For most kids, tagging along with your dad to Friday beers at his best mate’s place might have been pretty boring – but not if, like Camille Wiseman, your dad’s best mate happened to be a prosthetist with a shed full of arms and legs amid cows, chickens and sheep. “A wonderland of spare human parts,” laughs Camille of her child’s-eye view of Peter Farrand’s workshop on his Broken Head farm.

While her dad was inadvertently imprinting a future in prosthetics, her art-loving mum was nurturing her creative side. Recognising Camille’s natural talent – no doubt inherited from her own mother, an accomplished abstract painter back in her hometown of New Orleans – she enrolled Camille in Sue Holm’s after-school art classes at the Scout Hall.

“Sue was just incredible,” Camille says. “She taught art classes that weren’t just a novelty. Even though we were only primary school kids, there were no colouring sheets or mindless activities – it was very much about understanding how different mediums work.”

While painting remained a constant, Camille’s priorities were more academic. After graduating from Byron High, she moved to Melbourne and completed a Bachelor of Biomedicine with a view to pursuing medicine. But something didn’t feel quite right. “It’s such a competitive and expensive degree, you want to be really sure about it,” she says.

A career as a prosthetist-orthotist (P&O) had always been in the mix – especially after her dad joined the managerial side of Peter’s business years earlier and, ironically, lost two of his own fingers in a circular saw incident at the Broken Head shed. But armed with the clinical experience gained during her biomedicine degree, she knew for certain it was the right fit.

Working at the intersection of healthcare, biomechanics, custom fabrication and rehabilitation, P&Os occupy one of the most multidisciplinary roles in allied health. It was exactly this breadth of practice that appealed to Camille: “It allowed me to still be a clinician working in hospitals and helping people, but I also got to use my hands and make stuff.”

Freshly minted from her two-year Master of Clinical Prosthetics and Orthotics, Camille moved to Wollongong to work for one of the larger clinics in NSW, joining the astonishingly small ranks of just 550 P&Os nationwide. In a country as vast as Australia, that can mean a substantial amount of time on the road servicing sprawling regional catchments.

During her two years in Wollongong, her paintings became increasingly preoccupied with water. “Not just the ocean,” she explains, “but rivers and clouds and the flow of water in every form.” The ‘blue humanities’ – an emerging interdisciplinary field exploring our relationship with water – resonated deeply, and fish began to feature prominently in her work, culminating in her first solo show in late 2024, ‘We Devour the Ocean’.

As well as using fish symbolically, Camille explains she simply likes the way they look. “They’re fun to paint,” she laughs. “You can do anything with them. I love to make up pretend fish. They come in all shapes and sizes, so they’re a very useful artistic element.”

When her partner Marcus was accepted into a program at the University of Trento in Northern Italy as part of his master’s in mechatronics engineering, Camille seized the opportunity to embark on her own European painting sabbatical. Taking 12 months off with the blessing of her employer, the pair arrived in the picturesque alpine city in early 2025.

Setting up a studio in their lounge room, Camille continued her solo practice and sought out atelier-style training – her first formal classes since afternoons at the Scout Hall with Sue. Over the course of the year, she attended three six-week intensives: figure painting in regional France, portrait painting in New York, and fresco painting in Florence.

“I feel like I learned more in those three courses than an entire life of trying to figure it out on my own,” she says. “I think there’s something to be said for being self-taught and working things out yourself, but sometimes it’s really lovely to have somebody point you in the right direction.”

Between intensives, life in Trento was idyllic, with Camille and Marcus becoming engaged, and Camille working on one of her largest and most challenging pieces to date, The Fish and the Caretaker. Rich in symbolism and steeped in the European tradition, the work distills Camille’s time in Italy onto the canvas, documenting her technical evolution in real time.

The work was recognised with two international prizes – coming second in the Emerging Artist Award in the 2025 Beautiful Bizarre Art Prize, and third in the TOSEE Art Competition. Its later inclusion in a group show in Milan brought an extraordinary year abroad to a fittingly wonderful close.

Hitting the ground running, within days of returning to Australia earlier this year, Camille exhibited her overseas work in a group surrealist show in Sydney. Asked if she would categorise herself as a surrealist, Camille reflects, “I would say I’m surreal-leaning – drawing on ideas of dreams, the subconscious, symbolism and allegory. I like work that has some sort of meaning.”

Before the show had even opened, Camille was back in her childhood bedroom in Bangalow and immediately reporting for work in Ballina – to none other than Peter Farrand, who long ago outgrew the shed at Broken Head to build a network of prosthetic clinics that recently merged with Spao Ottobock Care, conveniently encompassing Camille’s former clinic in Wollongong. 

Her dad’s there too – when he’s not somewhere on the road between Brisbane and Nowra helping run the newly expanded network.

Camille continues to put all the technical gains of the last year into practice, working towards her next solo show – albeit with smaller canvases at the moment. Between full-time work, recently becoming an aunty, ducking down to Melbourne to see Marcus as he finishes his degree, and planning their January wedding, life is a bit less Trento-paced for now.

She’s unsure where they’ll settle after Marcus graduates, given his equally niche but less transferable career in mechatronics. But with only one P&O for every 14,000 square kilometres of Australia, Camille’s happy to just go with the flow. Like a fish.

@camillekathryn

Theirs is a Bangalow hospitality love story. They met over Corner Kitchen’s coffee machine, where Jack, Bangalow-born and bred, was working as the barista after returning from six years in Brisbane and Melbourne. Sophia, hailing from the café’s namesake suburb of Elwood and raised in country Victoria, was a relatively recent arrival to the area, managing the newly opened Woods. On their very first date they talked of starting their own place.

So when the chance came to take on Burringbar’s only café in 2019, they jumped at it. They loved the village’s old-school charm, which reminded Jack of the Bangalow of his childhood. And it was affordable. “Coming in with a skeleton budget, we felt like it was the last little country town within striking distance where we could dip our toes in and have some fun working together,” he explains.

Hospitality is tough. But for Jack and Sophia, it was a particularly wild ride from the moment they opened the doors. In their first weeks, bushfires came within just a few kilometres of the village, bringing prolonged heavy smoke, ash fall and ember risk, and a steady stream of frazzled evacuees, their cars crammed full of belongings.

