The Windsor-Sydney Saga

On the way to Gundagai - Friday 27 October

Instead of heading west to Adelaide to spend time with daughter Lorinda, the time had come on

Wednesday 25th October 2017 to follow her trail east to Sydney to discover the rather neglected

story of our national roots and the treasure chest of Sydney, NSW.

With accommodation available at Potts Point overlooking Sydney harbour through the generosity

of Beryl’s relative and Lorinda and Jared’s rental at Windsor we headed off on a journey that

would take the car just over a 2,000 kms round trip. Little did I appreciate how much I would be

impacted by towns and places drenched in fascinating Aussie stories.

Exposure of anything east of Melbourne has always been a bit of an excursion into the unknown

and we were soon enjoying the lush rolling hills and valleys bordering the Hume Highway. I

recalled a brief stop-over years ago at the ‘Tucker Box’ monument that stands as a memorial to

Australian pioneers. It is located 7 kms north of Gundagai, but this time we made the township

of Gundagai our half way overnight stop for the first time. The place soon became more than a

quick stay in a tourist park cabin.

The tranquillity of the Murrumbidgee River and the impressive timber bridges that spanned the

vast flood plain invited a brief river land stroll. The Prince Albert road bridge had opened in

1867 also the lengthy rail bridge. Both had provided solutions for travellers and were

impressive engineering feats of yesterday. They not only conveyed horses, carts and trains but

fascinating pioneering stories.

For thousands of years the place had been the rich hunting field and ceremonial meeting place

for the Wiradjuri people. Peter and Henry Stuckey were the first white settlers in the 1828

Two old bridges

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prosperous gold mining, agricultural area. The town has a

romantic bush appeal and it has become iconic in Australian

folk lore. Many stories, songs and poems refer to Gundagai

and at least once my subconscious kicked in I found myself

whistling the tune, “There’s a track winding back to that old

fashioned shack --- where the dog sits on the tucker box, 5

miles from Gundagai” (the poem of Bullocky Bill by Jack

Moses)

The rusty galvanised iron rooves and the impressive re-

modelled main street with its modern stainless-steel hand rails

speak of a past preserved. Gundagai remains the world of

Banjo Patterson and stories of bush rangers and drovers. In

1852 the small township had been washed away after locals

ignored the warning of the indigenous people. Eighty people

had drowned. The heroes of the GREAT FLOOD were local

men of the Wiradjuri, namely Yarri and Jacky Jacky. They are

remembered and honoured by an impressive bronze statue

erected in the main street during 2017 saving 69 people.

Next day we turned off the Hume

and passed through a busy new

growth corridor around Badgerys

Creek to reach our destination, the

outer Sydney township of

Windsor where we found the neat

little rental decked out by Lorinda

and Jared.

Saturday 28 October

Being the curious person I am,

with the early morning mist

mixing with the screeching of

waking parrots I set off for a

brisk walk down Windsor’s

historic George Street. However,

before I describe my morning it

is probably best to pause to recall

the details and background that I

later discovered after a few days in Sydney. After all, to appreciate Windsor you need to

understand a little about Sydney and to understand anything you need to know about the original

owners of the land.

In Sydney I learned that the Dharawal aboriginal tribe occupied the area where we stayed in

Sydney, south of Botany Bay and overlooking Woolloomooloo Bay. North were the Eora and

stretching up the Hawkesbury River to Windsor were the Darug people whose traditional

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homelands extended from the Blue mountains all the way to metropolitan Sydney. In March

1788, Sydney, (Port Jackson) was experiencing a food shortage. Governor Arthur Phillip

travelled upstream on the Hawkesbury to Windsor (He first called it ‘Green Hills’) The fertile

flood plains made it ideal for agriculture and so 22 farming families settled in the area.

European occupation of Australia is a tragic story. State policies were

inseparably combined with the Christian church. While the church

benefited from privileges, it did not make settlement prettier or the

integrity of the Christian gospel any more credible. Within 18 months

of the first fleet arriving, a foreign disease, smallpox killed an estimated

two thirds of the local indigenous population around Sydney. In less

than 150 years the Hawkesbury Plain emptied a race of people whose

ancestors had cherished the land for about 30,000 years. As destruction

of traditional sites took place on the river, yam beds were destroyed and

replaced with crops.

