No….not THOSE Thatcher hating, aspirational Sex Pistols anarchists…..but the similarities did not go unnoticed. An approaching voice called out the next day, “Hello, helloooo?” A quick glance behind the voice saw a jumble of tents and swags in various stages of disarray about 50 metres away. “Do you have a hammer?” “Yes I do.” “Can I borrow it?” “Yes you can.” I escorted Chloe and the hammer back to their campsite and met three teens on their first camp away and clearly not big on camping essentials. After getting one tent secure, I left the hammer for the lads and was surprised to hear, “Come over for a drink later.” And so, commenced a most unlikely bonding.
The first surprise was the easy acceptance into this cabal. Happy to ply me with alcohol, we jowled late into the night, as the mutual take-downs created some unholy, if temporary alliances and a few high-fives as well. Lia joined us at some point early on and over the next three days, I got to be a counsellor, mentor, mediator and facilitator for a great group struggling with the same issues that have tortured teenagers through the ages. The great encouragement was their realization after the first two days, that mobile phones were ruining this trip and, at one stage, I was holding four mobile phones and two phone charges in the van, while they rediscovered Face-to-Face Time (lol).
There were other distractions that weekend. The Young Showground is also everything horses, home to pony clubs and the trotters. Managed to drag myself away from the raging hormones long enough to catch up with the Albury -Western District Pony Club. Unfortunately, missed the men’s comp the previous day. All that was left were mostly female riders horse WALKING, which apparently is a ‘thing’ in horse land. Oh, and a bit of trotting, prancing or something.
Monday morning arrived and I ducked into town to do some laundry not expecting the gang to be even out of bed by the time I got back, but they had indeed up and bolted, a long trip back to Melbourne ahead of them. Even now, no rest for wicked. Got chauffeured round for half a day by Meg, a loyal subscriber to see some of the local towns. It made me appreciate that there are a hundred country towns that you’ll never visit in a lifetime and they tick along, supported by town folk and surrounding outliers, working hard to grab a small part of the tourist dollar. Two examples I saw, Murrumburrah and Jingio. Murrumburrah, a typical main street country town with a history fantastically portrayed in silo art.
Jugiong was the ultimate destination. I thought being adjacent to the Hume Hwy, this waypoint would have a talking point, but on the approach down the hill, it was quiet, too quiet…until we turned the corner. The main street was if the crowd at Summernats had reconvened to party on. I’d never seen so many people in a a one pub, one cafe town. Admittedly, it was Easter Monday, but Jugiong was punching well above it’s weight. Very much a boutique little set-up topped off with a huge RV campground just down the road. And the coffee was really good.
I woke up the next morning to find the battery level dangerously low. I had planned to check out and was concerned about why the system had not recharged when plugged in to 240v in Canberra. I had an auto-electrician on standby and checked into to one of the showgrounds powered sites. Luckily turning a couple of things off and on did the trick(?) and it chugged away all day. But wait….there’s more. Early evening and a strange voice on a PA system. Yep, the trots were on! The crowd (well, that’s broadly speaking) were funereally quiet. But the horses thundering hooves echoed off the tin roofs like Zulu warriors banging spears on shields, as they swept around the final turns.
The Crowd
Finally left Young behind the following morning. Man, after a long weekend like that, I could do with a holiday!
