Anyone who knows me or has read any of my previous blogs, might have picked up on the fact that I am a huge History buff. When I was young this was probably limited to Ancient and Medieval history. But in 2007 a video game called 'Assassin's Creed' came out, which inspired me to begin looking into my family tree, and my ancestors' places within history.
One of these particular ancestors is none other than my 2nd Great-Grandfather Carl Franks. Of all my ancestors Carl is the one who fascinates me the most and that I find myself time and time again coming back to, and thanks to Carl, I'm doing the Bondi to Coogee walk.
When I first heard about Carl from my Father and Uncle I was told he was an American ex-navy showman as well as some other dubious claims. Fortunately, when it comes to genealogical research, I'm pretty nifty, and soon found multiple articles on the Australian website 'Trove'. It was through here I learned Carl was a hypnotist, at one stage employed at 'Wonderland City' at Tamarama. I have often thought about starting a blog focusing on a particular ancestor, their stories, things about them, their place in history and people they may have encountered, but never do as I am always on the hunt for more information, which is why I decided I wanted to head to the beach at Tamarama, to see the location of where this Wonderland City used to be. Rather than have me drive all that way to see one beach, my Wife suggested the Bondi to Coogee Coastal walk, a 6km walk (12km return) that included Tamarama Beach along the way.
Planning to go Saturday, but moving it to Sunday due to extreme winds in NSW, we booked in a car space at World Square, planning to stop in at Top Impressions bakery to buy some lunch for the day (the sole thing that made my Wife keen on the walk). We had surprisingly good traffic for the drive up to Sydney, and after arriving at World Sqaure made our way to Top Impressions where we over purchased on pastries (both savoury and sweet), and a matcha latte for the day. We entered Town Hall station, getting a train to Bondi Junction where we headed to the bus depot that I commented reminded me of the one we had got on at Edwinstowe in England, before hopping on a bus to drop us off closer to the beach.
We made our way through Bondi towards Bondi Beach, where we made our way over a bridge to a table to eat our pastries right by Bondi Vista Ferris Wheel.
We only ate the three savoury pasties (both our breakfasts) before I headed down for my first look at Bondi Beach (in person, I had seen it on TV before). I passed a statue of a man swimming, where I was tempted to take a photo, but I commented to my Wife that the statue looked too much like ex-prime minister Tony Abbott, (I could not see a plaque saying who it was, and I just assume it was meant to be a generic lifeguard). I commented about how crazy packed it was for a Winter's day, compared to our local beaches where you might be lucky enough to have it to yourself. My Wife told me that this wasn't even busy for Bondi, and I was thankful for that.
We began the walk heading South, past all the people playing volleyball. I asked if these were free spots for anyone to play, or if people had set them up, or if they were paid for. My Wife didn't have the answers. We reached some stairs, and we headed up towards Bondi Icebergs Swimming club with a view overlooking the beach.
As we passed the club we saw a group of birds scuttling around on the ground over a railing. I thought that they reminded me of Compy's (Compsognathus, a Dinosaur) from the Jurassic Park films. My Wife commented that out loud, thinking the exact same thing as me. I pointed out the greenish shine in their feathers and my Wife said that it was due to some oil in their feathers.
We continued along, weaving in and out of the hordes of people, walking at various speeds and randomly stopping in front of you.
I found it difficult to take photo's given the vast number of people along the way, as I didn't want to just feel like I was taking pictures of random people. There were people trying to jog along it along with ample amounts of people walking their Dogs (that excited my Wife and I as we pointed out every Dog to each other, and I have never seen so many Australian Shepherd Dogs in my life).
I passed a sign saying 'From Bush to Boom' that detailed some of the early history of Bondi, I took a photo, but I know sometimes they can be hard to read so I have transcribed it below.
"Although just 7 kilometres from the city, Bondi was described in 1842 as 'a place of peculiar loneliness... a shining sandy beach unmarked by human foot'. However, rock carvings alone are clear reminders that many Aboriginal feet have walked these sands long before those of European settlers.
Early Bondi Locals 'Nosey Rob', or Robert 'the Gentleman Hangman' Howard lived a lonely life in the cottage in the top right of this photo. A former horse drawn cab driver, he worked for almost 30 years as the state hangman after being shunned by society following a horribly disfiguring accident, in which his nose was destroyed. This, and his reputation as a decent fellow, who carried out his job with respectability, gave rise to his nicknames.
The Rise of Beach Culture As surf bathing became more and more popular, changing sheds for 750 men and 250 women were opened in 1911. The foundation stone for a new Bondi Pavillion, which included Turkish baths, a ballroom and a dressing room for 12,000 people was laid in 1928. The excitement and competition of surf carnivals attracted thousands of spectators to Bondi. Hessian screens were put up to keep people off the beach and to charge admission."
We came around the headland, getting a look at the many beaches still to make our way across on our walk.
While walking along I did my annoying habit of pointing out all the plants I knew along the way, from the Pigs Face, to the Warrigal Greens and the Coastal Rosemary. We walked past a track down to MacKenzies Bay before walking past an outdoor exercise park with some gym junkie looking guys loudly blasting their 'gangsta' music while they worked out.
As we rounded further we came to our first beach after Bondi. Tamarama Beach.
I was taken aback to get to the beach so fast. I had looked the walk up maybe once or twice half-heartedly for an idea of where Tamarama was and had assumed it was the 3rd or 4th beach along the walk. I knew there were some signs or plaques around detailing some information about 'Wonderland City' (as my Dad had come to the beach to have a look while I was undergoing Rituximab treatment for Lymphoma, a side effect from my Stem Cell Transplant, and told my Wife to keep an eye out. I decided to walk down the stairs to the beach to have a look down there while my Wife followed the path along, as she didn't want to 'walk in sand'. I headed down looking for remnants, or artifacts showing that this Wonderland City had once existed here.
I wondered to myself if these were left from Wonderland City more than 100 years ago, or if they were from something more recent. There was no way for me to tell as I wandered around the base of the lifeguard tower. I felt my phone vibrating and looked to see my Wife calling. I answered with her telling me she had found a sign on the path just behind some bins, so I walked back up the stairs along the path until I reached her.
"SYDNEY'S PLAYGROUND Vaudeville acts and an elephant called Alice The Bondi Aquarium, Sydney's first coastal amusement park, opened on this headland in 1887. Its greatest attraction was a plunging rollercoaster that dived and twisted over the beach. People flocked to laugh at the the vaudeville acts and marvel at the aquarium creatures, which included seals and a tiger shark.
