Reciprocal invitation and exchange
ideas between Corang Bed and Breakfast in Wallendbeen New South Wales Australia
and L'Etoile Guesthouse in La Bastide-Puylaurent Lozere France.
Bush,
this endless space where some outback station owner has
in their possession a half a million acres. There are fewer trees but always
eucalyptus. Not many cows in the outback, but always sheep. Roads are straighter
and sky is bigger. We left the tropics of the north eastern coast and travelled
south to Sydney, then through burnt out forests to look inland.
Harden (not Holden as the car make which won the 24
Hours of Le Mans in France 20 years ago) is a small town with 2,301
souls seeking to get settled again because here, young people do not have
much fun any more. And at 100 km
distant, Canberra, the Capital city of
Australia, is too far away to hope its residents
will come for a week-end here.
Small
library kept by young woman who shows us, just after we came in, the computer
where we can check our e-mails. She goes outside to smoke
a cigarette on the bench opposite and left us alone
in this strange place.
Clothes salesman is happy here, his shop is big but
not many people seem to meet here. We are talking about
the country and life feeling that he would dream about travelling out of
Australia. Apparently, it was not for him at one time.
Outside, in the full sun, the car gets hot.
The main road in Harden is about 50 metres
wide. Cars are big and aged.
Road-signs are running out but people are very kind and the contact with them
very easy.
We
drove over to Wallendbeen without ever changing and a
little road-sign leads us already to Corang (Aussie) on the right. Now, we
are in the real bush where the red mould routes lead you towards the
horizon without ever coming across
any petrol stations. Suddenly, we come to an oasis, it is
our Bed and Breakfast Inn "Aussie", 3 and a half
hours from Sydney and 6 hours from Melbourne.
Colleen
welcomes us in her house with heartiness and enthusiasm. An old farm rebuilt
to a B&B in an old style with family photos on
the wall and with a small bar which surprises you directly after having entered
the dining room. They have retained 300 acres and they are still cultivating
cereals, gathering hay and making pasture for the sheep on the
5 km distant neighbouring farm. Here, the extent is real but it is nothing in
comparison with "stations", big farms owning half a million hectares.
Swimming
pool, tennis-court, clearview and flower garden, everything has changed since
the time of the first far-east colonizers. After one day in the sun nothing
but a small flop to the water, the place is very nice and our hosts are very
pleasant.
Leant against the bar, Greg, Colleen's
husband, is telling us about his nostalgia of the past, laborious work and
mutual aid that had disappeared one day. "The real Australians are not in Byron Bay" he tells
us. "There, they're just fooling around all the day and waiting for state
assistance..." They are called "dole bludgers".
Greg
is the type of man who does not know how to stop working any more. His face
is graven by vast space and by effort. He has just had a shower and he put on
his occasional clothes. We are touched by all this reception.
Colleen, always busy, makes us comfortable
and invites us to her kitchen where the atmosphere is always more authentic and
more embalmed.
The meal is served in the
dining-hall with napkins and silver cutlery. Colleen has a big heart and good
will in all moments. We spend a marvellous evening.
During
next day, Colleen shows us the region of old bushmen, prospectors and
bushrangers. Young is a very nice town with its wide
central street and its cars parked in "spike". The 50's are still very
visible here.
Not far from here (10 km) their
son Gerard has set up a store with agricultural equipment. His
business prospers well thanks to farmers' profits. A flat depreciation of
the Australian dollar makes mainly the meat and wheat
export much easier and is what
brings prosperity to Australian farms. In few years, Gerard has already built
his home on the hill and has already planted a vineyard and another one is
being planted now. He has 7.000 Cabernet Sauvignion and Shiraz vines and Gerard's
other vineyard on the other side of the drive will be Merlot. This is the new
passion of Australians: wine.
The
Wine cave of
Young reminds
me the caves of The Monastery of "Notre Dame des Neiges" Abbey (Our Lady of Snow),
the same smell and the same sonority. Even Gordon reminds me of
the greengrocer of
Langogne. Their
wines are excellent, the Pinot Noir, the Sauvignon Blanc and the Chardonnay
are the principle types. Jenny rolls wine-casks
and tells me about how is she happy for having left Sydney. She wears a cowboy
hat and is completely assimilated to this new life.
We
are having small sandwiches in the garden of JD's Jam Factory - a boss who
keeps his business very well and whose scope is large. He produces hand made
jam, has a supermarket in the centre of Young and many other occupations.
He welcomes us personally in spite of his numerous staff and offers us small
jars of his jam and some leaflets about his company.
This
is commonplace in Australia, people are amiable, they are never in
a bad mood and always want to exchange ideas and, why
not, also the business.
We returned to our favourite oasis and we did the
second flop into this marvellous swimming pool.
Greg
suggested we go to look for kangaroos
and then have a drink in a pub in Wallendbeen village. Big off-road car on
straight road, thus we rushed off. We went into the
eucalyptus forest belonging to Greg's farm and we drove
and kept an eye out for this famous animal we have never seen except
for dead ones at the roadside. Nothing to do, after
having done one round of the property we did not see anything and Greg,
disappointed, tells us: "Sorry guys".
We arrived at Wallendbeen
at the only pub, in surroundings
that used to be a hotel with 7 rooms and to run well, Greg
explained to us.
The
inside decoration was in colonial style paid for thanks
to wood exportation and cheap manpower at
that time. Our entry disturbed, a bit,
the every day harmony of people drinking at the bar and
of the barmaid who, with careful regard,
does not let her clients die of thirst.
Greg is known and respected here, he succeeded in his
life in the eye of every body and the treat of housewife show the evidence of
it. Two draught beers and one black and I let the woman leaning
against the bar seduce me. Evidently, she is not drinking her first beer.
