In Australia, the rail scene is a little like gay marriage. Despite our progressive reputation, it took us 17 years to allow same-sex couples to have the full white wedding and the legal recognition that goes with it, after the Netherlands legalised same-sex marriage in 2000. Over that time 24 nations – including historically conservative and religious countries such as Spain in 2005, Portugal and Argentina in 2010 and Ireland in 2015 – signed marriage equality into law, each time shining a light on the fact that we, well, hadn’t.

Similarly, train travel has had its own revolution, at least in the Northern Hemisphere, with the expansion of high-speed rail and the return of the overnight train. The total length of the high-speed network increased globally from 44,000km in 2020 to 59,000km in 2022. At the same time in Europe, the regeneration of, and eco-minded zeal for, cross-border overnight trains has been extraordinary. It’s a great thing (thank you Sweden) as travelling by train emits around six times less greenhouse gases than flying. But despite the Sydney-Melbourne flight corridor being one of the busiest on the planet, in 2023, there is still no plan for high-speed rail between our two most populous cities.

Arguments against flit between “too expensive” and “not enough people” which to me, make about as much sense as that one against gay marriage: that next we’d want to marry our pets. I’ll draw again on the Iberian example. When Spain launched the AVE high speed rail service between Madrid, Cordoba and Seville in 1992, the combined population of those cities amounted to 5.4 million people. The population of Sydney, Melbourne and Canberra, meanwhile, is already approaching 11 million.

So is there another, less tangible layer to this ongoing resistance to rail and if so, does it have something to do with our own class constructs surrounding train travel? For example – referring to Spain one last time – I had a Sydney friend come to visit me when I lived in Madrid. She planned to travel around the country and was mortified when I suggested she take trains, which she considered too downmarket a mode of transport. She proceeded to explore Spain by bus – madness considering the breadth of the Spanish rail network where even aristocrats don’t turn their nose up at catching the odd train. Hopefully, though, much like gay marriage, we’ll get there in the end. Beyond the environmental benefit there is still nothing as romantic as travelling by train, which even at its most basic offers the simple luxury of slowing down and watching the world go by. And we are, after all, already home to one of the most legendary trains on the planet: The Ghan.

Everything about The Ghan – which I had the great pleasure of travelling on, Darwin to Adelaide, in March – is epic. Two NR class locomotives tow 265 passengers a distance of 2979 km in 38 carriages, cutting through the red centre of the driest inhabited continent on earth in just over 53 hours. Just as epic is the story of the line’s construction, 126 years in the making, breaking ground in Port Augusta in South Australia in 1878, reaching Alice Springs in 1929 and not making it to Darwin, as had long been intended, until 2004. Even the train’s name is wrapped in legend, referencing the Afghan camel drivers who came to Australia in the 19th century to help the British forge a path to the country’s interior. As a result it should probably be The Ghan (as in man) rather than The Ghan (as in barn) although the full gamut of pronunciation is heard up and down the 901-metre-long train.

My trip began at the swank Hilton Darwin where Journey Beyond, The Ghan’s operator, does check-in before whisking passengers to Darwin Berrimah Rail Terminal for the 9.30am departure. The Hilton, a late Brutalist pile in the centre of town with just-renovated public spaces, features a slick lobby bar, the elegant and award-winning PepperBerry restaurant and a 12th-floor executive lounge, where boucle-covered tub chairs face picture windows with sensational views over the Timor Sea. I got the first sight of my fellow passengers in the lobby the following morning, an older crowd with a smattering of twenty- and thirty-somethings being checked in by Akubra-wearing hospitality assistants.

In my solo-travel loving mind, the journey was going to be a three-day meditation broken only by daily forays into the desert and trips to the dining car where I would eat on my own and observe, Poirot-like, my fellow passengers. I’d explore the train and have a drink in the lounge car, passing the rest of the time in my compartment, a little reading, a little writing and lots of getting lost in the mesmerizingly beautiful landscape whizzing by. I think of Cary Grant and Eva Marie Saint when it finally comes time to board – Nostalgia when travelling is like a drug – the retro lines of the silver carriages recalling North by Northwest.

Hospitality assistant Bethany shows me to my compartment, a Gold Service Twin, which features a three-seat “day lounge” that converts to upper and lower sleeping berths at night, a small table, wardrobe, safe and various storage compartments. There’s a radio with music channels, a large double-glazed window with enclosed venetian blind – great for controlling the desert light – and a compact ensuite with shower, basin and loo, fluffy white towels and bathroom products from Appelles Apothecary. The interior has some age to it but is well maintained and proves abundantly comfortable over the coming days. In either case Woods Bagot, the Adelaide-based architects behind the 2019 refurbishment of the train’s sumptuous Platinum Service carriages, are about to work their magic across Gold Service. Architectural renderings depict sleek and sophisticated spaces in a subtle palette inspired by the landscape paintings of Albert Namatjira.

The next 53 hours fly by like a dream, although not quite the one I had in mind. I receive my meal card from Bethany and learn that not only must we eat at very specific times but four to a table, elbow to elbow with strangers, my Hercule-Poirot fantasy of quaffing claret after dinner as I jot down brilliant ideas in a notebook evaporating into the night. But this is where The Ghan gets interesting. The camaraderie, sharing meals, tales, and desert expeditions with such a broad cross section of passengers is ultimately what makes the journey so unforgettable.

Deciding to jump right in, I head to the Outback Explorer Lounge where spirits are high and the spritzes and mimosas are flowing – Croser in Gold Service and Bollinger in Platinum – despite the fact it’s not quite 11am. A British woman, cappuccino in hand, just manages to fall into the last available place on the banquette opposite me as the train takes a sharp corner.  We strike up a conversation: Susannah is a business consultant and executive coach from Essex, in Australia to see her daughter who lives in Perth, and travelling solo on The Ghan to give her son-in-law some space. I liked her immediately. We are soon joined by Emanuele, a super charming Italian who lives and works in Singapore and moonlights as a travel and wildlife photographer, and his lovely mother Mercedes, from Ancona. Mercedes doesn’t speak English but the four of us find our rhythm, reconnecting between meals and excursions over the coming days.

The Ghan is renowned for splendid food and wine so it was with excitement that we made our way to the dining car, one carriage back. The Queen Adelaide Restaurant takes its name from the consort of William IV, the king of England when South Australia was settled in 1836. I’m seated with Len and Diane from Caboolture – Len used to drive trucks across the Nullarbor – and Pat, a radiologist from Yorkshire, full of stories from her time living and working in the outback in her twenties. The two-course lunch offered a choice of three mains, two desserts and an impressive lineup of 13 Australian wines by the glass, including a Clare Valley sangiovese rose that paired perfectly with the Massaman Buffalo Curry. Over coffee, Pat produced old Australian banknotes that her parents had given her in 1980, the orange and yellow of the $20 bills as bright as ever.

For off-train experiences, I went for the Nitmiluk Gorge cruise on day one, near Katherine, and the Simpsons Gap discovery walk on day two, just outside of Alice Springs. Both were astoundingly magical. The 38-degree heat and coach-tour aspect of getting 265 people out and back in three hours is at first, to someone who has never taken a tour, a little confronting. Then you’re face to face with the wild majesty of these jewels of the outback and all is forgotten, a little like looking up to the sky on a clear night and realising how small we are. We learnt on the cruise, for example, that the sandstone forming the gorge is 1.6 billion years old. Our captain-guide hailed from the Jawoyn people and lulled us into an almost hypnotic state with his beautiful voice, smooth boat skills and tales of the rainbow serpent.

On the final leg I sat next to Breena, a young solo traveller from Maryland, who spoke to me of her love of cloud formations and the minutiae of nature. I dined with a New Zealand couple that evening – three courses including delicious saltwater barramundi – making a dint in the wine list as we discussed Antipodean adventures. We met Susannah and Emanuele for a nightcap and a lot of laughter in the Outback Explorer Lounge and finally, falling into the bed that Bethany had made up while we were at dinner, lights dimmed and a chocolate on the pillow, I dozed off with a smile on my face

Day two was a cracker. I met Amanda and David, a lovely couple from Perth, at breakfast, comparing notes on our first night’s sleep and downing good, strong coffee as we pulled into Alice Springs for the next adventure. It was a much smaller group for the Simpsons Gap expedition, which I was happy to see included Breena, Susannah and Emanuele. I’ve seen beautiful desert landscapes before – North Africa, Jordan, Arizona – but the West MacDonnell Range was something else, vast and raw.  Ghost gums punctuate the landscape – a Fred Williams painting brought to life – along the approach to the soaring pass, the contrast between blue sky and red rock dazzling. The area is an important spiritual site to the Arrente people, as several dreaming trails and stories cross here and even to first-time visitors, Simpsons Gap was a large and moving experience that led to even more meaningful exchanges back on the train.

