, a funny lady, nice cup of tea. These sentences he repeated many times but we have never found out why his wife was a funny lady, so he drank his cups of tea!

Peter went down to the river where the grass and weeds were man high to clean up a field to make it ready to sow new grasses. The good news about floods is that they deposit silt and this makes the very sought after alluvial soils on river banks.
Peter and the tractor were hidden in the tall vegetation. From time to time when the
front wheels hit a hidden object the tractor would rear up like an angry beast! He had to drive very, very slowly not to cause an accident. One other field also along the river was already planted with corn. It looked a bit bedraggled but it would be harvested later on. The mending of fences would take a long time and contractors were already scheduled in the new year to come to dig the post holes and help in general. The wooden posts are very heavy and most of them had to be replaced. All the fences were in a sorry state.

A new stockyard had to be build for the cattle to be checked and for treatment and as well for loading and unloading. So there was very much activity going on little Gem. People from around the area liked to come and have a look what was going on. They always asked have you got money from Switzerland. They thought we had this Swiss bank account which would spew out the money when ever we needed or wanted some. This sort of arrangement would have been nice.

A part of the riverbank is badly overgrown with huge weeds and a lot of bamboo. So Peter thinks the fastest way to clean this up would be to burn it. As soon as the fire was lit, we got scared, it burnt with lightening speed and the bamboo started to explode. It sounded like a very, very noisy Chinese New Year fireworks. We tried to stem the fire with buckets of water....we got very hot, dirty and tired, until the flames were brought under control. Next time we have to be more careful.

Under a hotter Sun; Buying the herd;

Buying the herd;

Summer was well on its way.
We had the property and were very keen to buy a herd of cattle before Christmas.
This was the holiday season and it would bring a halt to our endeavours until the end of January if we didn’t hurry and buy the cattle now.
Our Stock and Station Agent rang that he would pick us up on Monday morning at seven a.m. to go out to Jackadgery to select the cattle. He had to leave his message at the milk bar and take-away shop of Hazel and Alex, as we were not yet connected to the Telephone.
We were ready at the appropriate time when Ross and Ray arrived in a Ford Vehicle
and picked us up.
It would be a long drive and the morning promised a hot day.
After about one and a half hours drive mainly through heavily timbered bush, Ross stopped the car at a pleasant place near a fast flowing small River. He rummaged in his boot to come out with a big Esky filled with sandwiches neatly stashed in a plastic box and Thermos flasks of tea. . Peter and I hadn’t eaten breakfast as we were too exited, so the Sandwiches and tea were a welcome break. Soon we returned to the car and the trip continued.
Peter and I hadn’t been to this rather wild and densely forested hills. The bitumen road gave way to a dirt road. The car didn’t have air-conditioning so all the windows were down and clouds of red dust left a film on our moist skin. I was wearing a nice dress but it was not cotton so it was clinging like a second skin and itchy. The seat of the car didn’t help either as it was made of artificial leather that got hot as well. I tried discretely to scratch my burning skin and felt I was peeling myself as layers of red dust came away.
After another hour we arrived at Charlie Smith’s property where we were to choose our cattle. Most of the cattle were already in the stockyard. Ray and some helpers were ready on their horses to drive the ones we choose to a holding paddock until they could be transported to our place. We went to the stockyard to have a look at the cattle. They were nice animals.
The cows each had a calf at foot and were also pregnant. The cattle market was down and prices were low. That’s why Charlie had to sell his cows. We agreed to a price it was seventy-five Dollars a cow with the calf. Ross our agent said if we really wanted we could go lower. But Peter thought seventy-five Dollars for a cow with calf was pretty good and he said he didn’t want to put more pressure on the chap who had to sell his farm and his cattle. So everybody was happy and the selection began.

Peter was in his element choosing the cows while Ross and Ray with their longstanding experience was giving the nod of approval or not. It took quite a while until Peter had chosen the cows he wanted. He also chose a nice looking bull that he on the spot christened Willie. I would dearly have loved to know what the tough cattlemen thought about that. Their faces didn’t show any amusement just in their eyes was a little glint.
The rest of the cows were let out of the holding yard and while they were crowding out Peter saw one that he thought he had selected. He ran towards the cattle waving his arms in the air and shouting I want the dark brown one as well. This action frightened the herd so much they were running in all directions it was nearly a stampede. The cattle that live free in the bush are very shy and frightened towards people when not seated on a horse or in a car. Peter didn’t know this and the men had a good laugh at him.
After all the mustering was finished Charlie said to Peter that the Hereford cattle might not do as well in the lowlands as they do up in the hills. Peter said he was aware of this. Also Ross and other cattlemen told him it would be better to settle for Angus cattle. It was true the Herefords in the hills were healthy looking with a shiny red coat. Where we lived they didn’t look that great their fur was dull and shaggy. Peter loved the Herefords. He was going to find out what ailed them on the lowlands his scientific mind was ready to tackle a challenge.

