I hope you enjoy this account I wrote about of my trip to Melbourne. How I love these visits. I wonder why it is so important for me to see and touch the places my ancestors lived.
The early wake up call was not needed as I was already awake at 3.30 a.m. to catch my 6.00 a.m. flight. Excitement was building in anticipation of next eight days that would be filled with researching my ancestors and hopefully with many wonderful discoveries. Marvellous Melbourne is a city that I will never tire of visiting. It is where so many of my ancestors started there life in a wild new land.
During the four hour flight my mind was filled with the many places that I intended to visit. My thoughts were also with my children who I was leaving behind. I knew that they would be well looked after in the capable hands of their dad and my mum but the tear stained face of my 8 year old daughter was still fresh in my mind. For the past week she had been constantly at my side dreading the day when I was to go. I also was not looking forward to saying goodbye to her. She is a jewel in my crown. I left with promises of daily phone calls and lots of hugs on my return.
After a pleasant flight with breakfast and movie “The Rainman” we landed right on time. I caught a cab straight to my hotel in the heart of the city. The All Seasons Swanston Premier Hotel was a welcomed sight. This was my second stay here and my executive suite was most hospitable. In the entry was a side table and mirror, on top of the table was a vase holding a lovely purple orchid. In the lounge area stood a side board with TV, stereo, microwave, and mini bar. There was a lounge suite of a light shade of blue and a tall lampstand in one corner. In the other corner was a spacious desk with lamp where I would be spending may hours reading, writing, thinking and planning. The bedroom had a wardrobe with mirrors from wall to ceiling that went the full length of the room. This was to be my home for the next five days. After unpacking my clothes I sorted my many files and papers from my briefcase to the spacious desk. I sat on the lounge suite wondering where first to visit.
How exhilarated I felt to be finally here. Being a mother of three children still at school, doing voluntary work for a local parent support group, and keeping up to date books for my husbands and my business keeps me so busy. But here I was in a city thousands of miles from home no one to care for but myself. I could eat, drink, sleep, read, write or just do nothing at all. How great that feels. A complete break from the pressures and demands of home. I wondered if these feelings were normal, should I feel so great to be away from home. Twinges of guilt were starting to rise within me but I pushed them aside knowing how much I needed this break.
The first place on my list to visit was the Public Record Office. I ordered many documents to view but will never forget the first original document that I held. It was the will of my great great grandfather, Henry Martyr. As I walked from the counter to my viewing desk I could feel my heart beating faster. I seated myself comfortably and slowly took the document out of its plastic holder. It was tied with a piece of thin pink ribbon. Very carefully I untied the bow and opened the pages out. I remember thinking that I am probable the first person to open this since it being archived. The folded pages felt slightly brittle and crunched loudly in protest as I awoke it from many years of slumber. A distinct musty odour could not keep the smile from my face. I scanned the page eager to read his final wishes taking in the style of his handwriting and his choice of words. To be able to touch, smell and read original documents written by my ancestors is something I could never tire of.
The next couple of days I had a wonderful time shopping for history books, visiting the State Library, relaxing in my room reading and taking advantage of room service. What a wonderful invention room service is. After a quick phone call then to sit back sipping on a bourbon and coke awaiting the inevitable knock on the door for a welcoming hot meal wheeled in by a cheerful attendant. Oh yes, I could easily get used to living like this.
One interesting place that I visited was the Old Melbourne Gaol built in the 1850’s. The thick and foreboding walls enhanced the chilling environment of each tiny cell. As I looked upon the death masks of those executed I felt a sadness and wondered what circumstances had brought each one to such a demise. Even though the cells were freshly painted white, the floors swept clean nothing could take away the feeling of tragedy thick in the air. One highlight was seeing the armour of one of the Ned Kelly gang. This well known bushranger and his gang have been the subject of many books. On display was one of Ned’s pistols, photos, his death mask and a short history of the gang. A short distance away was the site of his hanging. A noosed rope dangled from a thick wooden beam from the ceiling. I felt a shiver down my spine as I tried to picture those tragic last moments back in 1880. How glad I was to be greeted by the warm sunny day outside enabling me to quell any gloomy thoughts.
The next morning my eyes slowly blinked at the clock in front of me. I could not believe it was 8.20 a.m. as I was to meet my friend Christine in front of the hotel at 8.30 a.m. to go on our day trip to Pyalong. I knew it had been a mistake to read so late. Throwing back the covers I just stood there for a few seconds not knowing what to do first. Then I was off like a bullet putting on my dress and shoes at the same time. Next was a very rushed job on my hair and makeup. All the while I was laughing to myself saying it was all that stupid books fault. I must have nearly broken the speed record as I met a smiling Christine at 8.32 a.m.