Then just four months later, the pandemic was declared, which saw the first-time operators spend the next two years grappling with the challenging logistics of ever-shifting regulations. The silver lining was that with the café as one of the village’s few social hubs, a strong and deep connection was forged between the couple and the community, and they soon relocated to an idyllic rental nearby.

The relief at the ultimate lifting of restrictions in late 2021 was unfortunately short-lived when, again, just four months later, the same weather system that inundated Lismore flooded low-lying parts of Burringbar and brought devastating landslips further up the Range.

Sophia, five months pregnant at the time, found herself stuck on the Gold Coast while visiting her grandmother. Back home, Jack refused to let the four flooded causeways in his path prevent him from opening the doors at Elwood while the town still had power. Once the waters were low enough, he packed a survival kit and made his way on foot to the car they’d left on the other side, even swimming part of the way.

Cut off, the residents rallied, transforming the area around the café into a command post and recovery hub, corralling services and supplies. Amid the crisis, Elwood provided a vital community space – serving some of the most delicious coffees of Jack’s career, thanks to the buckets of fresh Jersey milk delivered by local cheesemaker, Deb Allard.

But again, the dust barely had a chance to settle when, just four months later, on the evening of June 23 2022, with Sophia in the early stages of an overdue labour, Jack’s phone rang. There was a fire at the café.

Sophia’s sister en route, Jack raced into town, arriving just as the battering ram was about to break down the heritage shopfront’s beautiful cedar doors. He rushed to unlock them, and along with most of Burringbar, watched in shock as firefighters brought the blaze under control.

With forensic reports completed and the building deemed safe, Jack was escorted inside, where he retrieved a charred stack of five-dollar notes from the safe. The café was dark and smoky, but he didn’t think it looked too bad. Plans were made to meet the chief fire inspector early the next morning, and he locked the doors behind him and returned home to Sophia, whose labour had stalled in the stress.

After a sleepless night, Jack headed back to the café at 6am, finding the doors smashed wide open. He feared the café had been ransacked, but it was much worse. The fire, thought to have been started by an electrical fault, had reignited in the early hours of the morning. The building was unsalvageable.

Surreal days stretched on, with Sophia becoming increasingly overdue and Jack navigating the gruelling insurance process – which, three years later, is still ongoing – until finally, a week later, daughter Mally was born.

Jack, Sophia and Elwood had become firmly embedded in the tight-knit community, and their absence was felt profoundly. “It’s such an odd thing to experience,” Sophia says. “It was like the loss of a friend. We still have people saying how sad they are it’s not there anymore.” Today, the vacant block remains as a literal hole in the village.

They continued living in Burringbar, but when Jack’s father suffered a debilitating stroke six months later, they returned to the Bangalow family home. After some time to recalibrate, Jack started working at Old Quarter Coffee and Sophia at Harvest, where she remained until baby Miles joined the mix in 2024. “It’s given us all a new perspective,” Jack says of their multi-generational living arrangement. “They support us as much as we support them.”

But Jack and Sophia weren’t done with their dream, or with the community they loved so much – and thanks to an interesting proposal from an old Elwood neighbour, they had a chance to pick up where they left off.

Bron of Natural Wine Shop & Bar was taking over the old laundromat out the back of her store when she approached Jack and Sophia with the idea of sharing the space: their coffee by day, her wine by night. This increasingly popular hybrid hospitality model suited them perfectly.

With no kitchen and an atmospheric fit-out that wouldn’t be out of place in one of Melbourne’s laneways, the space called for a different strategy from last time. And a new identity. “Elwood was a really special time for us,” explains Jack. “We decided to leave the name to rest with the memory of it.”

For Jack and Sophia, ‘Pour Good’ is about being conscious of the entirety of the process behind the cup of coffee in your hands – from cultivation to labour to preparation. If you’re going to drink coffee, make it good.

Underpinned by Old Quarter Coffee, Pour Good showcases different roasters each week, offering a menu of experimental specialty cold pours alongside the classics, and a pastry cabinet stocked with Lehem Breadhouse goodies. They’re open Friday through Monday mornings, with plans for additional days now that Jack is no longer juggling his travelling sales role at Old Quarter.

The demand is certainly there, not only from locals but from the steady stream of visitors the Rail Trail now brings to the area – something Jack and Sophia passionately hope Bangalow will get to experience too, having seen the phenomenal effect it’s had on the Burringbar community. Jack was on the platform the night the last train ran through town. “And we’ll be first in line when the tender goes out for the old Bangalow station!” he says.

@pour.good

29 Broadway, Burringbar

Fri/Sat/Sun/Mon 7.30am – 12.30pm

It was during a 2017 holiday at a friend’s Myocum farm that the pieces unexpectedly began falling into place for Grant Rasheed’s new chapter in the Northern Rivers. The spontaneity and financial risk may have deterred some, but Grant isn’t one to shy away from a bold new adventure.

It’s in the blood, after all. The original Australian Rasheed, Grant’s grandfather, left his parents in Lebanon as a six-year-old and migrated to Australia with two of his uncles in the 1890s. Arriving in South Australia’s Port Pirie, the Rasheeds settled in the Flinders Ranges, where they went on to own several sheep stations, before the Depression undid much of their hard-earned success.

The Rasheeds were Druze – a small, ancient religious and ethnic community whose highly secretive faith blends elements of Islam, Greek philosophy, Hinduism, and mysticism. Set adrift from their brethren, they joined the ranks of Catholicism, and their numbers swelled – Grant, one of nine children, and uncle to 57 nieces and nephews.

After finishing school, he left the family sheep farm at Orroroo for the bright lights of Alice Springs/Mparntwe, and spent four years stifled amidst the regimented world of bank telling and car rentals, before venturing on to Adelaide where he found a better fit in fashion.

With Europe calling, Grant departed Australia in the early 1980s at the age of 23. An earlier brush with one of King Charles’ best mates who had visited Grant’s uncle’s Wilpena Pound/Ikara property forged an unlikely connection to English aristocracy, and he arrived in London with one phone number in his pocket – that of the fabulously intrepid, mountain-climbing Dowager Duchess of Westminster. His hard yards in hospitality were soon punctuated by semi-regular, surreal trips to her verdant estate for weekend soirées full of fascinating people, ferried to and from the train station by the septuagenarian tearing through the hedgerow-lined country lanes in her old Land Rover like a “bat out of hell”.

