I ask myself: why did my Aunt Meg, an openhearted, gregarious woman, who set me on the path of family history, and recorded so much of it, not tell me about my Aboriginal connections?
It was a familiar scene: a rough dirt road, dry creek bed, scrubby bushland. I saw no evidence of cultivation or construction, just shadows, silence, rustlings. But overwhelmingly I felt a sense of connection. I belonged there. I had sprung from this spot.
It might surprise you to learn that TSRs are part of Kandos history.
It seems to me Capertee, population 145 at the last census, punches above its weight.
The highlight of the highway route, but also the part that causes a tinge of anxiety for me, is that sliver of road cut into the side of Blackman's Crown, in early days referred to as the Crown Ridge.