The next day a cattle truck arrived with our herd. It was very exiting and we all went to the old dairy where the cattle were to be unloaded. We didn’t have yet build a stockyard so the truck was backed towards a small hill where the cows and calves could jump down from the truck. Willie the bull was last. He was reluctant to jump down. He had a reputation to maintain and it was not a very dignified sight the heavy bull jumping from the truck. In the end with a few probes with a stick into his backside from the truck driver he thought better of it and jumped. The cattle let out a cacophony of bellows and ear-splitting noise to orientate themselves and their calves. They were running everywhere especially up to the gate where they had entered on the truck. It was getting dark and Peter was afraid that they would jump the fence and get lost somewhere. The next day very early in the morning we went to look for them. We had not far to go they were all assembled at the old dairy like for a morning roll call. The cattle had forgotten their stress and settled down. Now we heard only the odd bah-bah of a calf looking for its mother. Willie was in the middle of his ladies looking proud and imposing.

One night in the first week when we had the cattle we were rudely woken up by loud knocks on the door and were taken from our dreams. I must say here that is was probably only about ten o clock. We went early to bed, as we were awfully tired in the evening, from doing all this outdoor work that we were not used to. We jumped out of bed and worried what had happened. The two Johnson brothers were standing outside the door and told us that some cows from us were in the river. Peter had to get the tractor, ropes and the torch that was unfortunately very low. It was very hard work to get the cows out of the water, especially at night under a lot of swearing on Peter’s side the Johnson Brothers didn’t swear, the cows were rescued. We thanked them for their help, as we could have lost those cattle.
The next morning Peter started to fence the river off so we wouldn’t have that mishap
again.

Copyright T.S.

Under a hotter Sun; The grazing property; The bush; Trees are happiness;

The grazing property
This was our first inspection of our new property. Everything was new and interesting. We were getting ready for a walk up to the densely vegetated bush. Peter had instructed us to be very careful of snakes and dangerous insects. We all wore two pairs of socks and high laced up boots. So we were soon ready, well shod and also each carried a wooden stick for our walk into the unknown. I didn’t really know what the stick was for, but I soon discovered the stick was very handy to keep cobwebs away, which kept attaching to my face in long sticky strands. We walked in single file, first Peter then the girls and I making up the tail. Peter was also instructing us to stamp with one foot from time to time to vibrate the ground to disperse any approaching snakes. There was so much to see and look that we forgot to stamp our feet. The heat was penetrating the thick growth and we were hot in our protective gear. There were different places; some were dense with vegetation. Others open, small glades with tall Eucalyptus trees. As we wandered on we came to an enchanted place. The sun barley penetrated the thicket. There was a dark secretive Billabong, a water hole, as we approached we heard several blob blobs and something disappearing into the dark water. Later we discovered that the blobs were turtles rushing into the water. There were also eastern water dragons running from us on long legs and plunging into the water. This time we were only exploring a small part on the eastern side of our property. We soon turned around, as it was very hot. We thought to come back at another time when it was cooler.
On the southern boundary was a canal with a floodgate that could be operated, as was necessary to let water flow in or out. Sometimes cattlemen from the next farm would throw in to the canal a dead cow or calf. We thought this was nasty and very unhygienic. Yet after a few days nothing of the cow was seen. We wondered why until we discovered huge, arm thick eels enjoying themselves. The eels were safe from us!
The girls became quickly familiar with the property. They were very inquisitive and went exploring by themselves. They found one place just full with pebbles and an underground water source. There was a little stream gurgling up from the underground. They digged there to search for gold but all they found was fools gold. They found stone tools used by aboriginal people. They left them where they found them they were not theirs to take.
We had a visitor who wanted to have a look over our property. He mounted his motorbike and was off in a flash before Peter could warn him about certain hazards to look out for. He was driving at high speed towards a drain probably about one meter deep.
We were shouting and waving our arms but he didn’t hear us above the noise of his motorbike and he couldn’t see us as he was driving away from us. We could only look
on what was happening. His motorbike dived into the drain he was thrown up into the air his arms outstretched then he made a salto and vanished too into the drain. We were stunned, we ran towards him but he was already crawling out of the drain shaking his head. Fortunately he didn’t come to any harm and relieved we laughed at his stunt ready for the circus.

Left the old dairy.