Powered by its own steam plant, Wonderland City which replaced Bondi Aquarium, was an extravaganza of noise, entertainment and light. It thrilled crowds with an airship suspended above the bay, and rides on the beach on an elephant named Alice.
However, battles with local residents over beach access, charges of cruelty to animals, and an accident involving the airship led to a decline in visitors. After a few years of poor crowds and low revenue, the Wonderland City closed in 1911."
As we walked down to the grass lawn with a toilet block, cafe, and barbecue areas where people where picnicking, enjoying the sunny day or playing with their gorgeous Dogs. We used the facilities, before reapplying some sunscreen, while we looked around for more information as I wondered about every tree or stone "I wonder if this was here that 100 years ago when Carl Franks was here." I found 4 more sign posts full of information on Tamarama, 3 of the 4 mentioning Wonderland City. So, what was Wonderland City?
Wonderland City - 1906-1911 Wonderland City was founded by theatrical entrepreneur William Anderson.
Wonderland City
"Employing over 160 people, Wonderland set a new standard for the Australian outdoor pleasure grounds. Large crowds, estimated at 2000 people, came every summer weekend, with 70 turnstiles at the entrance doing a brisk trade.
A barbed wire fence which extended from the cliffs and across the back, blocked access for swimmers to the beach. Following an ongoing battle with swimmers, Wonderlands' owner saw the matter being taken to New South Wales parliament.
Amidst disputes with the swimmers of Tamarama and complaints the animals were being poorly housed and mistreated, opposition to Wonderland grew. Due to poor crowds and low revenue Wonderland closed in 1911."
But why did any of this matter to me? (Besides being a history buff). Well my 2nd great-grandfather Carl Franks worked here. So, who was Carl Franks?
Carl Franks
I first learned about Carl Franks through my Father. Who learned about him through his brother, my Uncle Mark. My Dad didn't grow up with his biological family. My Nana Betty, in her youth, had an affair on her husband John Franks, with an Italian man.
Nana Betty (95) and myself (31) - 2023
On discovering she was pregnant, she decided to confess to her husband, lest the child come out an Italian and her secret be revealed. John agreed that if the child came out Italian they would adopt it out. However, my Dad was born in 1954 and adopted out regardless (John was my Dad's Father, as confirmed through Ancestry DNA). He ended up meeting up with his birth Mother, my Nana Betty and met his 2 brothers and a sister. His Father John never acknowledged or got to know my Dad before passing away. So wanting to learn more about the paternal ancestry line I often messaged my Uncle Mark for information, learning John's Father, Richard Lawrence Franks (called Dick Franks) had sold pies up in Ettalong, but prior to that he had served in the army during World War II in the 2/30 Battalion.
'Richard Lawrence Franks'
Richards' Father was our elusive and mysterious showman. Carl Franks. While researching Carl Franks using one of my many resources 'Trove' I found a few Newpaper articles about him performing hypnotism at numerous showgrounds.
I found recurring references.to fellow showman he would perform with including Rocky Vane, an pretty dubious character believed to have released Tiger Snakes onto Carnac Island off Western Australia which preceded to infest the island and capitalised on his own Wife's death by a Snake bite!
Another is David Hepburn, in the article above known as the World's Greatest Cataleptic Marvel but later in life referred to as a 'Fire King'. It was in an incident with this David Hepburn where I learned Carl had been employed at Wonderland City, as the two had been involved in a drunken altercation.
POLICE COURT PROCEEDINGS.
"At the Paddington Court yesterday, David Hepburn, 46, vaudeville artist, was charged with assaulting Carl Franks, at Bondi, on January 3.
According to the prosecution, both parties were as-sociated in the showmen's carnival at Wonderland
City, Bondi. Complainant said he approached defend- ant for the purpose of having his contract settled, and the reply he got was to wait for the settlement, which would be at defendant's pleasure. Then, it was al-leged, that as complainant turned towards the door of the office he received a blow on the nose, which damaged it, and rendered him unconscious for three or four minutes. In answer to Mr. E. R. Abigail (who appeared for the defence), complainant said he was a manufacturer of inhalers, which business he had carried on for five years. He and defendant were show- ing together at Wonderland City as entertainers, "also for catalepsy," defendant being the cataleptic subject.
They called each other "Dave" and "Carl." Com- plaintant admitted that he had been drinking stout that day. Medical evidence having been given.
Hepburn, who pleaded not guilty, said he was a showman, and was under engagement with the show-man's carnival at Wonderland City at the time of the alleged assault. Franks was engaged by him in a hypnotic turn. Complainant was the hypnotist, and witness the cataleptic subject. On Mon-day complainant approached him for some pay, and witness went to the office and arranged the payment of £5, which sum complainant received. They had been drinking a little together, and complainant left, to re-turn in the evening. Near the King's Theatre Franks said to witness, "What about the rest of this gilt?" Witness told him not to bother just then, and went into the office, closing the door. Franks entered with several others, and commenced to use bad language to-wards witness, which he accompanied by a menacing movement. Witness told him to go away, and in
warding off a blow aimed at him accidentally struck Franks, who fell down, and said, "You have broken my nose." Two witnesses for the defence stated that at the time complainant was in a state of excite-ment and fluster.
Mr. Macfarlane, S.M., dismissed the case.
A similar charge was laid against Jack O'Brien by Arthur Copeland. Complainant in this case stated that he had been working for defendant, who had an in- terest in Wonderland City. On the 1st (unintelligible), he stated, he asked defendant for some wages, when O'Brien struck him on the jaw, and said, "That's all you'll
get."
The case was not proved, and defendant was dis-charged."
Another newspaper article reporting on the same thing, posted:
POLICE COURTS.
THURSDAY, JANUARY «. SHOWMEN AT COURT.
