Janefield Mill

Janefield Mill is in a picturesque spot at the junction of Plenty River and a gully now known as University Hill Creek. A former cart track was cut into the north side of the gully to access the mill site, and as the slopes down to the creek are very steep, this provides a reasonable easy access. The track became clear after the fire of December 2019 cleared the way. However it was again taken over by blackberries, and so a path had to be cleared.

The location was photographed in 1877 by German born Fred Kruger, with the track can be glimpsed in front of the mill and about half way up the gully. A small shack and fenced orchard can be seen on the ridge and a terraced area immediately behind the mill. these were clearly visible after the fire.

The mill site itself is quite clear with a two story high rear retaining wall on the north side and lower sections of wall on the other three sides. A channel can be identified leading north along the base of the cliff and beside the river flats. This is clearly the remnants of the water race. Stonework is sufficiently intact to determine the overall dimensions and some details of its construction. The building was 14.3 metres long x 6.7 m wide, the walls are up to 0.8 metres thick and the  pit for the water wheel was 2 metres wide. An opening near the south west corner can be matched to one of the ground floor windows.

George Coulstock came from Reigate in Surrey, where his father was a millwright and miller. He first settled in Launceston carrying out the trade of Baker, but in about 1837, he wrote to his parents about a new venture:

I have had an eye to exploring for a site that would answer for a water mill, it being one of the best businesses in the colonies, particularly of New South Wales, there being so few places that will answer the purpose. I have found such a situation about 10 miles up the Yarra from Melbourne, but not more than three by land. It is in a very rough place, and not considered fit for the purpose, but they say there are situations which will do about 30 miles up the river. I have taken the level at a great deal of trouble, and find the fall of nearly 20 feet within a distance of 500 yards, being a rapid rather than a fall. This, of course, I keep a profound secret, and believe, as far as I can learn, that it is on the first of the sections which will be sold, being a square mile or 640 acres I will buy it if possible, and will at all events go as far as 26/ if necessary, although it is not expected to reach 10/ an acre. … I forgot to say that there is a sufficient supply of water at the site I have chosen for the mill to drive six or eight pair of stones the year round and so good is the situation that a small mill may be erected for about £300. I should open a store, improve my own ground and be on the spot to lay out what little money I could for a crop. I calculated if we dissolve to have about £888 and my home; and I could get credit of the merchants if I required it for a thousand or two." 

The site Coulstock had in mind is almost certainly Dight’s Falls, which meets the criteria for both distances from Melbourne and the fall in river height. However, he missed out in obtaining the site possibly because land sales were held in Sydney in 1839, where John Dight was able to acquire Portion 88 Parish of Jika Jika and establish his own water mill shortly after. Rather than venture further up the Yarra, Coulstock found a site on the Plenty River, about 12 miles (or 19 km as the crow flies). This could be the "30 miles up the river" that Coulstock refers to, since geographic knowledge of Melbourne’s waterways was still limited, but it is more likely he was referring to Warrandyte, which was the next section of the Yarra with a suitable fall.

In any case, Coulstock found another site on the Plenty River that suited his purposes, where in 1842 he constructed a two storey stone flour mill driven by a 16 foot (4.9 metre) diameter ‘centreshoot’ or breast-shot water-wheel (where the water is delivered about halfway up the side of the wheel).  

The mill was able to grist 8 bushels of wheat per hour. The first reference in the newspapers simply states:

It is not generally known that a flour mill, worked by water, is in the course of erection at Coulstock's station on the Plenty. 

Kruger photographed the site in about 1871 according to the National Gallery citation. However, the last reference to the mill being operational is in about 1859. The location of his photo is relatively easy to find by following one of the mountain bike tracks towards the 'Serendipity' bridge. 

The point Kruger took his photo is probably the rock outcrop in the foreground of this image. while the other outcrop his assistant, or possibly the land owner is standing on can be seen in the left distance. A photo from the exact position is obscured by the young trees.

Excavations in June 2022 focussed on the area of the Water Wall. This was the eastern wall of the mill facing the river which held the water wheel. Initially it was thought less than a metre of rubble lay on the floor inside the building, but the excavation went down to 1.6 metres and still could not find the bottom.

The waterwall, however, proved to be a substantial structure more than 80 cm wide. The heavy construction

 was required to take the weight of the wheel and gearing and withstand the vibration and forces generated by the moving machinery.

