Woods Point
August 3rd, 2013 | Photos, Poems for adults
I went on a great drive with my son Thomas earlier this year through some of the most remote towns in Victoria. Woods Point, the A1 Mining Settlement, and Gaffney’s Creek are all old gold mining towns set deep in the heart of the forest.
We drove from Melbourne to Marysville. Shortly after leaving Marysville, on the road to Lake Mountain, we had to pull over briefly while a car rally was finishing. We had only resumed our journey for a few minutes, when we found this lying on the road.
This dead lyrebird had clearly been hit and killed by a car. It was still warm and soft. It had signs of severe bruising, and a broken leg. I carried it to the side of the road. The surrounding bushland was part of the Yarra Ranges National Park. You do surely have to question the wisdom of allowing cars to race through areas like this.
Shortly after, we found evidence of a different kind of carnage on the road.
This Toyota Hi-Lux was also still warm, but the driver was nowhere to be seen. Presumably he had come around the corner too fast, skidded and flipped. No doubt he had been picked up by a passing vehicle and taken back to the nearest civilisation.
Yet more carnage awaited us.
This dead wombat was being eaten by a dog as we came around the corner. Our vehicle scared the dog off. It was still soft, though not warm, and very possibly also a victim of the recent car rally. Again, I dragged it to the side of the road.
At last we were able to put the violence behind us, however, and we arrived at the beautiful little hamlet of Woods Point.
The original plan had been to buy Thomas some late breakfast at Woods Point, but the shops were closed at Woods Point, Gaffneys Creek and Kevington (there weren’t even closed shops at the A1 Mining Settlement!) and it was about 5 pm before he got his breakfast, a hot pie at Jamieson.
The storekeeper at Jamieson explained that the local pie rep was an old school friend, which is why Jamieson, some distance off the Mansfield-Mt.Buller road, was stocked with pies. I asked if pies were also available at Kevington, but was told it was ‘too far down the road’ – hence this little poem.
You Can’t Get Pies at Kevington
You can’t get pies at Kevington.
It’s too far down the road.
You can buy pies at Jamieson.
They get a constant load,
And also at Mt. Buller
They frequently are stowed,
But you can’t get pies at Kevington.
It’s too far down the road.
Woods Point doesn’t get them.
Nor does Gaffneys Creek.
Both these tiny mining towns
Must turn the other cheek.
The outlook at the A1
Is exceptionally bleak,
And you can’t get pies at Kevington.
It’s too far down the road.
Mansfield gets a ton of pies –
As many as they need.
They truck them up the highway
With efficiency and speed.
Bonnie Doon and Yarck and Yea
From pielessness are freed,
But you can’t get pies at Kevington.
It’s too far down the road.
© Stephen Whiteside 27.05.2013
Once leaving Jamieson, it was a relatively short trip to Mansfield, and then it was down the Maroondah Highway to Melbourne, and home.
All in all, it had been a great – and memorable – day!
I had a great grandfather called Henry George Callaway (born in Castlemaine Vic in late 1863-1946) (grew up in Bendigo – son of former Mayor of Castlemaine and mine manager Alfred Callaway from Bristol in Glouchestershire, England 1830-1888) who was with the Colonial/ Australasian Bank and ” apparently” rode shotgun to escort shipments of gold from the A1 mine via Gaffney’s Creek and Woods Point etc. To “Melbourne”. So I found your artical rathef interesting.
Dear Stephen,
I realise it has been some years since you created your Woods Point webpage but I thought I’d write anyway to let you know I really enjoyed seeing the photos of the old place and reading your great poem, they bought back some good memories for me.
For almost four years in the last half of the 1980’s I was an underground miner at the dear old A1 Mine and my time there rates high among the best experiences of my life. My wife and I both lived and worked at the mine. She in the office, laboratory, and ball mill, while I was employed as underground shift boss, carrying out mining and rehabilitation operations underground, mainly on 17 Level South drive, 19 Level North drive 21 Level South drive. We lived in a small but comfortable cottage on the lease during these years. In November 1989 I terminated my employment at the A1 when the mine was taken over by a new company.I did not like their methods of operation, and they did not like mine so someone had to go. We’d made a lot of friends at the A1 mine and, in a melancholy moment, just before leaving the area I wrote the following short poem.
“Leaving” by B.R.Howard.
We travelled a rough road to get here
But we knew in the end we would win,
Yet we find now the going is tougher
And our welcome has worn a bit thin.
So we reckon it’s time to be going,
Though we’re leaving some good friends behind,
And there’s really no way of knowing
What rough road in the future we’ll find.
But there’s one thing we do know for sure,
That, no matter where that road ends,
If we turn ourselves ‘round just once more,
It will lead us back here, to our friends.
Thanks again for reviving good memories
Regards,
Barry Howard,
Victoria.
Many thanks for getting in touch, Barry. I feel privileged to have prompted a response such as this from somebody who actually lived and worked there – great poem, too!
Hi Stephen
I have just started writing my memoirs, and came across this site. Many thanks.
I also “worked” at the A1 mine in the late 1960’s and I would like to get in contact with Barry, who may be able to help me with some names and we can share anecdotes of that wonderful, crazy place.
Hi Stephen, great to see your photo’s, I traveled from Mansfield to Home after a Mansfield weekend trip to Craigs Hut with a group of friends, the 31st March to 2nd April 2023 weekend, on the Sunday [2nd April], My wife and I decided to ventured down home through Jamison, had lunch there at the River at the end of the main street [Jamieson River], then down past A1 mine turn off, Gaffney’s Creek, down into Woods Point, it was like a Ghost town, and in the 40 minutes of exploring the town, I seen 2 people in the middle of the day, and was fantastic to see the old town I use to stay in the early/mid 70’s, Hasn’t changed much really,
I remember staying up there on the long weekends in winter or school holidays and it would snow, and we would play in the snow, and would love sitting in front of the open fire at night drying out, and tunning our radio’s to any skip radio stations, [no TV up there then] and was able to pick up Short Wave stations also.
During the fine days, we would venture up on to the Mullock heap at the back of the house [owned by a couple with the name of Rickard, his name was Les], that was opposite the one I stayed in, and we would find original pieces of Crystal.
There was a Courier that travelled every day to and from Jamieson to bring the Mail, Milk, Bread and news papers to Town, and did it for a number of years, for the life of me, I can not remember his name, but he was a Woods Point local.
Whereas the house which is your last Photo is the actual house I stayed in with friends who owned it, and after investigating further, It sounds like its still in the same family.
In the 70’s there was a few locals that were typical friendly country people, and possibly worked at the Mines in the area, the Pub was always full of locals at the end of the day,
It was great to see your photo’s.
Glad you enjoyed them, Kim. Fascinating to hear your memories. It certainly is an interesting, and very picturesque, part of the world.