Nothing but the Pub

  Rafferty's Race at the Royal  (From: The Sydney Mail, July 15th 1931) RAFFERTY had left his sheep just out behind the common, in charge of old Ned, a dog well known in the district. "Let um have a rest and a feed, Ned, old chap; I'll be back before sundown."        Rafferty made his way into the small town-ship only 2½ miles from where Ned stood guard. It was a hot day, and Rafferty's horse could be seen tied up under a shady pepper-tree right in front of the Royal. Rafferty was a queer old chap, and in his humble way he was a born naturalist. You never knew what Rafferty might un-earth from one of his torn coat pockets.         "Well, Rafferty," said the publican, "been catching any more of them specimens of yours lately?"            "Yes," said Rafferty, "I have. Just fill up that pot again, will you? I'm awful thirsty. I'll show you a thing I got only yesterday morning."   ...

Listen up a bit, this is the story of a very decent pub.  I’m headed east from Tocumwal on the Murray and the rain catches me at Finley but by Corowa I’ve ridden through it and, dry but damn cold, begin heading north, hoping to camp under the bridge I know on Billabong Creek on the Urana Road. But at Walbundrie the pub’s open and the heavens are about to  so I pull in to thaw, drip dry and grab a warming glass of red.  Walbundrie and its pub used be known as Piney Range and this year it'll turn 170 years old.  Across the bar Adam and Lindy are dealing with the end-of-week mob and ‘of course it’s no problem’ to park Super Ten in under the cover of the veranda. I shed some layers and kick back. It’s humming, but not as busy as they’d expected – a  group of twelve had booked for lunch but not fronted (or cancelled) so, with Lindy and her offsider sister, Joanne, who’s come up to help out, handling the drinkers, Adam’s got time to talk and with no more riding t...

  Mulga Creek Hotel Byrock NSW To purchase my latest book on the Pubs of the Murray and Edward Rivers click on: nothingbutthepub.com                So anyway there’s no mine, no diggings, without their mullock piles and noodling for good pubs is no different – clichéd themed oh-so-cute and quaint joints with transient staff and oblivious management with zero-care factors about the organic entity of which they are briefly a part, are the inevitable slag piles of fossicking for the gems of the outback hotel landscape.             But for every slag pile, every mullock heap, unless it’s a blue duck, there’re gems – precious places like, well ….. like the Mulga Creek Hotel at Byrock. I’ve dropped in here three times and every time it’s been wet. Today’s no exception and there’re puddles out the front in the empty parking area.            Henry Lawson graced Byrock i...

  The Wellshot Hotel Ilfracombe Qld           In 1954 the boss of the Qld A.W.U. was interviewed about the roots of unionism in the Sunshine state:  “The Labor Movement in Queensland as we know it-…., was born in the pastoral … In 1886, at Wellshot station … industrial trouble arose at shearing time because shearers would not accept the … slave-like conditions of work proposed (and) went on strike, and the news of their action went like a bushfire throughout the outback (and) when no settlement was reached at Wellshot the men began to march on Blackall (where, with shearers from other gangs and stations) they decided to form the Shearers' Union.”            Eventually this Shearers’ Union grew into the backbone of the organization which became the ALP in Barcaldine in 1892. The place of Wellshot Station and Ilfracombe in our political and social history were cemented forever.        ...

A tricky right turn off the Murray River road and I’m on the new(ish) bridge crossing the Murray back into NSW and then off to the right is the Jingellic General Store with a couple of blokes in work gear heading out, mitts full of pastry and iced coffees. Inside Kylie’s looking after the joint and I figure another brew’s in order and then I ask about the bloke a fella back in Walwa just told me I must see. “ Ah, Rexy!” you’ve not long missed him. Was down here to pick up his morning paper and sandwich but he’s just walked back up to his house.” She comes outside and points up the hill. “That’s his place, he’ll probably be out on the veranda reading the paper in the sunshine like he always does.” Then I ask about the way to Lankey’s Creek and it’s straight on past Rex’s and then a left at the Holbrook road and then the fatal words, ‘ you can’t miss it.’ I’m running early so I take my time then thank Kylie, and ride up to the place on the hill where, true t...