While the base of the excavation could not be reached (OHS require shoring up holes deeper than 1.5 metres), there was enough evidence revealed to determine the size of the water wheel, and the likely arrangement, with the water wall supporting its full weight and no support for the axle on its outer end. The arrangement was probably something like this (Hyde Mill Wisconsin):

Mayfield Mill

Moses Thomas built a steam powered flour mill on the Plenty River in 1855. In 1857 he added a water wheel, possibly because of competition from the two other water powered mills on the river which didn't have the extra cost of purchasing coal. 

When the Yan Yean Aqueduct over Plenty River was washed away on floods in 1878 repair work gave us a brief glimpse of  Thomas’s mill with the water wheel framed by the arch of the ruined aqueduct (State Library Victoria). the waterwheel is shows separated from the ill building, with the boiler chimney on the same side of the mill as the wheel. this would suggest the boilers were place close to edge of the escarpment, indicating there must have been a long drive train from the water wheel to the machinery.

During the second day of excavation we came across an archaeological surprise. Instead of an anticipated Spur or Bevel Gear at the end of the drive shaft off the ring gear for transferring the drive from the water wheel to the stones, we found what looked like parts of a crank and con-rod.

This might have been coupled directly to the flywheel of the steam engine. It would be very unusual since it involves converting the rotary motion of the water wheel into reciprocal motion and then back to rotary motion to drive the stones.

However, further excavation revealed the initial interpretation was quite wrong and that the counter-shaft had a spoked pulley on the end, probably about 1 - 1.5 metres diametre.

This indicates that the drive from the waterwheel was through pulleys and a leather belt to the upper level. Although there were not many small artefacts apart from very rusted nails, some small copper rivets with washers were probably from the drive belt, having been used to join the ends of the belt together.

Carome Mill

The excavation at the Carome Mill was successful and I think has answered the main questions I posed in relation to the type and phases of technology employed  in this early watermill. The foundations of Seargentson's original 1841 mill building could be identified along with alterations from the 1858 rebuilding by William Hardesty and Abraham Willis. This showed that the original very simple timber pit wheel and pinion gearing for a single set of stones had been most likely replaced by iron bevel drive from the water wheel to a ‘great spur wheel’ driving two stone nuts. This is what I suspected from historical sources and comparisons with pre- and post- improvement mills in Britain. It also fits with what is known about the capacity of the Fulton Foundry to manufacture relatively large cast iron gears. The water wheel was also enlarged and shifted as the building appears to have been extended to the east.

The changes can be seen in the two 19th century illustrations of the mill. In the first from 1849, the building has a single storey and loft with the water wheel contained in a substantial squared stone wall.

In about 1858, the building had been raised with an upper timber floor added, and a separate stone pillar construction supports the outer end of the water wheel shaft. The water wheel is larger and now extends to near the top of the stonework.

The photo below is looking down from the rock escarpment on the north side of the Carome Mill site on 30 March. The 1841 structure can be identified by separate areas of mud mortar and shell lime mortar. Most of the 1858 additions were removed, but the 1841 pit wheel slot and water wheel pit have been filled in with stone set in slaked lime mortar, which would not have been available until after the gold rushes. This would have been done in 1858 when the mill was enlarged, and intended to prepare the base for supporting new machinery. I only excavated a small trench across the water wall, where the shaft of the water wheel would have entered the building through the external wall, and the gearing would have been just inside. The other external walls are mostly identifiable from footings and the retaining walls built into the hillside excavation.  The site has now been backfilled.

The historical and archaeological evidence indicates the mill was altered from a fairly typical 'Vitruvian' form of technology, to an improved design. This reflected the change that occurred in Britain around the beginning of the 19th century, when the simple Medieval form of timber geared milles with a single set of mill stones, were being replaced with or upgraded to a more efficient and productive technology which employed more complex cast iron gears designed to drive multiple sets of mill stones as well as other grain cleaning and flour dressing machinery.

Probable 1841 arrangement of gearing

Probable 1858 arrangement of gearing

Wheelwright tyre bonding plate

Hidden in a back lane behind Sydney Road, Brunswick is a relic of a former wheelwright and carriage works. This tyre bonding plate was used to align and attach the steel tyre onto the wooden wagon wheel.

Here's a little description of how it's done from UK wheelwright Mike Rowland.

Bonding is the process of shrinking the iron tyre on to a wooden wheel. The tyre is measured and welded including enough shrinkage to close any gaps and to pull the wheel very tight. It is an essential part of the wheel making process and all of our carriage and cart wheels are hot bonded.

An excellent description can be found in the Small Farmers Journal.  

Once the wheel sections have been fitted together it is taken to the dished circular metal plate known as a tyring plate where it is clamped firmly into position using a metal bar that runs from the center of the plate through the tapered iron box. The traditional way of heating the iron tyre to obtain the required expansion is in a bonfire and the red hot band is then lifted by tongs and dropped over the rim of the wooden wheel.