"A couple of matters arising out of the Showmen's Carnival held at Wonderland City during the year-end holidays were referred to Mr. W. M. Macfarlone, S.M., at the Paddington Police Court yesterday for adjustment- The question of wages was at the bottom of the trouble. The first case was that in which David Hepburn, with maliciously inflicting grievous bodily harm upon Carl Franks at Bondi on January 3, Mr. E. R. Abigail appeared for the accused. The prosecutor, who described himself as a manufacturer, said that on January 3 he saw the accused in Mr. Rickett's office at Wonderland City, and said to him, "Will you settle up my contract" The witness was told to wait. for the contract, and that the accused would settle. up when he plowed. As witness turned towards the door he got a full blow across the bridge of the nose with the buck of the accused's hand. He was knocked down and., rendered senseless for three or four minutes. No provocation was given for the assault. In answer to Mr. Abigail, the witness said he manufactured toothpowder and inhalers, and had been doing so for five years. The accused and witness had not been mates or friends for years. They had shown at different places together at different times. The accused was his cataleptic subject at Wonderland City during the holidays. Dr. Hugh George Allen, resident house surgeon at Sydney Hospital, said he attended the ' prosecutor at IX o'clock, on the night of January 3 for an injury to his nose, which could have been caused by a blow with the list. There was a slight fracture of the left, nasal bone, but no permanent injury would ensue. The magistrate at this stage reduced the charge to one of common assault, and the defendant pleaded not guilty.... The defendant, giving evidence, said he was under contract with the Showmen's Association to perform certain acts at Wonderland City last week, lie had known the complainant for the past il years, and had been with him on and off for about (untellable) years of the period. "They showed together, ate together, and drank together." The witness engaged the complainant to as sist him in his turns, one of which was hypnotism. Complainant was the hypnotist, and the defendant was the cataleptic subject — "the only one in Austral aida at the present time." The complainant asked witness for some money, and £5 was paid over at oncw. In the evening they met near the King's Theatre, and Franks began to brandish his arms in a menacing fashion, saying, "Your hands will not protect you.'" Witness stood up to swing his arm round in order to word off a blow aimed at him by the complainant, who ran his face against witness's; hand. Franks then lay down and began to lament a broken nose. Witness would "not hurt Drank for £1000." After further evidence, the magistrate caid that, despite the nice way in which Svenson had given his evidence, there was so case, and the information was. therefore, dismissed."
Mr. Rickett's Wonderland City Manager
Having never heard about Wonderland City before it was these articles and this history that led me to walk this coastal track to Tamarama in the first place, but I was always trying to learn more about Carl. It had been passed down that he was an American ex-navy man, and I found two articles that referenced this.
"Special engagement of Carl Franks, the world's greatest exponent of Hypnotism, adding his latest American sensation of Diving 16 feet into broken glass in a
bathing costume." One article wrote, and another saying:
"Or red-headed Carl Franks, the ex-American navy man, who, from the piano case in front of the big tent, would dare anyone to eat candles. But can't you feel the cold shivers running up and down your back even now when you think of Jack the Ripper, not the original English murderer, but the chap who worked the old Show with his sword and his little leaden soldiers? Jack, who would catch a' small boy, put half a crown in his mouth, and then cover his face with a hand-kerchief. I can see him taking out the big shiny sword, and going through the old formula of cutting the coin without touching the boy's nose. And how near ho would come to doing it. Nothing could over convince me but that he would have done it; only for' the boy being frightened. And the Wild Man of Borneo, who would eat you if you got too close. The Fat Boy and the Fat Girl, the cheapjack who would soil you a real knife with four blades in it for threepence. Their name was legion, and although perhaps, looking at it from a modern entertainment point of view, you never got your money's worth, you got more than it's worth in fun and "wonderful things." Now the remnant of the old brigade is licrded together in the side-show section. Most of them sorry and sick looking, and the others too ultra-modern to extract a sixpence from any real pop-eyed kiddie. Of the old hands Carl Franks is recording his 15th year on the ground, hut gone are the candles and the spangles. Carl is a medicine man dealing in cures for all mortal ills. I watched the old warrior work one night. In the middle of his story he noticed a small boy with genuine toothache. In a minute he had slopped his show and got the kiddie in a corner. Out from his box came a little dentist's looking-glass, and into the aching molar went some of his cure. "How much?" asked the mother, And Carl laughed. "Nothing, ma'am, nothing; but if it starts to ache again bring him round and I will put some more till" "Monty" Somor may be right in his dislike of the itinerant showman and the rest of the gypsies. I am not going to argue the point with him, but I know that a show where you can only buy things you can got in any shop in your home suburb can't hold a candle to the old show. At least not from the kiddies' point of view. Tho war and the high cost of living may ho responsible, but I know that 10 years ago any healthy child could get deliciously bilious for 2s. Now it can't be done under 10s."
I had tried often times searching for immigration records, or American Navy records for Carl, and so I requested the help of the head of Shellharbour City Museum to aid me in my search. She was able to find a Gaol record for Carl in my own area of the Illawarra. Carl had been arrested for boarding a train without purchasing an adequate ticket. It listed his home address as 131 Macquarie Street Sydney, said his hair was red, said he was an American with a ship tattoo on his right forearm and a heart with an arrow through it on his left forearm. It said his occupation was a showman and came here aboard the 'Aleain' in 1896.
However, we were unable to find any records of that ship and I hit the 'brick wall' of Ancestry research, that is until, I decided to look into someone mentioned in an obituary that mentioned Carl. The obituary was for 'Henry Lawrence Drayton' and mentioned him as being Carl and his Wife Sarah's Nephew. Upon looking into this I found the website 'Wikitree' and free online family tree, where this Henry Lawrence Drayton was uploaded to. Through this I learned all about Car's Wife, 'Sarah Rachael Parker' and her heritage. But I also found Carl's obituary, as he died in 1919 of Spanish Influenza.
It was here I learned that Carl, the name he went by, was not his name. He was John Joseph Franks. This led to me finding another obituary posted for him by his sister, Margaret who had married a James Hassall (see how complicated family genealogy can be?) and another Margaret. Margaret Petersen, his Mother! The questions buzzed, had his whole family migrated to Australia from America too?
Searching into his Mother, I found she had been married to a Carl Julius Franke. Who died in Adelaide, who's father was Samuel Franke, who's Father was a Johann Gottlieb Franke, who had fled Germany during the 'Dresden Uprising' in 1856 to come to Australia and had been an editor of the German-Austrlian magazine 'The Germania' in Melbourne. So, it seemed that Carl was not an American at all, but an imposter! Did his closest friends and family know? Was it all part of his showman persona? As I write this blog over 100 years later, I don't know, and don't know if I ever will. But I often wonder of his showman's life. What was he like? Was he a dubious character like some of the people he seemed to share his life with? Was it just his way of getting through life and making money? Or did he love the attention of being a showman, the performance aspect? I may never know but my research continues, only recently finding another recently uploaded article on trove detailing more of his train arrest and why he was heading down to Wollongong. He was going to the Albion Park (where I grew up!) show in 1904. Was he to perform? Was he going for the day out? Did he get to perform or did being arrested stop him?
