Gloucester

Carol, Lindsay, Myrelle, John & Rex.

We were glad to see the Palmwoods sign shrinking in the rear view mirror, as we set sail south, en route to Sydney, with a farm stopover on the way. We are going to catch up with John's cousin and his wife Myrelle, on their dairy farm at Tibbuc near Gloucester.


We chose the scenic route again, heading out from Beerwah, to Esk and the beautiful Esk Valley. We found a gorgeous place for lunch, the Nash Cafe & Gallery, situated in a wonderfully restored old Queenslander. We sat on the wide porch soaking up the history of the home which was built by our distant, great, great, great, uncle Lars Andersen from the Swedish side of the family, who had a lot to do with the history of the Esk Valley, and absolutely nothing to do with our family! Lunch was a terrific home made bacon, egg and spinach pie with chips and salad. Excellent fare!


From Esk we headed to the beautiful garden city of Toowoomba, which we only drove through, again vowing to come back. The journey now looks like it could stretch into 6 years, with all the comebacks, and we've still most of the country to see! Our stopover in a drive thru site, was at Stanthorpe, at the Top of the Town Caravan Park. It looked a nice park with heaps of birds attracted to the bird feeders through the park. This is another come back place. The area is a rich wine growing and food bowl area, with apples and stone fruit the specialty. There is a big Italian influence in the area, and each February there is a Sicilian Festival, so that will most likely be our come back time, one year.


From Stanthorpe we crossed the border back into NSW and the beautiful town of Tenterfield, made famous in a song by Peter Allen, so yes we were humming and singing "time is a traveller Tenterfield Saddler........" all the way into town, and our coffee stop and another excellent carrot cake. We found the world's most awarded sausage making butcher shop, winning the New England district competition every year since 1999, so we stocked up, and they are pretty good. The best part was that we ordered 5 each of about 6 different varieties, and when we got them home the butcher had packed them individually and put a name tag in each pack so we would know which was which! Now that is good old country service! We drove on to Armidale, and 2 nights at the lovely Pembrokes Caravan Park. We have stayed before, and really like it. It has won a number of awards, and you will never get a friendlier welcome anywhere. We always like Armidale, and just had a good 2 days rest.


We left Armidale, and set a new record for shortest drive before stopping for coffee, 16kms to Uralla, because Carol saw "The Galloping Gourmet", where we had an excellent coffee and shared a rhubarb cake to die for. Parking in Uralla, like many country towns, shows total disregard for caravanners. Everything is angle parking. I swear that one day I will angle park the caravan and block the highway! We are the guys and girls spending the kid's inheritance, and if there is any parking set aside for caravans, it is usually way out the back or closer to the next town! Come on country councillors, think about our dicky knees and hips, show some leadership and stop telling us how the towns are dieing. Give them a chance at life! Soap box retired!


Uralla to Gloucester along the Thunderbolt Way, is a spectacular drive. The road is currently in very poor condition, and the way south down the mountain is very steep for a big van. There is one 12 kilometre stretch of steep gradients, that I was very glad to get to the bottom of. But the scenery through Walcha and Nowendoc is well worth it. The police helicopter is a reminder of the search for Australia's most wanted man, Malcolm, who has become somewhat of a folk hero. He is an amazing bushman, having eluded police for 6 years. In fact, the search headquarters has now moved to Gloucester, as there have been sightings in the area, including one on Woko, the property next to Lindsay and Myrelle's. Everyone wants a slice of the $250,000 pie on offer!

The farm at Tibbuc.

Our stop is at Tibbuc, on the dairy farm owned by John's cousin Lindsay, and his wife Myrelle. The farm has been in the family for generations, and it is currently run by Lindsay & Myrelle in conjunction with Lindsay's brother Jim & wife Dianne. I first came here in my early teens on school holidays. I will never forget those years of hunting and fishing and working on the farm.They were such wonderful times and are so clear in my memory, and ever since, I've had the bush in my blood. Lindsay and I have been great mates ever since. I've known Myrelle almost as long as Lindsay. My own family came from Gloucester, but not on the land. We have many relatives here, and I love coming back to this beautiful country, meeting distant cousins and family friends. Everyone makes you feel so at home.

What a view!

Milking time.

Feeding time for the new calves.

Myrelle again, and every time I ask myself why does it take so long to get back here? It is paradise. A quick lunch to catch up on family things, and to learn what Lindsay has in store for the next few days. Every stay is an adventure, filled with fun, people, beer wine and lots of food, and this was to be no exception. We then all headed up to the dairy to do the afternoon milking. 


Friday we were off to Laurieton to see the addition that has transformed the cottage Lindsay & Myrelle have had for a long time, into a modern, contemporary home, with the new upstairs dedicated to their family as a holiday home, and downstairs still available for holiday letting. It is really lovely. We met Al Hardy the builder, and great mate of Lindsay, who was coming up to the farm for the weekend's activities, and generally had a drive around. We called in at Ron & Julie's new house, but unfortunately no one was home, and we only had your home phone number with us. Sorry we couldn't give advance warning but we didn't know we would be visiting, but don't be surprised if one day a big smiling ginger haired dairy farmer called Lindsay Fraser, comes knocking at your door! We also picked up some school river prawns at Taree Co-Op, for tonight's entree. All the big prawns were in scarce supply.