Showered, changed and ravenous after the adventure, I made my way to the dining car where Pat and I had lunch with two of the most amazing women I’ve ever met. Shirley and Sandy are school chums from Townsville at the upper end of The Ghan’s age spectrum, who haven’t seen each other in years. Shirley now lives by the bay in Melbourne while Sandy is raising her two grandchildren in Townsville, where she has an Albert Namatjira tucked away in a wardrobe for safekeeping and still works as a nurse. She lived in London in the “swinging” sixties where she worked as a midwife and bought, with four other midwives, an old London black cab they then drove across the continent to Greece. Shirley, meanwhile, wanted to be an architect. When her father stopped her, telling her it was no career for a young lady, she rebelled with martial arts, earning a blue belt in judo and a black belt in jiu-jitsu. All three had just done the tour of Alice Springs and the contentious subject of the town’s Indigenous youth came up, as it had many times on the train. What was touching, though, was to hear women of their vintage discuss the subject with such empathy and generosity. It filled me with hope, a perfect end to the perfect lunch.

Susannah and I caught up in the lounge where we talked about love, life and the surprising contentment of flying solo in the world, sure in my mind at the time that I’d found my long lost twin. Emanuele arrived and we ordered spritzes; and then Mercedes with a board game none of us had heard of. Her appeals to the crowd for instruction in Italian were hilarious and eventually we are joined by Julie, who knows the game. We somehow get through a round, Mercedes asking questions in Italian, Julie with the thickest Aussie accent enjoying her first spritz and Susannah and I giggling away.

After dinner, the train stopped in the desert where a massive bonfire had been set up for us, not too far from the tracks. I couldn’t find the crew from that afternoon but ran into Amanda. We were both tired – it had been a massive couple of days – and after several minutes of silence looking up to the stars, she opened up to me about life and loss and her recent interest in meditation. I had just returned to my own meditation practice so wonderful timing, two strangers discussing the largeness of life, under the most magical sky.

I’d noticed a German couple on the Simpsons Gap walk and was delighted to find them at my table for brunch the following morning, untimed and leisurely as there was no off-train activity before arrival into Adelaide that afternoon. They’d been living in Vietnam for many years and were travelling through Australia before returning to Europe to start a new life in Vienna. I love Germans: their frankness, their politeness and their accent speaking English. We discussed Indigenous culture and the current tensions in Australian society, as well as their lives growing up in East Germany. They considered themselves to have been incredibly fortunate, completing their state-sponsored tertiary education just before the wall came down, and all of the freedom and opportunity that followed.

In what seemed like a flash, we were pulling into the station, the journey completed, promising to stay in touch. That would be my only criticism of The Ghan: like the most amazing dream it is over too quickly. But I was also excited to be in Adelaide for the first time and staying at Eos by Skycity, a dazzling beauty of a boutique hotel perched on a picturesque bend in the River Torrens. A temple of contemporary understatement, Eos takes its name from the Greek goddess of the dawn, breathtaking views of which can be seen through the hotel’s curved walls of glass. Having less than 24 hours to get a sense of the city, I was thrilled to see so much of it from my room: clean, green and with pretty architecture, stretching all the way to the Adelaide Hills.

I made my way to the Art Gallery of South Australia, just a few blocks from Eos. What a museum: small but packing enormous punch not only in the calibre of the collection but in the fascinating way each space is arranged. It has the intimacy of a really good house museum – John Soane meets Kettle’s Yard meets Antwerp modern – but some grandeur too, with dollops of Australiana and marvellous Indigenous art. The city has its Friday night buzz on as I head to newcomer eatery, Fugazzi, perching myself at the low-lit bar to savour what was possibly the world’s most delicious gimlet – the cocktail onion pickled in balsamic – alongside a prawn and white pepper mayo roll and yummy maccheroni with anchovy, chilli and pangrattato. It had been a whirlwind few days and I was finally alone, still smiling but already missing my friends from the train.

James’ mother Primrose, who died in August 2021, could never imagine living anywhere else. In the family since the 1880s when her husband’s maternal grandfather Henry Taylor bought the grazing property from the Whites – “It actually once belonged to my family who sold it to the Taylors… It’s complicated!” she told a journalist for a magazine story in 2007.

“Prima” White, as she was known to her family and friends, called Glenalvon home after her 1956 marriage to David Arnott in the tiny chapel at Belltrees, her childhood home near Scone. She was to bring up her four children – Kirstie, Ginny, James and Darce – and later welcome 10 grandchildren to the large stone house over the next 65 years.

Memories of those childhood days are strong.

“I think for me it is the characters that worked at Glenalvon that bring back the fondest memories,” recalls Darce, the youngest of the four siblings.”Whether it was Binnie in the garden or Cyril, Jack and Peter in the yards and on the farm, I loved their stories at morning tea and lunch – we always had a laugh. I still have Cyril whistling his tune in my mind.” 

For James, it’s the long days spent in the saddle mustering cattle in the high country during holidays from boarding school in Sydney. “I’d arrive at about 2 o’clock in the morning at the train station and Dad would have the horses saddled and ready by 7am,” he says with a smile. “We had a lot of fun as kids – it wasn’t all hard work. For boys, it was a terrific place to grow up. We had incredible freedom.”

An old Land Rover also provided entertainment over the years as well as mechanic skills that are still proving useful to this day. (“James is just under a car at the moment” texts his wife Kate after our interview. “I can do most things with an engine because I pulled that car apart,” he tells me.)

Today, the couple divide their time between Blackville, where James manages a large cropping and grazing property, and the main house at Glenalvon. As we sit at the kitchen table – “Everyone turns up here. It’s where plans are made and great discussions are had,” says Kate with a laugh – the phone rings with news of a hockey match. (It turns out that they are quite a sporty family: Alice, their second daughter, will make her debut for the Hockeyroos in May against India in Adelaide.)

The history of this family home is a little shrouded in mystery. Built after the original home was destroyed in a fire, “no one is exactly sure what happened” says James, it’s thought to have been built in 1910. “My grandparents Ken and Elsiemaie Arnott moved onto the property in the 1930s and it was probably about 15,000 acres in those days,” explains James. “They renovated the house quite substantially, demolished the kitchen block and added bits to make it more liveable.”

But there’s no uncertainty when it comes to the history of the property’s heritage-listed John Horbury Hunt buildings. 

Commissioned in 1874 by owner Henry Charles White, a relative of Primâ’s, Horbury Hunt designed the impressive stables, a carriage house and the labourer’s cottage — a six-room stone residence where Darce and Krissie now live while at Glenalvon.

The choice of architect was a radical one at the time but today Horbury Hunt is considered by many to be the father of modern architecture in Australia. (According to The Radical Architect 1838-1904 by Peter Reynolds, Lesley Muir and Joy Hughes, Horbury Hunt must have also designed a new main residence at Glenalvon as he called for building tenders for it in November 1876, but it seems that this house was never completed.)

For Kate, the connections to this old house are far reaching.

“I have been coming to Glenalvon since I was a child as Primrose was my godmother before she was my mother-in-law. She was always in the garden working her magic,” she explains.

“Later on, I have very fond memories of summer picnics, loading up the back of utes with chairs and food and drinks and cooking barbecues on open fires down on the river while the children were swimming.”

And finally, what does she love about Murrurundi?

“I enjoy the pace and the fact that you can be whoever you want to be in Murrurundi. It doesn’t matter if you are left of centre, right of centre, you can just be whoever you want to be, and nobody cares. I think that is really refreshing in this world today. It’s a nice and safe place.”

Arnott family’s address book

Railway Hotel Murrurundi

Many locals have nominated this pub as their favourite since I”ve started writing The Argus – I’d love to be a fly on the wall in July when it’s “Come in your ugliest Christmas sweater” night. “They have a great steak sandwich,” says Darce.