Conflict between black and white occurred as two cultural-social economic systems competed

for fertile land along the Hawkesbury. By 1795 settlements on the Hawkesbury River was

described as being in a state of open war. (The film ‘Secret River’

explores the story and attitudes adopted) The existing village was

named ‘Windsor’ in 1810, by Governor Lachlan Macquarie who

made it a Government and Christian out-post to ensure food for

Sydney and I was to discover that the place still pulsates with its

past.

As I continued my walk down George Street I discovered it was a

mixture of new and old. I walked past the impressive Local

Council building with its rainbow flag flying encouraging a

contemporary re-definition of the meaning of marriage, but the

further I walked the narrower and more rustic the street became. I

noted the hammer marks on the stone street curbing, probably the

work of convict masons. It occurred to me that the curbing stones

and the rainbow flag in some way symbolised a sacred antiquity

overlaid with a tsunami of radical change.

What was once the main street of a

small rural village had become a

smorgasbord- patchwork of 19th - 20th

century remains. A steep roofed,

colonial looking cottage with a picket

fence, a vacant block and old

remaining pepper trees all encased by

commercial enterprise. The once

beautiful, now naked, Royal Theatre

was crammed between coffee shops

and old buildings that had been

claimed and re-used a thousand

times. Veranda shop-fronts squeezed onto the footpath and I noted a street mannequin dressed in

a dinner suit and top hat sitting on a pub balcony. He was posed, admiring a live canary in a wire

cage that looked quaint, natural and real.

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Bright coloured banners announcing SPRING IN WINDSOR had been hung, but in this old part

of town they were a little like paint attempting to cover a cracked surface. However, the energy

of enterprise still inhabited the parochial conversation between shopkeepers as they opened their

doors for business.

Amid the cooing of mating pigeons that morning, more than once I noticed another strange sound

penetrating the fresh morning air. Amid the old commercial and residential area of Windsor

Town the persistent shrill gobble, gobble, of a turkey hen sounded out. Perhaps the turkey was

destined for the Christmas table but the surviving rural sound re-focused my mind and in a

compelling way helped me to appreciate the significance of the place.

WINDSOR TOWN, the place of my morning walk was nothing less than the earliest European

rural settlement of the nation (established 1794) outside of Sydney Cove. It was once the strategic

rural out-post that was critical for the survival of the early British colony that had fed the nation,

the people of early Port Jackson. (Sydney)

Lorinda and Jared had suggestions for every day and more than can be detailed. That day we

visited the Hawkesbury Regional Gallery and Library that was focusing on three exhibitions

including the Darug tradition of storytelling, the architecture of Francis Greenway and local St

Matthew’s Anglican Church and a contemporary look at Western Sydney and the Blue

Mountains. Then there was an Art exhibition in the CWA building George St and an afternoon

drive around the Hawkesbury. A nail biting grid iron game with the triumph of the Seattle Sea

Hawks was also squeezed in somewhere.

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Now you may be starting to think that our time in NSW was one big interesting history

lesson. Well in some way it was! After all, discovering your national roots after a near

life time must mean something. There was a public issue and protest raging in Windsor

that has turned out, alongside the Aboriginal Embassy in Canberra to be one of the

longest protests in the nation’s history. It was all about a proposed new bridge that is to

replace the current one across the Hawkesbury River. Without going down that path or

unpacking the long story of that particular issue I was soon to learn that we were located

in a place where the footprint of the last two centuries would continue to confront us at

almost every turn.

The earliest in Australia.

Lorinda and Jared had generously arranged space from other obligations to offer to treat

us to a journey that would lead us to Australia’s oldest existing church. EBENEZER

Church (established 1809, and meaning: “The Lord has helped us all the way.”

1 Samuel 7:2)

To reach Ebenezer Church we had to pass through the little town of Wilberforce. The

significance of this name will emerge as you imagine yourself travelling with us to

Ebenezer and as I unpack a little more of the overall Windsor story.

Governor Phillip had first explored the Hawkesbury in 1789. Food crops grew well on

the flood plains and as already mentioned ex-convicts and farmers displaced the

indigenous people in 1794/5. No church had been built but under Rev. Samuel Marsden

Anglicans had worshipped around the Windsor district since 1795. In addition to this,

10 soldiers had been posted to stem altercations with local aborigines.