Falling in love with an Italian fashion designer provided the perfect excuse to head to Milan, where the two developed their own knitwear label. When the relationship ended 22 years later, Grant returned to the wide-open spaces of the Flinders and landed a job managing the Prairie Hotel in Parachilna – a tiny outpost on the road to Birdsville, population seven.

This historic and quintessentially Australian Outback hotel has evolved into a refined tourist destination since being purchased by its current owners, who tasked Grant with creating an Indigenous art gallery throughout its public spaces.

Grant’s passion for contemporary Indigenous art had been ignited during regular visits to the Art Gallery of South Australia on trips home from Milan, but establishing the Prairie Gallery allowed for complete immersion in the subject.

The Adnyamathanha people of the Flinders are more commonly associated with ancient rock carvings than contemporary painting, and Grant looked further afield for suitable work. Connecting with a dealer from the Northern Territory, he fell in love with the art of the Central Desert region – an area that encompasses renowned communities such as Papunya, Yuendumu, and, ultimately his favourite, Utopia.

Characterised by vibrant colours, intricate patterning, and themes grounded in Country, culture, ceremony, and ancestral knowledge, the artist-led Utopia community has produced some of Australia’s most celebrated artists, including Minnie Pwerle and Emily Kame Kngwarreye.

During his time at the Prairie, Grant launched his own side business exhibiting Indigenous artists in Italy and China. Searching for a suitable name, his niece Carly came across the word “ninbella” in H.M. Cooper’s 1948 book Australian Aboriginal Words – its meaning defined as “beautiful”. With “bella” also meaning beautiful in Italian, the name perfectly embodied Grant’s deep love of both cultures.

Twelve years into his time at the Prairie, Grant came to stay with his friend in Myocum. He noticed the empty shop between Wax Jambu and the pharmacy and enquired about the rent. It seemed like a pipe dream, until the landlord mentioned another gallerist had viewed the space and might be open to sharing – which he was. When Grant discussed it with his friend, she encouraged the move and offered him a room in her house.

A sea/tree change wasn’t on the cards when he arrived, but Grant couldn’t help but wonder if it might indeed be time to pre-emptively move closer to services as he approached his 60th lap around the sun. His only shot at funding a new gallery was if the government approved an application to cash in his super – which they did – and soon Grant was all in, making the 2000km journey east, his car full to the brim with all his earthly possessions.

Ninbella and JEFA Gallery opened in December 2017, each occupying |a window and one length of wall space. While Grant was grateful for the opportunity their arrangement afforded, he was even more elated to be in a position to take over the lease when JEFA relocated just over a year later. The clash of aesthetics had proved harder to reconcile than anticipated, and under a single curatorship, the space and its art were able to truly come to life.

“I love it here, I really do love it,” says Grant of Bangalow, and the broader Byron bubble. “What I encounter here in the gallery is a level of sophistication, a level of education – a kind of empathetic socialism. Married with capitalism,” he laughs.

Today, Ninbella shows a considered mix of Indigenous and non- Indigenous art, with Bangalow’s own high-profile practitioner,  Hilary Herrmann, shown alongside a diverse range of contemporary artists from across Australia. Among them are some of the Central Desert’s most significant names, including Utopia’s Gloria Petyarre and Kudditji Kngwarreye, whose paintings are held in the National Gallery of Australia and the British Museum. It’s an offering built not just on a keen eye, but on ethical representation, and not the kind of gallery regional towns of this size can usually claim. But then again, not every town is Bangalow. And not every town has a Grant Rasheed.

Georgia Fox

The Sanctuary has served as the work placement destination for TAFE for a number of years, allowing students to learn hands-on skills in caring for animals and wildlife. Students balance two days of theory with two days of practical training at the Sanctuary, allowing for invaluable insights and real-world experience. Upon completing her certification, Tegan’s dedication led her to volunteer at the Sanctuary, a decision that paved the way for her current role.

Tegan’s days are filled with a variety of responsibilities, beginning by ensuring all animals are accounted for and enclosures are clean—a “glorified pooper-scooper,” she laughs—and replenished with fresh water. Food is prepared for over 100 animals with the assistance of volunteers. On-site composting means the gardens are some of the most well-fertilised in the Northern Rivers. Tegan is training to conduct reptile talks for visitors—a role she initially found daunting but enjoys more and more: “I love speaking to people. I love teaching people about our native wildlife as well.”

Tegan’s passion for reptiles is evident, with a particular fondness for the native Woma Python. Unlike other pythons, Womas lack heat-sensing pits and have adapted to hunt cold-blooded prey, such as lizards and other snakes. Remarkably, they are also immune to the venom of some of Australia’s most deadly snakes, including browns, red-bellies, and inland taipans, whether through bites or ingestion.

Beyond her Keeper duties, Tegan is also a Support Worker with the Sanctuary’s NDIS Meaningful Futures Program, providing participants with one-on-one programs allowing for interactions with wildlife and helping out behind the scenes, as well as opportunities to socialise in a supportive, engaging environment.

Tegan’s ultimate aspiration is to work with crocodiles at some point in the future. “The fact they’ve been here for over two million years amazes me. I think they’re absolutely beautiful,” she says. She hopes to spend time in northern Australia to study and train with these ancient reptiles, aiming to deepen her understanding and contribute to their conservation. In the meantime, she gets her crocodile fix visiting Boss Hog, Currumbin’s beloved five-metre-long salty.

She encourages anyone with a love of wildlife and conservation to get involved in the Sanctuary’s volunteer program.

byronbaywildlifesanctuary.com.au

Feature image Tegan and a Woma python  Photo Georgia Fox

When former Byron Anglican Parish Community Priest, Rev. Rosie Wynter, moved into the Ashton Street Rectory in 2020, she was struck by the number of people she observed sleeping rough in cars in the neighbouring Piccabeen Park carpark. Particularly how many of them were mothers with children and older women – some of whom ended up on the ABC documentary on the subject, “Under Cover”. Settling into her ministry at All Souls’ Church, she also found herself frequently providing pastoral care to local residents quietly doing it tough behind the veneer of the town’s increasingly affluent reputation.

