No 4 Mount Gambier

When you enter the Mount Gambier district you enter a land of eternal mystery — eternal because it must always be the guardian of many of Nature's unsolved riddles. You climb through the mist over the Tantanoola ranges, crawl past Glencoe, and before you lie the pine-crowned heights which Grant saw on that memorable December morning in 1800, when, from the decks of the Lady Nelson, he espied two high mountains, "one very like the Table Hill at the Cape of Good Hope," which he christened, one after Admiral Schanck, and the other "Gambier's Mount." Captain-Lieutenant Grant was an officer of his Majesty's navy, was the first white man to set eyes on Mount Gambier, and he gave to the South-East the distinction of being the first portion of South Australia to be discovered.

50,000 YEARS OF HISTORY

To claim for Mount Gambier 50,000 years of history is no exaggeration. Its story, read by science, began with the great volcanic eruption which almost shook this portion of the continent to pieces. That appalling piece of natural ferocity happened 50,000 years ago. Today the volcano is dead. Its craters form the series of remarkable lakes which are one of the wonders of the world. Everywhere there are caves and subterranean passages, extraordinary springs, waters of distinct colors, the civic riddle known as the Town Hall cave, which gulps down the storm waters of the town and conveys them — no one knows where. Finally there is that great hole in the centre of the road to Port McDonnell, now fenced off by a square stone wall into which a horse and dray once fell, and were seen no more. The water in one of the lakes is green, in another brown, and in the third blue. The colors never change, except that sometimes they are more intense than at others. All three are part of the one great volcano, and lie close together. Probably there are a great many other mysterious wonders yet to be discovered, for no serious attempt has been made to tear aside the curtain which hides the explanation of all these things.

Mount Gambier is one of the won ders of the world. The trouble is it doesn't know it. Australians have not yet learned the art of commercialising their scenic attractions for the benefit of the jaded tourist. They should learn from their cousins across the Pacific. Mount Gambier should be a magnet for the world's bored, in search of something new.

ONCE A SHEEP STATION

Once Mount Gambier was a sheep station. Today the population of the district verges on 15,000. That is a startling lesson in closer settlement — and closer settlement is the problem of the South-East. Compton station, the original site of Mount Gambier, probably employed less than 10 men. Now 15,000 are winning their living from the soil, directly and indirectly. No need to ask which is the better for the State!

"But," you will probably argue, "you are comparing conditions 60 or 70 years ago with those of today."

I am not. For the same conditions which existed 70 yeans ago still prevail over a large nart of the garden land of the South-East. That is something that has to be faced — and solved. And it must be solved honorably. But the evil of losing up the best lands of the State should not be perpetuated. That would be a crime of high treason against the State.

It is a curious fact that the name of Hastings Cunningham, who founded the town of Mount Gambier in 1854, is not perpetuated by the corporation. That is an omission which should be rectified. Also, something better should be done to commemorate the discoverer of the Mount. These omissions will, I suppose, be rectified some day.

LAND OF FLOWERS

The first impression one receives of Mount Gambier is that one is in a land of flowers — of maidenhair fern, of giant dahlias 10 inches across, miniature sunflowers the like of which are not to be found in Adelaide, of fairy-tinted autumn leaves — all the product of rich volcanic soil. The land around will grow anything. It is the Promised Land of South Australia. Of the buildings, the modern roads, the electric light, the water supply, and all the regular etceteras of a city, I do not intend to write. Mount Gambier has them all.

Better than these things, in these days of depression, she has a prosperous people. It is not to be pretended that the Mount has not been touched by the great black cloud which is only now lifting from the groaning shoulders of the world, but one can say in all truth that this town, favored of the gods, has felt the burden more lightly than any other. Proof of this may be found in the building activity. Last year, in the city of Unley, with its population of some 60,000, one house was erected. In Mount Gambier dozens have been built, and others are still going up. This prosperity is not make believe. I saw it for myself.

