Lake Macquarie History


Peace, happiness and contentment: How beautiful to feel this trinity pulsing through the soul after a surcharge of mental worry, and drifting among the maelstrom of industrial upheaval.

A sanctuary. A haven for harried man and beast. A wooded jewel in a sun kissed lake. Giving with wondrous prodigality of the rare beauty that only a sunrise or sunset can give to such beautiful surroundings. An intimate contact with the wonderful marsupials and feathered beauties of this island continent. A silent witness to the birth of the glorious spring flowers. Balm to soothe the furrows of a careworn brow. Divine music of the feathered songsters to ease the aching of a tired heart.

Peace, yes Peace, with gentle nature as a nurse to croon away our fears.

Happiness, aye, real happiness because of realising a lifetimes desire. Keeper of the gate of Nature's children and where one can study unmolested the quaintness of their ways.

Contentment, yes, contentment, because body and soul are not riven striving to exist in a world of discords, and unnatural battling amongst the nations of the earth.

Who could harbour souls unrest, where every day brings a sunrise and sunset ever changing, ever new amid such a paradise?

Who could watch unmoved a mirrored lake suddenly turned to molten gold, when sets the genial sun, or kissed with rippled silver when the Queen of the night rides the star set heavens in equal majesty?

To see the reflected trees of the mainland or island in its crystal depths, calm and still, or the fleecy banks of clouds sailing in stately grandeur overhead amid such peaceful surroundings is balm to the soul:

To gain the confidence of our four footed friends to feed them and know that the patience needed in so doing is in keeping with our status on this sphere. The elect of the earth. Yes and even the storm without creates a balance that lends an added appreciation of many peaceful days spent on Bulba Isle.

Rain to nourish the herbs and grass that the animals browse upon, and to germinate the seeds lying dormant, that will paint with colours gay & jewels rare the face of this fair Island, when spring returns. Wind to stir the atmosphere & give added purity to the elixir of life.

A storm that will mean a respite to the harried fish in the lake. A rest from the eternal drag of the net! Yes, peace, happiness and contentment. Would that all my brothers and sisters were so fully attuned to know the wonderful calm of mind, and blissful contentment that can only come through a direct contact with old dame, Nature.

A soul attuned to Nature's ways

Lives long, each hour a full & glorious day

Each day a week of bliss more rare

Than useless strivings through the years.

Thompson Noble. 2.8.1933.