In 1807 Marsden had recruited Rev Robert Cartwright from Britain to be the first

resident Anglican minister at Windsor (1810-19) He was a government employee under

the principle chaplain Marsden. It was in this same year, 1810, that Macquarie had

formed five new towns on the fertile flats of the Hawkesbury to save Sydney from

starvation. Macquarie claimed Windsor as the main government town and created

Wilberforce as one of the other five food source towns. Behind the scenes William

Wilberforce, the evangelical slave emancipator in Britain, had been involved with the

early development of Australia. In fact it was his influence that led to the appointment

of the Chaplain to the Colony, Rev Richard Johnson. (who succeeded Marsden) Gov.

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Lachlan Macquarie was a compassionate man and

he obviously respected Wilberforce, and enough

to name the early township after him.

So there was a ‘mates network’ between the

military and civil society, a privileged merging of

State and Church made up of Rev Samuel

Marsden, Rev Richard Johnson, Governor

Macquarie, William Wilberforce and Rev

Robert Cartwright, not to mention their

connections with others like John Newton. These

men were instrumental in determining the nature

of the town and the established church ministry in

Windsor although they were not the first to build

the first church.

Enter today’s Uniting Church.

The ‘Coromandel Covenantas’ arrived in Sydney

in 1802 and began pioneering farms at Portland

Head in 1803. For five years they worshipped in

the open air and farmers homes. In 1808 they

agreed to call a minister and without government aid built ‘Ebenezer’ chapel. The first

Communion Service according to the Church of Scotland was conducted by Rev

Dunmore Lang in 1824. (Today serviced by the Uniting Church) We explored the early

Chapel and the separate school room after which we enjoyed a generous helping of

scones, jam and cream before heading off again one of the many tourist drives.

The Orientation Drive

From Ebenezer Church we covered a drive the lower plains. We stopped and I gave aid

to a tortoise who, with some difficulty was crossing the bitumen road. The drive took

us to a gallery called ‘Purple Noon’ then on to the site on the edge of the Hawkesbury

River where the famous Aussie artist Arthur Stretton painted his master piece. A copy

that hangs on our lounge room wall entitled ’Purple Noon’s transparent might’ made

the spot rather special.

Governor Macquarie Monument

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Sunday, 29th October. Windsor Uniting Church

The Windsor Uniting church had celebrated the 140th Anniversary of its building on 28

August 2016. Not to be out done by the Anglicans they also claimed the life of the

Congregation was 200 years old. In fact most organisations around town claimed their

antiquity with some pride. The Wesleyan Methodists had arrived in 1812. The story

commences with a friendship between the Colonial Chaplain Rev. Samuel Marsden and

the first Methodist minister of the Colony, Rev. Samuel Leigh.

Marsden had a land holding in Windsor and he donated a small corner of his property

to the Methodists for the purpose of a chapel. The foundation stone was laid in

September 1818. Methodist revivals successfully led to a larger chapel in 1838 and then

after a devastating fire in 1875 a larger church was built.

Located in Macquarie Street, the white neo-gothic structure remains impressive inside

and out. With its stain glass windows, six decorative banners and hanging chandeliers

lights. The service was led by a Deacon. The service was devotional in style but the

wordy article in the news-sheet concerned me. “The Reformation of the Church and

the World.” In typical UC style the Reformation seemed to be reduced to a moral

idealism.

The egalitarian, semantic article may have been well intended but it encouraged a felt

activism that aligned with the marriage reform campaign. We were urged to “seek

justice and inclusiveness amid diversity” and finally claimed that “small and large acts

of kindness together will change the world.” Now I am not without compassion for

those who experience injustice but often the current campaign appears to be one

extreme simply replacing another. The article seemed bent on the very thing the

Reformation exposed, a sort of pre-reformation salvation by works -- social change at

all cost without grace. The analogy with the powerful reforms of the Reformation

seemed to melt into emptiness. The actual historical Reformation 500 years ago had

exposed the empty decadence of the church, and released a powerful renewal. Similar

to the medieval church, the free and compelling nature of grace had again somehow

been lost.

Frustration was replaced by amazement when after the service a local lady mentioned

to Beryl that she and her husband had served as missionaries in the New Guinea Islands

for 32 years. Beryl mentioned that my Uncle Len Wright had served as a Methodist

missionary-printer on New Britain. As we shared over a cup of tea that morning our

hearts were more than ‘strangely warmed.’