For two days the Mayor (Mr. William Hay) drove me around the district, and pointed out these wonders. If new houses are not wonders under present day conditions, then nothing is won derful. Only recently a hard-headed bank paid £10,000 for a small corner block in Commercial street on which to establish a branch. Mount Gambier has a picture theatre — the Capitol — equal to anything in Adelaide, both as regards size and appointments. It seats 1,750. Imagine that — 500 more than the Adelaide Town Hall. And on Saturday evening, every seat was occupied. I also saw that for myself!

MOORAK ESTATE

The people are very keen on closer settlement. At the same time they are against compulsory resumption. They think that now, with wool at a low ebb, and taxation high, landowners might be prepared to deal reasonably with the Government in any move made for the acquisition of desirable estates. Doubtless they are strengthened in this belief by the success of the Moorak subdivision. This scheme was one — and possibly the only one — of the outstanding closer settlement successes. Before it was subdivided in 1911 it carried sheep and five boundary riders. Today there are over 100 prosperous settlers on blocks ranging from 20 to 60 acres. The land is of wonderful quality. There have been a few failures, but not many.

Most of the men who failed ought never to have gone on the land. This raises another problem. Farming is largely a matter of the man. There is a proportion of so-called farmers who seemingly think the soil ought to produce anything just by looking at it. One gets a very good idea of this by comparing neighboring farms, where the conditions are exactly similar, except as to the methods of the workers. On one there is a luxuriant crop; on the other a collection of sickly looking plants. The difference between the two methods is chiefly — work.

I do not want to preach. That is not my job. But I am constrained to remark that I saw a lot of these examples in the South-East, and the renditions were explained to me by practical men who knew all the circumstances. I will quote a true and typical case. A returned soldier had a block of 65 acres on a certain rich estate. It was potato land, and he failed to make a "go" of it. He was soon in difficulties. A practical man and his two sons came along and leased the block for the season. They did not work themselves, but employed men to plough, harrow, clean, scarify, mould, dig bag, and cart the produce. Despite the fact that potatoes were the lowest price that season for some years, the three made a profit of £250 each. That is why I say farming is largely a question of the man.

DAIRYING — AND LOW-GRADE HERDS

On the Saturday afternoon that I went over the Moorak estate I called at the public hall. A working bee was in progress. Men were laying a footway of Mount Gambier stone from the gate to the doors. The women were getting afternoon tea. The scene typified the spirit of Moorak — co-operation. One saw it everywhere, even in the Union Church, where the people worshipped together irrespective of denominational differences. I saw a block of maize 11 ft. high. It was on the property of Mr. A. E. Patching. Mr. Patching has been on his block for 10 years. Every second year he puts in a crop of maize, and the last three crops have been 10 ft. or more high.

The success of Moorak has been due to the cow. Talking to Mr. J. Mc Connon, the local teacher, and a graduate in arts, he told me that dairying had been the "one bright spot on the horizon." This was ascribed to the cheese stabilisation scheme, which has been of great assistance to the settlers. Some of the land is given over to potatoes, and on the sandy out skirts of the settlement are a few sheep. Pigs have been a failure. Most of the farmers have got rid of them. Weaners have been sold for as low as 2/6. A few shrewd men are holding on to their pigs. They know they will come again.

All these men were unanimous about the cow. But as I drove round the district I could not help remarking on the low grade quality of many of the herds. In nearly every case they were mixed breeds, and often not too good at that. After viewing the magnificent pastures the question occurred to me, "What sort of a return could these farmers get with purebred stock and tested herds?" But there is every prospect of an early improvement. An excellent lead is shortly to be given by the Sutton Town School Project Club, which is starting a pure herd move. They propose to borrow £60 to secure Illawarra Shorthorns, and to demonstrate to the younger farmers the value of purebred stock.