Corner Haydon and Adelaide streets, Murrurundi, NSW. Telephone (02) 6546 6220.

George & Bean

A firm favourite with everyone in the family. “Top coffee,” says Darce which is seconded by Kate: “There are always lots of people coming and going. A great place to sit and catch up with people,” she says.

Open Monday-Friday, 7am-12:30pm. Corner of Mayne and Adelaide streets, Murrurundi NSW. Telephone: 0466872254. georgeandbean.com

Magpie Distillery

Nikki and Geoff Drummond’s craft distillery, and home of the award-winning Murrurundi Dry Gin, is nearly at the Arnotts’ front door. “If we have friends staying, we often just walk across,” says Kate. The cellar door is open Saturday and Sunday, 10am-4pm. Bookings recommended for groups.

84a Glenalvon Road, Murrurundi, NSW. 0438 628758. info@magpiedistilling.com.au

Hanna Pastoral Co. Butcher Shop

“Great quality meat with real sausages and good old fashioned, quality service – and it’s all packaged in brown paper bags to take home,” says Kate.

You can also place an order for home delivery on (02) 6747 7711. info@willowtreeinn.com.au
New England Highway, Willow Tree, NSW.

Darcy and the Fox

Home to painter David Darcy, a regular finalist in the Archibald Prize, this is one of Kate’s favourite shops in town. “I love sticking my head in to see the latest quirky and wonderful thing they have found,” she says.

37 Mayne Street, Murrurundi, NSW. Telephone 0405 817 174. darcyandthefox@gmail.com

Life of Pie

This main street cafe is one of Darce’s picks for lunch.

13 Mayne Street, Murrurundi NSW. Telephone (02) 5512 9605. @murrurundilifeofpie. lifeofpie.com.au.

Michael Reid Murrurundi

“I go here for a coffee and lunch by Steph,” says Darce. “My favourites on the menu? It’s got to be the toasties with Steph’s homemade relish, or any of her soups in the winter.”

Corner Boyd and Mayne streets, Murrurundi, NSW. (02) 6546 6767. michaelreidmurrurundi.com.au

The Plains Pantry

From cold-pressed juices to fresh loaves from Gunnedah’s Reverence Sourdough, this is an essential stop. “Over the range, I like to go to the Plains Pantry,” says Darce.

New England Highway, Willow Tree, NSW. (02) 6747 1348. theplainspantry.com.au

It was November 1911 and a Chicago woman had grown weary of her husband’s procrastinating ways. “For the love of Mike,” she said, “when are you going to get started on those capital plans? How much time do you think there is left, anyway? Do you realise it takes a solid month to get the drawings over there, after they have started on their way? That leaves exactly nine weeks to turn them out – perhaps you can design a city in two days but the drawings take time, and that falls on me. What’s the use of thinking about a thing like this for ten years if when the time comes you don’t get it done in time? Mark my words and I’m not joking, either you get busy this very day, this very minute, or I’ll not touch a pencil to the darn things.” Nine weeks later, a box of drawings too long to fit inside a taxi was rushed, car doors open, across the city to meet the last train that could meet the last boat bound for Australia. 

They were Walter Burley Griffin and Marion Mahony Griffin, whose drawings were selected from 137 competition entries as the blueprint for Canberra, carved from the Australian bush upon Ngunnawal country as the fledgling federation’s capital to be. It was a feat of soaring imagination: with a sensitivity to the environment way ahead of his time, Walter based his design on the shapes of the natural landscape, the city centrally positioned between three hills and around an ornamental lake. Marion’s name was left off the competition entry and only in recent years has the importance of her renderings been recognised. She was, however, already a legend: Marion was not only one of the first licensed female architects in the world but the first architect ever hired by Frank Loyd Wright. Many believe a good chunk of Wright’s success was the result of Marion’s comprehensive and elegant delineations. 

Walter’s glory, though, was to be short-lived. Within weeks of the result, departmental powers-that-be were already planning something cheaper and more practical. There’s a lot more to the story – a left-leaning precursor to Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead, brilliant for a Netflix series. In a nutshell, though, the Griffins moved to Canberra to supervise its construction and after a handful of frustrating years, settled in Melbourne after realising their utopia was not to unfold as planned. Had Walter not died unexpectedly in India the following decade, his older version can almost be pictured on a stool in a dive bar next to Jè¸rn Utzon, swapping notes on scrimping bureaucrats and drowning their design sorrows. 

A prime spot to contemplate the capital is the recently opened Walter Cafe. Lunch on the terrace – think summery Niè§oise, light-curried chicken and all Canberra region wines – comes with sensational views across Lake Burley Griffin to the National Library, National Gallery and the strange but wonderful National Carillon, majestic Aussie ranges behind. Inside, a work by Pina Ambrosino dances along the wall like the lovechild of Tamara de Lempicka and Fernand Lager, speaking to the city’s art-deco origins, above a leather banquette the colour of eucalyptus leaves. 

Lake Burley Griffin was almost called Lake Menzies after Prime Minister Robert Menzies, who, following decades of disagreement, design modifications and setbacks, championed its construction in 1960. He insisted it be named after Walter – the first time the architect was acknowledged by the capital he designed. Then, three years later, Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip trotted out to Canberra to admire the just-completed lake. Prolonged drought had prevented the lake from filling so a sleek pavilion was constructed for the monarch who had to make do with a scale model as she and the prince looked out across what must have been a dust bowl. The pavilion is now home to Walter Cafe and swank sister restaurant Marion, as well as the excellent National Capital Exhibition – a must for anyone wanting to know more about Canberra with jaw dropping water views through walls of glass. 

Key elements of Walter’s design are evident across the capital despite the watering down of his plans. UNESCO World Heritage status has long been on the table (with a nomination in 2009) but applications are expensive and unfortunately, this marvel of town planning is less revered locally than it is in other corners of the world. Yes, the city took longer than expected to take form, usually described over the years as “soulless” when compared to its dazzling coastal cousins. But as the roller coaster of 21st-century life careens dangerously around corners, Canberra’s order feels like a paradise. 

Scottish architect, John Smith Murdoch, was the establishment to Walter’s freethinking idealism. The pair were initially friends and colleagues but fell out after a Royal Commission and never spoke again. Murdoch favoured a streamlined Renaissance style and created what has come to be known as ‘the Canberra line”, although his design of Hotel Canberra (1924) was more than a little Prairie School evocative, the new-world Arts & Crafts movement championed by the Griffins and Frank Loyd Wright. Extended and relaunched in the 1980’s as Hyatt Hotel Canberra, accommodation in the modern wing radiates off a light-filled atrium of Memphis-like angles, guest rooms with sprawling bathrooms slathered in chocolate marble. The grand dame’s original wings remain intact and take the names of past prime ministers, Murdoch’s more classical urges on show in elegant spaces such as the tea lounge. Wrapping around verdant courtyards, a pair of window-lined corridors flank the lobby and lead to the just-renovated Heritage Rooms and the 240m2 Diplomatic Suites. 

Just across leafy Commonwealth Avenue, Murdoch designed everything down to the waste-paper baskets at his colossal wedding cake of a masterpiece, Provisional Parliament House – now Old Parliament House and home to the Museum of Australian Democracy. Don’t miss the Prime Minister’s Suite – done over in 1972 and surprisingly chic – occupied by Gough Whitlam, Malcolm Fraser and Bob Hawke before parliament moved to its new home up the hill. It’s a vast complex of surprisingly moving moments. A nondescript room just beyond the PM’s office, for example, screens the documentary Prime Ministers on Prime Ministers, where past leaders left and right list only the things they liked about those who came before and after them. A generous spirit and you contemplate for a moment what is possible – then on the lawn in front of the building you arrive at the Aboriginal Tent Embassy, which began as four indigenous men fighting for land rights under a beach umbrella in 1972, and realise how far we still have to go. 

