A local adventure story of two parts
Every so often, Belinda or I decide to go for a drive to see what we can see. On this occasion, it was a drive to see a piece of Southern Downs lore, the Ghost Gates. I had not heard of these gates, but always ready for an adventure, I said, “Let’s go”.
We’re driving along chatting as we normally do when Belinda turned onto an unsealed road. This road rapidly turned into more track than road. Now, I had no idea where we were going. I don’t know, dear reader, if you have seen the movie, Wolf Creek, but I speculated that this track had a very Wolf Creek-ish feel to it. Belinda laughed at that suggestion just slightly maniacally. I looked over and she had the cheekiest grin on her face.
The track continued to narrow; it was definitely more suited to goats and cattle than to the Rav 4 in which we were travelling.
“Are you sure you know where we are going?” I asked after we’d been travelling for some time.
She responded in the affirmative. I then enquired as to whether she had a shovel and a tarp in the back of the car. Worryingly, she had. Fits of giggles ensued as I feigned my concern of being rolled up in a tarp and buried in a shallow hole. These types of conversations are quite normal when we are together; constant laughter is a key part of our friendship.
Eventually, as the track narrowed to almost nothing, we came to the gate. Beside it, the metal sculpture of the Owl. Knee-high grass greeted us. We would have been a sight if the ghost were watching. Two women of mature years, stomping around in that long grass, because it was snake season, so we could get a decent photo. Just another one of our local adventures.
The story about the owl follows below.
Ghost Gate Road, Goomburra, winds its way through farmland, although it looks more like untouched bushland. If you didn’t know about the gate, you would have no reason to travel the round unless you had a farm to visit. There are other gates along the “road”, although you can’t really call it that after a certain point, but only one set has the owl sculpture. Only one gate has the story.
The tale, as I have heard it, is that a young bushman was about to dismount his horse near the gate when he felt a shadowy figure push past him, and the gate swung open. There was no wind, not a leaf was stirring, so the gate could not swing on its own. He didn’t have much time to ponder as his horse, also spooked by the shadow, bolted. As the story goes, this young rider had savoured more than a few rums before mounting his horse in the first place, so the story’s validity was fragile.
He eventually managed to get the horse under control and went back to the gate, which was now closed. The bushie dismounted and walked over to the gate with his horse. Cautiously pushing it open, he leapt back onto his horse and took off through it at great haste. As he looked back, a white owl was sitting on the gate, watching.
Many others allege to have seen the gate move, and every time the white owl was on the gate. A tale of truth or drunken visions? There was certainly no ghostly apparition during our visit.
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