The bush

I gazed at this odd strip of wilderness hanging on to the eastern boundary of our grazing land. My eyes drilled to lush greens stared at this untidy mass of trees and scrub in their subtle dusty shades of blue –grey, olive green, above it the relentless blue sky dulls it all to a plain, stubborn stillness. I turned away with a sigh, oh well the real estate agent told us, that this part of the property, he called it the bush, was very valuable for the cattle to shelter from the extremes of nature which in time we would also experience. Shelter from sun or rain, in flood times as this ground was fairly high above the river and finally it also provided food.

Day in day out the grey green wall of vegetation mocked me, challenged me to come and look, to appreciate the difference, to observe the changes through the seasons. At this time of year it appeared hot, dry and thirsty. The leaves are hard and unyielding. Yet when my fingers crush the tough membranes they release a scent of peppermint or lemon their fragrance perfuming the air. The leaves rustle softly by the faintest touches of air whispering their secrets. Before I went to bed I looked through the kitchen window to the bush hidden in the shadows of darkness.

Trees are happiness
I made forays to discover the mysteries, the secrets, the hidden beauty of the Australian bush. I carry a small book with pictures to look up the names of Australian trees and plants from this region.
A grove of Eucalyptus trees was my first find. Spotted Gums, Scribbly Gums, their trunks go on forever scratching the clouds. The spotted Gums have beautiful colourful markings. The bark is very smooth under my fingers. It cracks and I can prise it open to reveal a new juvenile beginning as soft as silk of muted colours, pale mint, blue, grey and pink, dressed like this no wonder this tree reaches for the sky.
The scribbly Gum is like a relic from the past sporting up and down, around its trunk, stories written by tiny insects scratching, scratching day in day out for endless times. No one knows what they are writing about it will stay forever an enigma! The flowers are unique too, popping out of their casings revealing glistening white bristly stamens with gold overlaid. They are an important food source for myriads of insects, birds, bats and small animals.

A dead branch suddenly falls off, a widow-maker, crashes and shatters on the floor nearly hitting me. To my amazement a tiny creature, a pigmy Possum stunned and shocked by the sudden fall of its home, lands on my hand. I hold it gently, it takes not long and it is off quick as a flash. I think this is once in a lifetime to have the opportunity to hold one of these rare, very shy creatures.
In earlier times when timber men were working in the bush to cut down trees these sudden falling branches were called “widow-maker” by them, because many a times a man had lost his life that way and left his wife a widow.
Special favourites are the charming Acacias, also called Wattles, because they were used to build wattle and daub houses. There is one flowering for every month from bleached, pale yellow to golden sunshine. They stand out lightening up the countryside. Fluffy balls, mimosa scented, nestling or hanging in ropes from antic blue, ferny leaves showing their silvery undersides. Silver trees, Palace flowers, they stand out, lift up your spirits.

The Casuarinas or She-Oaks stand sentinel barley fluttering their dark, blue-green needle like foliage. Their branches loaded with stone hard, small cones holding seeds, which the black red-tailed cockatoos adore. Every day as long as they last they are feasting, screeching, flying from tree to tree to provide a wonderful spectacle.
The trunks of casuarinas are solidly carved objets d’art. They rival any man made sculpture. Under these trees nothing grows. The floor is thickly carpeted with its rust-brown needles.
Further away. Where the sun can get hold of the forest floor grow pockets of wildflowers.
Rice flowers their many miniscule florets forming a head. Hibbertias creeping along the floor, holding their yellow cup like flowers up to attract small black beetles searching for a meal.
Starlike, splendid blue Paroo- Lillis swaying on tall wiry stems ask to be picked.
Where the ground keeps moist I find small purple greenish ground orchids with nodding heads agreeing to anything. The bush is so alive yet when I look at it from my window it appears stern and unmoving, what a deception.
Paperbarks, their name a give away. The spongy bark clings in papery strips to the tree. Covering its attractive trunk and limbs in thick wads layer upon layer to protect the core of the tree from fire. This beautiful tree covered with its silvery, white flowers lets other trees gasp in frustration!
I could go on and on, one is more beautiful than the other; I just want to mention the Brachychitons with their tongue breaking pronunciation. Stately, tall trees with green bark, flower when there is not a leave in sight. It is not called for nothing Flame tree. Its fiery red bells hang in bundles from the branches smothering the whole canopy. Its sister has pink bells on silver grey limbs it is breathtakingly beautiful.
I want them all in my garden to worship their beauty to admire their sudden transformation; Australia’s trees its treasure.

Copyright T.S. 08

Photos T.s.

Under a hotter Sun; The old house; The burglary;

The Coldstream River;


We said goodbye to Reg, Ella and their family and moved for the time being into the old house.
Ted and Reg drove out to us and brought buckets and cleaning material to lend us a helping hand to clean up the worst. We thought how nice and generous it was of them; as they were themselves always busy and had a lot of work.