These were all questions I pondered as we walked up the stairs and along the ramp overlooking Tamarama as we continued along the coastal walk towards Coogee.
As we walked the slight incline, I could feel my calves and thighs tighten and could feel myself struggling. As we reached the top I asked my Wife if we could stop for a little, explaining that my legs were feeling tired, unusual for me, and she suggested I might still be recovering from my recent really bad cold which she believed was the flu. I said it could be, even though it had been gone for maybe a week now I'd had a lump appear under my left armpit, and I thought that it could be my lymph node swelling as my body fought off the sickness. But I also commented on the tiredness, saying it reminded me of the third and final attempt to hike up Mount Jellore, as my legs began to cramp and I felt tired and later on was diagnosed with my Leukemia.
"Well go to a doctor then!" My Wife snapped at me. But I didn't want to, afraid of anything being wrong, as early in the week my Father had told me a lump on his neck had been diagnosed as a cancer bringing back some trauma.
As I rested my legs and drank some water (in case it was just that I was a bit dehydrated) I looked out over Tamarama beach, trying to envisage in my mind how it looked and trying to image Carl Franks going on about his life here. I wondered what I shared with Carl, what traits or genes had been passed on. Was it from Carl that through my earlier years I had a love of the theatrics, doing drama throughout school with the dreams of being an actor? The one thing I knew for sure is we shared a taste for stout.
We pressed on with a short walk around the bend and we were already at Bronte Beach.
We made our way down towards the beach, pointing out one lone guy going along with a metal detector. I said I wonder what artifacts or remnants of Wonderland City people had found or discarded over the years. Occasionally we had to swap sides and start walking to the right-hand side of the path, dodging tourists who were unfamiliar with Australia's 'walking on the left side' conventions. We crossed along the path alongside the beach, following the path up past the shops further up a one-way road alongside a rock wall.
As we reached the top my nose began to drip, and I mentioned that I might not be fully over my cold. "It's just the sea air." My Wife said. Ahead of us was Waverly Cemetery.
However before continuing I walked back along the top of the rock wall, looking at the view back North where we had come from.
We walked through Colga reserve, having a quick look at the Japanese sculpture that was there. The path split in two, with a structured walkway left along the coast or heading right, into the cemetery. I told my Wife I didn't think the walk through the cemetery would lead us along the coastal track, and so we followed the boardwalk.
I told my Wife I always liked Graveyard, which is probably a morbid thing to say. But I had grown up down the street from a Graveyard and as an avid 'Legend of Zelda' fan said in those games you often have to go into graveyards. My Wife said she thought the graveyard was the reason I had wanted to come, assuming someone related to me was buried there, but I told her that Carl had died in Melbourne and that I didn't know where he was buried or if he still had a remaining grave. (A great site for Graves and Ancestry research is the website 'Find a Grave'). We continued around and my Wife pointed out the 'stacked stones' I hate.
"Oh, you me cairns." I told her. "Don't legitamise them." She replied. "Aren't they really bad?" "They're pretty hated among certain hikers for disrupting the environment." I replied.
We continued around and I looked back in order to ger a good photo of he bit that reminded me of a amphitheatre.
As we passed the cemetery we came across Clovelly Bowling Club, and we continued along Ocean st past the sportsfield where my Wife pointed out a seahawk that had landed on a streetlight.
From across Clovelly Bay we got our first view of Clovelly Surf Lifesaving Club.
In the far distance I could see where the manmade structures stopped and I commented that it might be the Royal National Park as it looked a lot like the Otford to Bundeena Coastal walk.
"It's probably Cronulla." My Wife replied, and looking at Google maps, it was actually probably Malabar Headland National Park.
As we continued the walk down towards the Life Saving Club, there was a young boy selling drinks and snacks.
"That's the kid the council tried to shut down for selling without a permit and earning too much." My Wife said as the young kid served a customer. "I think I remember seeing that on the news." I replied. Assuming the community had rallied in support of him, and he had been allowed to continue his business pursuits.
We crossed down by Clovelly Beach looking out at the bay.
We made our way around the pool where the path began to have a slight incline again following the path around Little Coogee Bay and getting our first view of Gordons Bay. Here there was two tracks, one going right, staying as a concrete path and one heading left, a little dirt track leading down to the water. We followed the left path down towards the water finding it just continued on straight into the water, but there was a little track on our right we followed two people heading up. We followed and it cut up under a railing back onto the footpath. Here we walked up some stairs and I turned around to get a better shot of Gordons Bay.
My feet began to get a bit sore and my legs still felt a bit tight. I commented that I probably needed a new pair of joggers for walking, as I had the pair I was wearing since my second attempt at summiting 'The Castle' back in 2017.
"We're almost there, it's like, literally around the corner." My Wife told me as we now began heading down stairs, towards the beach at Gordons Bay.
"I wonder if the water raises all the way up to where the boats are?" I asked out loud, not really expecting an answer.
The path began up again and we pushed uphill, walking past a few slower people along the way. A sign along the way acknowledged we were on Gadigal Country, an Aboriginal clan that was part of Eora Country (not that I would have known any of this without looking it up, as Aboriginal history was barely taught growing up, when I went through school people were still calling Uluru; 'Ayers' Rock'). We passed along the outskirts of houses or buildings people reaching a green field or reserve, walking past a group who were sitting up a PA system that sounded like some sort of Buddhist religious music (maybe they were about to pray, or dance, I have no idea). We continued, getting the first view of our final beach, Coogee. I commented that it looked like 'Thirroul', (but I was actually thinking of Austinmer Beach). I saw a plaque that I walked up to read, finding it was a memorial to Australian's impacted by the Bali Bombings of 2002. As I turned away from reading the list of names, saying that the act of terrorism made me sad in its cowardness, I noticed an Ibis eating spilled Corn Chips off of the ground. "Bin Chicken!" I exclaimed, as tragic a word and its context might be, they have become much loved birds in Australia.
We made our way down to the final beach, eager to tuck into our sweet pastries as it was getting later in the afternoon and our stomachs began to rumble. I noticed a peculiar looking tree, that looked like some sort of pine based on the leaves, which I couldn't help but take a photo of, in an attempt to have it identified.