The comment sparked a raging bush fire in our hearts and in Mrs Sharp. Not only had

her brother-in-law, had been one of my Sunday School teachers at Salisbury, but she

had lived next to Uncle Len in Raluana, New Britain and knew Len before he married

Auntie Coralie. Winsome and Jack Sharp with their connection to Lance and Betty

Sharp in Salisbury had also known my grandmother Lydia Wright when she visited Len

and Coralie in the islands for a nine month period. What a remarkable connection. The

gospel is not always clear in the church of today but the impact of the gospel in the lives

of our ancestors and the providence of God shone like a morning star that morning.

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The special Beryl-birthday treat provided by

Jared and Lorinda that afternoon came in the

form of lunch and Paddleboat cruise on the

Hawkesbury. It was a warm afternoon, but

the band and breeze were ideal for relaxing

with an occasional wave to passing speed

boats.

Late afternoon tea with the

neighbours proved rather

delightful. Lorinda and Jared had

obviously found a place in the

heart of the folk either side of their rental. We were warmly welcomed by the locals

and they felt so comfortable with us that they stayed into the evening. Not only that,

they suggested they we meet the following night for a proper ‘barby’ meal and a taste

of some homemade whisky!!!!!. We went soft on the whisky but we had another great

chin-wag on the Tuesday evening over the meal together. We were fascinated with the

Airforce planes over head coming in to land at the Richmond RAAF base.

Monday 30th October

Next morning after a late start Beryl got busy and I rolled up my sleeves for a little

exercise in the garden with view to earning our keep pruning roses and trimming hedges

etc. Jared had held Costco together by following up a late night after hours call so with

his day off he took his motorbike for a morning burn through the hills.

Tuesday 31 October. The Forgotten Valley

It was time for

Beryl and myself

to venture forth.

After instructions

and suggestions

from Jared we

headed north in

the car to St Albans. It was a great

drive through heavily timbered, but

beautiful country. It involved two

crossings of the river at Wisemans

Ferry. We ended up at some remote

villages and the Macdonald River,

known by locals as ‘The Forgotten

Valley’--- was probably one of the

prettiest drives in the area

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Wednesday 1 November -- Bound for Sydney Town -- Day 1

Having gained our bearings, the day came to claim the accommodation in Sydney Town

that had been generously offered to us. The train took us to the Sydney rail terminal

where we caught a city bus 311. Passing through Kings Cross we arrived near a naval

base at Wylde St, Potts Point.

Friends had raised their eyebrows whenever I said we were staying at Potts Point so I

quickly came to realise that our position overlooking Woolloomooloo Bay with view

of the harbour bridge was indeed a privileged location. There was just so much on offer

we would not make it to the Harbour

Bridge or the Opera House. Those

venues would be next time specials,

but we were ready for a big

orientation experience. From our

sparkling unit we caught a bus to the

Sydney Town Hall. Our pre-arranged

OPAL travel card proved fabulous

and on our first day we took eight

journeys across Sydney via train, bus,

and ferry for a total cost of just

$2.50 each. Nothing seemed to

restrain Beryl’s confidence and I

tried to keep up as we caught a

train to Circular Quay. A seething

mass of humanity took transit to

all parts of the busy harbour from

this point. In addition to the

general crush, the giant ocean

liner Golden Princess, in all her

magnificence, dominated the

skyline. She was preparing for departure at 4 pm and excited passengers with their cases

were heading in one direction. We boarded a ferry for Manly that took us near to the

head of the bay and after a coffee break timed our return to see the departure of the

Cruise liner. We headed back to the city and attended a 6pm Healing Service at St

Andrews Cathedral that evening near the Town Hall.

We entered the Cathedral via the back door but in doing so came across a significant

relic. THE GREAT BIBLE OF 1539. Henry the V111’s title, ‘Defender of the Faith’

came from his writing against Luther and the new Biblical faith of the Reformation.

During his reign many people were executed for their Biblical faith. Henry was

personally involved in the barbaric execution of the great Bible translator William

Tyndale. Tyndale died with the prayer on his lips: “Open the King of England’s eyes.”