The burglary;
Sleeping the first night in the old house, we found out there were already some hidden residents. I woke up in the middle of the night. I was disorientated sleeping in a strange place. My heart was beating fast when I heard heavy thumps plunking on the wooden floor outside on a sleep out connected to our bedroom. I woke Peter and he heard the plunking too. We looked through the window yet did not see anybody outside. I whispered I think it’s a burglar. Peter whispered back, a burglar would not be so noisy. I whispered He might not know that somebody lives in the house. Peter opened slowly the door to the sleep out. Peter’s torch shone full on some very big, fat, grass green residents that jumped from an outside water tank into the sleep out that had its roof halfway torn away from a previous storm. They landed heavily on their bellies and than plodded along the wooden floor in search of insects. Relieved there was nothing to worry about we went back to bed. I dreamed of hundreds huge, green frogs tumble from the roof, jumping all over the bedroom and laughing at us!

The old house ;
The old house was situated not far from the river on a small knoll. It was an old Queenslander built on heavy stumps. It was badly neglected. Yet the timber walls, floors and ceilings were still in top condition. Nothing was rotten. It was a big house with a separate kitchen house that was connected via a small veranda. I liked it from the beginning. Peter had never liked timber homes and there was no negotiation about renovating and living in it. The option was only to live in it until our new brick home was built. We settled in to make it our home for the next six to eight month. In the house was also left some old junk or were they antiques? An old chest of drawers, an old cupboard filled with books and letters and stamps. I would have loved to go through all this but Peter in his haste was telling the owner to get rid of it and when we came back the next time all was gone. The last flood had come up into the house, one could see the rim on the walls where the water had reached and it also smelled very musty. We ripped out all the old carpets. Underneath were nice hardwood floors. We cleaned two bedrooms and the kitchen. The kitchen was in a sorry state, I cleaned and scrubbed and for the time being it had to do. Renovated it would have made a glorious kitchen with its soaring ceiling up to the roof and a small veranda in front. It still had a chimney with a wood-burning stove. When Peter cleaned out the stove he found a rats nest with tiny, new born inhabitants. He could not kill them as they were so utterly defenceless. He took them out and settled them behind a bush hoping their mother would find them.




On the veranda was also a makeshift toilet and shower, as the original bathroom which was also connected by a small covered gangway, by the look of it had not been in use for a long time. It still had an old claw foot bathtub but nothing else. Somebody with architectural flair and a knowledge of old Queenslanders could have made a splendid home. The only negative for me was that it stood on flood prone land .We were glad to have the shower. With the toilet we were not so lucky. It was not connected to a sewer system. So we had to use a bucket until this problem was solved.
There was so much rubbish around that we cleaned up. Jacky found an old rusty bucket under the house that was full to the rim. With her foot she stomped into it and found out that it was the bucket that stood under the toilet. We all had a good laugh and I said just as well she wore high gumboots.

The Veranda roof was torn away in a hefty storm; we thought the whole house would go!

When I moved into this old house that was build more than a 100 years ago I was thinking about the people whom had lived in the same house. It was said it was a prosperous family who owned the best dairy herd in the area that build this home.

When I was cooking or doing some chores in the kitchen the heavy door that always stood open, closed itself with a loud bang. I liked to think and we joked about it, that the ghost of an ancestor of the McPhee clan who lived in this house was hiding behind the door. We challenged him a few times but he just played his hide and seek game with us and never showed his face!
There was no garden left. Only a solitary old Camellia bush struggled for its life near the house. Two huge Camphor Laurel trees grew near the house. They were laden with exquisite, white perfumed flowers at the time. One of the trees had a beautiful, big Rock Orchid growing from a hollow. A brilliant green tree snake with a yellow belly had made her home under the orchid.

Cleaning up and....

more cleaning up!

Under a hotter Sun; We found and bought a property;

The next day he picked us up again to inspect a few more properties.
This property was also heavily timbered and very steep. The house was build of brick and new. Inside it was not finished. It looked all very neat and tidy. Nobody was at home. I felt sorry for this family. The new house was not yet finished and they already had to sell it. One could see that they cherished their home. This property was not viable it was to small to make a living.
We drove further and further, all through bushland. Then suddenly the road became stonier, narrower and steeper.

An old Queenslander came into view. An elderly lady came out to wait for us. The house was quite pretty in its patina. It hadn't see a paintbrush probably for ever. Its white paint was only a shimmer on the grey, silvery wood. Inside it needed a big, big renovation. The floorboards were broken and one could see the dirt floor underneath. The floorboards had also shrunk away from the wall so there was a big gap all around the room. It didn't seem to bother the people living there. That wouldn't matter to us either. We could live with the odd snake, lizard or spider making itself at home in our living room, if the grazing land is good!! Two sisters, getting on in years, living in the same house as their ancestors had.