We walked down to the grass field surrounding Coogee Beach, near the barbeques, and sat to eat our sweet pastries. Sitting in the shade, the wind began to blow and we began to feel the chill. We ate two of the 3 pastries before filling up. I said we could put the third away and have it later. My Wife mentioned the bakery had a sign to consume within 3 hours (we had already had them in my backpack longer than that). I suggested that it was probably just to cover themselves as they might contain egg or something. My Wife asked if I was good to turn around and head home (or just jump in one of the nearby buses to head back to Bondi Junction). I was adamant to walk back, but first said I had to walk to the far end of the beach to truly feel like I completed the walk. My Wife groaned. I told her she didn't need to come with me if she wanted to wait. She said she would come with me and we dodged our way through the crowds past the rainbow walkway where I pointed to a sign saying, "racists not welcome".
"Oh good, Pauline Hanson can't come here." My Wife jested. We walked to the far end to an ANZAC memorial, with the path continuing on South to God-knows-where. I said that you could probably just continuing walking around to many beaches, but the walk was Bondi to Coogee, and we had done the walk just for me to visit Tamarama. So, we set off on the walk back, the sun glaring into our eyes as we travelled at a faster pace back to Bondi, (passing a group of British men at Clovelly who were joking out loud they had been sent to 'the colonies' for stealing a loaf of bread), reaching Bondi beach late in the afternoon. We found the bus stop and travelled to the depot, making our way to the station from where the bus dropped us off as the sun was beginning to set. Arriving back at Town Hall station and quickly stopping in at the toilets at World Square, my Wife asked if I was still OK to drive home. I said I was, and we began the drive home in the dark, while I contemplated what further information I might unlock in the future about John Joseph 'Carl' Franks.
Anyone who knows me, or has read my blogs has probably realised I'm a bit of a History buff. However many years ago I began to wonder what my place in History was. I began to investigate my family tree and genealogy. Even going on a day trip out to Camden to do some investigating on my maternal 'Sheather' side of my ancestry. My 4th great-grandfather James Sheather emigrated from England to Camden in 1839 to work in Camden Park Estate (with Sheathers Lane named in his honor).
However his son Spencer Sheather (who had emigrated too) ended up moving out to Young, NSW. My family on that side then stayed out their all the way until my late Grandad and my Nan moved to the East coast, living around Wollongong. So I have had many generations of ancestors living out in Young, NSW.
I had been planning a bit of a trip out there to explore around and see the area which so many generations of my ancestors on my Grandad (who I called 'Cloclo Pop' ever since I was a very young kid, because he was my Pop and once gave us Coco Pops for breakfast), and my Nan's side. However I usually do a bit of ancestry work weekly and had been stuck on my Father's side of my family tree. My 2nd great-grandfather 'Carl Franks' (who's name was apparently actually John Joseph Carl Franks) was a showman, performing in shows at the no longer existent 'Wonderland City' at Tamarama in Bondi, Sydney. He was apparently a 'hypnotist' and claimed to be an American (this was apparently false, and he was either a conman, or this was part of his 'persona'.
I eventually tracked his family back, finding out his Great Grandfather Johann Gottlieb Franke was actually a German immigrant from Dresden in Germany, and after immigrating ran a German newspaper in Melbourne named the 'Germanica'.
However I had been stuck with no information on Carl's wife, Sarah Parker. I made my first discovery with a obituary in an old newspaper to a 'Henry Lawrence Drayton'.
Placed there by Carl and Sarah Franks
I knew Sarah's original last name had been 'Parker' and there were other Parkers mentioned. But I tried searching for Henry Lawrence Drayton in Google. To my surprise I had a hit on a site called 'WikiTree' an online public family tree site. The lady who had uploaded her tree included Sarah and I was able to finally find out who her family was.
I soon learned her Mother, Hannah Parker (born Myles) was born in no other than Young, NSW! Obviously the first worry I had was that my parents shared relatives, however I had no need to worry. As her father (Benjamin Abraham Myers) was born in Sydney, and died in Leichardt, and his father Emmanuel Myers was born in London and emigrated to Sydney. I also learned this family was the reason (after doing my Ancestry DNA, and my Father's too) that our heritage had some European Jewish as the Myers were Jews and Hannah was actually buried in the Jewish part of the cemetery in Young. I even found a newspaper article about her father, Benjamin Abraham Myers being held up by famous bushranger Ben Hall at the no longer standing Bang Bang Inn.
I already had enough reason to go for a trip out to explore this town with the heritage from my Nan (Madden and Brennan heritage) and my Cloclo Pop (Sheather and Levett heritage).
Although I'm not one for planning, I really just wanted to drive out and spend as much time as was needed out there, doing some family tree investigating as well as just exploring the local town history and maybe do a few bushwalks while I was there, so I did a quick look through my family tree with newspaper articles trying to find some places to try and see.
The above newspaper report about my Great Grandfather Frederick Sheather and his brother Leslie, reminding me of the time myself and my brothers had been playing a game with a bow and arrow (yes an actual bow and arrow), shooting the bow so the arrow would land near my brothers (they were blunt practice arrows, although I did have sharp ones too). I took aim across the lawn while playing at my Dad's house and release the arrow. It hit the ground, but instead of sticking in it bounced along it sticking right between my brother Scott's toes. Not wanting to get in trouble I told Scott not to tell our Father (who had an angry temperament when we were younger). We later when back home (as we lived with our Mum due to our parents divorce). Later that night my brother awoke in incredible pain and had developed a blood infection and had to be taken to hospital the next day. Whoops.
However getting the time to go out to Young would be the problem. I had wanted to go while I was still of from work (due to AML and Stem Cell Transplant), and was due to return to work in early January. While later December was not only Christmas and New Year, but my Wife's 30th birthday. I was also due to get my 8 month post transplant vaccines on the 16th of December, and received my third covid vaccine early December. I was also constantly having my birthday gift of a Stunt Plane experience constantly moved to the following weekend due to poor weather (it seemed to want to rain every Saturday), and then I had my Wife not wanting me to drive out if the weather was supposed to be poor. So I just had to sit and await my opportunity to begin my family history trip.
Ultimately I set a date to leave on a Sunday (on the off chance my Stunt flight did not get cancelled due to bad weather). To my surprise I received the call that the flight would go ahead, meanwhile I spent the Friday shovelling 1.5 cubic metres of dirt into a wheelbarrow and into my back yard to extend my veggie garden leaving me exhausted and physically sore for my flight the following day.