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Yet through his troubled domestic life Henry made a break with the Pope that enabled

the Reformers of England not only to exist but to move into positions of political and

ecclesiastical power.

The story goes

that under the

influence of

these reformers

Henry gave

direction to

print the Bible

in English, and that a copy be sent to each

parish church. It was called THE GREAT

BIBLE. It was basically the translation of

William Tyndale.

In 1953, the Parish Council of St Andrew’s Barnwell in Northamptonshire decided that,

in gratitude for the Australian generosity to post-war restoration of Britain, they would

donate their copy of THE GREAT BIBLE to St Andrew’s and there it was tucked away

in the dark end of the Cathedral for us to view.

We were shocked that evening by news from South Australia that my cousin had been

involved in a severe motor-bike accident and was not expected to live. Reeling from

the news we entered the Service. The welcome and stirring opening helped us to re-

focus. The mammoth pipe organ beefed out, “Praise my soul the King of heaven” with

a trumpet descant and the place rocked. The message from Psalm 51, 1-2 was followed

with people personally assigned to pray with us and we were able to pray for the Wright

family. (See www.sydneyhealing.com)

The day came to an end with the challenge to find our way back to Potts Point.

Thursday 2 November -- Sydney -- Day 2

We couldn’t stay still---so next morning, like

hardened Sydneysiders we returned to

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Circular Quay and ferried our way across the bay to the

Taronga Sky Gondolier and the Zoo that overlooks the

beautiful harbour. I quickly concluded that properly

understood zoos are really exercise yards for aging adults and

rest havens for spoilt animals (See, www.taronga.org.au)

From the Zoo we ferried across to the ultra-modern shopping

precinct of Darling Harbour for lunch. That evening we

enjoyed a photo exhibition sponsored by the Australian

Geographic Society at the Australian Museum, followed by a

talk and book launch by Michael Smith (2017’s National

Geographic Adventurer of the year) who had navigated his

way around the world in a small single engine sea plane. He

retraced the 1938 routes between Sydney, Southampton and

New York over seven months. What an adventure!! A great

evening of stories. (See book “Voyage of the Southern Sun.”)

Back in the unit, after taking advantage of the window views of the harbour, I took time

to explore a book on the shelf, “Sydney’s Little World of Woolloomooloo” by Isadore

Brodsky, 1966. Overlooking the bay and Cowper Wharf I learned that the bay had been

a favourite camping place for the Cadigal tribe set aside by Governor Phillip in 1793,

and that they had continued to visit the locality well into the

second half of the 19th century. Governor Macquarie wanted

to make Woolloomooloo Bay an aboriginal reserve but John

Palmer who had arrived on the First Fleet replaced the

indigenous people by building his Woolloomooloo farm on

their land. Then the underclass workers needing access to

Sydney Town had set up their cottages on the water’s edge.

The poverty and vices of the sea port later spilt over to

become today’s notorious Kings Cross.

Governor Darling in 1825-31 decided that the wealthy

needed an area with views of the harbour so grand houses

were built on the ridge called Woolloomooloo Heights

(Carrajeen = the native name for Potts Point.) The street of

our unit had been named after John Wylde, a judge advocate,

and Potts Point after Joseph Potts a banker and leader in the

early 1800s---the founder of the Bank of NSW that later

became WESTPAC in 1982. In fact the position of the unit

we were staying in would have been the dress-circle of

elegant homes overlooking the stalls, the humpies of the

artisans and workers below.

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Friday 3 November -- Sydney -- Day 3

It was a slow start, but after breakfast we climbed

the stairs to enjoy the roof views of the harbour

bridge. We had tested the transport system and

focused on Circular Quay, now it was gallery and

culture time.

After two bus stops we headed for the Art Gallery with its four floors of magnificence.

It was an impressive space featuring 19th century water colours and at the shop we

couldn’t resist another book on the Heidelberg school. I photographed a few

masterpieces and then we strolled in the Botanic Gardens opposite, where Beryl met up

with an English couple who had emigrated in 1953 and had landed at Woolloomooloo.

After fighting off hungry bis birds we revived

with a coffee and then strolled down Macquarie

Street past the Library, Albert’s statue Hyde

Park and St Mary’s Cathedral. We returned to

the unit and after a rest -- it being a balmy

evening we ventured down the street to Harry’s

Café de Wheels on the water front of Cowper

Wharf. I enjoyed a pie with mushy peas and

sauce while Beryl phoned our host and thanked

her for a very adventurous few days in Sydney.