Neither Christine or myself had ever been to Pyalong before and we had been looking forward to this visit for many weeks. We share common ancestors and met through our research. We had met on my previous trip to Melbourne and have been corresponding letter or Email ever since. Christine is a school teacher and we both are addicted to genealogy.
Melbourne is infamous for her weather. It can be sun one minute then the rain seems to come from nowhere. The four seasons can be experienced in one day which you have to see to believe. I was most grateful that the sky was blue with not a cloud in sight and the forecast was most encouraging. We had a short 10 minute walk to Christine’s car and then we were off on our long awaited journey.
I was glad to leave the city behind to see some of the lovely Victorian countryside. It was Autumn so there were paddocks of dry grass and bushland eagerly waiting the winter rains to kick start the cycle of life again. Various gum trees and bottlebrush bushes lined the road. As we came closer to Pyalong I decided the scenery was very like Western Australia but much more hillier. Numerous moss rock were scattered about which resembled massive marbles that appeared ready to roll off at any moment. This was the land that my ancestors first settled, her beauty was obvious but the harsh conditions were often underestimated. What a daunting task it must have been to look to the unknown ahead. Although, no doubt they expected the hard toiling days needed to work the land, yet ever dreaming of contentment and prosperity.
After just over a hours drive from Melbourne we arrived in Pyalong. Our main aim was to visit the old cemetery and see if we could discover their grave sites of some ancestors. We knew that they were in unmarked graves but had been in contact with a lady who had original records of the cemetery and was willing to help us locate the graves. We were too meet her at 10.30 a.m. but as we were early we thought we would take a quick look at the cemetery first.
Pyalong is only a very small township and we had a fair idea where it was situated. With no trouble we found the small sign leading off the main road. The road is named “Reg Walter Drive” after one of our ancestors who spent many years voluntarily caring for the grounds of the cemetery. Quite a grand name for a dirt track which is rather dusty and bumpy. Within a minute we caught our first glimpses of headstones. My heart slumped and my mouth gapped. I had prepared myself for the vision of overgrown unkempt grounds but not sight before me. I noticed a farm house nearby and the surrounding paddocks were neatly kept but the fenced off area of the cemetery was complete disorder. Christine and I looked on in stunned silence for a few seconds. My first thought was “How could the locals allow this to happen”. After our initial shock we got out of the car and walked to the gate looking upon the chaos before us. As it was nearly time to meet Kerryn we decided to come back after we had viewed the cemetery records. This gave me time to come to terms with the shocking state of the grounds.
We were to meet at the community centre and after a most cheerful welcome we went straight in to view the records. Framed on the wall was a large original map of the cemetery. It showed the layout and number of each grave plot. With both the map and the curator records we were able to find our ancestors graves. It was made easier with the fact that they had the first two plots in the first row. After giving our thanks and saying goodbye Christine and I set off again for the cemetery.
It was now just before noon and it was getting rather hot. We parked in the shade of a huge gum tree. Gum trees have a graceful ruggedness which you cannot but admire. We were both eager to find the plots of our ancestors Eliza & William Hiscock so taking a deep breath we set of on our task. Walking through the large gate we paused before walking in the direction the map indicated. The dry grass was so high in places that headstones were nearly hidden. There was a dead tree half standing and half laying on the ground. Many of the headstones were badly damaged some with broken pieces while still others were on such angles that it could not be long before they give in to tides of time. What a crime it is to let the resting place of our pioneers come to such neglect. I felt both angry and frustrated.
The day was still and was turning out to be hotter than anticipated. Neither Christine or myself were properly dressed for tramping through high grass. The danger of snakes in dry grass on a hot day is extreme. More than once I have come face to face with a slithering scaly monster, and this is a confrontation that I did not relish repeating. As I looked franticly for a long stick, Christine started down the crude path stamping her feet as she went. Armed with my stick I followed behind Christine also stomping my feet. We hoped to make our presence felt so as to frighten off any slimy creatures who might obstruct our way.
“How come I am going first”, laughed Christine nervously.
"Your braver than me” I chuckled.
What a funny sight we would have been for any onlooker. Thankfully Eliza & William’s grave sites were in the top corner, if they had been anywhere in the middle of the grounds there would have been no way we would have ventured there.