“You know there’s homelessness in Byron because it’s a transient population,” Rev. Rosie explains, “but we assume in these more sort of ‘upper echelon’ areas that no one’s struggling, but it’s just not true. People are struggling everywhere. You never know what goes on behind closed doors.”

With our nearest neighbourhood centres in Byron and Mullumbimby, it became clear the lack of resources in the 2479 area for people experiencing hardship needed addressing. Rev. Rosie took a proposal to the Parish to create a drop-in centre in Ashton Street that, amongst a raft of comprehensive social services, included a community pantry. She planned to appeal to businesses for donations, as well as encourage locals to purchase a few extra cans or packets of something during their grocery shop, which she saw as an important opportunity for families to gently introduce the notion to children who have never had to go without, that not everyone is quite so fortunate.

Sharing her dream with Bangalow Men’s Shed President, David Noakes, in late 2020, she found an equally passionate ally. To get the ball rolling while the bureaucratic wheels slowly turned on the drop-in centre, she and David, both members of the Bangalow Lions, secured generous funding from the Club to develop a scheme distributing vouchers to be redeemed for groceries at Foodworks. The demand was far greater than anticipated, and as word spread, the amount of people knocking on Rev. Rosie’s door in need of help increased.

By late 2023, with plans still tied up in red tape and the voucher program exhausted, Rev. Rosie’s tenure in Bangalow was up. “Heartbroken” to be leaving the area before her vision was able to come to fruition, David vowed to continue the fight, bringing the project under the auspices of the Men’s Shed and working closely with Clare Hopkins. They (along with Brent, Andrea, Neil, Ruth, Kerry and Lorraine), launched the H.I.Y.A. 2479 (Help in Your Area) initiative in April 2024, reinstating an expanded grocery and fuel voucher program, jointly funded by the Men’s Shed, Lions, and CWA, and supported by all four churches.

Around this time, fellow Men’s Shed member, Louise Anderson, who works in social services and has experience with community pantries in Sydney, joined David and Clare in the planning team. Instead of a cache of basic non-perishables to be distributed at a drop-in centre opening a few hours a day, a few days a week, a literal outdoor pantry was devised that would enable 24/7 access, that as well as catering to people not able to attend during designated operating hours, allows discreet and autonomous access for those who may find asking for help just too uncomfortable.

A collective donated effort between Bunnings Byron Bay and local builders Pepe Munir and Shane Dettman, and Parallel Power electricians, saw the standalone structure established at the far (creek) end of the Men’s Shed carpark, becoming operational in December 2024. It was painted by ‘Miller’, and is currently awaiting a trompe-l’oeil rainforest mural by local artist Ian Ritchie, which will see it blend further into its bush setting.

The Pantry’s motto, “Take as much as you need, give if you can,” perfectly sums up the project’s ethos… and there are so many ways to give if you are in a position to do so. You can drop basic non-perishable pantry goods, including baby food and toiletries, into the allocated box located on the verandah of the Men’s Shed, or in one of the many boxes that will be popping up around town over coming months. You can help raise funds by purchasing plants from the trays in the carpark using their honour system, or use the payment box to simply donate cash. Or you can donate your skills or time – even an hour here or there can make a real difference and help lighten the load for the team.

While it might fly largely under the radar down the shopping strip of Bangalow, Rosie, David and Louise have seen with their own eyes the cumulative impact the last five years is having with the underlying housing situation, the pandemic, the floods, and now the cost of living crisis. “It’s obviously not just Bangalow, but that’s what we’re focused on,” says David.

Louise explains the power of the combination of H.I.Y.A. 2479 and the Pantry, with the fuel vouchers allowing people to get to jobs and appointments, the grocery vouchers providing fresh produce, and now the Community Pantry for staples and toiletries. “The emotional comfort that comes from knowing there are anonymous people in my community that actually care, sees selfesteem and mental health skyrocket… we know it’s helping people.”

Rev. Rosie is looking forward to an upcoming trip to Bangalow to see the Pantry in action, along with the H.I.Y.A. 2479 mornings – both a legacy of her love for the community and compassion for its often invisible members. She is thrilled that through David and the team’s continuing efforts, that something tangible is being provided for the community.

If you would like to become involved or donate in any way, please contact David at bangalowcommunitypantry@gmail.com (donations over $500 are tax deductible).

The Bangalow Men’s Shed is located at the corner of Deacon and Station Streets, offering obligation-free H.I.Y.A. 2479 vouchers between 7-9am each Monday and Friday, with no registration required or questions asked. You can help yourself to the Community Pantry anytime of the day or night, which can be found at the creek-end of the carpark, by the far gate, with sensor lighting and CCTV monitoring to ensure users’ safety. The plant payment/donation box is a white pole at the opposite end of the carpark closest to the shops, and basic pantry/toiletry items are gratefully received via the donations box on the Men’s Shed verandah.

Stretching back to at least 1957, the Christmas Eve Carnival has provided a wonderful opportunity for our region to come together for as long as most can remember. Friends and relatives back in town… neighbourly catchups… rural families getting off the farm… it’s one of the many things that has always made Bangalow such a special community to be part of.

In the early days, the celebrations were centred around the northern end of Station Street, with events like wheelbarrow and three-legged races being run, and flying swings and a merry-go-round set up between the RSL Hall and the Uniting Church. A miniature train ride took kids on a loop around the vacant block where the burger shop now stands.

The Pacific Highway barrelling through town didn’t stop the festivities from spilling onto the main street. Stalls with chocolate wheels and stuffed animals for sale were set up on footpaths, raising money for local causes like maintaining the old weir pool. Shops stayed open late, and for many families, the evening would end with Midnight Mass at St Kevin’s.

The main event was the arrival of Santa Claus in ‘Genevieve’, the old fire engine, throwing handfuls of lollies and giving out ice cream cups to the kids. “It was the best night of the year,” says Maralyn Hanigan, who began attending the Carnival in 1959.

