“A young farm boy from Bathurst, to flying pigeons on the emperor’s palace”.
We hopped into the car, dad was driving, my grandfather sat in the front and I in the back. Bathurst was 165km away (approximately two and half hours drive) from my parents place in the lower Blue Mountains. The day was perfect for driving, it reminded me of a day when it wasn't raining in London. It was around 14 degrees, overcast with a slight breeze and everything was grey.
In order to obtain a better understanding of the life my grandfather lived as a young child, I wanted to see and feel where he grew up, and all the small places he ventured too as a mischievous young boy. So today, my dad and I took my grandfather on a road trip to Bathurst. From the age of 8 to when he enlisted into the Australian Military at 18, my grandfather grew up on a large sheep station in Duramana, 24km North of Bathurst, currently home to around 282 people today. I felt like a young girl again, sitting in the backseat, whilst dad drove us.
In order to obtain a better understanding of the life my grandfather lived as a young child, I wanted to see and feel where he grew up, and all the small places he ventured too as a mischievous young boy. So today, my dad and I took my grandfather on a road trip to Bathurst. From the age of 8 to when he enlisted into the Australian Military at 18, my grandfather grew up on a large sheep station in Duramana, 24km North of Bathurst, currently home to around 282 people today. I felt like a young girl again, sitting in the backseat, whilst dad drove us.
The drive through the Blue Mountains was intriguingly mistic, the tall pine trees lined the side of the road and after passing Lithgow there was endless farmland with cattle, horses and sheep, all feeding on the long brown grass and drinking from the dams.
I listened tentatively to my father and grandfather reminiscing about the past. It was nice, as I was able to learn and absorb all the stories while they were conversing. I was frantically writing down all the family history and memories. My grandfather talked quiet in depth about his mother and sister. I could see how fond he was of his older sister, Edna. She was 5 years older than he, and she played a motherly role towards him. My dad also liked Edna very much, he told me how he and mum use to go down to visit her place in the South coast (Lake Illwarra) every weekend. During the conversation, I would occasionally throw a question or two, too keep it going and dwelve abit deeper into the past. The information I got was priceless.
I listened tentatively to my father and grandfather reminiscing about the past. It was nice, as I was able to learn and absorb all the stories while they were conversing. I was frantically writing down all the family history and memories. My grandfather talked quiet in depth about his mother and sister. I could see how fond he was of his older sister, Edna. She was 5 years older than he, and she played a motherly role towards him. My dad also liked Edna very much, he told me how he and mum use to go down to visit her place in the South coast (Lake Illwarra) every weekend. During the conversation, I would occasionally throw a question or two, too keep it going and dwelve abit deeper into the past. The information I got was priceless.
Bathurst
Once we arrived at Bathurst, we first stopped by the City Library. I was in search to track down the old Army drill hall, it was the very hall my grandfather enlisted into the war. After searching through the records, very disappointedly found out the old drill hall no longer existed, now standing in it's spot is a KFC.
Once we arrived at Bathurst, we first stopped by the City Library. I was in search to track down the old Army drill hall, it was the very hall my grandfather enlisted into the war. After searching through the records, very disappointedly found out the old drill hall no longer existed, now standing in it's spot is a KFC.
Carillon War Memorial
Before stopping for lunch we stopped by the Carillon War Memorial, Old Prebyterian Church and Council Chambers.
By 1920 there was a popular desire for a Bathurst memorial for those who had fallen in World War I. The idea of a Carillon was then advanced by G.H. Hoskins. A public meeting approved the concept on August 26, and a committee was formed to raise funds and proceed with the work. The largest bell weighs over 1.5 tonnes and the smallest, almost nine kilograms. They are in three tiers and the whole range is one note short of three octaves. The largest bell is inscribed- “Thus Bathurst and her surrounding villages honour their men of 1914-18. Lest we forget”.
The second largest bell has an inscription from returned soldiers. It reads:- “To the ever glorious memory of our fallen comrades. Greater love hath no man that this, that he lay down his life for his friends”.