The wheelwright and his assistant now work quickly to hammer down the band to get it level with the plate and thus the side of the fellies, before pouring water on to quickly cool it before the timber catches fire and to ensure the metal shrinks evenly.

Gilbert Matthews was listed in the directories in 1880 as a "coach builder" in Brunswick near the Cornish Arms. George Martin was a wheelwright and blacksmith and Joseph Clark ran a business as saddler and news agent in 1885 both a little south of the Brunswick town hall. In 1890 J. T., Chavasse, produce merchant occupied the site.

The MMBW 40 foot plan from 1904 shows a shop front and rear yard at 219 Sydney Road and a vacant lot at 217. 

In the 1930s and 40s it was the premises of Trevas Motors (William G Trevascus) selling and servicing motor cycles.

In the 1950s it became Frank Mussett's motor cycle parts salesroom. Frank went on to run the largest British motor cycle dealership in Victoria. He had two workshops, one opposite in Sydney Road and the other in Saxon St. When Frank retired and the business finally closed in the 1980s, employee Phil Pilgrim bought up all the stock and spares and continued to sevice pre -1988 Triumphs under the name Union Jack Motor Cycles. 

There is often a surprising continuity in transport related businesses: blacksmiths becoming service stations, stockfeed merchants becoming fuel depots and carriage builders becoming motor body builders. It's worth checking out the back of country petrol stations for evidence of earlier activity.

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Willow Cottage Balmain - Restoration Australia Season 4, Episode 7

Host Anthony Burke meets Martin Nix who is restoring an 1850s workers cottage in Balmain on Sydney Harbour, all while dealing with a recent family tragedy.

Am I getting jaded that a program purported to be about restoring old houses needs a personal tragedy to sell it?  The usual trope for these shows is about the stress on relationships and budgets. But when the people and houses are clearly in the top percentile for wealth and price, the producers need something else to give the show an edge. One wonders what the casting interviews must be like.

The final installment in Renovation Australia is the most expensive property yet. Sold on 2014 for an "outrageous" $2.68 million, $830,000 above the reserve, described as a dump at the time. I guess everyone wants to live on the harbour and only those with the millions to spend can do it.

A couple of years later, still dilapidated, it went for $2.9 million with "awe-inspiring views across the water to the Harbour Bridge and Barangaroo" and approved architectural plans designed to completely renovate the home, include a pool and provide for a stunning transformation into a sought-after family residence. And then again for $2,95 million. Sydney houses are more like Bitcoin than places to live. 

Martin Nix has another $1.3 million to put into the reno, and has engaged Chris from CKJ Builders, who has the experience, both in careful restoration and high end new builds. We are told Mr Nix understands and appreciates buildings because he heads a construction survey company. Then Burke pipes in with his usual warnings of 'stringent heritage controls', 'onerous heritage restrictions' and an 'extreme' historic overlay, as if the council or NSW Heritage Office are some kind of Spanish Inquisition intent on torturing prospective renovators. Burke also claims that 'heritage restrictions mean knocking down original walls isn't an option', and yet the first we see of the interior is a building with most of the internal structure and lining already removed. 

There is plenty of evidence that the heritage values of the site warrant protecting the fabric, including a well-preserved timber shingle roof and very rare brick nogging in the walls. In a strange detail of doubtful heritage administration there is apparently no heritage overlay on the windows. 

The language Burke uses only perpetuates an attitude that heritage is a bad thing that gets in the way of people's right to enjoy their own property. And yet without the regulations there would be no heritage buildings to restore and no Restoration Australia.

Planning approvals can be sourced on-line these days, and browsing them shows that they might have included a range of conditions including deletion of the proposed basement. The Council report states:

Council’s Heritage Advisor has advised that every care should be taken to retain the remaining fabric of this outbuilding and maintain its structural integrity, with any reconstruction maintaining legibility between the old and new sections of the wall to allow interpretation of old fabric and guide future changes to the outbuilding. Visibility to the timber levelling plates embedded in the brick wall must be retained. Different finishes must be used in the addition, to that used in the outbuilding to enable the interpretation of this early construction technique. The modification will be conditioned accordingly to ensure that the elevation drawings are consistent with the floor plans. 

Further to the above, in the event of any approved excavation, a condition of consent for unexpected findings will be necessary.

