I couldn’t
count the number of times I’ve driven through the edges of the little
settlement of Lyonville on my way to other places.
It’s the
‘so-small-sort-of-place’ that could be missed entirely on a quick drive to Daylesford.
A mere spot on the map. Perhaps. If the map is a very detailed one.
The tiny hamlet
– population a grand 175 in 2016- sits
in the Shire of Hepburn 5km northwest of Trentham (also small), and 80km
northwest of Melbourne. It’s near the headwaters of the Lodden River and on the
edge of the Wombat State Forest.
It began life
as a sawmilling town in the 1860s to supply timber to the Ballarat and Bendigo
goldfields; and at its peak, it had three hotels, several shops, a public hall,
a school, three churches and a railway station. By comparison today, it is a
ghost town. Little remains from that time apart from a few derelict relics and
a town history map that marks former locations in the manner of: Ogden Brothers
Mill (Site of), Eucalyptus Stills (Site of), Primary School (Site of).
It was that
little old school ruin that drew encouraged me to drive the ten minutes from
home. I’d seen a photo someone took of it on social media and I fell in love
with it as a potential art studio. It seemed perfect from afar. And as dreams
are free, I decided to find it. I figured it wouldn’t be hard in a place as
small as Lyonville. And, as luck would have it, I found it in the first street
I turned into off the main highway – sitting among the long green grass just
waiting for someone to love it.
I’ve since
found out that the school opened for millers’ children in 1877 and was
originally called Lyon’s Steam Sawmills School – the town itself was named after
John Lyon, who arrived in the district in the 1860s and obviously wasn’t shy
about naming things after himself.
The old
building is as cute as a button, no doubt about that. But it isn’t currently
for sale and the realities of uplifting it and transporting and then renovating
it quickly put me off it – in a practical sense; though naturally I still
harboured the dream as I dawdled my way around the little network of Lyonville
streets.
Calling them
streets seems a bit of a stretch actually. They’re more your pretty, leafy
country lane – narrows thoroughfares bordered by lush, lime green foliage, and
great drifts of honeysuckle and blackberry, shining in the aftermath of three
days rain. Lots of abandoned fruit trees and orchards with patrolling geese. I can see why increasing numbers of people are drawn to the place.
I saw no one,
heard no vehicles. There are no shops, no schools, no noise apart from the
birds. That in itself is a charm for many people and the growing number of new
houses springing up among the old cottages, is testament to the settlement’s
growing popularity as a rural retreat.
The old Radio
Springs Hotel (circa 1927), is one of the few large landmarks from earlier
settlement days. Even that was stone quiet. It had been closed for fifteen
years when an enterprising couple purchased it and renovated to re-open in
2009. Since then, it’s been providing accommodation – along with a growing
number of B&Bs in the area – for people who want to be close to Daylesford
for a weekend of shopping and exploring. Inside, the rooms are appealing and
you can spend a night for $200-$250.
 |
| Radio Springs Hotel |
There’s a dog
bowl outside – with four blue chairs – and two tyre pressure checkers – at
least I think that’s what they were. They wouldn’t have been high on my list of
hotel requirements but there you go.
 |
| The old railway station |
 |
| The Town Hall |
The Old Town
Hall – surprisingly – is still there and operational. This is thanks to the
good going over it received to the tune of $135,000. The hall is a focal point
for community activities. It hosts the annual Firemans’ Ball, Christmas Carols,
an annual Bake-off and wood chop, plus small theatre shows, live music and
weddings.
I side-tracked
then, taking the road to Lyonville Mineral Springs. I’ve noted this sign for at
least five years. This time I decided to satisfy my curiosity. Within minutes I
was in the middle of huge stands of (very beautiful) Candlebark forest – part of
the Wombat Sate Forest. It was dark, gloomy and very, very quiet. I was
immediately reminded of my horror trip into the Lederderg Forest but least this
road was sealed and the sign had said the springs were only 2km away.
This turned out
to be another case of “Site of.”
The stone-lined
pit for the springs is still there, with a very murky depth of water fenced off.
I imagine it would take a lot to tempt anyone into it these days. That said,
they were once “a Lyonville highlight.”
Discovered in
1912 and declared a reserve in 1914, the springs were apparently rich in
carbonates, chlorine, magnesium and other trace elements and people visited
from miles around. Unfortunately, by the middle of the 19th century, the
landscape covering the basalt aquifer that supplied the springs with much of
their water, had been cleared for agriculture and the springs days were
thereafter numbered.
I stood there,
in the silence of the candlebarks, looking at the historical photographs of
people dressed in their best Victoria clobber – so impractical for the
Australian bush – and tried to imagine what it might have been like to visit
and immerse oneself in the murky mineral waters. My involuntary shudder told me
all I needed to know.
I photographed gum
trees on the way back to the main road, imagining all the paintings these
gorgeous trees were going to inspire. Out on the main road, I sniggered, as I
always do, in juvenile amusement at the sign for Peukers Lane. No doubt it was
named for someone important and probably very pleasant, so it’s inappropriate
perhaps, that it always reminds me of a good number of parties I’ve attended, that ended with unpleasant after effects.
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