Her two pals sitting behind in a
bar-room, wake up after the flash of my camera,
too.
It
is not a day like any other, the
atmosphere enhances, everybody laughs
and the beer flows. Even Greg is a bit surprised that I find myself making
a party with my three musketeers of the pub,
so quickly. All of them have infernal mug and I cannot stop any more
from taking a photo of them.
It is a pity that I am not a draftsman. I believe that with a piece of crayon
I could narrate their lives of beer and adventure.
Housewife's
mother got out of her flat after being attracted by this bloom of activity and
started with introductions. She has a face of the real grand mother which
safeguards you only by watching her. She will belong to the good souvenirs of
the trip.
By this time, Colleen is
waiting for us with a meal in the
kitchen. Greg heats up the barbecue at the terrace and prepares grilled steaks.
Whole Australia is here, well present.
Thanks to our new friend,
Philippe of Southern France. We live in Capital Country, near
Canberra, our National Capital.
Philippe and his friend Caroline visited us in March on an Innkeepers' exchange.
This is a wonderful idea of his and we really enjoyed showing them our Hilltops
wine area among other parts of our little bit of Australian Heaven. Next year
after we have made the return visit to
L'Etoile in
France, I will be able to say a lot more.
If
you would like to visit Rural New South Wales in Australia as an Innkeepers'
Exchange, please see our websites
and make contact with us. You can see my husband in the bar above, ready to serve you - and below, me
making a Bush Damper to tantalize your taste buds.
Over many years we have traveled the great vastness of Australia and many
Countries overseas. Now we are retired and our hobby is to provide hospitality
for you, the travelers from everywhere. We can
offer
you a good time and give advice for you to see our Country.
Here is a picture of our five children, now aged
between 42 and 36. We have ten grandchildren aged between 18 and 4 months. A
couple snuck into this picture !
All of our children run their own businesses,
except the youngest, Andrew who is a pilot. He is soon to travel to the
USA to train in a Boeing 737.
Trilby
Station Stay in the Outback Gary and Liz
Murray have lived at Trilby Station all their married life. Liz is Colleen
and Greg Hines's daughter. Liz came to the area 21 years ago to work as a governess
for three months, met Gary - and never left.
The Murrays have four children,
two at boarding school and two younger children who live on the property and
are educated at home through 'School of the Air'
Bush,
this endless space where some outback station owner has
in their possession a half a million acres. There are fewer trees but always
eucalyptus. Not many cows in the outback, but always sheep. Roads are straighter
and sky is bigger. We left the tropics of the north eastern coast and travelled
south to Sydney, then through burnt out forests to look inland.
Small
library kept by young woman who shows us, just after we came in, the computer
where we can check our e-mails. She goes outside to smoke
a cigarette on the bench opposite and left us alone
in this strange place.
We
drove over to Wallendbeen without ever changing and a
little road-sign leads us already to Corang (Aussie) on the right. Now, we
are in the real bush where the red mould routes lead you towards the
horizon without ever coming across
any petrol stations. Suddenly, we come to an oasis, it is
our Bed and Breakfast Inn "Aussie", 3 and a half
hours from Sydney and 6 hours from Melbourne.
Swimming
pool, tennis-court, clearview and flower garden, everything has changed since
the time of the first far-east colonizers. After one day in the sun nothing
but a small flop to the water, the place is very nice and our hosts are very
pleasant.
Greg
is the type of man who does not know how to stop working any more. His face
is graven by vast space and by effort. He has just had a shower and he put on
his occasional clothes. We are touched by all this reception.
The meal is served in the
dining-hall with napkins and silver cutlery. Colleen has a big heart and good
will in all moments. We spend a marvellous evening.
The
Wine cave of
We
are having small sandwiches in the garden of JD's Jam Factory - a boss who
keeps his business very well and whose scope is large. He produces hand made
jam, has a supermarket in the centre of Young and many other occupations.
He welcomes us personally in spite of his numerous staff and offers us small
jars of his jam and some leaflets about his company.
This
is commonplace in Australia, people are amiable, they are never in
a bad mood and always want to exchange ideas and, why
not, also the business.
Greg
suggested we go to look for kangaroos
and then have a drink in a pub in Wallendbeen village. Big off-road car on
straight road, thus we rushed off. We went into the
eucalyptus forest belonging to Greg's farm and we drove
and kept an eye out for this famous animal we have never seen except
for dead ones at the roadside. Nothing to do, after
having done one round of the property we did not see anything and Greg,
disappointed, tells us: "Sorry guys".
The
inside decoration was in colonial style paid for thanks
to wood exportation and cheap manpower at
that time. Our entry disturbed, a bit,
the every day harmony of people drinking at the bar and
of the barmaid who, with careful regard,
does not let her clients die of thirst.
It
is not a day like any other, the
atmosphere enhances, everybody laughs
and the beer flows. Even Greg is a bit surprised that I find myself making
a party with my three musketeers of the pub,
so quickly. All of them have infernal mug and I cannot stop any more
from taking a photo of them.
It is a pity that I am not a draftsman. I believe that with a piece of crayon
I could narrate their lives of beer and adventure.
Housewife's
mother got out of her flat after being attracted by this bloom of activity and
started with introductions. She has a face of the real grand mother which
safeguards you only by watching her. She will belong to the good souvenirs of
the trip.
Thanks to our new friend,
Philippe of Southern France. We live in Capital Country, near
Canberra, our National Capital.
You can see my husband in the bar above, ready to serve you - and below, me
making a Bush Damper to tantalize your taste buds.
All of our children run their own businesses,
except the youngest, Andrew who is a pilot. He is soon to travel to the
USA to train in a Boeing 737.
