You'd think a small country town would be proud of its close connection to two of Australia's most iconic paintings, wouldn't you? In fact, you'd imagine the local council would have parks and galleries named in the artist's honour. But that doesn't seem to be the case in the pretty Murray River town of Corowa.
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In last week's column (Following in the footsteps of artist Tom Roberts) I found it incongruous that the only public "monument" to Tom Roberts and his famous 1889 Shearing the Rams painting, which was the result of 70 sketches he made at a woolshed on the outskirts of Corowa, was in a modest display at the back the town's Federation Museum.
Well, today I'm on a mission to find the location of A break away! (1891) Roberts' other iconic painting set near Corowa which depicts a drover and his dogs trying to halt a flock of thirsty sheep stampeding towards water, which many, including Roberts himself, believe is among his finest work. But alas, I'm having little luck finding any leads.
The confused console operator at the local service station responds to my query about the famous painter with, "Roberts, did he play cricket for Australia, or something?", while the puzzled volunteer at the Corowa Visitor Information Centre confesses she "has never heard of him", let alone A break away!. Incredible. It's akin to someone at the Giverny Tourist Bureau in France, never having heard of Claude Monet.
I retreat to the Corowa Whisky and Chocolate Factory, housed in a 1920s flour mill and one of the few places open on a Sunday. While enjoying a coffee (no, my waitress hadn't heard or Roberts either) I study my copy of Tom Roberts (Art Gallery of South Australia), penned back in 1996 by none other than former director at the National Gallery of Australia, Ron Radford, along with Jane Hylton.
It provides a clue. The chapter on A break away! mentions that in 1891 while staying near the current Redlands Hill Reserve on the outskirts of Corowa, Roberts "climbed over a boundary fence, and trespassed on the neighbouring run".
That's all I need. Armed with my copy of Radford's book and my binoculars, I head off towards the reserve (and no, I don't bother asking the console operator for directions). On the short drive out of town, I expectantly pull over a number of times to scan the horizon and then hold up my book, open to the page of A break away!, looking for similarities. After several false hopes I soon realise that in 124 years a lot of trees could have been felled and others planted, and that the same spot might no longer resemble that depicted in the painting. Let's face it. I'm on a wild goose chase.
At the entrance of the reserve, clutching my increasingly grubby copy of Radford's text, I continue my search on foot. The bush is littered with ancient gums, some of which by their size predate Roberts' era by hundreds of years. I even stumble on a couple of Aboriginal scar trees. It doesn't take long to realise this thick bush isn't the sort of country where I'm likely to find the famous droving scene
I return to the owie-mobile, both my book and demeanour frayed by the heat, long grass and wayward branches. While I'm sure Radford would have envisaged his book ending up on the coffee tables of art aficionadas, I doubt he could have imagined it being lugged through, and so frequently opened in, a nature reserve.
It's time to call it quits. I head back towards town for another drink at the Whisky and Chocolate Factory, only this time a stiffer one to drown my sorrows. However, on the way I pass a laneway I'd missed on the way out. It looks at least as promising as any other false hope. I quickly throw the Yowie-mobile in reverse and venture down the nondescript dirt track.
It couldn't be, could it? The laneway isn't wide enough to stop safely in the middle of the road, so I carry on 100 metres or so to a driveway where I pull over. The gates are closed, and it looks like no one is home. I park the car, grab my binoculars and camera, a spring now back in my step.
I've barely slammed my car door shut when an old Holden Rodeo ute pulls up alongside me, and a man, clearly the owner of the property, asks me in no uncertain terms what I'm up to.
And I don't blame him. Think about it. If you spotted some yokel dressed like an overgrown boy scout, clutching a pair of binoculars and driving a clapped-out car with interstate numberplates parked outside your gate, you'd ask some probing questions too.
I quickly explain myself, holding up my increasingly ragged Radford reference as evidence.
His response is as unexpected as it is a revelation.
"Oh, you've come to the right spot, that hill is just down there," calmly states the man who introduces himself as Phillip Conroy, pointing towards the exact spot that had caught my eye just minutes earlier.
Phew! Firstly, I'm not about to be hung, drawn and quartered by an irate farmer, and more pertinently my quest is over. Or is it?
Just as I start striding at pace towards the hill, I'm stopped in my tracks. Phillip's charming wife Virginia (Ginnie) invites me in for a cup of tea. You've got to love country hospitality. My holy grail will have to wait.
While Ginnie boils the kettle, Phillip shows me around their restored cottage, initially built in 1878 as the Redlands School house. "They dug the clay to make the bricks and the hole they created became the underground water tank," he explains.