Fast-forward to 1980 when fundraising efforts for the sports fields were in full swing, (and without a professional team of traffic controllers in sight) the town diverted half the highway for Santa to make a particularly grand entrance down Byron Street on a camel. Former policeman, Brian Shultz, remembers the late Brian Richards at one end of town and one of the Snow boys at the other, directing northbound trucks and cars up Deacon Street and southbound down the southern side of Byron Street, the men accompanied by kids shaking donation buckets at drivers for their inconvenience.

Following the 1994 bypass, the Chamber of Commerce took the reins and grew it into the town-stopping event we enjoyed for nearly 30 years. Bangalow Lights Up saw retailers vying for Best Decorated Shopfront amidst a sea of colourful festoon lights strung from building to building. An ever-increasing array of street performers, food stalls, and amusement rides in the school grounds delighted visitors each year. The RSL Hall came to life as Santa’s Grotto, with Col Draper doing the honours.

No one could have anticipated the 2019 Carnival would be the last as we knew it. Not only did 2020 see large gatherings suspended due to the pandemic, but somewhere in all this, our Chamber of Commerce disbanded, leaving the event without funding or insurance.

Come 2021, off the back of a couple of tough years but with restrictions lifted, the threat of another Christmas without a celebration loomed. The Bangalow Lions stepped up at short notice and put on a community get-together in the Showgrounds in early December. Unfortunately, it had to be called off halfway through as severe weather approached.

In 2022, with the very real prospect of the town losing this long-held Christmas Eve tradition, the Bangalow Lions took on the huge responsibility of the Carnival. They decided to make the Showgrounds its new home for several reasons – the convenience of the Lions Bar (the takings of which allow them to raise the necessary funds), adequate toilets and parking, the suitability for Santa’s lap of honour on a fire engine, and lots of space in the beautiful green heart of our village for people to spread out on rugs, catch up, and let the kids do their thing.

But the main reason for the change of venue, Lions President Greg Nash explains, is that shutting Byron Street in the modern risk-management world in which Bangalow now exists is an Everest-like expedition involving months of preparations with multiple agencies, mountains of paperwork, and exorbitant costs. It is one the Lions already undertake once a year on our behalf, putting on the Billycarts. At Christmas, the added demands of working late into the night packing up on Christmas Eve and returning early Christmas morning to clean the street are too much to ask of the small team of volunteers during important family time. No question, it was a tall order for the Chamber of Commerce as well. But for the Lions, it is in addition to the Herculean effort that is the Billycarts and fresh off the back of their large role in the Show, a mere five weeks beforehand – all on just 25 members.

Following their first foray into organising and hosting the ‘new’ Christmas Eve Carnival in 2022, the town’s Facebook page lit up with people lamenting why things had to change and sharing their feelings on the situation.

Taking feedback on board, the Lions pressed ahead with planning the 2023 Carnival, only to have to pull the pin at the last minute due to a giant summer deluge. The weather passed, and it ended up being quite a lovely afternoon, which again lit the Facebook page up with disappointment and frustration.

To say these first few years of the Christmas Eve Carnival in the Showgrounds have had a rough start is putting it mildly, and understandably adds to the longing and nostalgia the community feels for the way it used to be.

But luckily for us, the Lions are persevering, and weather permitting, the Carnival will kick off at 4pm with children’s entertainment, street performers and food trucks. Santa is scheduled to arrive at 5pm with free ice blocks and lollipops, and fireworks are set to start at 8pm.

Gold coin donation on entry, or $5 parking via Market Street.

The council’s new single-use plastic rules will be in effect, so remember to bring your water bottle. There will be refilling stations but no water for sale. And don’t forget your rug!

Dogs on leads are welcome, keeping in mind the 8pm fireworks. Also a reminder to get those four-legged friends back at home sorted beforehand if they’re not a fan.

If we embrace the new Carnival and help it find its feet – whether by getting involved or simply attending – our iconic and historic Christmas gathering has every chance of thriving into the future, continuing to reflect the vibrancy and warmth of our incredible community.

You don’t need to be a member of the Lions to help out – just get in contact with Nashy on 0418 440 545.

*With thanks to Trisha Bleakley, Greg Nash, Brian and Jan Shultz, Hamilton and Rebecca Du Lieu, Maralyn Hanigan, Lynn Smith, Denise and Reg Miller, Alli Page, and Pippa Vickery.

He’s not sure exactly when he began announcing the Bangalow Show, but believes it must be at least 40 years ago. While the town itself has grown and gone through some major transformations during that time, Peter’s view from the ring has remained pretty unchanged. “It is one of my favourite towns, and it always has been.”

Asked if he has a preferred event, he says he loves them all. “To me it’s the best little show that I’ve come across because they don’t just do a show, they do entertainment.” His wife Libby – also involved in agricultural shows through her love of horse riding – adds it’s the meeting of the diverse Byron Bay influence with the more traditional rural component that pulls the crowds. Peter agrees, “they go because they don’t know what they’re going to get, or what’s going to happen.”

While Libby is from the area, Peter was born in Moree and grew up in nearby Gunnedah. When the local radio station, 2MO, relocated to premises directly across the road from his childhood home, he began hanging out at the studio, his interest indulged by the evening announcer at the time, Neville Grey. He left school at 15, without aspirations of a career in radio on account of his ‘thin’ voice, instead working in the grocery section of the local department store.

That all changed after his voice broke quite dramatically during a family caravanning holiday in Ballina. Neville suggested he and his new voice apply for Bryson Taylor’s radio coaching program, and in 1957 at age 16, he caught the train down to Sydney to stay with his grandmother. Bryson Taylor’s training studios were located in the historic AWA (Amalgamated Wireless Australasia) building in York Street, which was also home to the biggest radio network in Australia at the time.

Amongst this thriving hub of broadcasting activity, Peter learnt how to write copy, read commercials and the news, and host a radio show, and was sent away at the end of the month’s course with instructions to buy the newspaper every day and practice reading stories out loud.

Upon his return to Gunnedah he went to see 2MO about a job, but was told he was still a little too young. Peter “didn’t disagree,” and continued working in the grocery department. A few months later, to his surprise while playing cricket in his side yard, the station manager popped his head over the hedge and told him to come in on Sunday and have a go on air.

