On Taphophiles, Gravers, Tombstone Tourists, and Cemetery Hunters

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Old Coonabarabran Cemetery

By Leslie Bush

Taphophile: a.k.a. tombstone tourist, graver, cemetery hunter – is an expression to describe someone who has a passion for cemeteries, the history of the person, the headstones, the epitaphs, photography and art (Wikipedia).

Me, I prefer to be called a ‘Graver’. Taphophile sounds a little creepy to me. 

Exploring cemeteries involve what my fellow Gravers and I call ‘road trips’. Usually they are in support of a family history search but sometimes when you just want to escape everything, they can be the most tranquil places to be. What attracts me to cemeteries besides researching a particular person for someone else or my tree, is the history they tell of the town, the love that is felt in the monuments and epitaphs, the stories they can tell us of the history of our nation. I am not frightened by those that have passed, it is the living that you have to watch out for. 

Half of the fun of road trips is in getting there. I’ve taken quite a few involving cemeteries, some in places you would never imagine. The most recent one was to the town of Coonabarabran, an aboriginal name meaning ‘inquisitive person’ – sounds about right!

So, on this day my Graver friend and I were heading to Cooma, got up early to get going, and of course the pipes are frozen, no water equals no shower, so waiting, waiting. Finally rugged up, threw in the extra jumper, beanie and gloves as it is colder up there this time of year. At the 11th hour or should I say ‘10th ‘, we get a phone call. ‘No, it’s not Cooma, it’s Coona, you know Coonabarabran’. Oh bugger, that is like 5 and a half hours away. We look at each other, thinking it over. Okay, let’s do it, so with a hot cup of coffee and google maps, we are off!

Headed out through Boorowa and first pit-stop is to the Visitor Information Centre at the Old Court House. Absolutely love the little old ladies who volunteer there. A shop full of home-made items, arts and crafts, books, brochures, a tea-room, a ready smile, that warm fuzzy feeling and I feel like I’m hanging out with Grandma. The markets are also on in the grounds and I love a good bargain. But no, on a mission be strong! – I failed, grabbed a bucket of local honey on the way back to the car. 

We make our way up the Mid-Western Hwy past Canowindra – not pronounced ‘Can-O-Windra’ apparently. Who knew! Going through Wellington and we make a quick U-turn on spotting a Convict Settlement and Pioneer Cemetery. Stopped to have a look and take some photos, it was sad to see the settlement so forlorn and neglected. Off again to Dunedoo, southern gateway to the Warrumbungle Region. Which by the way is not named in reference to the ‘Aussie Outhouse’ but is an Aboriginal name meaning ‘Place of the Black Swan’ or a place in Scotland, there is some debate on this. Great little town to stop for a stretch, something to eat and meander down the main street. 

Back on the Castlereagh Highway and we are doing really well for time. Still feeling alert, having a laugh, chatting, listening to music when we notice a sign for Coonabarabran, check the google map, not on the route we have. Must be a shortcut we think and off we go. Turns out to be a dirt road with very soft dirt, so slowly does it, as we travel along we notice more and more dead wildlife, in fact I had never seen that many wombats, dead or alive! Suddenly my friend shouts out ‘Oh my God’, I’m so startled, I brake thinking ‘roo’, and next thing there is an Emu running alongside of us. We sat there for a minute in stunned silence. Then we burst out laughing as we watch it run off into the scrub. I remember thinking it looked more startled than we did. We carry on and come to a crossroad and find the road closed ahead, but that is the road we need. No sign to tell us which road to detour to. Check google and of course ‘no service’. 

What to do? Check the map we have, okay we decide if we take this road here should take us to a town called Mendooran and we will ask someone to point us in the right direction. Pull up outside the pub and yes, take the next right over the bridge and straight through to Coonabarabran is the advice. We notice as we head up along the road we keep seeing signs on side roads saying Binnaway, after about 8 of them, it became a running joke ‘all roads lead to Binnaway’.  

About an hour later we are pulling into Coonabarabran. First stop the Visitor Information Centre who were just closing but were nice enough to open up and give us a map and directions to the Old Cemetery a few kilometres out of town. The sun is starting to set, so we get to searching for person we are seeking. Sadly in 2013 there was a massive bushfire that devastated the Warrumbungle Region and the cemetery seemed to be a casualty of it.