Canberra’s cultural offerings extend way beyond the political. Monumental lakeside beauty, the National Library, incorporates Tom Bass’s The Lintel Sculpture into its stripped classical facade, as well as fabulously kaleidoscopic stained glass windows by Leonard French. Three modernist tapestries by Matheiu Mategot hang banner-like inside the erudite sanctuary, while a Henry Moore reclines outside on a terrace. Across the lake, the National Museum showcases Indigenous culture, alongside the epic forces of nature that have made and remade the continent over billions of years. The galleries “First Australians” and “Great Southern Land” are bold, thought provoking and fabulously curated, and especially powerful after the tent embassy in a look-what-is-possible way.

Over at the National Gallery of Australia we get a glimpse, albeit abstracted, into just how far Walter’s vision might have gone had someone like Gough Whitlam been controlling the purse strings. In 1973, when Whitlam authorised the yet-to-open gallery’s purchase of Jackson Pollock’s Blue Poles for $1.3 million, conservatives threw a hissy fit. Whitlam, though, was right: the stellar work is now worth a whopping $500 million and regarded as one of the most important artworks of the 20th century. Together with a host of other purchases made by inaugural director, James Mollison, in the 1970’s and 80’s – de Kooning’s Woman V, Brancusi’s Bird in Space and a second Pollock to name a few – it forms the core of the NGA’s $6.8 billion collection. An employee of the gallery once described the Pollock as a metaphor for Whitlam’s big-thinking but ultimately ousted government, “the long hours that went into the painting, never wondering whether it would work, the excitement, passion, sheer rapture, flourishes, sudden insights, grand movements, spatters and accidents.” 

Mighty works by Lee Krasner (Pollock’s wife, considered by some to be the superior artist) and contemporary German painter, Anselm Kiefer, flanking Blue Poles are no less impressive, with a Tiepolo, a Bacon triptych and a tree-fern carving from Vanuatu rounding out the space. Together with The Aboriginal Memorial – a hauntingly beautiful installation of 200 hollow log coffins from Central Arnhem Land commemorating the Indigenous who died defending their land from 1788 – the display realises the gallery’s founding vision as a “centre of art for the whole world”. Even other worlds, with James Turrell’s ethereal Skyspace tucked under a grassy knoll just outside the gallery – an extraordinary sky-viewing chamber comprising a basalt stupa within a pyramid, oculus open to the sky. Open 24 hours, the Turrell is also a favourite cover for after-hours trysts, all caught on the NGA’s security cameras. 

High temples of culture and a burgeoning hospitality scene make for next-level long weekends, a trail of places to eat, drink and sleep across Walter and Marion’s arcadia. If clean, Christian-Liaigre-like lines get you going – in a monochromatic palette with the odd splash of sang-de-boeuf and a full health club in the basement – look no further than Hotel Realm. Just outside the Parliamentary Triangle in Barton, this temple of contemporary understatement delivers a serene stay upstairs, with great lighting, cloud-like beds and luxurious bathrooms in marble and limestone. The action is downstairs, between Ostani Bar (casual restaurant and beer garden) and Buvette (smart bistro and wine bar) with rooftop Leyla Bar across the road at sister property, Hotel Burberry. 

Just below Capital Hill in leafy Kingston, the exuberant East Hotel boasts drinking and dining venues so cool it can be difficult to leave the building. That is if you can tear yourself away from the room – 140 in total including full apartments, many with balconies and spectacular views. Agostinis serves rustic Italian fare in a relaxed setting by East’s entrance, with great service, Naples-worthy pizzas and seriously impressive house bianco, rosso and rosato. Low-lit Joe’s Bar does a mean martini, while Muse doubles as a well-stocked bookshop and buzzing cafe serving sensational nasi goreng alongside more classic brunch staples – also available as room service. 

Head to XO in nearby Narrabundah for Canberra’s most delectable South East Asian spread in a sleek, all-white interior that strikes the feng shui sweet spot. Aim for the banquette, where tables are separated by sheer linen curtains, a soft-lit and rough-plastered brick wall behind. There’s è la carte and excellent vegetarian options but we went for the Chinese New Year menu, beginning with Yee Sang, a nostalgic CNY staple also known as a prosperity toss. Chopsticks are used at the table to mix fish (in our case slipper lobster) and finely sliced vegetables in a sweet, aromatic dressing: the higher the toss, the greater the prosperity. Seven luck-bringing courses followed, including tea-smoked spatchcock, a nod to the fable of the phoenix, and super comforting Longevity Noodles. 

Roy Grounds designed futuristic fantasy, the Shine Dome (1959) for the Australian Academy of Science – the first Canberra building to make the National Heritage List. Across the road in hip and artsy New Acton is the also striking Nishi Building (2013), where several floors have been given over to boutique hotel, Ovolo Nishi (formerly Hotel Hotel). A visually jarring staircase lined in “flying” lengths of horizontal timber – a mix including offcuts from Nishi’s building site and wood reclaimed from a demolished basketball court – leads up to a carved sequence of bunker-like spaces, softened by all manner of cool vintage furniture, quirky objects and art. Plant-based Monster Kitchen and Bar is a Sorrento-meets-South-of-France mashup of giant terrazzo, 50’s furniture and Jansen-esque brass palm trees, where Peri Peri Roast Cauliflower and Stuffed Savoy Cabbage will be sure to sate even the most hardened carnivore. Rooms are quiet, textured spaces, with off-form concrete walls, grass-clothed ceilings and furry blankets on beds.

The staircase, designed by March Studio, makes for a short schlep to the Palace Electric Cinema downstairs, home to eight screens of licensed art-house heaven. A block away is rustic eatery Rebel Rebel with a turmeric-coloured Berber rug on the wall and soaring raked ceilings, where a small poster behind the bar is the sole ode to Bowie. This is modern Australian at its best: giant grilled prawns dripping in bay leaf butter, and carrots served with smoked yoghurt, cashews and curry leaves, not to mention the knockout macadamia and lemon myrtle ice-cream sanga. An impressive wine list, too, traversing the old and new worlds, with a generous lineup of excellent orange and low-intervention drops to drink in or take home, with Rebel Rebel also doubling as Canberra’s coolest wine shop.

Truly cosmopolitan flavours are conjured over at Inka, the high temple to Japanese-Peruvian fusion. The cuisine – Nikkei – emerged after throngs of Japanese moved to Peru in the 19th century looking for work, although when you think about it, sushi and ceviche, it’s a match made in heaven. Order è la carte or go for one of the excellent tasting menus, moving between guacamole, sublime sashimi and kingfish Ceviche Clasico. Inka’s brussel sprouts with yuzu glaze and furikake are to die for, as is the theatrical interior with double-height wall bedecked in dazzling Cuchimilco figures, backlit and moody. It’s an intoxicating mix, best capped at either end of the night with a pisco sour.

A sleep and a hydralite later, Canberra is also a place to retrace childhood steps, driving winding streets to admire exotic embassy rooflines before hiking up to the Australian War Memorial. The 1941 edifice is an Art Deco take on Byzantine architecture, one of the city’s most magnificent but also one of its most conflicting – outstanding galleries as places to pause and remember the fallen but do they also glorify war? The War Memorial’s Orthodox style brings to mind another purpose-built capital Athens, built in a sheep paddock at the base of the crumbling ruins of the Acropolis in the 1830’s, rather than richer and more sophisticated Nafplio. The reason? A teenage Bavarian prince – selected by the Great Powers to rule Greece after that fledgling nation got out from under the Ottoman yoke – just happened to be obsessed with Ancient Greek culture. (Like Whitlam, Otto was also ousted.)

It begs another question: if our colonial forefathers had been more adoring of this land’s ancient culture, how, or where, might Canberra be today? Who knows, but somewhere in the capital’s blueprint there might be room for correction, as sensitive as Walter’s love of nature and as elegant as Marion’s hand.

Instead, she decided to study equine management at Glenormiston Agricultural College in Victoria’s Western District. “I was 20 when I went to ag college and I just loved it,” she tells me as we sit at a long wooden table drinking tea. 

After finishing college Mandy, who had gone to school with Sandy’s sister, went and worked on the Archibald’s family property as a groom. It was a life she already knew she would love after spending many school holidays there.

But Googie, who was one of the leading actresses of her generation, was more accustomed to film sets and the theatres of London’s West End than the Australian bush. She immediately had some practical concerns about her youngest child going bush after marrying Sandy in 1983.