Peter arrived at the station, only to have the manager announce he was leaving him to it and heading out. He had half an hour to work out the daunting array of turntables, reel-to-reel tapes and gongs to play at the introduction of the news. Three hours later the manager returned and said he and his wife had been listening over their lunch and she had told him to hire him.

He gave notice at the department store, and just three months shy of his 17th birthday, Peter’s career in radio began. He stayed at 2MO for nearly three years, and then began working around the country. “In those days announcers moved a lot. If someone offered you an extra five pound, you went.” During a stint in Newcastle his manager suggested a name change – not a fan of his birth name, Cecil Went.

By this stage Libby was on the scene, and he asked her to choose one, having never liked Cecil himself. She suggested Peter, which he has answered to ever since. When he later started at Sydney’s 2UW he decided to “go the whole hog” and again, asked Libby to choose a new surname. Peter Crawford was born – albeit to the confusion of Libby’s students. “Are you living in sin, Mrs Went?” she was asked at school after a picture of the couple was published in the paper using Peter’s stage name.

Peter began work at Lismore’s 2LM, where he became program manager for 10 years. Each year 2LM would broadcast live from the Lismore Show, and in 1980, during his third or fourth time there, he was approached by one of the organisers and asked if he could fill in immediately for the announcer who was “a little bit on the tippy side.” He knew little about the goings on apart from what he had witnessed both at the Show and through Libby’s involvement with horse competitions, and had to be talked through it.

He was soon contacted by the Kyogle Show, “and before I realised it, I was doing Lismore, Kyogle and Casino. It just grew from there.” In 1982 he left radio, although continued to provide voice overs for what is now WIN television, and embarked on a busy schedule of shows, and calling rodeos and the trots. After 30 years he stepped back from rodeos after being knocked down twice in 12 months. “A bull had an argument with me, and a horse had an argument with me. They both won. I thought I’m getting too old for this.” With the death of his cousin, Bruce Green, at the Tamworth Rodeo under similar circumstances in 2021, it seems to be a wise move.

As much as Peter loves working the local show circuit of Nimbin, Kyogle, Bangalow, Casino, Lismore, Alstonville, Bonalbo, Maclean and Grafton, he admits it’s tough being out in the arena on his feet for so many hours. “As long as I can do a show, I’ll do it,” he says. “I’m getting a bit slow with my hips. I find it very difficult to walk sometimes, but I’m never short of breath. I can talk all day,” he laughs.

In 1974, with a handshake between strangers in the bazaar of the ancient Persian trading hub of Herat, Afghanistan, Bangalow’s Rug Shop was born. Maybe it’s because he joined the “last gasp” of the ancient continuum of merchants along the Silk Road, predating the formalities of lawyers and contracts, or simply because Milton Cater is a fortunate man, but 50 years, a second generation and a series of pivotal handshake agreements later, this traditional, good-faith approach to business continues to stand the entire operation in good stead.

It was Milton’s second time in Herat. He had purchased a Persian rug when passing through a couple of years earlier on his return to Australia via the hippie overland route – despite, according to Milton, not being a hippie and travelling with a suitcase. Coveted by friends and family back in his hometown on the Gold Coast, the rug was snapped up by his uncle, and the possibility emerged of turning his love of “all things Persian” into a career.

With a small loan from said uncle, Milton returned to Herat where he found a dealer named Mohammed Amin who shared his preference for the more interesting rugs of desert tribes over so-called master weavers. After a satisfactory I Ching reading from Mohammed Amin’s holy man and with nothing more than a list, a total, a small down payment and a pledge from Milton to return with the outstanding amount “in a year or three,” the peculiar age-old human ritual of extending and clasping weaponless hands was performed, formalising the agreement and heralding the beginning of an era.

Setting up shop in Brisbane’s Paddington, it was only 18 months before Milton was back in Herat for a third time, looking for Mohammed Amin to pay off his debt and secure more stock. But Mohammed Amin was no longer in the bazaar and his enquiries were met with “hushed undertones”. Milton finally found him working in the run-down old shoe market, stripped of his former life after being caught smuggling goods through the desert and avoiding tax collectors at the borders – how, it turns out, he was able to develop relationships with remote rugproducing tribes. His camel train and wealth seized, Mohammed Amin apologised that he was no longer able to be of assistance and introduced Milton to Qasim, who went on to become a dear friend and supplier for many years.

The communist coup in the late 1970s had already made things difficult for the merchant classes of Afghanistan, but as the country became increasingly war-torn, Qasim and his family disappeared. He later surfaced in Agra, India, destitute, appealing to his Australian friend for help. Milton sent the family thousands of dollars from the profits he had made selling both Mohammed Amin and Qasim’s rugs and heard nothing, until one day, about three years later when he received a call from his customs agent. A shipment had arrived from Qasim from his new home of Mashhad, Iran – a centre of carpet trade – containing inventory to the value of the funds Milton had sent. A full-circle moment of trust and faith, first set in motion by Mohammed Amin back in 1974.

Milton’s ties to our region stretch back to childhood, growing up visiting the family weekender at Suffolk, to which his parents moved permanently in 1972, and after closing the Paddington store in the early eighties, he moved to Bangalow and turned his attention to wholesaling. Anne had relocated from Sydney around the same time, and being eager to travel to India, was more than impressed with the nine trips Milton already had under his belt. The two married and had three sons – Nick, Alex and Max.

In 1999, an opportunity arose that suited the Caters’ perfectly – the owners of the old grocery store that formerly occupied The Rug Shop, Lisa and Peter Hughes, were waiting on the redevelopment of the garage across the road (present-day Foodworks), and the landlord, Cath Pugsley, needed tenants who could work with an undefined move-in date. With just another handshake, the deal was sealed. So firmly in fact, that despite the rapid gentrification of Bangalow during the two years it took for the new supermarket to be ready, and the multiple offers of more money Cath received for the space, she honoured the agreement, and Anne and Milton opened in November 2001 – tricky timing for merchants dealing in Islamic wares a matter of weeks after 9/11.

