MINING has long been an important part of life in Mudgee and the surrounding area, especially when it comes to the town of Gulgong. Located just over 30 kilometres from Mudgee, Gulgong became a hive of activity when gold was discovered there in 1870. The town soon swelled from approximately 500 people to 12,000 in 1871, then over 20,000 by 1873, such was abundance of gold in the area.
The Gulgong Goldfields have to date produced 555,300 ounces of gold, worth over $1 billion today, and surveys indicate that more gold could still be discovered. Gold brought money, people, businesses and infrastructure to Gulgong, but it also heavily benefitted Mudgee just down the road, which was continually growing as a regional hub.
On the front page of the Mudgee Guardian and Gulgong Advertiser on April 10, 1970, the editor wrote “It is just on 100 years since Tom Saunders made his big find at Red Hill. The centenary of any town is a big occasion and it is certainly an important milestone for Gulgong.
There are very few towns in NSW which still retain the character of the gold rush days of the 1870’s but Gulgong is one of those. The mixture of the old and the new, somehow modern and yet somehow very similar to how it must have been in those 19th century times”.
Fast foward half a century and in 2020 Gulgong celebrated 150 years of their own history, one that is intertwined with that of Mudgee and the surrounding district.
- An outake of Henry Lawson’s “The Roaring Days” relating to the gold rush around Gulgong.
The night too quickly passes, And we are growing old
So let us fill our glasses, And toast the Days of Gold
When finds of wondrous treasure, Set all the South ablaze
And you and I were faithful mates, All through the roaring days!
Oft when the camps were dreaming, And fires began to pale
Through rugged ranges gleaming, Would come the Royal Mail
Behind six foaming horses, And lit by flashing lamps
Old Cobb and Co. in royal state, Went dashing past the camps;
Oh, who would paint a goldfield, And limn the picture right
As we have often seen it, In early morning’s light
The yellow mounds of mullock, With spots of red and white
The scattered quartz that glistened, Like diamonds in light
The azure line of ridges, The bush of darkest green
The little homes of calico, That dotted all the scene;
I hear the fall of timber, from distant flats and fells
The pealing of the anvils, As clear as little bells
The rattle of the cradle, The clack of windlass-boles
The flutter of the crimson flags, Above the golden holes.