As soon as we stepped out of the vehicle, we liked the look of our selection and the spirits of the ancestors, cunningly disguised as March flies, swarmed to greet us. Thank goodness for the Aerogard! Within a hundred metres we came upon the first sign of a structure, being a slab of old concrete but certainly not old enough to be the site we were looking for. A little further on around the hill, we came upon several rows of small concrete slabs and it soon became apparent that a Main Roads camp and depot had been built here nearly fifty years ago when the new bitumen road was constructed down to Mount Molloy. A sense of disappointment came over us as we realized that the old hotel site may have been bulldozed if this was the correct area. This feeling quickly became a certainty when we came across the remains of a very old rubbish heap. The large number of pieces of old green beer bottle and crockery made it obvious that some structure had occupied this site back in colonial times. The Main Road dozer had cut right through the rubbish heap and where the little hotel would have been positioned, now sat a row of old concrete slabs of small accommodation blocks. All remains of the hotel would have been pushed away long ago.
We searched through the rubbish and then the general area but could find no other evidence of the hotel other then the small lagoon that had supplied its water and the nearby course of the old road that would have once brought the travellers past the front of Sorensen's old wayside Public house. Looking over the area from the site of the shanty pub across to the old road and down to the small lagoon, it was obvious that we would have no hope of finding any remains of the grave of Sorensen's eldest child, Mary Drucilla Sorensen who died there of diphtheria at eight years of age in February 1888 and was buried in an unmarked grave not far from the house. Although unhappy in that we could find little of the wayside hotel, it was a great day out exploring our heritage and to celebrate, we call into the Emerald Creek Ice Creamery where we blew our diets with a calorie-laden ice cream and an iced coffee to die for.
|Site of the Ten-mile public house|