Saturday 4 November -- Penrith REAL Festival

We returned mid-morning by train back to Windsor

and the family What could be better than a local

Festival on the banks of the Nepean River? The

event sponsored by the Penrith City Council was a

cut above most community festivals I have

attended. It ranged over the 3 and 4 of November on

the banks of the Nepean river. Lorinda had scored

employment with the Penrith Library as a story-

teller, a role well suited to her creative skill and

experience. Like the ancient Cornish Troll, she was

enjoying the role of keeping mothers and children

spell bound. It meant we spent some time at the

library tent meeting those she was working with,

but we also ranged across the many venues over

the afternoon and stayed for the spectacular

‘SPHERES’ finale, where performers floated

through the air on the end of long swaying, flood lit

poles. Active stands included a silent

disco, Fire Jets, Aboriginal cultural dance,

Sonic Light Bubble, Market stalls, River

cruise on the Nepean Belle, Various

Workshops, etc.

(realfestival.com.au)

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Sunday 5th November -- The Credible Presence.

Again, we walked into history when on

Sunday morning we attended St Matthew’s

Anglican Windsor. We had narrowly

missed the 200th Anniversary of the historic

Church, a greeting from the Queen (who

had visited in 1970) and the special birthday

bash that had extended over a week just two

weeks prior to our visit.

Despite the advantage and the handicaps of

the Established Church (The Church and

State being one institution) Macquarie made

Windsor an official government/church

outpost. The Anglican ministry began with

evangelical ferment and zeal. As mentioned

Rev Robert Cartwright with his wife and six

children became the first resident

clergyman in the district (1810-1819).

While he started the building project he also

left before its completion. The Government

commissioned, and built a place of worship

that was intended to serve the entire

community and remains one of the oldest churches in Australia. The large red brick

church was designed by Government architect Francis Greenway, a former convict. It

was built by convicts and is now regarded as a master piece of workmanship. The

foundation stone had been laid on 11 October 1817. Rev. Chris Jones tells an interesting story, “Governor Macquarie laid the first convict-marked sandstone

block with a ‘holy dollar’ underneath it saying, “God prosper St Matthew’s church.” The coin was stolen

that night, but the stone was relaid the next day with a another ‘holy dollar’ underneath it. When this too

was stolen the stone was laid for a third and final time – without the temptation of gold!”

Rev Jones and the congregation of about 30 gave us a warm welcome. Their printed

material claimed the same missionary heart of their pioneers and as a local church they

seek to be a ‘credible presence of Jesus Christ’ in the Hawkesbury. I found the words,

‘credible presence’ rather telling. Did this imply that there had been times when the

credibility of the church had been spoilt or clouded, perhaps by the combination of

Church by? The early battle in South Australia to have a church free from obligations

to the State came to mind. Obviously State finance and labour had produced a nice

church building but is that what a church is? Historically the authenticity of the gospel

had been compromised through the

Church-State relationship.

On the current issue of legal marriage,

Anglican vicar Rev Mark Durie had said.

“I don’t believe it is in the church’s true

interest to claim or be perceived to claim

a position of privilege in society. A church

that relies on privileges becomes

spiritually weak. Privilege is not the life-

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blood of Christianity: it is poison in its veins. The gospel of Jesus should be disruptive

and subversive to be authentically the gospel.”

The vicar was saying that a redefined

meaning of marriage by the State would

enable the church to offer a distinctly

Christian understanding of marriage.

The large box-like church had a plain

interior and an altar with six magnificent

stained-glass windows. The sermon

based on John 11 simply recalled the

narrative of the raising of Lazarus with

short applications. The Lord’s Supper

was just as simple, but meaningful.

The Hawkesbury River had flooded 130

times since 1799 and ex-convict Andrew Thompson became a hero in 1806 when he

plucked 101 residents from their rooftops. The highest flood in 1867 reached over 19

metres and the church had been used as a place of refuge.