Inside, the Conroy's two-year restoration is almost complete and arguably the piece de resistance is the old classroom with high ceilings and wooden beams. Hanging on the wall is a framed print of Shearing the Rams, but audaciously taking centre stage over the century-old fireplace is a reproduction of A break away!.
I hoe into a piece of Ginnie's homemade fruit slice and skol my cup of coffee. Don't get me wrong, it's a delightful afternoon tea, just what the doctor ordered after a morning snooping in the scrub, but I've only one thing on my mind, getting to that hill, which is so tantalisingly close. Heck, I can even see the top of it out the window.
I politely decline a second cup, grab Radford's book and with all the zeal of a dingo on heat, follow the Conroys down their driveway and towards the infamous hill.
The three of us and Barney, the Conroy's kelpie, are all motionless at the bottom of the hill, looking up. "Well here it is, the road is officially called Jamieson Rd, but we refer to it as Break Away Hill," explains Ginnie, who reveals the road up the hill forms part of their regular morning walk.
Repeatedly I glance down at the print and then back up to survey the vista ahead. Sure, the hill isn't as steep as Roberts depicted it; there are no sheep, nor any drover, and recent rain means it's not as desolate as in the painting but the gum-tree lined track leads up to a ridge just as painted in A break away!. The sky, as in the Roberts masterpiece, is a hurtful blue, and the horizon tapers off to the right through a partially cleared paddock. There's no mistaking it, this is definitely the right spot.
"The chock-and-log fence featured in the painting was probably never there," explains Phillip, adding, "I've read that's a bit of a metaphor to highlight the division between the states, a statement by Roberts on the Federation movement".
I can't quite believe it, I'm here. I'm at the very location of one of our much-loved paintings, which, as Radford explains in his book, along with Roberts' woolshed narratives Shearing the Rams' (1888-90) and The Golden Fleece (1894), and the bushranging scene Bailed Up (1895), "have become icons of Australian cultural identity". This quiet country land should be signposted or marked with a plaque, or something!
Not surprisingly, the Conroys are planning to visit the Tom Roberts exhibition, which opens at the National Gallery of Australia later this week.
Who knows, maybe some of Corowa's civic leaders will use the exhibition as a catalyst to puff out their chest and wholeheartedly embrace their town's close connection with two of Australia's best known and most reproduced paintings.
I know one thing is for sure, on opening day of the exhibition, I'll be heading straight to the gallery's bookshop to purchase a new Tom Roberts book. My copy is now in worse condition than my hat.
Fact file
Corowa: Located about four hours' (400 kilometres) drive south-west of Canberra via Hume Freeway (M31) and B400.
Corowa Whisky & Chocolate: Located in the rustic old Flour Mill, 20 Steel St, Corowa. Open seven days, 9am-4pm. Ph: 02 6033 1311.
The exhibition: Tom Roberts opens at the National Gallery of Australia on 4 December. Tickets available from Ticketek or at the gallery. More: nga.gov.au/roberts or Ph: 6240 6411.
Contact Tim: Email: timtheyowieman@bigpond.com or Twitter: @TimYowie or write c/-The Canberra Times, 9 Pirie St, Fyshwick. You can see a selection of past columns at: canberratimes.com.au/act-news/by/tim-the-yowie-man.
Where in Canberra?
Clue: For the prize, name this summer oasis. Oh, and extra kudos if you can identify the mystery sweeper.
Degree of difficulty: Medium
Last week: Somewhat surprisingly last week's mystery photo, sent in by John Hyslop, attracted a record number of entrants. Congratulations, however, to Henry Kark of Rivett who was first out of the blocks to correctly identify the suburb as Ainslie. "It's Reference D1 on my 1959 Canberra Tourist Map," reports Kark.
In researching their answers many internet-savvy readers turned to Google Maps, however a number of readers identified the location by picking out landmarks. "The big intersection in the centre of the photo is the junction of Tyson, Herbert and Cobb Cres and is right outside my house," reports Coral Dow who must have been looking at the photo with a magnifying glass, for she also adds, "the big red gum at the end of Tyson St looks much healthier back then than it does now".
The photo was sent in by Hyslop after he stumbled upon the photo incorrectly captioned as "an aerial view of Manuka Oval, Manuka Pool and part of Telopea Park in the right bottom corner" on an ACT Heritage sign during a stroll through Telopea Park. Special mention to Robyn Woodall who tracked down the historic photo in the National Archives of Australia database. "It was taken in March 1953, and the correct caption should be Ainslie, aerial view from Hannan Crescent looking southwest to Corroboree Park," reveals Woodall.
How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to timtheyowieman@bigpond.com. The first email sent after 10am, Saturday, November 28, 2015 with the correct answer wins a double pass to Dendy cinemas.