“I remember my mother asked me, ‘Who is going to deliver the milk and where do you take the garbage?” They loved it there, but it was so far out of their comfort zone,” Mandy remembers fondly, bending to pat Bear, a rather stout blue cattle dog who she has often photographed in a series of portraits called the Two Fat Ladies.

It was while living on this property that Mandy made her first creative venture: Fernleigh Yarns. She designed the knitwear label for 15 years but stopped a few years after moving to Murrurundi. “It became too much to do in the end. Things were bad with the drought at that time and Sandy had to commute to Sydney for the next five years to run a business we bought,” she explains. 

“We were very busy and both of us had to step out of our comfort zones. Sandy had to deal with the pressures of working in the city and I had to deal with things at home on the farm. But it was all fine, that was just part of our life.”

The decision to sell and move to a smaller property was made while their two children, Emma and Gus, were still teenagers.

“We still had the same way of life, but instead of calf branding that took us a week, it took us a day,” Mandy says as she describes what her life is like on 1300 acres compared to Fernleigh’s 6000.

Our conversation turns to how high Murrurundi would rank on the Bohemian Index, a measure of creative economy devised by Richard Florida, an American urban studies theorist, to chart the concentration of working artists, musicians, writers, designers and entertainers in particular areas.

“Murrurundi has always had interesting creative people, like Charlotte Drake-Brockman (See ‘The Murrurundi Argus X: A creative life’). She dropped her mobile phone in the studio and all the bits went over the floor — suddenly we had a pirate ship. Such a wonderful imagination,” says Mandy, who is a past president of the Murrurundi Arts and Crafts Council. “No one judges you here — you can be who you really are,” she says. “And I really like that.”

It was a creative environment that gave Mandy the confidence to pick up a camera a few years ago and today she loves to roam the valley, photographing the landscape and local wildlife.

Mandy knows more than most about the interesting people who have called Murrurundi home in the past. For seven years, she had an early morning spot on local journalist Mike Pritchard’s ABC morning radio show. Originally asked to talk about community events, it quickly morphed into a regular history segment called ‘A Peek in the Past”. She was soon spending hours reading The Maitland Mercury on Trove, the National Library of Australian’s online database.

“I did become quite obsessed,” she admits. Bushrangers, snake bites and one particularly intriguing character called Dr Gordon are all part of the town’s rich history.

Working in a Landcare group, the Pages River Warriors, has been another driving passion for Sandy and Mandy over the years.

And there is always that Saturday morning coffee with other locals to look forward to.

“We meet at Fox’s Store to do the quiz from the papers. This started out with about six of us and has now mushroomed upwards to sometimes 15 or more. A couple who came with friends once to the quiz loved it all so much, they went out and bought 10 acres and are now building their forever home in Murrurundi,” she says, clearly delighted at the thought of these new additions to the town.

But one thing is shining through, crystal clear. A strong community means everything to Mandy Archibald and she will be there, every step of the way.

It was to take John McCallum’s 90th birthday to prompt his daughter’s move into photography.

“Dad had this Tibetan spaniel called Tibby who he adored and I decided to draw him as a birthday present. I asked a local artist to teach me and I started taking photographs to use as a reference for my drawings. That is where my photography started,” she says.

Mandy Archibald’s Address Book

“We have an enthusiastic coffee group who meet every morning for about an hour. So, we are very lucky that Murrurundi has a wonderful selection of cafes with good coffee,” says Mandy. “And they all have a point of difference.” Here are a few of the ones she regularly goes to.

Fox’s Store

Medical museum, milk bar, antique shop packed with interesting things that make this the perfect place to while away a few hours. Owned and run by Ray and Judy Hynes. 

45 Haydon Street, Murrurundi NSW
foxsstoremurrurundi.com

George & Bean

Georgia Snow and her vintage Volkswagen Kombi van is popping up everywhere.

Using Colombian Coffee Co beans, Georgia makes a fantastic flat white and is currently serving coffee, cold drinks and snacks from a beautiful little garden.

Open Monday—Friday, 7am—12:30pm
Cnr of Mayne and Adelaide streets, Murrurundi NSW
Telephone: 0466872254
georgeandbean.com

Life of Pie Murrurundi

Watch out for this bright orange building on Mayne Street as you don’t want to miss this popular bakery. Well known for its excellent pies, the caramel slice is also very hard to say no to.

13 Mayne Street, Murrurundi NSW
Telephone: (02) 5512 9605
@murrurundilifeofpie
lifeofpie.com.au

Nelliebelle’s Cakes and Bakes

“Our old favourite. We love sitting under a beautiful under a beautiful old bottle brush tree in the back garden that we share with lots of little birds who hop on the table and eat our cream. We are very fond of Margie who owns the cafe and Shelley who makes a great coffee.” 

132 Mayne Street, Murrurundi NSW
Telephone: 0437 144 555.

Take a Break Cafe

“Take a Break has a great outdoor sitting area with a fabulous view of the mountains. It’s also part of the visitor centre so we often have chats with many locals walking by.” 

Shop 1/113 Mayne Street, Murrurundi NSW
Telephone: (02) 6546 6528.

This free and easy life mirrors their dad’s childhood. John and Cathy West moved from Muswellbrook to Murrurundi just after Paul was born in 1984 in a search of a quieter life. John’s dad Harry, a returned WWII serviceman, had been the town’s station master decades before so the Wests already felt some connection to the Upper Hunter Valley town and decided to establish a home there. They bought a business called Bella Furs and Firearms, renamed it the Murrurundi Trading Post, and opened the doors.

The customers who soon walked through those doors made a lasting impression on their young son. “We had people from the Packers and the Ellerston community to the guys living in lean-to sheds up on the mountain that came down for reloading gear. You had the full gamut of the socio-economic playing field coming in and everyone was treated the same,” says Paul.

With Murrurundi’s population only nudging 900 during the 1980s, the Wests felt confident to give Paul and his younger sister Nicola plenty of freedom. “It was a small town and everyone looked out for you,” he says.

At first the family of five – Paul also has a brother Simon who is 14 years older – lived in the A-frame house next door to the Trading Post before moving out to a block on the Pages River Road. Motorbikes, bush cubbies and dogs moved centre stage in this paradise that was straight from the pages of a Boy’s Own Annual.

“I remember the frosty mornings, the electric heat of the summer and the sound of coal trains coming down the mountain,” he recalls. 

Paul, who today is a breakfast radio presenter on ABC South East NSW, believes his rural upbringing was crucial to the success he was to later enjoy. Perhaps it gave him the confidence that led to a last-minute application for the role of hosting River Cottage Australia – 1300 people also applied for the job. (Not everyone approved of the choice, one viewer complained about his over-the-top ocker accent: “They said no one in this country talks like this. And I thought, well no, where I grew up this is how everyone talks!”)

Why did life in Murrurundi have such an influence? “I’ve thought about it often, and what exactly it was that had such a lasting impact on me as opposed to my friends that were raised in the city. Firstly, as a kid growing up in a little country town, you learn how to talk to people, not just your family and friends, but everyone, young and old, rich and poor and everyone in between,” he says.

But the art of conversation wasn’t the only thing – learning how to resolve conflict was a big one for Paul. “If you have a problem with someone, there’s no escaping, chances are you’ll see them every day for years, so you had better nip it in the bud,” he explains.

Most country kids need to leave home as soon as they finish school – either to go to university or for work. Paul left his much-loved home just before he turned 18, a move that forced him to quickly become independent.

“There was no living with mum and dad while I saved for a house deposit or any of that stuff. I was paying rent on my 18th birthday. It taught me that if you want to do something, you better get off your arse and make it happen yourself, you can’t wait for the world to come to you.”

These are not empty words – just take a look at his CV. From an apprenticeship at Melbourne’s iconic Vue de Monde to scrubbing Navy boats in Sydney Harbour, Paul isn’t one to sit around. He even did a stint on a friend’s oyster farm during COVID.

After River Cottage finished in 2016, Paul and his partner Alicia Cordia tried city life for a couple of years, before they decided to return, just ahead of one of the biggest population shifts to regional Australia ” nearly 900,000 by December 2022 ” we have seen.

What does this boy from the bush think about this move to the country? “With my glass half full hat on, I see a renaissance of the rejuvenation of country towns, with the digital economy allowing people to live and work from wherever they please. Raising families in the country and helping to bring vibrancy and diversity to the communities.” 

