Open-Door Policy

We'll Drink To That

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

These might look like the bat-wing doors from some Wild West saloon, but this is actually the entrance of the Ettamogah Pub in New South Wales, just across the border from neighbouring Victoria.

Every time we drive down the Hume Highway, we make it a point to stop off here - which in turn means that regular readers of this blog would recall at least three or four pictorial posts on the unique pub that is a real-life depiction of Ken Maynard's cartoons in The Australasian Post.

A couple of weeks ago, I was on a two-day trip into the Outback, up the beautiful Riverina region of New South Wales. Yes, I had the GPS in the car with me, but I didn't plug it in, preferring to operate on the "turn left at the dead gum tree" school of navigation. (And no, I didn't get lost. Not once. Fair dinkum.)

I knew I had to turn onto the Olympic Highway just after the Ettamogah Pub, but it was one of those trips where photography held sway, not the clock. So of course I pulled off the Hume Highway to spend twenty minutes in a familiar part of the country. And yes, each time I photograph this amazing landmark, the light is different.

I had a yarn to Chrissy the barmaid while I was there, but there was one key question I forgot to ask her, regarding the front door. Next time we drop in, I'll ask her this: is it famous for being the easiest door to get in through but the most difficult to get out of?

I’d welcome any thoughts you might have …


For earlier posts in this series, check out The Doors Archive.

Woolly Nelson

Hopelessly Devoted To Ewe

Photographs copyright: DAVID McMAHON

Picture this: here I am, scooting along the Olympic Highway. Going bush, we call it. Leaving the bright lights of the city far behind and heading for the wide open spaces, of which there are many in this wide brown land.

I’ve just turned off the busy Hume Highway between Melbourne and Sydney. I’ve put about 300 kilometres on the clock and I’ve followed instructions to "hang a left" just after Albury. I’m on the grandly-named Olympic Highway, but it’s really only two lanes, one in either direction.

There’s very little traffic, so I use my peripheral vision to check for possible stop-and-shoot spots where I can safely pull off the road, grab the camera, take a few shots and then drive on again. The road is long but the day is even longer. Easy pace. No need to hurry.

I drive round a gentle curve and there is a flock of sheep, grazing right near a perimeter fence. Above them is a dead, bare tree against a largely blue sky mottled with low white cloud to the west.


Brain says "perfect Outback scene" and then a split-second later it tells me "ideal Camera Critters shot". So I slow down, continue round the bend to where it is safe to see traffic in either direction. Nary a vehicle. So I do a clean, efficient U-turn and drive back to where I saw the sheep. One more deft U-turn and I am right beside the boundary fence.

I grab my camera and get out of the car. My heavy-duty hiking boots crunch on the shale. I am looking down to make sure I don’t trip on the uneven ground. The undergrowth is thick but steady. I negotiate about twenty metres of tricky but not dangerous ground.

Then I look up. The sheep, curse their tim'rous hearts, have scarpered. There is now 50 metres between us. So these shots were the best I could do.


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