Heavenly Beverley : August 2025

We are currently cocooned inside Will on another brisk late winter's morning here in Sandstone. The weather here has been the talk of the town, with rain (now thankfully over), wind and chilly conditions a bit abnormal for this time of year. We have settled into a very gentle routine of slow mornings, enjoying our tea and coffee, followed by the washing up or laundry duties, and then a sojourn to one of the two splendid (!) cafes a short walk from the caravan park.

I could wax lyrical about the amazing fossicking we have been experiencing, but for this post, I want to give full attention to Sandstone, a fabulous little settlement located in the East Murchison region of Western Australia. And particularly to their outstanding Art Show, an annual event passionately curated by a tiny organising committee aiming to put Sandstone firmly on the map.

Sandstone has a current population of less than one hundred and ten people, according to the 2021 census. After the discovery of gold in 1894, the town being gazetted in 1906 and the railway being connected in 1910, up to eight thousand lived and flourished here. Four hotels, four butchers, two schools, a brewery, the State Battery and the police station were all part of a vibrant community. But as the initial gold rush dissipated and World War I intervened, the town shrank. The pastoral industry, particularly wool production, took over and Sandstone became the regional hub for the surrounding stations. As the decades passed, sheep have been replaced by cattle, due to environmental, financial and infrastructure factors. Gold has once more returned as Sandstone's primary industry. In addition, tourism has emerged as a significant new kid on the block with the breathtaking landscapes attracting visitors. The red dirt, the clear blue sky and the nightly star show feed our souls and renew our spirits. The late winter and spring wildflowers are a dancing vibrant carpet adding another dimension for everybody to enjoy. Sandstone townsite itself has been beautifully preserved with the Visitors Centre open six days a week, restored buildings, parks and tourism information all packaged in one unforgettable location. A perfect place to just stop for a few days or a few weeks. Just don't rely on your satellite dish too much!

Anyway, as per usual, I have digressed. We have been enthralled and entertained by the Sandstone Art Show once more. We have chatted to some of the movers and shakers behind the event and marvelled at the variety and skill of the artists and artisans. The Show closes today, so bad luck to all of those who missed out...!

Do yourselves a favour to prevent such an omission ever happening again. Add Sandstone to your travelling diary for August 2026. Discover this incredible little settlement that continues to provide such a diverse and wonderful array of attractions. And remember to book into Alice Atkinson Caravan Park to avoid disappointment.

And here is a showcase of the Sandstone Art Show to further tempt the discerning visitor -

The dynamic women behind the Sandstone Art Show (apologies to anyone I have left out)

Need a gift idea or two? Look no further -

Finally, this beautiful fabric picture that was for display only -

See you next year!

'Our Postcards from the Goldfields 2025' has, so far, seen rather a lot of wet weather. In fact, Michael was just commenting that we have never experienced such a rainy start to any of our adventures over the last fifteen years. Over the last nine days, I believe we have only enjoyed three dry days. Sandstone (usually reliably sunny) turned on the tap yesterday with periodically heavy showers once more, along with a bitterly cold wind. The windchill was enough to rattle right through to my knickers!

Prior to the shock of Lily's (the car) unexpected and expensive repairs, we did a bit of exploring around the town of Merredin. The main street was abuzz, even on a Sunday and the Cinema Cafe served up a delicious lunch. Merredin Peak, a sizable granite rock on the edge of town, featured the very high rock edges that were designed to direct water flow into the dam. All this engineering was for the purpose of watering the steam trains on the Goldfields route. The surrounding walks were tranquil and interesting, including the ruins of the original hospital. We spent an extremely satisfying few hours becoming thoroughly weary but also very enjoyable.

Once Merredin Carr Care had lowered the boom on us that we required a new catalytic converter and significant labour, and that we would have to wait a couple of days for the gold plated part to be transported up from the Big Smoke, we decided to move caravan parks to somewhere quieter. The twenty four hour a day road and rail noise at the Merredin Caravan park was seriously eroding our need for peace. Only fifty kilometres further east, and away from the highway, the Shire of Westonia tourist park was the ideal location far from the madding crowd.