 There certainly looks like archaeological potential on the site. another condition of their permit was:

Condition 57A of the DA states. "If unexpected archaeological deposits or Aboriginal objects are found during the works covered by this approval, work must cease in the affected area(s) and the Department of Premier, Cabinet and Heritage must be notified through the Environment Line. Additional assessment and approval pursuant to the National Parks and Wildlife Act 1974 may be required prior to works continuing in the affected area(s) based on the nature of the discovery. Council’s Aboriginal Liaison officer is also to be notified.

There was mention of archaeology in the show, despite some treasure hunting banter about old bottles, newspapers and marbles. An underfloor deposit of rubble suggest some potential and a nice section of humic soil over the bedrock is revealed for the pool.

Historian Mark Dunn has a brief cameo to set the scene and remind us of the industrial origins and working class credibility that once came from doing a Balmain renovation. Shame he didn't mention the most famous Balmain boy.

The Leichart historical journal offers the following:

WILLIAM JAMES: The land adjoining the park was owned by William James who combined property development with the trade of woolsorter. He bought the land in 1853 from Griffiths and Fanning and built two houses (Willow Cottages, 1-3 James Lane) facing the water. After his death in 1882 his widow, Jane, who lived in one of the cottages sold the land on Darling Street to a builder, John Dobbie, in 1884. He built a row of six houses which he called Plym Terrace. Marching down to Thornton Park, each house in the terrace has two storeys above the street with a basement opening on to a sunken area. Built of brick and surfaced with stucco, Plym Terrace inevitably suffered later unsympathetic improvements. In Darling Street on the high side of the lane that took his name, William James built Devonshire Cottage in about 1860. Joshua George, one of Balmain's watermen lived there from 1860 until his death in 1884. His widow, Isabella, lived on there until she died in 1912. The cottage is now the nucleus of 33 Darling Street. Next door was another small cottage (now demolished), also built by James at about the same time. The cottage became part of the estate of Captain Lewis Truscott of Balmain East.

 There are a few bits of the old house that survive the renovation and can still be seen. The chimney breast sits in the middle of the house, with the walls around it removed.

A patch of the shingles is revealed in the new attic bathroom...

but another slab is cut out for a dormer.

Some brick nogging behind a glass splashback,

a bit of sandstone is left in the basement,

and a feature wall of sandstone is in the bedroom.

A redeeming aspect of the episode is the story told by the Neil about the previous owner Lex Watson, a powerful advocate for gay rights (when Balmain was still a place open to the masses); his parties in the garden and the sad decline of the house and garden when he became sick and died in 2016. Whether intended or not, the 'renovation as therapy' theme seems to permeate the program, as if a person's health and wellbeing was intrinsically tied to the quality of the finishes and fittings in their home.

The garden is gone of course, first the big Jacaranda...

and then everything else except a lonely palm.

I guess there is no room for natural beauty in the balance between heritage and modern lifestyle.

This appears to be the last episode in Season 4. I think I am glad. Working in the heritage field, you learn about and aspire to best practice and try to adhere to the Burra charter. but in the real world, most heritage conservation work is a compromise that is strongly weighted to the fads and fashions of interior decoration and lifestyle aspirations. Few are willing to live in the small, simple accommodation of the nineteenth century despite the essential needs of shelter, warmth and beauty being supplied by the minimum of intervention.

The Lawns Kyneton Restoration Australia Season 4 Episode 6

Host Anthony Burke meets a couple who have purchased one of the most significant buildings in the historic town of Kyneton, Victoria.

Watch on iview

With much of the restoration work happening without the cameras present, Burke's narrative is reduced to a holiday travelogue rabbiting on about Kyneton as the picturesque day trip destination of cafes and bric-a-brac. We get more than the usual driving montages with introductions, recaps, summaries and "how will they ballance accurate heritage with modern lifestyle" platitudes. We get a glimpse of the poor Kyneton hospital during his drive around Shannon' s home town. It is derelict and fenced off. Will that ever get revived? There is even a token first nations interlude to mention Mt William Greenstone in the same segment as Kyneton bluestone.

The scripting for all four seasons of Restoration Australia has been uniformly pedestrian. Either the three hosts so far have been evenly matched in their inadequacy for the job of making up their own words, or there has been a consistent bad writer  banging away at the word processor. Whoever is responsible, we miss out on the depth of history that can be revealed in the fabric of old buildings or an appreciation of how that historic fabric influences and enriches our lives.

The Lawns is described as "one of the oldest and most notable surviving Victorian Manor houses of its era, in Australia" and "one of the last freestanding ornate timber buildings from the late 1800s in the area." This seems firstly an unnecessary superlative and unlikely to be true, and the second part a series of qualifications that suggest Burke doesn't really know why it is important. "Manor house" is not a particularly Australian house type, generally confined to the snobbier kind of bed and breakfast, new housing estate, or McMansion. There are far more notable historic buildings named "Manor House" in Lilydale, Hamilton and Bacchus Marsh.

