Day 3 Monday 16/6/2025 Junee to Carcoar, cold 2 to 13

Before we leave Junee, I forgot to mention in yesterday’s post that Junee is a railway town. There’s a large rail turntable for repairing engines and an interesting collection of historic trains. The Junee station is a little like stepping into yesteryear, and that’s because being roughly halfway between Melbourne and Sydney crews used to switch over here. I don’t know if that’s still the case, but many, many, years ago we were travelling to Sydney on the Spirit of Progress (why Woody didn’t book us on a sleeper on the Southern Aurora or one of those things called planes, I’ll never know but I won’t let him live it down). Anyway, the dried-up sandwiches served from a cardboard beer box were only edible because we were hungry and the bloke sitting in front of us kept insisting that the food would get much better “when the Junee sheilas got on”. Not waiting for the Junee sheilas he proceeded to drink himself to sleep, that’s when the young girls in our carriage decided to apply make up to him. If anyone was waiting for him in Sydney they would have been surprised to see him in eyeliner and lippy.

Back to the present. Prior to leaving our golf club site I ask the caretaker about the Bethungra Rail Spiral that I have read about and the dirt road into the viewing area. His answer went something like this: “If you’re not into trains, don’t bother. But if you look to your right as you go up the highway, you’ll see it.”

A few minutes after we leave Junee we catch a fleeting glimpse of the Bethungra Rail Spiral. The hill at Bethungra is too steep for the northbound trains (heading to Sydney). A series of tunnels and loops allows them to work their way up the hill. From what we hear, if one was a train buff, the optimum time to see this is when a train is making its way up the spiral. I guess you realise by now that we’re not train buffs.

It’s a foggy morning and there’s a sea of mist most of the way to Cootamundra.

Cootamundra is a large town with wide paved footpaths and colourful flowerbeds. In our walk to find the public toilets, we stumble across Dusty Road coffee roasters and it’s warm and cosy inside. It’s busy with gathering locals discussing the cold weather. It’s not just us shivering.

Continuing up the Olympic Highway we pass through the cherry growing area of Young. A sign for the Wallandbeen Hotel gives us a giggle “Pulling beers for a hundred years”. But the signpost to a place called Bendick Murrell certainly raises a few questions.

Making good time on this very interesting drive of large and prosperous towns, we pull up at Cowra for a pie and brave the 8 degrees outside. In fact, the temperature was more bearable than the very ordinary pie.

Sheet of Bark Road, now that is a different one.

Carcoar (pronounced Car Caw). We swing off the Mid Western Highway into what is billed as “The town that time forgot”. This was recommended to us by sketching mate and caravanner Notta Holiday and blimey, the moment we leave the highway we are gobsmacked. Both shouting “Look at that house, oh, look at that one” it’s a wonder we even find the narrow pub laneway. Allie the barmaid of the Royal Hotel races out and gives us a nice spot on the back lawn by the Belubula River. Fueled with excitement we have a super quick setup (free camping means just turning the fridge to gas) and we’re in the bar of the art deco pub and ‘paying’ for our accommodation with a beer. That’s after Allie hauls herself backwards and up out of the cellar, this girl would never need to go to the gym!

Thirst quenched we leave what must be the newest building in town to have a look around.

Carcoar is one of those places that was stuck in a time warp when the main road bypassed it. It’s a tiny village set in a steep valley and was the third town to be settled west of the Blue Mountains back in 1821. For international readers, the rugged Blue Mountains were a hindrance to early colonists in Sydney. One can only imagine the wonder felt by explorers Wentworth, Blaxland, and Lawson when they set eyes on the quality land that stretched to the horizon as they blazed the trail through.

Now back to Carcoar today, there’s a population of around 300. We climb the hill to the Anglican Church to learn that it has been taken over by the community for their needs and events. Smart move. We chat with a woman who is gardening and learn that she lost her home in Taree in the recent floods. She is now living with the family in their guest house. She tells us that her parents lived uneventfully in Taree for 60 years, yet she has experienced, a bushfire, a drought, Covid, and two devastating floods all recently.

We cross the river to find an array of cottages, a building undergoing renovation that will soon become a boutique hotel, and The White House, that was once the hospital. Climbing another hill, the old railway station seems to be lending itself to new uses and has great views over the town. We’re surprised to see a saddlery with the name of entertainer Peter Allen’s grandfather George Woolnough, but it is a replica of the Tenterfield Saddlery built for a movie about the life of Peter. And while we’re on famous people the park beside the old wooden bridge is named after multi Paralympic wheelchair athlete Kurt Fearnley who grew up here.

We return to the warmth of the pub, which because it is Monday won’t be serving meals, (we don’t like Mondays) and have a few more ales whilst watching Allie swinging in and out of the cellar.

A few more vans rock into the backyard and we cook Sri Lankan pancakes rolls in the gas oven.

Thanks Notta for the heads up on this town it’s a beauty and a sketcher’s dream.

Accom: $0, Fuel: $74.55, Towing Kms: 227kms

Toilets, level sites, and a friendly bunch in the pub.