Beautiful stonework, headstones now partly blackened and charred, others impossible to read and others sadly not even having any at all. But for all that, it was quite a serene spot. We headed back to town and made the decision to stay the night. We weren’t keen on travelling that road at night. Booked ourselves into the Coachman’s Rest Motor Lodge, a nice motel, very reasonable rates. And then as we hadn’t packed for an overnighter made our way to Woolworths for a toothbrush and some undies. Picked up some snacks and after viewing the limited array of underwear, to my horror I ended up with a pair that Grandma used to wear. ‘Bombay bloomers’ I think is the term that we used when I was a kid. Made a big note to self at this point, never go on another road trip without packing an emergency kit! NB: They are actually really comfy and definitely put paid to the expression ‘put on your big girl pants and get on with it’!

So, we were getting hungry by this point and checked out the local Chinese place. The Golden Sea Dragon Restaurant was a pretty impressive building, lots of glitz and gold and the friendliest young lady working the front counter. If you are up that way, in the words of Molly Meldrum ‘do yourself a favour’ and have a meal there. Back to the room we process what we didn’t achieve that day and decide in the morning to re-visit the VIC. A laughing reference to ‘freight trains’ and we are off to the land of nod.

Once again, the ladies were very helpful. Giving us a name, Joy at the Coonabarabran DPS Local & Family History Group, who on contacting would run a search in their records and send anything she found, which she did. A few weeks ago, I got a letter from them, again no luck with our request but she did find some records on Ancestry which she thought may help. It was very kind of her, but I had to laugh on reading the documents though – one of those records she sent was from a tree created by me.

Anyway, we then went off to the NEW cemetery, not knowing about a second one we set off in great anticipation. A lovely tranquil setting in bushland just outside town, but again no luck and time is getting away from us as we head back to town. Driving back, we both think ‘pub’, there is bound to be someone there who will know something. Sure enough, they do! But this Elder is not available right now, but yes there is another cemetery out at the Burra Bee Dee Mission – finally! 

As there is some speculation the ancestor we are searching for may be of Aboriginal heritage we head out onto the Oxley Highway excited to think we may solve the puzzle, and that is what family history is all about. Puzzles, linking one generation to the next, solving sometimes impossible timelines, finding that needle in a haystack. So, on we go about 14 km and yes there it is. Pull over and no way in, padlocked and monitored. Bugger again, seems this one doesn’t want to be found. 

Back into Coona a little bit despondent, but hey that is the nature of the challenge, finding a way around the obstacles. One last try we think, so back to the VIC, these ladies must be heartily sick of us by now. But no, ever helpful, they search for another Elder who may be able to help us. While waiting we wander around the centre. Admiring the Aboriginal artworks, read up on the devastating bushfire that consumed 55,000 hectares, destroyed homes and livestock. And almost took the Siding Springs Observatory (the nation’s top optical and infrared observatory) along with it, saved by the heroic efforts of the firefighters. The smoke plume from the bushfire rose 14 km’s into the atmosphere. I shudder in horror at what the district must have experienced. 

Armed with the contact details of Maureen Sulter an Aboriginal Elder we ring with hope. What a fantastically gorgeous person, invited us to come around to her place, just up around the corner, come and drop in, just home from Church. Off we go again, daring to get our hopes up. We were greeted with a beautiful smile and the most giving of hugs. We feel the warmth and generosity of this woman envelop us. We realise we don’t have much time, it is getting later and we must get home – husbands do worry so!

But we also didn’t want to leave. Maureen told us a few stories of the Gamilaraay or Kamilaroi people and about the Burra Bee Dee Mission. She offered to help and after showing her a photo thought she recognised the face. We were in family history heaven, finally, maybe this is the link. We spoke some more and she described to us how her people were forbidden to speak their own language by the Government of the time and how it had almost become lost. But thanks to her and those like her with the passion and drive needed, NSW is to become the first Australian State to introduce legislation to protect Aboriginal languages. The theme for this year’s NAIDOC week was ‘Our Languages Matter’ – Very fitting. 

Maureen told us of growing up on the Mission, never once letting on she was the third great granddaughter of Mary Jane Cain (1844-1929). Who after numerous correspondence to Queen Victoria was granted the land where the Mission resides. After spending time with this amazing Elder, it was time to reluctantly leave. We could have stayed and talked to her for days. Another heart-warming embrace goodbye and we were on our way home. Disappointed we had not discovered what we went there for, but soul satisfied we had met this wonderful person and taken the journey. 

Coming home through Bathurst and down past the Abercrombie, what a beautiful sight it is coming back into the Shire, plenty of roos to keep us company in the dark. It is good to be home. But we are already planning our next trip and packing that all important kit bag this time. 

Knowing where you come from, discovering their stories, in some way re-living their joys, heartbreak and sorrows is a way for us to connect to those who made us. It is what drives me to research family trees. The paths they trod is the road that I now follow. 

Want to read up on some of the places and people? See links below:


Leslie can be contacted via the details below:


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