Mount Tomah Gardens

Windsor is surrounded

by ten National Parks

an hour’s drive from

Sydney. There is a

natural beauty about the

area but this was

intensified during our

stay by the number of

Jacaranda trees in

bloom. More than once

we were told the story

of how the tree had

become so widespread through the district. During the 1920s there had been a hospital

that had celebrated the birth of every newborn by presenting the mother with the seed

of a Jacaranda tree. While the blue flower provides a beautiful decoration, others regard

the Jacaranda as a weed that

spoils the natural Aussie flora.

Leaving that debate for

another day it is worth noting

that besides sitting on a

waterway, Windsor is next

door to the rugged Blue

mountains with its Wollemi

National Park.

It was a wet afternoon but

Lorinda piled us into the car

for a road winding tour into the heavy mists of the Blue Mountains to visit the Botanic

Garden at Mount Tomah. The spectacular views needed to await another visit were but

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the smell of wet woodland and the signs on the way were enough to indicate that we

were heading for something special. We enjoyed a limited look around the drenched

garden. The place was well manicured and the home of 21,000 species. It is the only

Botanic Garden located in a World Heritage area and it is focused on the conservation

of cool climate plants. It was anticipating that in November it would become a

spectacular stage for a month of artistic flamboyance, featuring artists from the Blue

Mountains region. The flowers were dressed in glassy rain drops in a way that made for

a few good photos. Like Major Mountbatten during the Second World War we resolved

that we would return next time under better conditions.

We followed the trail through the apple orchards of Bilpin and paused for coffee and

scones at the Hill Billy cider shed. The sun failed to shine but it was refreshing indeed.

www.bluemountainsbotanicgarden.com.au

What an adventure of days

packed with new experiences it

had all been. We were most

grateful for time with family,

the generous hospitality we had

experienced, as well as the new

things we had learned about the

origin of the nation we call

home.

Monday 6 November

We headed for home staying

again at Gundagai caravan

park overnight feeling

relaxed and refreshed from a

fantastic time in Sydney and

surrounds.

Rev E.A. (Ted) Curnow

November 2017

Sydney Botanical Gardens

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Background Books from the Windsor Library via Lorinda.

BLUE MOUNTAINS DREAMING Edited Eugene Stockton. Published by Blue

Mountains Educational and Research Trust.

The Blue Mountains provide a spectacular landscape. This is a scientific study of

environment and history. It details engravings, documents aboriginal sites in the ridges,

valleys. The data base is still being expanded. By 1991 700 sites in the Wollemi

National Park listed. In 1994 the ancient pine in parts of Wollemi Wilderness found in

inaccessible land. Long held secrets being researched.

SACRED WATERS. The story of the Blue Mountains Gully, traditional Owners,

By Dianne Johnson.

The story of noted Government tracker William Lynch (Old Billy) who lived in the

Blue Mountains. He had an intimate knowledge of native traditions, flora, fauna. He

died in 1913 and spent last days at Katoomba. The quiet exodus from the rivers, valleys

of the Gundungurra homelands was prophecy of Old Billy.

SHUT OUT FROM THE WORLD. Hawkesbury Aborigines, Reserve and Mission

1889-1946 Jack Brook 305.89915 Bro.

ON DARUG LAND. An aboriginal perspective—Social history of Western Sydney.

994.0049915 Mar Michael Martin 1988.

North of Botany Bay were the Eora and stretching up the Hawkesbury to Windsor and

the Blue Mountains were the Darug people. European occupation of Australia is a tragic

story and the church being combined with State policies failed to make it prettier.

Within 18 months of the First Fleet arriving, a foreign disease, small pox killed an

estimated two thirds of the local indigenous population. In less than 150 years the

Hawkesbury Plain emptied a race of people whose ancestors cherished the land for

about 30,000 years.

As destruction of traditional sites took place on the Hawkesbury River and yam beds

were destroyed and replaced with crops, conflict between black and white people

occurred and two cultures and social economic systems competed for fertile land along

the Hawkesbury. By 1795 settlements on the river were described as being in a state of

open war.

The Secret River : ABC TV www.abc.net.au/tv/programs/secret-river/

Jun 21, 2015 - Based on Kate Grenville's multi-award-winning bestselling novel, the

two-part mini-series The Secret River tells the deeply personal story of Will and Sal

Thornhill, early convict colonists in New South Wales. ... CAST: Oliver Jackson-

Cohen, Sarah Snook, Lachy Hulme, Tim Minchin ..