A tiring day. On reflection, I'm glad I spread the drive to Geelong over four days and not the original three but I regret not spreading it over more. Even though the distances are manageable - or were manageable - day in and day out, especially in temperatures around the old 100F mark, makes for sapping days.
Early start, which was an advantage and we got to Cowra mid morning. On advice, we revisited the scene of the Cowra Breakout, a previously underwhelming plaque in a paddock of building remnants. Glad we did, for they have created an excellent retelling of history. Sitting under the shade of a replica guard tower, a sensor brings to life and excellent audio presentation which retells the events of August 1944, when more than a thousand Japanese POWs led a bloody charge to escape the prison camp. Many were injured and many more killed - some of the Japanese by their own hand, dying by suicide rather than going back into captivity.
There had been a camp on the spot since the early 1940s, predominantly Italians captured in North Africa. They were an amiable lot, many on day-release to work on local farms. The arrival of the Japanese changed the vibe of the camp. They wouldn't give their real names for fear of the disgrace of being captured. They agitated for changed and had to be kept separated from other prisoners. Eventually, to control their behaviour, Australian authorities decided to send the enlisted men to a different camp. This was a bridge too far. The revolt on August 5 - a year before the USA dropped atomic weapons on Japan - in the early hours, they attacked the fences and personnel with forks, knives and bats. Four Australian soldiers were killed, 231 Japanese.
Its a sober place but the signage is very effective and you are free to walk the grounds. Its was far too hot a day for strolling. Back in town, we also watched a clever holographic history of the event at the recently flooded information centre and had a nice coffee at the nearby cafe.
The next stop was a short one but iconic. That dog is still on the tucker box just outside of our destination, Gundagai, where he was when Prime Minister Joe Lyons unveiled him. Almost always misquoted and his deed sanitised, the original tale in the poem Bullocky Bill bears the actual truth of the tale. Bill, blessed with bad luck all day in trying to move his team and exhausted, returned to find his dog has shat in his tucker box. We played Where's Wally with the statue and moved on.
The luxury of being undercover of shade for a second night was not lost on us.
After dinner, we went for a walk into the main street. Gundagai seems a well maintained town, where
many of the original shops have been retained, even if repurposed. There are some thoughtful sculptures, including an action depiction of Yarri and Jacky, two Wiradjui men who performed heroic rescues two save most of the 69 European residents caught when the Murrumbidgee turned nasty in June 1852. Over a twenty four hour period, without rest, their picked survivors out of trees and off rooves and transported them to safety in their bark canoe. 80 died in one of Australia's worst natural disasters.
We slept well.
337 @ 12.44 L/100km (712 @ 11.85 L/100kms)
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