Later, I ask him over an email to tell me about some of the locals that he knew as a kid, and a list of names quickly lands in my inbox: and one thing is noticeable, not many individuals make the list, it’s all about families.

The Randos, the Wilsons, the Taylors, the Coopers, the Browns, the Jablonkas, the Atkinsons, the Dykes, the McPhillips, the Creightons, the Burrastons, the Days, the Mathesons, the Watchtels, the McDuies, the Nortons, Hawko, Fred and Howard Lane, Phil Ledgerwood, Fatty Seckold, Brian McGee… 

“So many great people. I’m sure that I’ve missed a stack, so I’m sorry if you’re reading this and I missed you,” he says. “It’s got me all sentimental just thinking about all those people. That’s the beauty about growing up in a small town, there are so many people that are a part of your life.”

And yes, to any River Cottage Australia fans reading this, Paul’s faithful collie Digger is never too far away from his side and enjoying lazing around in the garden.

“Although Bermagui is now well and truly home now, Murrurundi will always hold a very dear place in my heart. It shaped me into the person that I am today and I’m grateful for that,” Paul says.

For a recipe from Paul’s cookbook, Homegrown, see the bottom of this story.

Paul’s On the Road to Murrurundi Address Book

“Really, I just like to pop into all my old secret spots in the bush, the places where I would ponder my young life, kiss girls or sneak in a stolen cigarette,” he says. Here a few of Paul’s favourite places plus his hot tips for Tamworth after spending some time there while working as an ABC presenter during the last Country Music Festival:

Campgrounds Coffee

Opening at 6am every day of the week, this cafe was Paul’s place to visit for his regular caffeine fix while presenting for the ABC during the last Tamworth Country Music Festival.

37 Dowe Street, Tamworth, NSW. 0468 957 896.
campgroundscoffee.com.au

The Welder’s Dog

Launched in Armidale in 2014, The Welder’s Dog source their barley from a local grower. Now with three sites – the Brew Bar in Armidale, Inverell and Tamworth – this craft brewery is gaining a following. The Tamworth bar is in an old drive through rural produce store. 

37 Dowe Street, Tamworth, NSW. (02) 6766 1262 or 0417 731 035.
theweldersdog.com.au

The Tamworth

This Art Deco hotel across the road from the train station has a great selection of craft beers on tap.

147 Marius Street, Tamworth, NSW. (02) 6766 2923.
thetamworth.com.au

Michael Reid Murrurundi

“It’s all too rare that I get back to Murrurundi these days. When I do though, I always stop in at the Michael Reid Gallery for a coffee and some cake with my old man and the ladies from his yoga class.”

Cnr Boyd and Mayne Street, Murrurundi, NSW. (02) 6546 6767.
michaelreidmurrurundi.com.au

The Murrurundi Collective  

Amanda Riordan is doing an amazing job at building a local food community in Murrurundi, her vision and tenacity are inspiring.

41 Mayne Street, Murrurundi, NSW. 0428 414 256.
themurrurundicollective.com 

Murrurundi Golf Course and Country Club

“When I wasn’t at school, I’d love to play a round on the best golf course in Australia “even as a child, I would play the course by myself, third hole, par 3 was my favourite,” Paul says.

Paradise Park Road, Murrurundi, NSW. (02) 6545 0386

Recipe and photographs from Homegrown: A year of growing, cooking and eating by Paul West (Plum, RRP $44.99).

Photography Chris Middleton and David Rogers.

Reverend Lancelot Edward Threlkeld, who recorded the Awakabal language in An Australian Grammar (1834), took up residence on a site in Hunter Street in 1825 that gave rise a century later to the Art Deco dance hall, Palais Royale. When the Palais was demolished in 2008, archaeologists uncovered more than five thousand Aboriginal artefacts at the site, considered to be of “high to exceptional cultural and scientific significance”. Tragically other cultures prevailed and today the ancient site is home to the largest KFC in the Southern Hemisphere. 

Fast food might seem an apt reference for a town known for heavy industry – a town deemed by many to be too soot covered and working class to be worthy of a visit – but Newcastle is, from many angles, very much magnificent. Some of this is down to gentrification, with the city reinventing itself since BHP closed its steel works in 1999. But her true magnificence predates any recent ©clat – and Novocastrians must be having a quiet chuckle as the rest of us finally realise what they have always known.

Newcastle’s coastline is sweepingly beautiful, interspersed with long and dramatic stretches of golden sand to rival the most famous beach cities around the world. Most are walking distance from the CBD, home in turn to a rich tapestry of pretty streetscapes and historic buildings that reads like a cross between The Rocks, Caloundra and (if you squint) San Francisco’s Russian Hill. Outlying suburbs are sleepy and in places charming, recalling a pre-Metricon Brisbane, while architectural grand dames punctuating the East End would not look out of place in Bridge Street or Potts Point.

With the final section of the Honeysuckle Promenade just completed, the inner-city suburb of Wickham connects along 5km of harbourside paths and bridges to Nobby’s Beach, where the fabulous coastal walk, Bathers Way, leads to Merewether Ocean Baths another 6km away. The 1930’s ocean-bathing complex is one of two along the walk and the largest – alongside KFC – in the Southern Hemisphere. The other is the postcard-pretty Newcastle Ocean Baths (1922), currently being restored but slated to open mid 2023.

If any East End locale captures the city’s dynamic marriage of old and new, it is the boutique blockbuster QT Newcastle, which opened to well-deserved fanfare in June 2021. The property is the 10th in the portfolio of the quirky hotel brand and one of its most dazzling, occupying the heritage-listed, former Scotts Limited department store building (later David Jones). Behind the 114-year-old facade, exuberant and celestially inspired interiors by Nic Graham – a giant lunar orb suspended over the lift lobby saluting the various tidal dances of the surrounding coastline – showcase an extensive art collection assembled by Sophie Vander of Curatorial+Co. 

Sumptuous guest rooms decked out in jewel tones – think emerald-tiled bathrooms and well stocked, ruby-coloured cocktail cabinets – and industrial textures, have proper wardrobes, Hoffman-esque seating and insanely comfortable beds. The starter “Queen Room” is 24m2, although splurge on a “Deluxe King Room” for soaring ceilings, grand windows at the front of the building and a freestanding tub. The 36m2 “Corner Suite King” comes with water views and an enormous bathroom – one of which incorporates the building’s clock face and dome, a fabulous, turn-of-the-century reminder that you’e sleeping in a department store.

Pressed metal, salvaged from the original department store ceilings, wraps around a large bulkhead in the elegant ground-floor restaurant, Jana, where chef Massimo Speroni brings Michelin-star power after stints at San Domenico and Cafe le Paillotes. Speroni also had a hand in the izakaya-style menu at Rooftop, the hotel’s 9th-floor cocktail bar, sporting interstellar mood lighting and a terrace looking out to the harbour. Days could be spent eating and drinking like a king without ever leaving the hotel. NZ salmon bowls and cardamom-spiced tarts from local legend, Uprising Bakery, for breakfast in the morning, through to Oscietra caviar, Coffin Bay oysters and the Jacks Creek rib eye, dry aged and bone in, later on. However you’d miss one of the best things about Newcastle: a restaurant, bar and cafe scene to rival the capitals. Just in miniature, which makes it even more delightful.

Start one block from the hotel at Momo Wholefood – Newcastle’s high temple of all things vegetarian – so good that even the most carnivorous will leave questioning their love of meat. The setting is lovely too: a columned Neoclassical bank building with a light and bright Scandi-style interior. If the meatless menu has you wondering what to order, just go for the Veggie Momos (steamed Tibetan dumplings) and/or the White Bean Toast, washed down with a glass of the wild-fermented Beetroot Kvass.

Just behind Momo in King Street you’ll find the tiny but exquisite Italian deli, Arno, at the base of historic Cooks Hill. Go for provisions, a panini or a Bicicletta, a Sicilian take on a Campari spritz, not to mention an impressive wine list with skin contact (orange wine), Italian Rosato and chilled reds.

