Up the Creek from Kempsey

I was at work last week when a customer asked where would be a nice place to camp away from the crowds. A bit of a tall order during January School Holidays.

I recommended a couple of places, and looked at a map and saw a couple of others which I had no knowledge of, so I consulted a friend, Kev Smith, who is a wealth of local knowledge. When I found out the customer was an overseas visitor, I recommended a couple more sights and she invited me to join her.

We both had a little difficulty initially finding the camp site which is on a TSR.(Click here for a location map) but the views along the way were very spectacular.

The view up the valley.

More information can be found on Kev's web page

This is a two  way road used by trucks.

The return trip home was via Slim Dusty's childhood  home at Nulla Nulla Creek where at the age of 16 he wrote "When the Rain Tumbles Down in July"
 

Another resident from this area, Shorty Ranger, who lived just down the road and was a lifelong friend of Slim's, wrote a song which I was reminded of as we drove past Five Day Creek.

"from Five Day Creek to Kempsey it took weeks to bring a load"

This is from  "The Old Rusty Bell" and it went like this. 

 While admiring  this part of Australian History, we were lucky enough for the property manager to pass by and he stopped for a chat. The property is still in Slims family.

Hear "The Pub with no Beer"  by Slim Dusty

and just for Petra, "Cafe' Zonder Bier"  by Bobbejaan Schoepen

Oh it's-a lonesome away from your kindred and all

By the campfire at night we'll hear the wild dingoes call

But there's-a nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear

Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer

Now the publican's anxious for the quota to come

And there's a far away look on the face of the bum

The maid's gone all cranky and the cook's acting queer

Oh what a terrible place is a pub with no beer

Then the stockman rides up with his dry dusty throat

He breasts up to the bar and pulls a wad from his coat

But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer

As the barman says sadly the pub's got no beer

Then the swaggie comes in smothered in dust and flies

He throws down his roll and rubs the sweat from his eyes

But when he is told, he says what's this I hear

I've trudged fifty flamin' miles to a pub with no beer

Now there's a dog on the v'randa, for his master he waits

But the boss is inside drinking wine with his mates

He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear

It's no place for a dog 'round a pub with no beer

And old Billy the blacksmith, the first time in his life

Why he's gone home cold sober to his darling wife

He walks in the kitchen, she says you're early Bill dear

But then he breaks down and tells her the pub's got no beer

Oh, Billy the blacksmith, rides home on his horse

The cops bull him over, but he's sober of course

He blows in the bag and they all shed a tear

It's no place for a Booze bust 'round a pub with no beer

Oh it's hard to believe that there's customers still

But the money's still tinkling in the old ancient till

The wine buffs are happy and I know they're sincere

When they say they don't care if the pub's got no beer

These are not the original lyrics, there are many different versions and I will try and find John Williamson's version that I was lucky enough to hear him perform at the first Country Music Show held at the pub in the 1970's