The third bell, which carries the Red Cross emblem, is in honour of the war nurses and the other bells have been allotted as memorials to soldiers from the various localities in the Bathurst district. The dedication ceremony was held on Armistice Day, November 11, 1933, and the official opening was performed by the Mayor of Bathurst, Alderman M. J. Griffin. A crowd estimated at 15,000 assembled for the occasion.
Duramana
After we left Bathurst, my grandfather directed us to his old property. My father and I were amazed of how accurate my grandfather's memory was, he knew exactly where to go. Dad, kept on double checking, repeating the directions “are you sure it’s this right here?” and he would repeat “yeah, yeah this way, turn here”.
It took around 10 minutes outside of Bathurst and we were in the countryside again. There were large properties set on a minimum of 25 acres, and the closest neighbour would be 2km away. As we continued to drive, we hit a dirt road, I could feel dad getting anxious of where we were, and if my grandfather’s memory was still correct. Then all of a sudden my grandfather pointed out “there’s our old church”. My father and I turned our heads, and there it was. A small church, fitting no more than 40 people. “Every Sunday, we would be there, my old property is just up that road” my grandfather continued.
We drove for about another 3km, my grandfather then started saying "All these fields, there were thousands of tails, they would be everywhere. This is where I would hunt rabbits, there were that many of them, they were a pest". Then all of a sudden with such thrill and excitment he gasped “That’s it, there’s where I lived !”. We could see from a distance a property standing up ontop a hill. We could see the property had new owners, a modern house had been built in front of the property.
As we drove up the long rocky dirt driveway, we could see some old remains still standing at the back of the new house. The new owner was standing outside, and I could see his curiosity. He was wondering what on earth is a white city car driving up his property in the middle of the country. As we slowly approached him, he let his guard down once he saw my grandfather. We explained that my grandfather grew up on the property, 79 years ago and would he mind if we had a quick look at the old remains. The new owner, was fascinated and very welcoming.
As we drove up the long rocky dirt driveway, we could see some old remains still standing at the back of the new house. The new owner was standing outside, and I could see his curiosity. He was wondering what on earth is a white city car driving up his property in the middle of the country. As we slowly approached him, he let his guard down once he saw my grandfather. We explained that my grandfather grew up on the property, 79 years ago and would he mind if we had a quick look at the old remains. The new owner, was fascinated and very welcoming.
As we hopped out of the car, my grandfather was ecstatic and overwhelmed that his old house was still standing. He started pointing and explaining where everything was, from the sheep station, to the outside kitchen, to the toilet, to the fire place and even where he slept in the house. I could see his childhood was flashing before him, as if it was yesterday.
My grandfather started asking the new owner about the neighbours who lived nearby. The owner, was in complete amazement as my grandfather knew all of them. I think for the first time it struck him that this old man had an impeccable memory. “How old are you again?” he asked my grandfather, “almost 87 !” He stared at my grandfather for a few seconds and gave a slight smile, "unbelievable" he then said.
We stayed at the property for about 30 minutes, took some photos and then made our way back.
We stayed at the property for about 30 minutes, took some photos and then made our way back.
Journey home
On the way home we stopped by Sofala, which is one of the oldest surviving gold-rush town in Australia. Sofala is a village located approximately 250 km north-west of Sydney, NSW. Sofala came about as a direct result of the goldrush which had been spurred on when Edward Hargraves discovered gold at Summerhill Creek on 12 February 1851.
This day was a wonderful opportunity to see the life my grandfather grew up in, here the stories and see all the fields he ventured. Driving home, I was mesmorised by the beautiful sunset, setting in the mountains and country side. I can see now why the Army was a big adventure for my grandfather. Growing up in the country, living 3 hours walk outside Bathurst, the Army provided him an opportunity to see the world. I am blessed to have my grandfather here today. My dad quoted as he came to the same realisation "A young farm boy from Bathurst, to flying pigeons on the emperor’s palace in Japan".