Back to Gloucester. We were having dinner at Margo and Adam's (daughter and son-in-law) new home. Last time we saw them, son Alby had just been born. This time it was new born daughter Ellie to meet. Lindsay and Myrelle count their blessings, as both their daughter Margo and son Michael have settled in Gloucester. They each have a son, six months apart and now each has a daughter, only a few weeks apart. Margot and Adam are teachers, whilst Michael and Wendy have a dairy farm south of town. Michael & Wendy have done an amazing job of setting up a very new, modern, computerised dairy, which is something to see. So different to the traditional method. Michael and son Andrew joined us for dinner, whilst Wendy and new daughter Samantha were on their way back from a shopping trip to Newcastle. We would catch up with them later in the weekend. Dinner was fantastic, with the flash fried prawns to start and a lovely pork belly roast dinner to follow.

Let the fishing begin!

There must be trout here?

Saturday was to be a boys fishing trip. So it was up early for Lindsay, John, Al, Michael and Adam, as we headed to the mountains and the headquarters of the Barrington River. The scenery was beautiful. This is beef cattle country, and the country and the cattle looked in great condition. We ran out of council maintained roads, and were on private properties mostly owned by families Lindsay knew and had made arrangements with. We were soon at the right spot, and the fishing began. Al had two in his bag before Lindsay reached the river! The competition was fierce, as the older experienced guys took on the young men armed with all the latest gear. I now know that trout fishing is not my game. Walking in a boulder strewn river lined with weeds called wonderful names like "wait a while", that cut your legs to bits, and falling arse over head in the river whilst balancing a fishing rod, proved beyond me. My contribution to the day was getting the beer out of the esky! But I wouldn't have missed it for the world. By lunch time, the old guys had the most fish, but the young guys (Michael) had the biggest.

Our lunch spot.

At lunch time, as if by a miracle, two guys arrived in their ute, with the BBQ plate we needed to cook lunch. These guys turned out to be Andrew and Robert, both off the local properties, and in no time, they had it set up and were cooking steaks and sausages. What a scene! A large steak between two slabs of bread, smothered in fried onions, a stubby in the other hand, sitting beside the most beautiful river in the world, wishing that the other guys fish would shrink, so you could brag about having the biggest one!

Not a bad days fishing!

After lunch, it was back on the river. This time we were headed for the mythical "Towers". We started in the ute, but ran out of road, then took to walking. The river got steeper, the boulders got bigger and the "wait a while" weed got thicker. To make things worse, the fish got scarcer! So after a couple of hours we gave up and headed back to the camp, which by now had been taken over by more visitors, this time James and Sandy and their two boys, from the neighbouring farm. They had bought their swimming gear and dinner to cook on the BBQ. So it was time for more beer, more steak and sausage sandwiches and more yarns around the campfire. Soon it was 8.00pm and time to head for home. By the time we got home, the girls had thought we were lost, but when we showed them the bounty we had provided, all was forgiven. A new member to the team was introduced. It was Dominic, Al's future son-in-law, a chef by profession. He had forgone the fishing in favour of a day's wedding planning, and once the bounty was shown realised the folly of his choice. Still, all could be retrieved, as Lindsay promised to take him out on Sunday, as long as he agreed to cook all the fish for dinner on Sunday night.

Dom got his trout.

That night there was much snoring, as the fishing, the food and the beer all took hold. The men awoke refreshed on Sunday whilst the women complained about faulty ear plugs, and a new days fishing was planned, back at the same spot. This would be a shortened version, with the girls invited and a BBQ lunch with the property owners James & Sandy. It was another fantastic day, but the fish were not co-operating. Dominic was mortified that he still had not caught his trout, but on the final cast of the day, the god's smiled and Dom got his trout. We finished off the day with something you don't get to do often in Sydney, unless you live in Greenacre, a spot of clay pidgeon shooting. James and Sandy's teenage boys had been given the launcher and a whole lot of clay pidgeons for Xmas. Bet you city kids didn't get one of them!! It was great fun, and we all hit a target!

Better than any caravan park

Back at the farm, we broke out the beer and wine, and started the cleaning and preparation of the trout for the Sunday night feast. Dom reckoned he had never worked with such fresh produce. He went through the garden and Carols spice cupboard, and made up a delicious herb butter to go with the trout. Some fish were BBQ'd some were pan fried and some were baked in the oven. All were excellent. Margo and Adam, Michael and Wendy and the four grandkids all joined us, and it was a fantastic occasion with family and friends. The girls gave Dom a break and whipped up an upside down cake using the fresh stone fruit we had brought down from Stanthorpe. The perfect end to the meal.

Gloucester's crepe myrtle.

All too soon it was Monday morning and we were on our way to Sydney. What a fantastic few days it had been. Yes, Tibbuc is always on the come back list! We drove out of the farm and headed into Gloucester which is very gentrified these days, with lots of small acreages and new homes around the area. The town itself is full of crepe myrtle and they are all in bloom. The streets are lined with them and it looks a picture. As you leave town you can't help but notice the Buckets Mountain Range looking over the town. It really is a beautiful area. We will always come back to Gloucester.