Joadja - Lost in Time

What an amazing day. Gen came across reference to a ghost town called Joadja, not far from Berrima, 90 minute drive from Kiama.

I looked on the Internet and found a phone number. A phone call revealed there was a tour going next day and there had just been cancellations. Off we went on a truly glorious Autumn day, bathed in sunshine.

Joadja was a thriving mining town in the Southern Highlands between 1876 and 1911. Massive deposits of kerosene shale were mined and refined onsite into kerosene. The mining company brought in specialist miners from Scotland with their families. At its most prosperous the town had 1300 inhabitants.

Getting to Joadja means accessing a rutted, washed out road leading into the wooded valley. At the end of the road is a grassy clearing where we were welcomed by Val, an engineer, originally from Spain. In the last six years together with his family he has renovated some of the heritage buildings on his 1000 acres with his own money and some state help. He has battled with bureaucracy and has a plan to share the place with holiday lets and running a distillery.

We have morning tea while we wait for a bus with elderly visitors to arrive from Sydney. Parked outside are two 4wd vehicles with Safari-style people-mover trailers.

Once the bus has arrived, Val starts his energetic commentary, we jump onto the trailers and head off to drive up the valley past The Incline, the remains of a dramatically steep railway that soared above the valley to connect with a railway line to Mittagong. 

First stop for our tour is the ruin of the Mining Director's residence which stands in front of the Orchard, once a very successful market garden. A major bushfire wreaked destruction when it swept through the valley in 1905.

Next we see the ruined School of Arts which functioned as an ad hoc church for various sometimes conflicting denominations. 

We followed a steep downhill track, crossed the creek, then parked on the opposite bank to visit the restored managers' cottages of Carrington Row, now interspersed with rambling trees.

Val keeps up a super commentary full of interest as we visit individual sites. Previous owners in more recent times include a speculator who looked to take all the remaining bricks and equipment. His attempt at dynamiting one of the stacks was overzealous and resulted in pulverised bricks of no value. Another owner, a colourful American lady, used to have wild parties with bikies and others invited for sampling of the eponymous weed that was grown behind the house. The same bikies also took potshots at another chimney stack but failed to fell it.

The Retorts are huge brick buildings where the kerosene shale was refined. Tall chimney stacks still stand beside them, and the strongly-riveted metal retort liners are strewn around. Nearby is a tar pit where the waste residue was dumped. Deceptively hard in winter, it is soft in summer, and wildlife finds its way there to fall in.

 Our final stop is a shady spot where the young, single men of the mine lived a rough life enlivened by making sly grog, an illicit pleasure which the local constabulary both banned and secretly enjoyed when confiscated.

Back at the starting point, beside the old residence of the orchard manager, now Val's family's residence, we spotted a pair of cuddly wombats, mother and daughter, browsing grass in the sun.

After a bbq lunch, Val took us down to the distillery where in micro-business style his family makes Scottish style beer, whisky, gin, anis, and more. The barrels to mature the drink are imported from the Jerez sherry region of Spain. What is amazing is how much money,  time and effort Val and his family have invested battling the windmills of bureaucracy.