Proudly they showed us their pump for their water supply for the house. The pump was located outside an old timber shed. We wanted to see the creek where the water came from. We had to walk to the creek. The creek, at the moment was very low, ran deep down between two steep embankments. In the creek was a dead cow. She must have been there for days as she was fairly blown up! We said no to this property. The water supply was not good enough. there was no town water and we would have to rely on that creek or on rain water both not enough reliable sources. "The girls" also put the price up as soon as they heard we were from Switzerland.

The next property Tom wanted to show us was out at Nymboida. It is a pretty place. Rural, with a beautiful, rather wild, fast flowing river with the same name. It would be a nice place to live and still not to far out from Grafton. The property was hilly grassland, interspersed with tall and stately Eucalyptus trees. Some of these huge trees had black, solid looking ants nests attached to their massive branches. The kookaburras use these as nesting place to rear their babies. We had to traverse the river and their was just a makeshift bridge. The last big flood, not that long ago had torn away the bridge. A new one had to be build. Actually, when we came nearer to the house we had to go over a second bridge which was also badly damaged and in real need to be replaced.
This was a bit a worry because without a bridge one isn't able to get out of the place.
The house was alright nearly new. There was nothing to speak of what one could call a garden. Outside was one of these old coppers which were used in earlier days to boil laundry items like big sheets, towels and underwear. Nearby was also a big wood pile. I don't know for what the copper was used. While we were talking with the owners, Peter and I, in the same instant saw a really huge, red belly Blacksnake slithering out from under the woodpile and quickly disappearing under the copper. No one else saw this little manoeuvre. We were so new and green, we had just enough, when we saw this huge snake. All we wanted was get going once more over those rickety bridges and arrive safely on the other side.
While Peter and I were looking at properties. the girls were "adopted" by Ella and Reg.
They had a very good time. Attached to the caravan park was also an animal sanctuary
sheltering Kangaroos, Wallabies and all sorts of birds. The girls were taught how to ride a horse, feed the animals. Reg had all three of them constantly in tow. They even taught him some Swiss words.

Around the park was a beautiful garden with flowering bushes and very tall Banana plants. I was amazed when I learned that the Banana is actually classified as a herb. Lilli saw this big hand of Bananas, beautiful yellow, nestling between the biggest leaves. She couldn’t belief that nobody took it down. When she showed the Banana bunch to Reg he cut it down for her and gave her the whole lot. Full of pride she brought it to us. The Bananas were the kind that are called “ladies finger“. It is a short fat banana but with a very special sweetness not at all like the normal bananas one could by in Switzerland.

Tom showed us one more place in South Grafton. It was a grazing property. It was beautiful, undulating with a view on the River. There was no house on it. It wouldn't be to far to go shopping and also very important not to far for the girls to catch the bus to their school. Peter and I liked the place. Back at the caravan park we talked to Reg about this place. He said he would come with us and have a look at it and tell us what he thinks of it.

The next day he took us out to Southgate and we showed him the property. He said it was very nice to look at, but we wouldn't be able to make a living with this property. He explained about the grasses that grew there. He said, look the soil is not good enough it is not fertile. The grass growing here is not nutritious enough for the cattle. It would be alright if there would be flats with good alluvial soil so you have both. We were a bit disappointed with his judgement but we listened to him and abandoned the thought of buying that property.

Reg said he had heard through the grapevine, that a good property on the lower Clarence comes on to the market for sale. It was the last big property to be sold in one lot on the lower Clarence. It was not yet official. He introduced us to Ray from Ross Alford Real Estate who was selling this property.
The next day, Ray picket us up at the caravan park and drove with us north towards Maclean to see this property. This time we stayed in the coastal area. After about 30 km he left the highway and drove into a small road that was not paved. The sign said Tucabia. There were not many houses. All farm- or grazing land. Some planted with corn or sugarcane. In between grassland with cattle grazing.

The property had fertilelow lying flats bordered by the Coldstream River. Gently undulating grassland and on top at the entrance scrub, bush and trees excellent as shelter for the animals and also high ground in time of floods. Ray himself, a grazier, told us what we had to look out for.
The old weatherboard house stood halfway between the river and the bush.
Peter liked this property straight away. I was not sure, to me everything looked fairly derelict, unkempt, not pretty. My fantasies were not fuelled by this place. It was a little bit like, this can’t be the place we want. We haven’t come all this way to buy something like this! I stood there bewildered, speechless, while Peter beamed and nodded enthusiastically to Ray’s explanations.
The next day Reg came with us to inspect it and gave his verdict. He said it was a very good place and if the prices were right we always could make a decent living. So, this was it then our dream place. After the decision was made to buy this place, it was like a bubble had burst, my woolly head cleared and I decided to stand with both legs firmly planted on the ground.