Westonia is a very pretty town almost on the eastern edge of the Wheatbelt. Surrounded by woodland, with excellent facilities, a wonderful museum, a tavern, a fabulous co-op and cafe, Dennis and Pauline's Gallery and cafe, historical and tourism information to burn, Westonia seemed to be just the antidote to cool our heels for a few days.

Except the weather gods decreed we would experience heavy rain, wind and hail. Our first full day was the worst, with Will's dome springing leaks directly above my side of our bed. An overriding perfume of wet dog permeated the full three metres of the space inside Will. Being stuck inside for hours on end was a tad trying.

We manged to snag a few breaks in the precipitation to exercise Lexi and Stella and allow them to relieve themselves. The local oval is a credit to the town with shelter, grass, trees and the all-important pooh bags. Plus, our evening strolls along Wolfram Street was a welcome way to stave off cabin fever.

Whilst Michael drove back to Merredin for the car repairs, (and remain there all day) I explored the Westonia Common with the dogs. This was a beautiful walk, with interpretative signs and handy park benches for short interludes. Unfortunately, an adventurous bee decide to alight upon my leg and sting me. Even more unfortunately for the bee, my surprised reaction was to whack my smarting calf and end its life.

Adding to my dismay was that the caravan park had filled to capacity whilst I was walking. A short time later, a newly arrived woman decided to take a short cut across our concrete pad. The dogs, tethered of course, scared the willies out of her by launching out of the van and barking. Detouring across somebody else's designated space is just not done and I was annoyed. I pulled the dogs back into Will and poked my head out to explain. I was rewarded with her dirty look and her accusation that my dogs had "nearly attacked her". She was the one at fault and I set her straight. After that incident, the number of caravans around me became a bit much and I was very happy when Michael returned around sunset.

Due to an extra day in Westonia and with all the rain about, we chose to change our route and stay on the bitumen. We travelled to firstly to Kalannie for the night, via Mukinbudin. We were thrilled to discover the Main Street Gallery in Mucka was open and we spent an excellent hour there chatting to Cheryl, one of the volunteers and artist and meeting Hannah, a young local lass with two little girls who painted chooks, a definite favourite with tourists everywhere.

We made stops in Koorda and Cadoux before arriving at Kalannie in the late afternoon. We paid for our powered site at the IGA, a wondrous grocery store that serviced its population of two hundred and fifty souls seven days a week. Koorda, with a similar population, also had a general store open seven days a week...

At the caravan park, we met Jock, a chap travelling as the work decreed. We spent a very agreeable evening chatting with him and lighting our first fire. After a long day, Michael's feet particularly enjoyed the warmth of the flames, and our aches and pains disappeared with the application of a couple of bourbons. We didn't dally, sinking into our bed gratefully at an early-ish time.

Our excitement grew as we headed north to Yalgoo. We were only booked in for two nights but, as proclaimed, the town is the beginning of the Outback. Due to the persistent rain, water was everywhere and the wildflowers had replied in a joyous ovation. After another marathon (for us) drive, we arrived in Yalgoo around four o'clock.

First port of call was the magnificent local and fully fenced oval, where the dogs could sprint and roll and chase each other to their hearts' content. We then set up on our site and enjoyed the satisfaction of our arrival in a much loved spot.

Due to the less than ideal start to our trip, we were both still tired and cranky, with a tendency for irritable snapping. However, Yalgoo provided the tonic we needed - our first fossicking for this trip at the old tip. On a cool but sunny afternoon, we spent a wonderful nearly four hours, mostly in quiet reverie with the bush...except when Michael used his portable grinder to reduce some wire into more malleable lengths! However, I was far enough away from him to lower my personal Cone of Silence, blissfully focused on the landscape, the birds and the treasures surrounding me. We discovered some fabulous artifacts and decided then and there, we would return on our way home to revisit the old Yalgoo tip for some more goodies.

Most of our stress and angst ebbed away in one short outing. We shouted ourselves a celebratory pub takeaway and slept with sweet dreams. The beginning of our rest and revitalisation...