We drove up to the Banktown Aerodrome on Saturday afternoon (while that morning I ducked to the shops for some last minute camping supplies). We arrived slightly early, walked in and the place was empty, so we sat down in the waiting room. Finally a couple walked back in with Sam, the guy I had been corresponding with over the phone, and they started to watch their footage of their flight (I avoided looking to not ruin my own experience.)
While signing the waiver I noticed a question about medical issues, and thought about adding my recent cancer and stem cell transplant (as my blood counts had still not returned fully to normal which was giving me some anxiety about the flight). I decided against it, as if you had any medical issues it wanted to be sure your Doctor knew and had OK'd it (my Doctor had no idea). He called me into another room to get into my flight outfit. I quickly popped an Ondansetron (anti-nausea medication left over from my chemo) to make sure I wasn't sick on the flight (as I had talked to a mate I use to work with, Aaron, who had done the less extreme flight that only reaches 4G, in the actual Red Baron Plane, and he had thrown up).
I got into my suit and made my way out to the plane for some pictures before the Pilot arrived to get in some too, instructing me on how to get in and sit in the plane properly (to not affect his ability to fly it).
While I was sitting in the plane he began to tell me about how 8G is what astronauts experience on re-entry to Earth atmosphere. He explained the the force of it can rush the blood away from your head and give you tunnel vision and you can even faint (this worried me as my blood count was still not normal from my Stem Cell Transplant). He told me it would be fine, and to just tighten my abs and glutes when that occurs and it helps bush blood back into the head.
We took off and began the flight and Stunts (which I loved). I'll share a video of the whole thing below synched up showing in the pit and the wing footage for context.
I was fine for most of the flight, (besides the Ondansetron making my mouth so dry that I spent the entire time licking my lips desperate for saliva) right up until the end where the Pilot asked me to look out the side window at a bit of string and the plane began spinning around and the motion of this made me feel a bit a nausea. After this it became time for the 8G, which was stressing me out as I had already experience 5G in the flight (and found it pretty intense), not wanting to miss the experience I agreed and we went in to 8G and I began to squeeze while feeling the tunnel vision and worrying that I would pass out (which I thought would be embarrassing). I put my hand up to stop, but he acknowledged I had finished the maneuver anyway by the time I put my hand up. I probably wouldn't have if I wasn't still recovering from cancer, but getting the experience for my 30th was pretty special.
The next day I packed my little Toyota Yaris (not exactly the best travel or off-road car, but I can't afford that), and I set off towards Young with my GPS set for a pit stop in Goulburn to see the Big Merino (Australia has big things scattered over the country), and to have a coffee break. I set my phone bluetooth up to play Passenger as I began my long drive out. Finally arriving in Goulburn while I grabbed a coffee and a selfie with the Big Merino.
And it's big balls
I had seen the Big Merino many times before as a kid on road trips, but I could never recall an instance of stopping to actually go up to it. I was surprised by how busy it was around there, but figured it's probably a very popular spot for many people travelling west (and likewise people travelling east) to stop and grab food and coffee and stretch their legs after driving for so long.
I grabbed my coffee, and set out on the road again towards Young, changing my music now from Passenger to Shawn James (a road-trip needs the right tunes). My Dad and Step-mum had recently bought me a GoPro for my 30th which I hadn't had an opportunity to use yet and as I drove along past big hills with giant wind turbines I wished I had set up my GoPro in the car to capture some of the footage as I found it quite majestic.
Along the way as I had turned off from the massive highway and begun along back roads I passed a bunch of police and ambulance (getting a stretcher out of the back), and saw a car to my left had driven off-road into a ditch and was completely upside down.
I soon came to the end of Cusak road and onto Moppity which headed both left and right. With the right leading me to Young, and left to Harden. Harden was 23km and Young was 32km. I found this amusing as I have oddly found the number 23 coming up quite often in my life. So it was just a cute and amusing coincidence and I smiled to myself before turning right.
I soon arrived at Young, at some relative of my friend Tristan's (as I had agreed to drop off a present to them for him). I dropped it off and jumped back in the car to begin Google searching for fuel as my car was running incredibly low. The first petrol station I went to didn't offer 91 Unleaded, and I would have none of that, so I just looked on Google Maps for another one, finally filling up at the local Woolies service station.
I then drove to my first stop of the trip, the Young Information Centre where I had planned to get a booklet for a self guided tour of the town.
I noticed there were toilets outside (I hadn't gone since leaving home and had been on the road for almost 4 hours). As I came out I noticed the 'Big Cherries', which I had planned to see on my trip anyway, quickly walking over for a look.
I noticed the town centre was built on an old set of train-tracks (I've always found something endearing, or weirdly mystical about train tracks, ironic because I quit being a Train Driver as soon as I could).
I then went inside the building, having to QR code inside (shortly before NSW scrapped all QR codes because they gave up on trying to control the Covid pandemic).
"Can I see your vaccine certificate?" A man quickly asked, also wanting to view my check in. I showed him my phone before asking about the self guided town and heritage tour. He gave me a pamphlet, I thanked him and left, avoiding as much social interaction as possible.
I began my self guided walk through the town (which had many information plaques through it that I took photos of, but decided not too upload as there were so many that people probably wont read anyway).
I instantly regretted my decision to wear a beanie, as the heat was blistering
I noticed for that a well established town with many shops it was oddly empty, and quiet. A strange sensation for me because you can't go out anywhere near where I live without it being packed. I wondered whether this was just country life, if it was because it was a Sunday, or if it was because of the Covid pandemic. I made in through most the town reading the plaques and viewing the buildings before deciding to just skip ahead and head to the Arboretum by car so I could swap over to a hat.
I was a little disappointed compared to my local Arboretum (in Albion Park), which I have always found particularly beautiful and even won a photo competition at work with a photo I had taken there.
I walked most of the way down before deciding to check out 'Lupton's Lookout' instead. I made my way back to the car.
As my GPS told me to pull up as I had arrived at Lupton's Lookout, not very far from where I was, and still in the middle of town I confusingly walked from my car to a sign post and found the lookout just looking over the Arboretum I had just walked along...
"Well that's a shit lookout." I thought to myself before standing back and reading the sign post that explained why it's 'Lupton's Lookout'.
I wondered to myself if the tree was still there, or if they knew which tree it was. But found it an interesting bit of history none-the-less.
The day was getting on, and my camp ground was still another 50minutes north so I decided I would make my way to Holy Camp at Weddin Mountains National Park to set up camp.