Under a hotter Sun; The Sunset Caravan Park; Settling in; The search begins for a property;

We move in to the Sunset Caravan Park
Neither of us had ever lived in a caravan or for that in a caravan Park. This would be a first and new experience that I did not fully appreciate at that moment as I was feeling like hit by a ton of bricks. I felt like a zombie transported and put down. I arrived tired, dirty, hungry and perhaps subconsciously homesick. Peter looked haggard from a sleepless night, his jaunty, little hat sinking over his forehead while juggling our suitcases from the huge boot of the taxi under advise of the driver who stood his feet apart looking at us like we were people he was not obliged to help with their luggage. Peter paid him and he left with a screech of his white-rimmed tyres.
We shoved our suitcases towards the entrance and a door with a sign that said “Reception”. We knocked and a tiny, white haired lady came out. We asked for a caravan for at least a week to hire. She looked us up and down and said that we could have it for one night and we would see about the next day, which meant in other words:" I have to check you out first. Fair enough. We paid and she showed us to a fairly big caravan. We were all hungry so after stashing our luggage in the caravan we went to look for a grocery store, There was no linen for the beds, no cushions no blankets. The first night was very cold. The days were already hot in November but the nights were still chilly, especially in a caravan. We covered us as well as possible with our clothes. The first morning when we got up early we appreciated the suns already warming rays. We walked along the road to a tiny shack that sold fresh bread and also some groceries. We bought fresh bread coffee and milk. Back at the caravan we had our first breakfast. It was so simple, but it tasted wonderful, sitting on the steps of the caravan in the early morning sun, munching fresh bread and sipping Nescafe what could one want more!!

Settling in;
We made our plans for the day. The first priority was to buy a car as we needed transport. We also needed blankets and cushions. We also had to go and see Tom Cronin a real estate man to whom we had written from Switzerland.
Reg, the owner of the caravan park, was also the hands on man. The tiny, grey haired lady was his mother Ella. Reg said we could ask him anything about good land and ask any questions we might have. He was also managing his small farm. He still had a few horses and he was growing vegetables, like beans and pumpkins. He was sort of taken with us and amazed that we came from Switzerland to settle in the Clarence Valley.

The next morning we walked , it was quite a long way, into the city of Grafton. It was lovely to wander along the avenues planted with the mauve flowered Jacarandas. The pathway was purple, carpeted with the fallen flowers, intricate small bells. It was like a fairyland. I was expecting a golden fairy sitting up on the Jacaranda tree waving her wand of purple bells.

Orchids, feathery ferns and massive stag-horns were growing on the trunks and nestling in the forks of branches.

As I am always interested in plants and gardens, I was looking into the front gardens we passed. There were fantastic climbers, huge yellow bells, called Allamanda.A fairly squat tree, with a broad canopy and ferny leaves was displaying the most brilliant red and gold flower bunches. I asked a person on the road what this tree was called. It is a Poinciana the lady said. Unfortunately, I didn’t have all day to study the gardens of Grafton we had a more pressing agenda.
We asked the real estate man at Moy and Darby what sort of cars real estate men drive. He replied they all drive Fords. Our thoughts were, if they all drive Ford cars, those cars must be good and reliable. So a Ford would do for us.
We went to the next big Garage, called Boland Ford. We were asked into the office. Soon we had bought a new, white Ford Falcon station wagon. We could pick it up in probably a weeks time. We explored the city of Grafton. We liked what we saw. The city sat in a haze of bluish mauve, quite breathtakingly beautiful. The streets were broad and generous, beautiful old buildings, lots of stores and the people were very friendly.
At McKelly's Store we bought the cushions and linen and blankets we needed for our beds. This store sold also ladies, men and children clothes. The store was just absolutely choker block full of merchandise. The clothes were fashionable of very good quality, boutique style, not what I expected.

There was a Woolworth grocery store and also some kind of a small department store. One store was called Gerard's. They sold kitchenware, crystal glasses, china to shoes and clothes for the whole family and they also served lunches and cafe and tea and milkshakes. It was very old fashioned, it looked like out of the fifties. The Restaurant was very basic furnished with Formica tables and chairs. We enjoyed the milkshakes, fish and chips. "Andere Laender andere Sitten."
The most alluring of Grafton was its many wonderful trees and the great sweep of the Clarence called the Big River passing the city. There were also many parks well maintained with flowering trees, shrubs, perennial and annual bedding plants. I saw a a few very nice boutiques, like “Vienna Style” or “Audeens”. It looked like a prosperous country town. It was also said that it was one of the most beautiful country towns, well looked after with its great avenues and the mighty Clarence River.
After settling in and making a kind of a temporary home we called in at Tom Cronin Real Estate. After explaining, that we were the people from Switzerland who had written to him and he arranged for us the caravan accommodation....he said...oh yes...o.k. He didn't really know what to do with us. He had forgotten or never expected us to materialize. He didn't know it was for us he had arranged the accommodation. We had to explain to him that we were looking for a suitable grazing property to buy. So after a few attempts he finally said I pick you up, (we learned again a new term, pick you up..) tomorrow early in the morning.

