Waratah Mills

There is a place,  a place of wonder where bandicoots frolic (allegedly) in the shadow of derelict flour mills.  Where native trees and bushes spread their branches and birds send greeting calls to the early morning commuters or whoever the hell it is that actually uses the light rail.  This place is called Waratah Mills.  A place of tranquility, a place of refuge, a place to raise a family if you fancy raising them in a former warehouse surrounded by screeching birds and overrun with native rodents. 

Waratah Mills is an adaptive reuse project.  This is the fancy name one gives when one couldn't be bothered tearing down old buildings and instead shoehorns new residents into whatever constructions happen to be lying around.  In the case of Waratah Mills what was lying around were the silos and a warehouse from an old flour mill.  Apparently the conversion was done in a manner sympathetic to the heritage of the buildings which I think means they still look like a flour mill.  They are now a desirable residential address with nice grounds and (presumably) updated fixtures within.  Just in case the above doesn't immediately make you want to relocate your family to a piece of derelict industrial estate there is a nice patch of bush to help you forget that you're living in a city.  There's also a light rail station.


This is the third light rail station I've visited and technically I'm still in Dulwich Hill.  At least that's what the real estate agents spruiking the Waratah Mills development (or renovation really) inform me.  As with Arlington the station is at the back end of a few streets that don't really go anywhere and has a slightly woodland feel to it.  The reason for this is the presence of a greenway running alongside the line.


A greenway is basically a fancy name given to a long, narrow remnant of native bushland that for some reason you haven't got around to bulldozing yet.  A very small canal, or decently sized stormwater drain, also runs parallel to the light rail and the greenway is largely in between the two.  Essentially there wasn't room to actually build anything useful so the bushland was permitted to stay.  It basically looks like an overgrown backyard but it has trees and bushes and is generally picturesque once you notice it.  At first I thought it was somebodies overgrown backyard.


According to a far more enthusiastic and, no doubt, worthy blog than this the greenway is a thing of beauty, a piece of cultural and environmental heritage where the last shreds of pre colonial Sydney disport themselves and bandicoots scamper happily in the sunshine.  Perhaps more significant to its continued existence is the fact that it probably adds a few thousand dollars to the value of the residences that overlook it. 


I didn't see any bandicoots in the thirty seconds or so that I spent in intensive study of the greenway but perhaps they were on a coffee break.  To aid those busy people who don't have the leisure to lie in wait for the bandicoots to clock back on there are a couple of sculptures of bandicoots at the entrance to the light rail station.  At the time I thought they were malformed puppies.  Discovering they were bandicoots has, if nothing else, made me revise my opinion of the mental health of the sculptor. 

A local volunteer group has taken the greenway (or at least this bit of it) under its wing and, or so signs proudly announce, is doing its best to return this little shred of land to a pristine state fit for bandicoots.  I look forward to the day when the presence of bandicoot roadkill by the side of the local streets announces their success.  In the meantime I sloped off to find coffee.