Finally there we were standing before the unmarked graves. I was experiencing many emotions as Christine and I looked over the site. I thought of how Eliza’s inquest records detailed the suffering she went through with her illness. I wondered what the weather was like and how many family and friends stood here at this spot all those years ago in 1868. William had passed in the year 1876. Why was there no headstone? Had the family meant to place a headstone but never got around to it? I felt great satisfaction as Christine and I had achieved our goal. It was also with much gladness that I was able to share this moment with someone else.
My ultimate goal is to have a plaque placed at their grave site to commemorate Eliza & William’s lives. There is also strong evidence that two grandchildren are buried in the same plot so it would be only right to acknowledge them also. They had drowned in nearby Mollison’s Creek in 1888 at age 5 & 9. I was already mulling over ideas in my mind how to achieve this.
We slowly made our way back to the car to the sanction of some shade. Thankfully Christine had thought to bring an esky filled with drinks. In my rushed morning I had not had anything to drink and my mouth was quite dry. With my thirst quenched I notice also how hungry I was. There was no where in Pyalong to have lunch so we decided to travel to the next town of Heathcote which was about 1/2 hours drive away.
We parked near a football ground where a game of Aussie rules was in progress. After purchasing our lunch we sat on the lawn under a shady tree and watched some footie. I enjoy watching the football and wondered how my team the “Eagles” had gone this weekend back home. Feeling much better after some welcomed food in my stomach we were off to our next appointment with a lady named Jenni. She lived about 40 minutes away and is also tracing the same family line as Christine and myself. We were hopeful that she had some information that would fill in some of the gaps we had in our family files.
Jenni had given us detailed directions so we found her home easily. She was most hospitable and made us a most welcomed cup of tea. We chatted and exchanged information for some time when Jenni left the room. She came back carrying a very old framed photo of a mature aged couple. I commented on what a great photo it was and asked who they were. Her answer nearly made my heart leap. It was Eliza & William Hiscock of the graves we had just visited. I felt like jumping up and doing a victory dance of some sort. As I had only just met Jenni I had to contain myself else she may think I was quite mad. A photo of my GGGGgrandparents was something I never dreamed of seeing. How wonderful to see their faces instead of just names. I glanced at Christine and I knew instantly she was feeling the same.
After a three hour visit we were off on our way home. We decided to return back to Melbourne via Lancefield another small township where some ancestors once lived. About 20 minutes down the road we spied smoke on the horizon. Bushfires are an ever threat in the country at this time of the year. We hoped that it would soon be under control and no homes or lives would be lost. Our early pioneers must have lived in constant fear of a bushfire destroying all that they had worked for.
Nearing the end of Lancefield township we noticed a cemetery. Christine and I looked at each other instantly. The decision was quickly made to stop and have a browse at the headstones to see if we recognised any of the names. This small cemetery was in much better condition than the one at Pyalong. Walking up and down the rows of graves I started to laugh to myself. We truly must be a little crazy. How many people get excited about see a cemetery in the distance? Jokingly, I thought that madness must be part of the criteria of a genealogist. The stop was well worth it as we found a rather large monument to Harry Hiscock who was one of Eliza & William’s sons.
Before we knew it we were back in the city. Christine and I had shared such an exhilarating day together and we were both very pleased with all the information that we had discovered. Saying goodbye to Christine I thanked her for being the driver. Even though I knew I would not see her again this trip I knew that we would be in regular contact via Email. For me this day had been a true adventure.
A day later I was hiring a car and leaving the city to stay at the suburb of Glen Waverley. This is where many of my ancestors had property so I wanted to learn about the local history. This would mean many hours spent in the local libraries reading and photocopying, something I just love doing. I was to stay at the Waverley Inn as it is close to the library, shopping centre and interestingly it is on land that used to be owned by my great great grandparents. The next three days were very busy and I went to bed each night exhausted.
I had arranged a meeting with May Keeley who has lived in the Waverley area all her life. She has also written many books on the local history, several of them have a home on my book shelf. I was most thrilled when she invited me to her home for dinner. She met me out the front of her house and after only a few minutes of chattering it was as though we had known each other for years. We could have gone on talking all night but I was so weary after another busy day and my body was screaming for some sleep.
All too quickly my holiday of March 1998 had come to an end. I don’t know where the eight days had gone. I was feeling a combination of fatigue from the busy days as well as contentment with my many discoveries. Spending time on your own is a great way to get to know yourself a little bit better. This is something I most definitely achieved, but alas it was time to go back to reality and once again resume my duties as mother and housewife. I must admit though, I was already planning my next trip back to Marvellous Melbourne.