I had caught a bad bladder infection and I was sitting nearly all night, on and off on a bucket as I couldn’t run out to the amenities block every ten minutes. It was the most awful night. I felt so miserable, lots of pain. Peter and the girls were asleep and didn't hear me rummage around. In the morning I went to ask Ella if she could recommend a doctor. Joan her daughter in law was also there, she and her husband were also involved in the caravan park business. Joan said I could go and see her doctor and she gave me the address.
The same day I went to see this doctor and we talked a little. He said, that I wouldn’t like it here it was much too hot. He didn’t understand my enthusiasm. When I looked into his eyes, something odd struck me, I saw something vague, an emptiness which I couldn’t understand at the moment . He gave me a prescription for antibiotics for my “bladder trouble”. For a few days I felt not very well, actually quite miserable, then the medication helped to clear up the infection. A month later Joan told me this doctor had made suicide. I wondered what brings people to such a low that they can’t live any more. It was very tragic.

The search begins for a property;
Tom Cronin picked us up early in the morning. I was glad that the antibiotics started to work and at least I didn't have to run to the toilet on and off. He arrived in a big Ford and we hopped in. He took us out of Grafton driving west. Driving very, very fast along a strait road with no turns or corners. After one and a half hours drive he slowed down. He drove into a long driveway. The surrounding country side was pretty, fairly flat, Eucalyptus trees scattered about. He said this is the grazing property. We drove slowly towards the homestead so we could have a look at the surroundings. It all looked very quiet, like everything was abandoned and nobody lived there anymore. No voices of happy people, no laundry drying, no pot plants, nothing. The pretty homestead, the gardens and the tennis court were all in need of a good "face lift". I looked around, there was no other house. The homestead stood alone in acres and acres of land. While driving I had not seen other houses, nor a village, not even other cars. There were no cattle grazing, probably already sold.

It was all very still and quite beautiful in its isolation. The land was not green it looked blond with a greenish tinge with a golden sheen over the grasslands. It was spring and it was fairly dry countryside. The rains had not yet come.
The owner came out and Tom Cronin introduced us. The man was Dutch, originally, he lived alone here. His wife lived and worked in Brisbane and the children lived with her. He was very eager to sell and to get out. It was 1974 and the cattle market was once more collapsing. People with big dreams had once more over committed themselves and the only way out was selling the farms.
I didn't inquire about the next town, schools for the children, airport, buses or train stations. I knew we wouldn't buy this property.

The next place Tom Cronin introduced us to another property that was also very isolated. The land looked similar it was also very open and sparsely timbered grazing land. The house and machinery sheds stood on top of a hill. Also here we didn't see any cattle grazing. The grasses were rough and tall and dry looking. The house looked newer, it was a very simple building of rough grey bricks nothing adorned it. We were shown inside and around. This property was not what we were looking for.
Then Tom Cronin drove with us into the bush. This was different. A two storey timbered house stood in a little clearing. Shadows were playing around. The windows winked were they were caught by the odd sun ray. Nobody was at home. A nanny goat was tied to a post with a long rope. It was calling us in a lonesome sound... The place was surrounded by tall trees, shrubs and scrub and when we explored a little further a big, silent billabong. Climbers were running up and down the trees, big and small leaved plants but no flowers. It was very shady, romantic but for me also a bit eerie as I saw a very big goanna climbing up a tree. It was nearly not distinguishable in all the green and dark surroundings.

We walked a little further and suddenly Peter called out a snake. Tom jumped up and cried where. He hadn't even seen it. He nearly stood on it. Tom was very scared. Peter and I laughed, we couldn’t help it, as it was rather comic seeing Tom with his long legs leaping up like a frog. He said he was not used to see snakes and he didn’t “fancy them”! We were quite OK in our "green-ness" about snakes! He was not keen on this adventure. For us it was not the right place, as romantic and intriguing it presented itself. Tom had enough of this dark place in the bush and drove quickly away.