LOCAL GENIUS

On the way back we called at the farmhouse of Mr. B. Kannenberg. He is one of the most interesting person ages in the district. That is hearsay, because when we got there everybody was away. The doors were not locked, and we made ourselves at home. Mr. Hay told me Mr. Kannenberg is a local genius. He is a dairy farmer and potato grower. In his spare time he is an electrician, printer, blockmaker, photographer, colorist, and I don't know what else. It was strange to find in the farm yard workshop a completely fitted-up printing plant, piles of local photographs, beautifully colored, and zinc plates in various stages of etching. Mr. Kannenberg manufactures a great portion of the colored views of the Mount, which are sold in the town. It is curious that they should be produced in the "bush."

BUSHRANGING DAYS

Mail services between the South East and Adelaide have improved somewhat since the earliest days of the settlement. When the first mails were carried they took six days by horse to reach the city. When the coach route was opened in 1862, with relays of horses at given points, the time was reduced to three days. The coach had been running for about a year when one night it was stuck up by bushrangers in Stewart's Range, between Narracoorte and Kingston. The driver was "Bobby" Arthur, a popular knight of the reins. Bobby's hands were tied behind his back, and he was made to lie on his face while the bushrangers rifled the mail bags. They took one of his horses, and left the other, but declined to untie his hands. He was therefore compelled to walk to the nearest township before he could be liberated, and there the matter was reported to the police. The robbers, however, were never caught, although a reward of £200 was offered for their apprehension. The man suspected of the outrage was the notorious Gardiner. He subsequently became a respectable hotelkeeper in Queensland. Unfortunately he had a difference with a jealous woman, and she betrayed him to the police.

TRADE WITH MELBOURNE

One of the complaints against Mount Gambier in Adelaide is that so much trading is done with Victoria. I looked into this matter especially, and, candidly, I do not think anything we can do will remedy it. We may recapture and hold certain portions of the South-Eastern business, but Victoria will still get the bulk of it. In the first place, there is the broad gauge railway direct from Mount Gambier to Portland, and connecting with Melbourne. Against this we have a narrow gauge line with transhipment to the broad gauge at Wolseley. There are those in the city who say that the rebuilding of the South-Eastern rail way to eliminate the break of gauge will work a magic transformation. I for one do not believe it. I doubt whether the conversion of the line is worth the money it would cost. I am certain a modern road would be better.

Taking a commonsense view of the South-Eastern question, one is forced to the conclusion that trade, like water, follows a natural course. By road Adelaide is 303 miles distant, Melbourne 276, and Portland 70. From Mount Gambier to Melbourne there is a good road. To Adelaide there is no road worth the name!

Now I am going to say something that will not make me popular in the city. The trading methods of Adelaide people are too conservative. Melbourne business houses are penetrating the South-East more and more. They are more alive than we are to local requirements. They are helped by their railways; ours are retarded by departmental red tape. Let me give an actual illustration.

A certain Mount Gambier stock agent had several hundred head of fat stock to be transported for agistment. They could have been sent by road, but it was deemed best to dispatch them by rail, as they would reach market in good condition. To send them to Adelaide certain formalities had to be complied with. A declaration had to be signed that the stock would be held for agistment eight weeks. At the end of that, period another declaration was required that this had been done. Full rates had to be paid, but if the department was satisfied at the end of the period that the particulars supplied were correct, they would refund 25 per cent of the freight. The matter was put to the Victorian railways. None of these annoying formalities were necessary. They provided a special train, carried the stock at "starving stock" rates, and landed them in Melbourne next morning. In that one case South Australian railways lost over £100. If we want this trade we have got to understand that we are in the keenest competition with Victoria — and act accordingly.

I discussed this aspect of the South East problem with Mr. L. A. DeGaris. He assured me that between 50 and 60 per cent. of the storekeepers' trade was with Melbourne, and the development of road transport had intensified the problem. He said the fat stock trade was about equally divided between the two capitals. The reason was that the freight was about the same, and the stuff went to whichever market hap pened to provide the best prospects at the moment. Just now Adelaide is attracting this trade. When it is remembered that something like 400,000 lambs are bred in the south-east each year the magnitude of the business is realised. Victoria gets a big proportion of this trade because there are large areas of good agistment land in that State for use in travelling sheep, whereas in South Australia the large portions of good country are separated by 100 miles of desert.

