Chapter 10: Narrabri and Armidale

I made good time in the morning, but Narrabri was nothing like what I recalled. Thirty years had totally altered the town. There were many new buildings and there was an atmosphere that I didn’t recall sensing. When I registered at the Crossroads Hotel, I realized that the park, the CSIRO and the agricultural wealth had totally altered the ambience of what had been a small town. A pamphlet proclaimed Narrabi “the second richest agricultural shire in Australia.”

A glance at the women drinking tea/coffee/whatever in the sun revealed that this wasn’t where I wanted to be: they had spent far too much on their hair and clothes – I’d learned a lot in Perth and Sydney. I shuddered inwardly as I read: “Narrabri has a wide selection of eating experiences and is known for local produce such as olives and olive oils, sundried tomatoes, wine and tea. It also boasts a foodie culture.”

I’d have a snack lunch, a good dinner, and be off to Armidale in the morning.

I washed up and then strolled a bit. I had a really good sandwich at Watson’s Kitchen, where I learned that the bakery had two shop fronts within the one building. The front shop which I accessed via Maitland Street offered more services and greater seating at ground level, upstairs area and on a balcony overlooking the main street. There was an express counter on the side.

I then walked over to the Old Gaol, now a museum, which wasn’t open.

Built in the 1880s by Colonial Architect James Barnet the gaol became a home for the wayward in September 1882 and operated as a medium security prison for 100 years. Although the planned capacity of the gaol was 32 inmates, up to 49 have been accommodated. Nobody was ever hanged in the Gaol.

After its closure the Narrabri Historical Society was invited to house their collection in the Old Gaol section, and the museum opened in 1988. Visitors can experience the austere “feel” of the building with its cells, exercise yard and a black tracker’s hut.

The tracker’s hut reminded me of my unfinished Bony, so I walked back to the Crossroads, got my book and sat outside, ordering a beer. I got about five or six pages in when a charming voice asked whether the other chair was taken. I looked up to see a short-haired blonde in her late thirties.

“No, it’s free.”

“Are you here for long?”

“No, just overnight.”

“Oh. Are you with the astronomers?”

“No. Just travelling.”

She was trolling, but I wasn’t even nibbling at the bait.

“My husband’s with the CSIRO,” she offered.

“That’s nice.” I wondered whether they lived in Canberra, but refrained from asking.

“We live in Parkes.”

Aha! I’d nibble. “Oh, he’s a radio-astronomer.”

“You know that stuff?”

“No. I just know that the CSIRO unit is in Parkes.”

She seemed defeated by my lack of engagement. “Well, nice talking to you.”

“Bye.” I went back to Bony, who was still involved with a death in Queensland. But it didn’t last long. This time it was a slightly older woman. She, too, moved on. But I realized that I was just prey sitting here. I’d have to find a different site for reading. I finished my beer and went out for a walk, taking the Upfield with me.

I walked down Maitland Street, intending to sit in the park near Narrabri Creek. But I noticed a branch of the Commonwealth Bank, went in and checked my balance and withdrew several hundred dollars in cash. Then I walked over to the park, sat and read for over an hour, Bony (of course) solving the case. I then walked back to the hotel, where I asked the woman at the desk whether she could phone Lindsay House in Armidale and see whether they could accommodate me for two or three nights.

I put the Upfield away and changed my shirt. I’d do laundry in Armidale (or get it done). Actually, as Armidale was a university town, there’d be wash-a-terias. I’d walked past The Outback Shack on Maitland and decided to go there for a big dinner. Stopping by the desk, I received the news that Lindsay House couldn’t “accommodate” me. Oh well. I’d find someplace else.

The Outback Shack proved to be a good choice. I had rump steak and pork ribs with a salad and chips and chocolate mousse for dessert. When I got back, the woman asked whether she should try other places in Armidale. I said I wasn’t certain what was available, but that I certainly wanted to be near NERAM [the New England Regional Art Museum]. She looked a a map and suggested the Alluna Motel. I agreed and she phoned while I stood there, making a booking for two nights.

In the morning I had a pleasant breakfast – undisturbed by lonely females (probably not astir yet) – and got on the road. I took the southern route, past Tamworth, but I didn’t stop there – I just wasn’t interested in country music, nor the new botanic gardens. Crossing the Peel River was interesting, though. It was low on water and the riverbed was choking with new brush and grass.

I found the Alluna quite easily, established that I’d get breakfast in the morning, and got the information as to how to get to Kentucky Street, where both NERAM and the Aboriginal Cultural Centre were located. I went to NERAM, or rather to Studio 52, which was a cafe, where I had a sparse lunch.

NERAM was running three different shows: one of Rennie Ellis’ photographs; one of small watercolours by James White; and one of a variety of landscapes. I enjoyed Ellis’ photos, but most of them were from my teenage years, some even earlier. White’s watercolours were quite amazing: for the most part, they were post-card-sized and quite accurate. His birds were especially worthwhile. It was getting late, so I saved the landscapes for tomorrow.

I walked past the Cultural Centre and found that I’d just missed an exhibit ‘Stories from No-Man’s Land, ‘ but something else would be visible. I’d come by here tomorrow, too.

It was pleasant out, a bit cooler than the desert area, even though it was now October and it should be warming up. I’d picked up a pamphlet about local restaurants and stopped to look at it. There didn’t seem to be a bench or a large rock, so I propped myself against a sign that read “Museum Parking,” after all, I was parking me.

It looked as though there was a cluster of restaurants just the far side of the Alluna, though they appeared to be assorted ethnic: Chinese, Thai, Mexican, Sushi, Indian, etc. I’m certain I could make do. And I’d have walked enough to want to sit down and eat.

I settled on Delicious Noodle. It looked and smelled right for a Chinese noodle house. I ordered Ja Jang Mein – noodles with black bean sauce – and smashed cucumber. They were delicious. I decided I’d be back for another meal.

Back at the Alluna, I phoned Patrick. But Rachel answered the phone. We spoke for a few minutes and I told her that I’d been at NERAM and was going back to a landscape show in the morning.