For more of a fine-dining experience – albeit super relaxed, as is the Novocastrian way – head to Flotilla in Whickam, where Shane and Eduardo have turned a small warehouse into one of the city’s hottest restaurants. The set menu changes with the seasons although Buttermilk Fried Fish Wings with Chilli Tamarind and Smoked Peanuts (a local favourite) return like a leitmotif. Much attention is paid to thoughtful, local produce – as well as sublime vegetarian and vegan versions – although one outlier, a crisp German riesling, paired insanely well with the wings. The perfect spot for a romantic supper or long, languid lunch, with spots at the bar for those flying solo. 

Another East End newcomer, Humbug, is where Flotilla’s food-loving team eats on their day off. And with good reason: hearty and imaginative fare is matched in its quirky deliciousness by an excellent wine list championing small, low-intervention producers. The menu shifts, for example, from Mediterranean to Korean, with Campanelle with King Prawns, Pork and Fennel Chilli Crunch – the sort of pasta you wish was ubiquitous in Italy – and Fried Broccoli with Kimchi Vinegar. Each week, members of the kitchen crew take turns preparing a dish of their choosing for the staff lunch. Some are so good (like the broccoli, prepared by a Korean sous chef), they make it onto the menu.

Excellent Asian food is in fact one of Newcastle’s great pleasures. For lovers of Japanese, chef Tetsuhiko Namba and his son, Taiyo, have three joints: Susuru for ramen and gyoza, the established Nagisa for a more sophisticated spread and the just-opened Ape Yakitori, right next door in Honeysuckle Drive. Tetsuhiko mastered his craft in Tokyo. His other son, Yohei manages Nagisa; what he doesn’t know about sake is nobody’s business, pairing the most exquisite drops with dishes such as Hiramasa Kingfish or Wagyu Beef Tataki. Ape, meanwhile, does mouth-watering skewers washed down with an assemblage of cocktails (and unbelievably good mocktails) by Chris Wilson of legendary local bar The Koutetsu, a sobering nine-minute walk away. Bounce back in the morning with perfect espresso from Good Brothers or head out to Mayfield East, where Equium Social does a cure-all green smoothie with peanut butter and breakfast all day. 

While much of the previously industrial and maritime land of the harbourside Honeysuckle precinct has been given over to glitzy residential new-builds, a handful of lovely old warehouses survive. The heritage-listed Honeysuckle Point Railway Workshops (1874-1886) reemerged in 2011 as the Newcastle Museum, charting the history of the area from the time of the Awabakal, Darkinjung, Worimi and Wonnarua peoples through to BHP. Multi-sensory blockbuster, Van Gogh Alive, returns in 2023 and The Newcastle Art Gallery, currently undergoing a $40 million renovation, reopens in 2024. The gallery holds one of the most significant collections of art in regional Australia, from Joseph Lycett’s depictions of the penal colony through to works by Lloyd Rees, William Dobell, Margaret Olley and Brett Whitely as well as superstar Emily Kngwarreye and other important Aboriginal artists. Olley, who donated 48 works to the gallery, is said to have had a “love affair” with the city, moving there in 1965. Perhaps when it reopens, Newcastle’s makeover will be complete. Either way there’s a lot to love.

Travelling internationally from Murrurundi is a slightly more laborious affair than the quick taxi, Darlinghurst to the airport, that I was used to. There’s the four-plus-hour train ride to Sydney and at least one night in a hotel, although international flights in and out of Newcastle are slated to commence in 2024. I loved to travel alone and have friends in most ports but after nearly three years as a complete recluse, I wondered if I still had it in me to get out there and forge the necessary relationships to put this and other travel stories together. And paradoxically, after so long galavanting around the world, would I still be happy living in Murrurundi upon my return?

To spend a month in one place, especially with creative purpose, is a marvellous experience but to do so in what is arguably the most beguiling city on the planet is an adventure off the charts. If I never got another travel writing gig in my life I would have had the most satisfying career from this one gig in Bangkok, a crucible of spirituality and seduction against a backdrop of ancient culture, street-food carts and futuristic skyscrapers straight out of Blade Runner. One minute you’re stepping back into past centuries, exploring otherworldly canals and alleys on the Thonburi side of the Chao Phraya River. Next you’re sitting cross legged in a temple, carried away by the chanting of orange-robed monks. Then you’re gliding down the river on a longtail boat, the Bangkokian gondola, perhaps on your way to watch the sunset from a shanty-like speakeasy overhanging the river, delicious cocktail in hand.

Back to a fabulous riverside hotel – from The Siam to the Oriental, the just-opened Capella and Four Seasons Chao Phraya, Bangkok’s accommodation offerings are amongst the most dazzling in the world. And then out into the night as boiling temperatures drop slightly and the streets become ever more animated and alive.

A couple of Italian stories had been given the green light by the time I arrived in Rome. First up was The Hoxton, a new hotel interesting in both its location, on the border of authentic Salario and upmarket Parioli, as well as its quirky style. I was tired, had loads of work to catch up on and my head was reeling from the month in Bangkok but I was determined to also tick a few unseen Roman jewels off my list. I’d just read Peter Robb’s M so there were the Caravaggios at the Musei Capitolini as well as his mind-blowing cycle of Saint Matthew paintings at the Contarelli Chapel. What was very special, though – in no small part because it was virtually empty – was Centrale Montemartini, an early 20th-century power station made over as a gallery to house surplus sculpture from other museums. It may have been the B-team but the synergy between the sculpture and the industrial machinery was fantastic.

I caught up with a local antique dealer friend of mine the following day, to wander through Porta Portese flea market before lunch at Ai Spaghettari in Trastevere. I mentioned my discovery. “Centrale Montemartini is one of the most fabulous places in Rome but no one goes there,” he said. Except the French. For some reason they love it.

The following day I took the train to Lecce and then drove a hire car to Matino, where I would spend the next two-plus months. I’d received a tiny inheritance before covid and rather than do something sensible like restore the crumbling house I already had, I bought another one in the tough and worn heel of Italy’s boot. I’d made one trip to find it, another trip to take possession and furnish it and then another to enjoy it. Then covid hit and nearly three years passed before I could return. There had been moments of delayed buyer’s remorse – the house had been broken into while I was away on top of other tedious complications – but as I parked in the cobbled street and dragged my suitcase through the front door, all regret evaporated.

From what I’ve been able to glean from local historians, the house – of which I have the back, older half – was built over the course of around 250 years, beginning c.1600 with the ground-floor entrance, originally one of the “seven chapels of Matino”. It doubled as the district hospital for the poor and a rest stop for travellers making their pilgrimage to Santa Maria di Leuca. Unwed mothers would leave babies on the doorstep to be raised by the nuns, one of whom, according to local legend, grew up to be the town mayor. Rooms with high vaulted ceilings – a mix of “imperial”, “barrel” and “star” – were added piecemeal in the 17th and 18th centuries. Then, in 1850, the Spanish “de Maria” family added a final suite of rooms and a more stately facade, Puglia then being ruled by a cadet branch of the Spanish Bourbons under the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.

I rediscovered the house, and Matino, as I settled in to write both the Bangkok and Hoxton stories. In between I was exploring and gathering material for a forthcoming Salento story, Salento being the historic name ascribed to the bottom third of Puglia, which has its own dialect, customs and identity. I caught up with Matino friends at Caffè¨ Arco Antico or Foscolo, a restaurant and cocktail bar spilling out onto a narrow street from a beautiful palazzo. Just across the ancient cobbles is the lovely Palazzo Gentile, a four-room guesthouse with a wonderful terrace belonging to the equally lovely Carolina and Aurelian, and Carolina’s Vienna-based brother, Matteo.

When old chums from Milan and London came to stay, we’d go to the local beach, Punta della Suina, and return to the roof terrace for aperitivi to watch the sunset over the Ionian Sea. Or head across the peninsula to see the incredible 12th-century mosaic floor at Otranto Cathedral before heading down the coast to Lo Scalo, a jaw-dropping restaurant perched on a cliff overlooking the Adriatic, and afterwards diving into the deep-turquoise water where our lunch had been caught.