PORT MACDONNELL

One Sunday afternoon, when the rain was coming down only as it knows to rain in Mount Gambier, Mr. Hay motored me out to Port MacDonnell. Years ago this was a thriving seaport. All the trade of the eastern south-east entered by its doors, and wool came to it by bullock dray, for export from as far away as Tailem Bend. All that glory has departed.

Today Port MacDonnell is a tourist resort — and a most interesting one — but nothing more. Between 1876 and 1882 its total trade represented £1,256,000. Today it is nil.

Port MacDonnell is full of memories — recollections of the good old days, of Adam Lindsay Gordon, whose home at Dingley Dell is not far distant, of historic storms and fearful shipwrecks. Its coast is strewn with the hulks of the St. Mark, Countess, Mi Mi, Prince of Wales and Lotus. Between Port MacDonnell and Beachport 33 vessels have left their bones upon the rocks.

When I saw it the wind was howling and the rain was pelting. The end of the jetty was under water and the waves were breaking over the shore embankment. MacDonnell is not a port. It never was. Possibly it could have been a port if vested interests had not blocked the way. The jetty is in the wrong place. Boats had to anchor a mile and a quarter out, and the cargo was lightered to and from them. Despite these drawbacks it might have weathered the storm of elimination, and retained some of its former maritime glory, but for the short-sighted policy of the local wharf workers. They struck for higher rates. The boats left; they have never returned.

One of the live wires of Port Mac Donnell is Mr. G. G. Kerrison. He represents six feet something of substantial masculinity. He has a fund of old-time stories, and a box full of old-time photos, legacies handed down by his parents and grand-parents, for the history of the Kerrisons of Port MacDonnell goes back to the foundation of the place itself — and before. He will show you, with a great deal of justifiable pride, the medal presented to his father — and to five others — by the French Government in recognition of their rescue work when the French brig St. Mark gave up an unequal contest with a south-east coast storm, and a parchment letter of thanks from the same nation. Perhaps he might contrast this with the scant courtesy of his own country, which, impelled by a wave of economy, abandoned the lifeboat station recently, and dismissed the crew without so much as a "thank you" for the excellent work done in past years. That sort of thing might pass without comment in the city; in the country it makes a bad impression.

Mr. Kerrison has been a naval man and a policeman. He went to China in the Protector at the time of the Boxer ris ing. He was in the guard of honor to his Majesty the King when he arrived in Melbourne, and again when he reached Adelaide.

MT. GAMBIER PECULIARITIES

The town of Mt. Gambier has many natural advantages not possessed by other places. It has an inexhaustible supply of perfect drinking water, which is obtained from the Blue Lake (266 ft. deep) simply by pumping. It is believed that the water comes under ground from the Snowy River, and it has an outlet at Bubbling Springs and Ewen's Ponds, near Port MacDonnell. The Town Hall Cave, the great, mysterious hole at the rear of the municipal headquarters, drains the town of floodwaters. After the heaviest deluges the streets are free of water in a few moments. Where it goes to no one knows. The theory is that it drains into an underground river and goes out to sea. Finally there is a remarkable sanitary system, the like of which, possibly, exists nowhere else in the world. The sewage is carried from the houses into limestone pits, and there percolates into the ground and disappears. As I said previously, Mt. Gambier is a land of mystery.

The town is fortunate in another respect. It has an enthusiastic mayor in Mr. William Hay, and an able town clerk in Mr. A. Shepherdson. Mr. Hay is a prominent business man. He was in the council for six years before he was elected to the chair. He has been mayor for three terms. He is very popular, and his re-election would not be surprising. He has a splendid second in the mayoress, whose work in a great number of directions is very widely appreciated.

NEXT WEEK How Tom Cawker "bossed" the King. Tales About Penola.