They found a way around their usual twice yearly purchasing trips to the Middle East during the pandemic by shifting negotiations to WhatsApp, and even with the borders reopened, the convenience has stuck. Trading remotely with sanctioned countries is not for the faint-hearted though, both financially and logistically, and seems is only possible thanks to the meaningful relationships forged with their network on the ground over so many years.

The boys gravitated towards the business, which is undergoing a gradual generational transition. As Anne and Milton ease their foot off the pedal and spend more time with their ever-growing number of grandchildren, Nick and Alex continue stepping to the front, with Max in the shop part-time when he’s not working as a local arborist. But it is not just their children carrying on the mantle – Anne and Milton often find themselves dealing with a second generation of suppliers, as well as a second generation of clients.

The longstanding excellent relationship with their landlord also underwent a recent transition with the purchase of the shop, cementing their presence on our main street. With their comprehensive online store offering free shipping Australia-wide though, their reach extends far beyond our little town, with a huge client base in Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane.

To be a trader of integrity amongst a world of mass-produced imitations and dubiously eternal closing down sales put The Rug Shop in an elite category alongside just a handful of others across the country. They are the only recognised valuers north of Sydney, offer a full service of repairs and cleaning, and deal in both antique pieces, as well as traditionally produced contemporary rugs, directly supporting families of sheep farmers and weavers.

Paying forward the good faith extended to them back in Herat half a century ago, the Caters welcome customers taking rugs home to try in situ before purchasing, and in all their years of entrusting strangers with such precious works of art, have, with only one exception, had their faith in the essential good of humans sustained.

On the subject of whether rugs are art or not, Milton is passionate. “We have this hierarchy – there’s fine art and there’s domestic art, and it’s so wrong. Everything here,” he says gesturing at the walls of exquisite colour and patterns that take months, and sometimes years to produce, “in the Western canon, is not considered art. We consider it art.”

Most of us feel powerless and overwhelmed in the face of larger world forces, seemingly beyond our control. Few, like local conservationist and retired veterinarian Claire Oelrichs OAM, run full-steam towards them, determined that they can, and must, make a difference. Whether it be tirelessly regenerating the 100 acres of Coopers Shoot land she and her late husband, Ian, purchased in the early 1990s, or working to protect the threatened elephants, tigers, and rhinoceros of southern Sumatra, Claire is giving it her all. She might try to downplay her decades of frontline activism as being almost accidental, but her actions speak for themselves as to the level of dedication involved.

Though she continues to be busy tackling her last hill at Coopers Shoot, and is still heavily engaged in international wildlife conservation efforts, since the Russian invasion of Ukraine in early 2022, her heart has been in Eastern Europe. She says there is no personal connection to either Ukraine or Russia that would explain the degree to which she has been affected by the developments there, but learning of her father’s life-risking secret ops in the British Navy as a Russian-speaking spy during the 1950s, one might beg to differ.

Her horror at the unfolding catastrophe in Ukraine prompted a deep dive into the subject, impressed beyond measure with the resolve of the people she witnessed in the documentary, Winter on Fire which examines the 2013 Maidan Uprising that instigated the current Russo-Ukrainian war. Further digging left her aghast, finding little-discussed but verified reports of widespread war crimes, including the abduction of thousands of Ukrainian children, and the common practice of genital mutilation of prisoners of war. “It’s an abomination, and offends every sense of right and wrong!” she says.

Determined to find a means in which to contribute in a substantial way, she became aware of a campaign called ‘Car for Ukraine’ (C4U), which sees a network of volunteers across the UK and Europe procure vehicles for the Ukrainian army. Second-hand dual-cab 4×4 utes, most often sourced from the UK due to their cheaper cost and more plentiful supply, are purchased by members of the public and transported by expat Ukrainians to C4U’s armoury in Lviv, where they are transformed into battle-ready trucks and sent off to the frontline.

She started following C4U’s progress—who have so far delivered 411 trucks worth around five million dollars—and inspired by their tenacious grassroots approach, began fundraising with friends to purchase their first vehicle. Over the next couple of years, a further two vehicles were secured, liaising with London based Ukrainian Sergiy, who facilitates the process.

With her 70th birthday approaching in March of this year, Claire and her Berlin-based sons, Dexter and Cooper, were discussing ideas for a birthday holiday get-together when the possibility of personally transporting a fourth vehicle to Ukraine was floated. The 1900km journey, usually squeezed into a punishing weekend of 18-hour days for the volunteers who transport the vehicles, was plotted as a less arduous five-day family road trip, and by the time they converged in London this past Easter weekend, one ute had become one each, taking the total of supplied vehicles to six. Fitted out with BYO CB radios, the Oelrichs family convoy hit the road to Lviv.

The post-Brexit hard UK/EU border crossing from Dover to Calais got them off to a challenging start. Travelling as ‘cargo,’ their utes were dwarfed by a wall-to-wall flotilla of giant freight trucks, with the three Oelrichs packed into carriages alongside an army of drivers from every corner of Europe. The unusual convoy, emblazoned with Ukrainian stickers and bound for a conflict zone, garnered extra thorough searches and x-rays, sending pulses racing amongst the Australians who realised they had put themselves in a potentially vulnerable position. “We’ve all seen The Mule!” Claire laughs. Passing with flying colours and their faith in C4U confirmed, they were free to begin their adventure across Europe.

Whizzing through previously visited countries, their pace slowed in Poland to enjoy some sightseeing and hiking, before the mood changed considerably crossing through Ukraine’s wartime border and travelling the two hours into Lviv on its dilapidated major highway.

After delivering the vehicles and seeing the armoury, the Oelrichs visited the Field of Mars—named for the God of War—an “unbelievably moving” cemetery struggling to cope with the ever-increasing number of graves of the region’s fallen, brightly decorated in flags and flowers, each bearing their photo, as well as the emotionally charged treasures left by loved ones—often their children. Before heading back to Poland, they shared dinner at a restaurant with C4U members, including the founder, Roman, during which an app on the Oelrichs’ phones started blaring in unison, warning of imminent attack. The locals were unfazed, reassuring them, despite the scars peppering the city from a series of missile strikes in 2022 and 2023, “they never bomb Lviv”. Its standing as one of Ukraine’s safest cities, furthest away from the frontlines, is all relative for a country living under the most difficult of circumstances.