A writing highlight was my stay at Castello di Ugento, a sprawling and now sumptuous castle dating back to Norman times that has been in the d’Amore family for nearly 400 years. Another was Il Convento di Santa Maria di Costantinopoli, the home and guesthouse of Lord Alistair McAlpine, whose extraordinary collection includes Australian Aboriginal art, wonderful tribal textiles and a lineup of Sidney Nolans. All of which adorns the Convento’s walls, built thick five centuries ago to repel both heat and Turks, according to Athena McAlpine, the late lord’s enchanting Greek wife. And I discovered, thanks to Athena, the Byzantine frescoes covering the walls of the tiny church of Santo Stefano in Soleto, one depicting a Catholic monk as the devil as Salento had been – and the artist obviously was – Greek Orthodox.

The heel of the boot is a summer playground for both Italians and Europeans from colder corners, who consider the peninsula’s beaches to be amongst Italy’s finest. But to have magnificent Byzantine art such as this only 20 minutes away – and then to be the only one there, to have the opportunity to commune so intimately with history – this is what I really love about Salento.

It was the final weeks of the John Craxton exhibition at the Benaki Museum in Athens and while I’d written a story on the philhellenic British artist, I’d never actually seen one of his paintings. I made a last-minute trip across the Adriatic with the view of also putting together an art-centric Athens guide for an online platform. What a city. The Greek capital gets a bad rap from a lot of Aussies, most of whom have never spent time there, but look beyond its sometimes gritty edges and the singularity of Rome or Paris can be felt tenfold in Athens. It is smaller and more provincial than its more sophisticated European cousins although for me, therein lies its charm.

Athenians are proud and industrious, and in surviving the “crisis” as they did – their recession was the longest of any advanced economy in history – their city has emerged as one of the most dynamic in Europe. The art scene is on fire, with major international galleries establishing outposts in (Gagolsian), or relocating to (Carwan Gallery), Athens. A $4.6 billion private collection of modern masters has been made public (Goulandris Foundation) while the jewels of the Parthenon are settling into their sublime new home at the base of the rock. The Acropolis Museum is in fact so sublime it reads like a template of the ideal museum of the future and makes its British counterpart, home to the looted Parthenon Marbles, seem frumpy.

Athens’ parade of museums – the Cycladic, Byzantine, Benaki, the just-renovated National Gallery and the spectacular National Archaeological Museum – is reason enough on its own to visit. Not that the Greek capital languishes on a dusty pedestal: youth culture and a vibrant emerging art scene continue to reshape the city. Add to this great design and cool hotels – Mona, Shila, The Modernist and Perianth Hotel are favourites – exceptional food and wine, amazing nightlife, the Athens Riviera and the truly wonderful Athenians who above all else make their hometown a delight.

I had a day in Rome before flying home and decided to brave the Vatican Museums. Toward the end of the marathon schlep is the Gallery of Maps, a 120-metre hall lined with 40 panels that were painted by a 16th-century friar, charting the ancient regions of the Italian peninsula. The first map was “Salentum” and there it was with an extra “t” – Mattino. A circle was closing, for now, and it was time to go home.

I held back tears of joy five times along my journey. The first time was leaving Bangkok as I processed my stay, a rich and life-changing experience. The next was walking out of the airport in Athens and seeing those fabled hills bathed in Attica light, as pristine today as they surely were at the time of Achilles. I had the same feeling entering the Craxton exhibition and coming face to face with his self portrait. And then again walking across the tarmac to the blue-and-white Aegean Airlines plane that would take me back to Rome, soaking up the last of that pure Greek sunshine and contemplating what turned out to be the highlight of the trip. The fifth time was the final leg of the journey, slicing through the magnificent Upper Hunter landscape as the train approached Murrurundi. After all the galavanting it was great to be home.

It’s a song that has touched the hearts of many, including Grace Brennan, founder of Buy from The Bush. “We first got in touch with Jimbo when we were doing our ‘gift for those in lockdown’ series. Talented people were sending in pieces of music, songs, bush poetry to offer a moment’s escape from lockdown. It was a way of the bush returning the love to the city when they needed it. He sent us a song and we shared it,” explains the Warren-based 2021 NSW Regional Woman of the Year. “When it came to launching Atlas, I asked him to send me the film. We watched it in the office and ended up with tears rolling down our cheeks and scrambling for tissues. Such a beautiful story told so well.”

But the path to country music was not always a straightforward one for Jimbo, who originally trained as an opera singer. Christine Douglas, a very talented soprano and one of Australia’s leading singing teachers, taught him in Sydney for a few years. “I’m so delighted for him that he’s found his niche,” she says about the launch of Atlas. “He came to me for classical singing, but after a while I asked him to bring his guitar to a lesson. He showed me what he was doing at home, at which point I told him that’s where he should be heading. I think he must have known that inside all along.”

After starting out life on a sheep and cattle station near Tamworth and then moving to another property called Cullingral at Merriwa when he was 12, Jimbo could have simply sought a life on the land after leaving school. “Was there an expectation that I would go onto a farm? No, not really. Mum was a doctor. They both encouraged us to get a career outside of farming. With six children [Jimbo has three older siblings from his father’s first marriage], they saw life on the land as a luxury, a nice thing to do, and they also saw it as a massive risk to put all your eggs in one basket,” he explains.

Consequently, Jimbo worked for several years in the corporate world after graduating with a Bachelor of Commerce and Master of Economics from The University of Sydney.

But the call of country life soon proved to be too strong to resist and COVID-19 only accelerated it.

“I was working from home as a management consultant and I had a bit of time in between meetings, so I bought a guitar and started playing. It was the first time I had played consistently since I was 11 or 12 years old,” he says.

He began to write Atlas, a song about his mother, and he also picked up a pencil alongside the guitar and began to sketch portraits which he posted on Instagram. The orders for his drawings began to roll in, giving him enough confidence to quit his job and move to Scone, where a few of his childhood friends were already living — many of them playing for the Scone Brumbies Rugby Club.

“It’s the anchor of the town, the rugby club. And it’s a good crowd, there are two grades in the men’s, they have a women’s team, and the juniors are very strong. A lot of Scone juniors have gone on and played for the Wallabies,” he says.

Today, his brave move has clearly paid off and Jimbo is working for Michael Reid Galleries as a manager, based at the nearby Murrurundi gallery.

“I realised I needed a creative outlet and that I much preferred to be living in the country,” he says. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Jimbo’s latest work is part of the New Crop exhibition at Michael Reid Murrurundi which is on from October 13–19, 2022.

Jimbo’s Address Book

1. The Cottage. This well-known restaurant’s reputation has made it a dining destination over the years for out-of-towners, but locals also love to meet here on weekends for a casual breakfast. “I’m a sucker for a morning coffee at a cafe. Saturday morning is generally the time when our household has no commitments, so it has become a bit of a ritual to head down to The Cottage for a pre rugby breakfast,” says Jimbo. “At night it’s obviously a top-class restaurant, but in the morning it has a nice, relaxed atmosphere.”

196 Kelly Street, Scone NSW. Telephone (02) 6545 1215. thecottagescone.com

2. Scone Golf Club. A quick round at this new nine-hole golf course is one of the reasons living in Scone is so attractive to Jimbo.

Aberdeen Street, Scone NSW. Telephone (02) 6545 1814. sconegolfclub.com.au

3. Belmore Hotel. This historic pub on the main street of Scone first opened its doors in 1866 and is only a short walk from Jimbo’s home in Scone. A great bar menu and trivia is on every Wednesday at 7pm. “It’s tradition to head there after a game and Thursday night training,” says Jimbo.

96-98 Kelly Street, Scone NSW. Telephone (02) 7209 5477.

4. Linga Longa Inn.  A 15 minute drive out of Scone, this pub on the banks of the beautiful Pages River is a favourite of Jimbo’s. “A great Sunday destination for lunch and a few drinks,” he says.

2 Riley Street, Gundy NSW. Telephone (02) 6545 8121. lingalongainn.com.au

5. The Thoroughbred. This distinctive building is on the corner on the right hand side of Kelly Street as you come into Scone from Sydney. “We go to The Belmore for a beer and The Thoroughbred for a steak,” says Jimbo. “They have one of the best 800g rib eye steaks I’ve ever had.”

222 Kelly Street, Scone NSW. Telephone (02) 6545 3669. thethoroughbredscone.com

James teamed up with 3 x CMAA Producer of the Year Rob McCormack on his debut single, ‘Atlas’, which dropped on August 18th this year.

Watch the entire thing below.

Music video: @_stephaniehunter

Album cover: @chelseasburke