Today, the Capertee Valley is a patchwork of farms, forests and of course campgrounds. But over a century ago, the nearby villages of Glen Davis and Newnes were bustling mining towns, due to the discovery of shale oil in the mid 1800’s. Shale oil is literally, shale infused with oil. In the 1940’s this shale was processed locally, the processed oil used to make kerosene and petrol. The processing occurred on site, using large kilns. The Newnes mine has all but disappeared and currently there is no road access in. However the Glen Davis mine is still pretty much intact and was only a klm back along the dirt road.
Ostensibly, the climb up to the mine entrance is touted as a lookout, which you can see, it is. But the ruins of the mine site are extensive and there’s been an effort to keep them upright. Everything from the admin offices to the washrooms are still evident.
A good detailed history of mining here can be found at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glen_Davis,_New_South_Wales#:~:text=The%20town%20was%20established%20under,based%20on%20town%20planning%20principles.
The view was stunning from this part of the site and the processing plant, clearly seen below. Built in 1938 it commenced operations in 1940. The plant is on private property with tours only on a Saturday, and I was nowhere near a Saturday. So, another Indiana Jones moment as I slid under the gate, reached back to grab my hat and set off for a wander.
I had to ignore some warning signs scattered around the place. It wasn’t dangerous, just commonsense required. The plant operated between 1940 and 1952. It felt like an industrial mausoleum filled with relics of a time long past. Picking my way between the piles of bricks, I never knew what was around the next corner. Thankfully it never turned out to be the owner, and I was keeping an eye out. The standout were the kilns.
Don’t ask me how they worked but at nearly 50 metres long, what a testament to remote construction!
There was no visible means of entry, but you could figure out how the shale was transported to the entry point at the far end of the kilns. The superstructure is made entirely of bricks. This was a wartime effort to ensure we had our own supply of petrol. Check out the intricate construction.
A detailed history of the processing plant can be found at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glen_Davis_Shale_Oil_Works
While all this excitement was going on, there had been some developments back at the campground. The rangers had duly been advised and about an hour later, the police turned up for a cursory inspection. Apparently a rego check of the address had been done, and the occupants knew nothing. It was now dusk, and still no sign. Skippy had not turned up(“What’s that Skip? Man trapped in cave, broken leg?”). The hopeful explanation was that ‘they’ had gone bushwalking down the river. After all, it was a 4WD ute with RM Williams seat covers. Even so, there whereabouts and condition remained a mystery.
So, for no sensible reason, at dawn the next morning, with the moon still high in the sky, I set off down river along the track. When the track petered out amongst the rockpools I clambered back up to the road and I spotted shoeprints about 4klm along, but the coo-ees went unanswered.
I’d given myself an hour each way. I got to a small beach and then the road disappeared. There was nothing else I could do. The police had called back again while I was on the trail, but what they intended to do was unknown.
Back at the campground, fellow camper told me a story about finding an aboriginal carving in a tree across the other side of the river. His directions were vague, but with some time to kill, I set out to find it. He said he discovered it by accident, and so did I. It looks very much like an abstract take on an emu.
The carving is deep. Is it ancient? Well, its carved into a tree, so I’m guessing no. Is it indigenous? That, I’ll try and find out. Which reminds me……I chased down the Aboriginal Cultural Officer about that interestingly shaped pond back in the Carnarvon Gorge. He assured me that it was just a coincidence and that the frequent flooding of the river would alter the shape soon enough. I’m not totally convinced with that explanation, however I’ll give it a couple of years and check back.
By 2pm that day, I was well and truly hiked and explored out and content to start editing some photos. A car door slammed in the distance. I looked up more in curiosity than hope. There he was! Our mystery man and he was not alone.
Let me introduce you to Matt, the ‘love child’ of Bear Grylls and Steve Irwin. Now, if anyone could hike downriver 12 klms for four days, with nothing but a backpack and sleeping bag, on looks alone, it would be this guy. Someone who could build you a bark hut in a hour and wrestles crocodiles for fun. He and his girlfriend had indeed gone walkabout downriver. They were pretty buggered and later that afternoon I invited them over for a drink and chat. Exploring is their passion and even though exhausted, they were already planning their next adventure.
So, a case of all’s well that ends well. The campfire glowed as the stars came out. I had one more destination to reach before a well earned Christmas break. An early start the next morning and a last look at this amazing spot.
Loved this