Back in my car I guzzled some water and blasted my aircon and set the GPS to head north towards Weddin Mountains. While driving along I saw a Graveyard on my left and not missing an opportunity for some family history searching I quickly pulled off-road, into the unnamed graveyard (I search it for a name and none was around). I later, after getting home and finding some of the grave in their on the website 'Find-a-Grave' that it was Grenfell Cemetery.
I had a printed out list of Ancestors who's Grave I did not have photos of (many had been fulfilled by people on that 'Find-a-Grave' site), a great resource if you're looking into family history and genealogy.
I soon began noticing last names that were ringing bells in my head and began taking photo's of the graves even if I didn't have them listed. I thought they might be other descendants of my Ancestors and thought that if they were not on 'Find-a-Grave' I could at least upload them for others who might not be able to make the journey, and who knows, some might turn out to be Ancestors (we have many!!).
I thought about how sad it was, to have ancestors who have so many descendants who didn't even want to know they existed, to learn where they came from, content to just forget. So many people existing because to people deciding to have kids, and that just spreading and expanding down the line. Sites like 'Find-a-Grave' help stop people being forgotten.
I kept coming across more and more ancestral last names (that I knew were from around Young), but no direct ancestors yet. I soon saw many Simpson graves and knowing Tristan had ancestry from out at Young I messaged him saying they could be his relatives (though sadly having both done our Ancestry DNA, we shared no mutual heritage). At one point a Crow flew out making it's typical sound and scaring the shit out of me. I think I actually went 'Oh fuck!' out loud.
Unfortunately broken, and already uploaded to Find-a-Grave, but I was able to see it in person
My Mum and her Mother eventually did their Ancestry DNA too, and my Nan, who was born a Brennan due to her parents not marrying, her father was Leslie Madden, the Great Grandchild of the Margaret Madden and John Madden who's grave I now stood at. Leslie and my Nan's mother; 'Flora Brennan' never married, and he moved away when my Nan was about 6 years old and she never saw him again. However through Ancestry DNA we learned my Nan had sisters she did not know about as Les had moved down to Melbourne and begun a family there with my Mother now connecting and in communication with cousin's she never knew she had, who were able to send and give us images of Leslie, who we had never seen before.
I took some more photos of familiar last names before realising I had really lost track of time and needed to get to camp. I continued my way, now on dirt roads and hoping for the best in my little car, and finally made it to the camp ground, which I found empty (to my pleasure) and I pulled up giving it a quick look around before beginning to set up.
The funny story with my tent was I own a 4 person tent, recently bought (and unused) for myself to go camping with my Wife and Dog (this never happened because of both Covid and my cancer diagnosis). So I didn't want to be going around having to pack and set up a 4 person tent so I asked my Dad if he had a 2 man one.
He said we had given one by my late Uncle Johnny (my Dad's adoptive Mum's brother). Which seeing as this trip was a family history one I will have to unveil the family story there in a long exhausting fashion before coming full circle with the tent story.
So my Nana Betty had an affair on my Dad's late father Jack Franks (John Lawrence) whom I never got to meet. Basically it was with an Italian man. So once she got pregnant she worried if it was an Italian baby that it would be obvious so she had no choice but to confess the infidelity to her husband. Ultimately he said they would see if he was his son or not (he was) but ended up giving him away for adoption anyway if not my last name would be Franks, and it's not (which is good cause I'm sorta attached to the one I have). Anyway, they ended up having 3 more children after my Dad who all got to live as a happy family, the only left living is my Uncle Mark, my Aunt Corinne dying from sepsis during her chemotherapy for Leukemia (maybe it's genetic?) However my Dad met and found all these actual family members before I was born, so I have grown up knowing them all.
Anyway, my Uncle Johnny, who was not blood related but I also grew up knowing, always reminded me of Willie Nelson. I don't know, he had a Willie Nelson look about him with that gray stubble beard and he was always wearing an Akubra. He was always health obsessed too, which as children we hated, cause we wanted junk food, so when he would look after us he would try to give us banana on bread which we all despised. He later in life moved to far North Queensland and we didn't see him much as we were older or before he passed. But the tent was a gift from him to us kids when we were young and had never once been opened.
And so I picked it up from Dad who insisted I do a trial run of putting it all together and stuff before my trip. However, lazy and impulsive as I am I only opened it up to make sure the pieces were there and figured I'd wing it when I finally got out there, and it turned out ok
As I finished setting up and sat there ready for a long night alone with no fire (as my Wife had told be it was an apparent total fire ban), I began to feel lonely and bored. I gave my brother Scott a call just to kill some time and we began discussing memories of our childhood at home. I finally cracked and lit the fire anyway while I was ravaged by mosquitoes.
I finally started to feel tired and fell asleep with an axe next to my hand (as I've evidently watched too many horror films).
The next morning I got up, ready to set out on the bushwalk Eualdire Walking Track that was right at my camp ground. I ate half a packet of uncooked instant noodles for breakfast before just not being hungry enough to finish, and taking my morning medications.
I then, excitedly, set out on my solo walk.
I stopped across from this rock, looking at the path continuing up to the mountain and already feeling the heat and fatigue. I felt a sadness overcome me, wishing I could be physically how I was before my cancer, back to that level of fitness where there steepest or longest hikes wouldn't bother me. I felt a little angry and then tried to calm myself, saying it would come in time and I would get there. I also had to appreciate the psychology of the situation. I was walking alone, in the heat, after cancer, while the path travelled progressively uphill (though by this point it was only ever so slight), and I didn't have that banter, that shared experience of hiking with Tristan or my Dad. I didn't have that motivation and joint experience. I was alone, so therefore I was always going to be more in my head about it. I had to get out of my head an appreciate that I was in a beautiful unique spot, away from the world.
I had a drink and continued on as the dirt path slowly began to get smaller into more of a track, and I wondered to myself if I would see any snakes.
As I walked along I kept thinking I was hearing running was before realising it was just the sound of wind through the trees. Every time I would stop for a breath or some water I would close my eyes and listen to that sound.
The walk began to progress uphill more now, and I began to feel that self-doubt creeping in which I tried to shake away. I kept seeing sharp spiky looking plants along the track which I made sure to continuously avoid in case it caused stinging or itching. Eventually I stopped for the longest break I took on my walk. Right across from one of the spiky plants which I noticed had a fruit growing on it. I thought that it might be some form of nightshade, as it sort of looked like a tomato.