The Lawns is a reasonably attractive Victorian gabled timber house possibly a bit neo gothic but definitely not Georgian. It has a couple of refinement in plaster decoration and joinery but the unusual aspect is its odd floor plan and a wide off-centre facade with mismatched gables at each end. Behind is a fairly standard Victorian double hipped four square centre hall layout. It looks like an addition to make a status statement.

We learn about the original owner's business and horse racing activities from local historial Larina Stauch, and joint author of a wonderful new Kyneton pictorial history. No.69 Wedge Street was built around 1871 for local brewer, Robert Cock, son of South Australian pioneer Robert Cock (also a brewer at Mt. Gambier) who was notable among other things for paying rent to traditional Aboriginal owners.

Robert senior died in 1871, so it might be that the son used the inheritance to build himself a new house in Kyneton. Cock had followed on in his father's trade commencing a brewery in Kyneton with partner Johnson by at least 1865. His younger brother James inherited and ran the Mt Gambier brewery. 

A later owner, draper Hugh Rawson MLA may have been responsible for the extensions, including the odd asymmetry and 1920s looking sideways bay window, so he could entertain his constituents and political donors.

By the time Shannon and Liza Boyers forked out the $1.6 million for Cock's old house, it could be described as rundown with an overgrown garden, but relatively recent and still online real estate agents photos show a reasonably cared for house. What a difference a couple of years of neglect can make.

The series continues the model now well established of showing well off couples paying capable contractors to do the job right. At least the tradies are getting their proper recognition even though they usually only have first names. Shannon has "scoured the country to find the best, highly skilled tradespeople."

He didn't have to go to such lengths for the most part, as neither paint not internal alteration controls exist in the HO, although tree controls do, so the specialist gardeners were a good idea. Permits were obtained in several stages although Burke is silent on the "trouble with council" trope this time.

We see a repeat of the previous episode's abhorrence of colour, as the Victorianish but probably 1980s wallpapers are stripped and everything goes white. There are plans for some wall knockings out and an "orangerie". But mostly its is restumping, replastering and painting.

Scott McMillan is a Scottish plasterer with extensive  experience in historical restoration using traditional methods on behalf of Historic Scotland. He was brought out to Australia to fill a skills gap in Brisbane and was flown dow specially to do the Kyneton job. Here he sources, mixes and applies horsehair-reinforced solid plaster over renovated battens after stripping off the detached and "drummy" old stuff.

With an Australian offsider Paulie he pulls down the Gyprock plaster board and the water damaged ceiling in the hall. We don't get to see how they get the new plaster to stick above their heads - a task that would seem impossible to anyone taking their reno queues from The Block. 

Stonemason Huntly Barton is one of the few skilled dry stone wallers in Victoria. Conveniently situated at the longstanding Kyneton stonemason WT Jones just up the road. He has responsibly for the OCD sawn stone threshold and edging in the garden since there is neither mortgaged stone in the house or dry stone walls in the garden. A waste of his talents really.

Roland Hiller is woodgrain faux bois painter. He gets to redo the front door, while traditional locksmith Aaron reconditions the carpenter lock, even polishing up the key- possibly a newly made one. It feels like the Boyes are playing up to the cameras with this one. "Performative restoration."

Luke (Sinderberry) from VR Builders uses all the right terms -  "like for like", "period correct", "authentic materials". He knows his stuff.

The women gardeners don't get names but they do have the right terms determining "period specific species" to make the grounds as heritagy as the building. They may be from Ranges Landcare Group, who we see sieving and spreading topsoil  

The wealthy versus battler switch is best represented by the hunt for the right chandelier. Unashamedly referred to as "...a symbol of luxury and social standing emblematic of the upper echelons of society". Shannon was after all a tour guide at Glin Gastle and steward and butler at Government House. The orangerie, which must be the ultimate in conspicuous consumption, is abandoned due to time, money and covid constraints, and instead the 1950s altered outbuildings are restored. This reveals a possible earlier building, perhaps a built in verandah. Have we missed the archaeological assessment?

Burke struggles to make the drama happen. All the stress supposedly created by their commitment to authenticity and detail is dissipated by the calm efficiency of the tradespeople doing all of the actual work.

It is a lovely enchanting house and garden that shows what money can do. $1.6 mill and $600G for restoration without the orangerie. And not a mention of the heritage officer.