Energised by the experience and determined to do even more to help, Claire is drawing on her expertise as a seasoned conservation tour guide to lead a larger convoy of between five to 10 vehicles this September/October for keen travellers looking for an adventure with purpose. Groups can come together to purchase a vehicle, costing on average around £4000/$8000, with between two to four drivers of each vehicle self-funding a week-long road trip through the UK, France, Belgium, Germany and Poland, with a day trip into and out of Lviv. While the convoy would start and finish, as well as cross the UK/France and Poland/Ukraine borders together, vehicles can branch off as desired, or remain in tow with Claire, staying at strategically located Airbnbs and visiting sightseeing destinations along the way.

Claire would love to hear from anyone interested in joining: claireoelrichs@gmail.com For more information about C4U, visit car4ukraine.com

Rhonda Ansiewicz was so conflicted at the news she was being recognised for her 40 years of social activism, she initially felt she couldn’t accept as a matter of principle. Not from a government she sees to be failing the marginalised communities she’s dedicated her life to. But the prospect of facing the formidable group of 11 fellow long-time activists who’d spent three years secretly working on her nomination was daunting enough to decide it would be easier to “go for the Governor” instead.

While Rhonda’s appointment acknowledges the breadth of her contributions across multiple causes—refugees, disability advocacy, homelessness, women’s welfare, and more—her primary focus is her work with the Aboriginal community. “That’s my core. The person I am today is because of them.”

In 1974, Rhonda was a teacher at a Sydney Catholic high school, “turned off” with the church but “looking for some spirituality” when she ventured into Redfern to lend a hand at St Vincent’s soup kitchen. There she came into the orbit of prominent Wiradjuri woman and humanitarian activist, Mum Shirl, and the progressive and anticlerical parish priest, Father Ted Kennedy—one of Australia’s most fearless advocates for Aboriginal rights. It was a “full-on” time during the land rights movement, and her involvement in Redfern not only swelled to encompass every spare moment but led to studying social work at the University of Western Sydney, where she went on to become a member of faculty for 22 years.

Her visit to St Vincent’s wasn’t the first time the trajectory of Rhonda’s life had been altered by an exceptional priest. Raised by nuns in a children’s welfare home, she was en route to becoming a hospital laundress, until her interest was piqued hearing the ‘outside’ girls she played netball with discussing ‘the Intermediate’ (today’s School Certificate). A visiting priest told her he’d see what he could do, and facilitated her sitting for both the Intermediate and Leaving Certificates. “People opened doors for me. Good people. I think that’s what led to me being drawn to these situations in life.”

Rhonda loved the diversity of UWS, full of people who, like herself, never dreamt of tertiary education. She co-created their Aboriginal Rural Education Program to assist students from all over New South Wales in a modified learning format, gathering every holiday in various regional centres for week-long intensives. “I built a real bond with them. I love them. Some of my students are working around here, and they often ring me for my take on something, which is lovely to have the contact.”

Life was full. Her day started at 5am with a call from Father Ted delegating tasks, then out to UWS, then into Redfern for evenings and weekends—plus her Rural Education Program, visiting prisons with Mum Shirl, making regular submissions on black deaths in custody, and providing assistance in court. Somehow, she even found time to write a letter a week for 27 years campaigning for Nelson Mandela’s release, eventually getting to meet him during his 1990 visit.

Cardinal Pell’s crackdown on Redfern upon Father Ted’s health-related retirement in 2002 radically changed the landscape, and Rhonda’s own increasing issues with environmentally induced asthma forced her to look outside of Sydney for a new life. With a community of friends already in the Northern Rivers, she relocated to 13 acres in Federal in 2005, and immediately sought out the old train shed soup kitchen in Lismore—just as she had done in Redfern so many years earlier. “I fell in love with it. … They were the same people.” Securing the Winsome Hotel got everyone out of the unbearable heat of the tin shed, and, as well sit-down lunches and takeaway sandwiches 365 days a year, allowed for the additional provision of health and housing services.

Rhonda’s on the coffee machine one morning a week and encourages everyone to come and enjoy a “good $2 barista coffee” and see the beautiful clinker bricks and tiles uncovered during the 2022 flood restoration. “It’s a lovely, comfortable place to sit down and have a yarn. … A lot of these people are artists, ex-tradies. When you get to know people, they’ve got a really interesting story to tell. And something’s happened.” She firmly believes we’re all only one step away from experiencing homelessness, and balks at people’s assertion it couldn’t happen to them.

Rhonda’s embraced country life over the last 20 years, developing a reputation as a breeder of Angus cattle—limited to herds of six and only sold to “good homes” for breeding. She says she’s been looked after “brilliantly” by the community, whether it’s support during illness or unprompted assistance with property maintenance. She joined the RFS when she first arrived, but after three years was forced to swap a hose for a catering apron due to a debilitating back condition.

She’s also heavily involved with the Bangalow CWA and their social action group working for women and children, which along with the Winsome, is her main interest these days. It certainly seems a match made in heaven, the CWA the perfect support mechanism to her frontline action. “I think that’s my skill, I’m good at linking that to that.” Rhonda insists this award is for the “invisible” people—those without a voice, whose troubles and suffering went largely unnoticed.

“That is my stance, that this award is in memory of them, and for the struggle, and how they tenaciously tried to make a go of it.” She doesn’t think what she’s done is remarkable, more that she’s simply “part of a chain”. She hates the word charity and its connotations, feeling the people she’s helped have given her far more than she could ever give them. “It’s about reaching out to people in need when you see a need. And not to be afraid of it because the benefits are just wonderful, both for the person and for how you feel. There’s so much injustice in the world—if you can just make a little dent. … We can be the conduit to make a difference.

“I do not think I’m 80,” she says of the milestone coming up in May. “I’ve got a lot of energy still, and while I’ve got it, I’m going to give it.” She’s devastated by the defeat of The Voice, but knows you have to “stay in it to make the change”. Not even major spinal surgery last year has put a damper on things, although it has limited her to four hours at a time on her feet. When the nurses wrote her age on her hospital whiteboard, she told them to put 60 next to it in brackets. “That’s how I run,” she laughs.