Copyright:T.S.2008

Under a hotter Sun; We arrive in Grafton NSW;

We arrive in Grafton
We were early at the train station in Sydney to wait for our train that would bring us to Grafton. The clerk at the office had described this train as the best in the world. Patiently we waited and waited. Our departure time 8.30 pm drew nearer and nearer and there was just this old, dusty train waiting. People were rushing, said their goodbyes and busily boarded the waiting train.
Peter and I asked each other is this it? There was no other train in sight so we took the baggage and the children and looked for our seats in a reserved, first class, and no smoking compartment. Our reserved seats were already taken. We showed our tickets and said “ours”! The people that occupied our seats shrugged and didn’t move. There was no guard far and wide so we looked for five free places. We had to take whatever seats were free.

In front of me sat a man a pipe in his mouth. He smoked relentlessly like a chimney. The heavy smoke was like a shroud around my seat. I confronted him and said:” in here no smoking.” He ignored me completely so his smoke output doubled it send me into a restless sleep. A coughing attack and a jolt that announced another stop of the train woke me once more up. The seat in front of me was empty I hoped the smoker had left. There were now more seats available so we made a dash to occupy the empty places so we could sit together. There was no dining car to have something to eat or drink a cup of coffee and nobody came through with a drinks or cafe trolley like it is usual on long train journeys. When we passed New Castle we were amazed to see the whole city illuminated like a Christmas tree. We had a very restless night with people drinking beer, singing on top of their voices and also trashing out between them the odd argument. From that was some respite when suddenly the guard came to check the tickets. He complimented the lot of the revellers out of the first class compartment to which they promptly returned as soon as the guard had turned his back
The train made its way slowly to the North Coast of New South Wales. We travelled the whole night and were due to arrive in Grafton at 9am. At dawn a rosy sky announced a new day and happily we gazed out of the window, looked and talked about the strange landscape that opened up before us.
The train passed Coffs Harbour and we enjoyed looking at the hills thickly planted with Bananas that gave us our first clue that we were getting closer to a warmer climate. It was far passed our scheduled arriving time nearer to midday than morning. The train had also stopped in the middle of nowhere for quite a while and we didn’t know what happened.
Then finally, around midday, three hours late, we arrived at Grafton. I said to Peter just as well nobody did meet us.
Dragging and balancing seven suitcases and bags, we stepped into the unknown that is onto the platform of the train station in South Grafton. We were a bit stunned where we had landed and looked at each other baffled. In a silent way, our eyes met and we nearly turned back to board the train again.
At the same moment the train heaved a big sigh, shuddered and was in motion once more.
So for the time being we welcomed ourselves to Grafton”!
Our arrival was not notable the red carpet was at the cleaners. The reception committee was at lunch and the musicians were out of town!
The few people that had left the train with us had dispersed, met by family or friends they were whisked away in cars.
It was only us who were standing there a bit dazed and dishevelled from the long journey, a lost look on our faces, what have we done. The children oblivious to our momentary qualms sat on the suitcases chatted and giggled and wanted to know where we were going from here. We looked around and didn’t see a town or a village. A sturdy boy was standing near and looked at us and probably figuring out what sort of language we were speaking. I went to him and asked him where is the town, where are the houses?. He said:" The town is over the bridge." Satisfied with his certain knowledge that there really was a town we approached the waiting taxi.
While in Sydney we went to the bank of New South Wales. A young Swiss lady who spoke our language from their public relations office helped us with our accommodation in Grafton.
Previously while still in Switzerland we had written to a real estate office in Grafton to a mister Tom Cronin, so we gave her his address to contact, and mister Cronin rented for us a caravan. We hadn’t thought of this option but thought that’s how things were done here. If you needed a place to stay you hired a caravan. So our journey came to a halt for the moment. The Sunset Caravan Park was waiting for us.

We approached the taxi driver who glanced at us through dazzling sunglasses who reflected the sun rays in multi hued sparkles. He heaved himself up from his relaxed pose and I showed him the address of the caravan park. He said something that we didn’t understand then we said we wanted him to take us to the Sunset Caravan Park. He assessed us with our seven suitcases through his sunglasses still flashing purple, green and pink He struggled out of his seat that seemed to hold him back with compulsion. He opened the cavernous boot that took easily all our suitcases. Peter took the front seat and the girls and I piled in at the back. The plastic covered seat was hot to the touch. The taxi driver was now talking non-stop. Peter didn’t understand him at all and answered with mmh… and aah…and ooh… the taxi driver searching his face his sunglasses now on top of his head still hurling multi coloured lights, didn’t seem to expect more of an answer. We drove at a fast speed through avenues planted with tall Jacaranda trees that flowered in wonderful mauve and purplish blue. The sideways were thickly carpeted with the fallen petals.

I didn’t know then that I had my first sighting of the famous and wonderful Jacaranda trees of Grafton. At the end of this avenue the houses became more sparsely the trees gave way to grassland and a tall sign advertised the Sunset Caravan Park and Sanctuary.