After my long break, which I just sat, staring blankly through the trees, just letting my mind clear, just enjoying the warmth of the sun, I stood determined and began the walk that was now very much up hill, heading inwards towards my left.
I began to hit my stride, finding myself needing to stop less and getting into the groove of the walk both physically and mentally.
I noticed the trees were beginning to change and I had reached a different area on the mountain. It was more shaded and their was more of a breeze now. I soon found myself coming upon the lookout, shocked and happy I had succeeded so easily before realising it was not the Eualdrie Lookout but, Peregrine Lookout. Which was a nice view along the way with only 900m to go to my destination.
The walk flattened out for a short while travelling through the trees before once again turning sharply upwards.
While I walked, I thought about this blog, and I questioned whether or not I want to do it anymore. I love hiking, I love travel, and I also love writing and the opportunity to share and tell stories. But I began to feel lethargic and put off by the idea. It is effort put in and for very little reward. I thought about stopping, maybe just giving it a break. But I thought as long as I get some joy, and the fun experience or story-telling and reliving a past adventure I would continue, if the time ever feels right for me to stop then I would.
I soon had approached the top, feeling proud of myself as I noticed a big monument build out of stones, and I wondered what it was for before noticing a piece of metal rusting next to it on the ground and figuring it was probably a Trig Station.
I sat and enjoyed the view (with a lot of buzzing happening in the bushes around me, maybe bees?) I had brought no food with me but had some leftover fruit cake my Wife had made me for the drive still in my bag and so I ate a slice of that while looking over the expanse in front of me. I thought it would have been cool if I had been with someone else to continue the walk through to Ben Hall's Campground, which was where I was planning to go next as it had more walks available there, and after making it up to Eualdrie Lookout I felt motivated to continue and do some more walks. But with everything back at Holy Camp I made my way back down the mountain to decide what to do with the rest of my day.
As I arrived back down at the camp ground one car was just pulling in with a couple who sat at a picnic table having some lunch and reading the sign while I finished off the other half of my bag of uncooked instant noodles I hadn't finished for breakfast. I looked at my printed list of suggested things I had written for myself, such as the Bang Bang Inn near Grenfell. I looked at the distance, but decided I would instead pack up camp to move to the Ben Hall Campground, set up and do some bushwalks there and go to Bang Bang the next day (as that campground was closer to it).
I packed up my tent (and all the stuff in it) and set out on the dusty road towards my camp ground. I soon encountered a problem. My car was having enough trouble on the old dirt roads all filled with potholes, but my problem was one I could not conquer in my little car.
My only road both to Grenfell, and my camp ground was flooded. There was no way my little car would make it through. I looked at Google quickly, trying to think what to do as there were probably other amble dirt roads leading long-winded ways to my destination, however I was struggling to find any that didn't involve me driving hours out of the way. And I didn't want to re-pitch in the same spot and sit there for hours with nothing to do. Other than Ben Hall's Campground and Grenfell all I had left to do was more Graveyards around Young or further south when I went through Wombat, which I was just planning to do on the way home.
That was all I could do, so unless I re-pitched, drove south for an hour driving around, and driving back to the same spot, all the while burning through fuel. I decided I would just head in to Young and Wombat, and do a little exploring and simply head home. It was out of my hands. (Making me wish I had a van so I could just pull up anywhere with a mattress in the back and just sleep, like I had back when I was homeless).
I began the sad drive back into Young, feeling disappointed. I questioned if naming my blog post Young, seeing as so little had actually taken place in the town. But I figured it was more like a hub, I had come out to Young as my ancestors where from around there, and it had been where all the things I had done were centered around. Soon sunscreen began to drip into my eyes just as I had made it back into town and I had to pull over on a random street trying to flush my eyes out with water. I sit my GPS to Wombat, just south of Young, where my Brennan ancestors (on my Nan's side) had been from.
On my way through Young I saw another Graveyard and did an impromptu stop in and had a big look around, again finding many familiar last names. Even the grave of my great-grandfather's brother Leslie 'Tib' Sheather, who was mentioned being shot by my great-grandfather in the newspaper article I shared at the beginning of this blog post. But found many more ancestors at this graveyard (many I had on 'Find-a-Grave') but not Henry King which was a new one.
My 3rd great-grandfather. Whose Daughter Isabella married William Brennan
My 2nd Great Grandfather Frederick Levett I was very excited to see. Because when doing ancestry work sometimes you find names or locations and dates. Sometimes you find stories. I knew Fred had been in World War 1, in the 1st Infantry Battalion. I knew he had got injured during the Battle of Arras in 1917 but had made a recovery and later rejoined the war. I had many documents involving this including letters to and from his wife Amy Levett. I also knew their daughter Hazel Levett had drowned and had the newspaper article about her drowning.
I have so many documents that it could fill up it's own blog post, which is why I have often thought of starting a blog to tell the story of my ancestors, as one blog post someone had done had already told the story of my ancestor John Madden.
James O'Meley my 4th Great-Grandfather and his wife Mary Ann Fox my 4th Great-Grandmother honoured an pioneers. I am descended through their child James who married Sarah Jenkins and had a daughter Ellen O'Meley who married my 2nd Great Grandfather, Percy Sheather, who's sons, you guessed it, shot each other with the pea rifle.
I soon had to continue on so was back in the car and making my way to Wombat past many Cherry Orchards, always tempted to stop in and hand pick some cherries or stop at a place selling freshly made cherry pie. I ultimately kept on the road. Finally arriving across from the Wombat Hotel.
This was right across from the Wombat Hotel a pub where my 2nd Great Grandfather William Brennan use to frequent and would apparently always get a 'Pony' of Beer, which is a measurement I had never heard of until I heard this story about him.
A photo of William Brennan with a beer in Wombat Hotel
I haven't drank any alcohol since my cancer diagnosis, and I was trying to avoid people, otherwise I would have went in and asked for a Pony of Beer and seen what occurred. Instead I sat across the the Hotel underneath a tree and heated myself up some noodles before the overly long drive home.
After I finished and new I was about to head home I set my GPS and the very first road I went past was Brennan lane! I had to quickly pull over and turn around to go back for a photo.
Although I didn't get the trip I wanted due to unforeseen events, and being way to poor to afford a good off-road car I still felt like the trip was worth taking. Although I would have loved that bit more time to explore those bush walks and a few more places. But life is long (hopefully) and I might always make it back out to visit Weddin Mountain and the surrounding areas at some point in the future.
