There's a lot more to Lanyon than just a homestead

If you are a genuine Canberraphile, you would have taken a tour of the courtyard including the rubble-walled kitchen with its knock-out cellar and 1836 ship's bell which was rung daily to call workers in for meals. You've probably also indulged in a Devonshire Tea in the café in the old men's barracks.

However, Lanyon is so much more than the homestead and historic courtyard. In fact, there are more than 50 structures (yes, that many!) on the sprawling pastoral estate, some dating back to our convict past, a time more associated with The Rocks in Sydney than far-flung Lanyon valley.

Indeed, when James Wright and his mate John Lanyon settled as squatters at Lanyon in 1833, the other side of the Murrumbidgee River which skirts the property was deemed ''the edge of legal occupation''. It was no man's land. You ventured there at your own risk. Gee, going by the burn-out marks on the tarmac at the intersection of Tidbinbilla and Point Hut roads, some might say you still do.

Today, if you sit on the antique chaise chair on the wisteria-draped veranda, you can just make out a white-washed stone building with shingle roof in the near paddock. Although officially referred to as a barn, there is speculation it doubled as an early jail, a claim refuted by some scholars.

However, it's clear which side of the fence Bruce Moore, author of The Lanyon Saga (self-published, 1982), sits. "Local legend has passed down through successive generations of old district families [who] always refer to it as 'the Lanyon Jail','' he writes in the book which colourfully documents life at Lanyon since European settlement until it was resumed by the Commonwealth government in 1971.

"On several occasions it was to be used to detain in safe custody various lawbreakers, including convicts who absconded from Lanyon, until they could be handed over to police,'' he explains. "Around its walls at a height of about eighteen inches from the floor, a series of ring bolts were embedded into the walls to which leg irons could be attached."

Regardless of its original purpose, the building is a tangible reminder that Wright and Lanyon settled here several years before transportation of convicts ceased in 1840. The pair were assigned 15 convicts in 1835, increasing to 30 by 1837. Heck, the place was crawling with felons from the Old Dart.

It's not surprising that some of the convicts attempted to outsmart Wright who was also the first magistrate to operate in County Murray and was apparently very strict on anyone brought before him. These included Maurice Welsh who was assigned to Wright as hutkeeper for the shepherds.

According to Samuel Shumack in An Autobiography or Tales and Legends of Canberra Pioneers (ANU Press, 1967), "one night the dogs set up a great row and Maurice left the box to investigate and saw a man lying by a log. He prodded the man with his hurdle fork and the intruder jumped and ran away, but not before Maurice struck him with heavy blows to head and body." Ouch.

Next morning, Maurice went to report the matter to Wright, where on arrival, he was informed that Wright had "taken ill". After some delay, Mrs Wright on hearing the story took him to the bedroom where Wright lay bandaged. Impressed with his vigilance, Wright rewarded Maurice a bottle of rum for his efforts.

However, according to Shumack, years later, Maurice admitted he had been warned that Wright would be prowling around and to be on his guard. Oh dear, talk about acquiring alcohol under false pretences.

On the western side of the homestead's grand tree-line driveway from the jail-cum-barn and past two scar trees (a story for next week), is a two-room stone hut lived in by the convict Thomas Appleby, whom Wright appointed as his chief sheep overseer. The hut is nicknamed 'Bluebeards', apparently as a not-too-subtle nod to Appleby's red hair.

Folklore passed through generations to Barry Snelson of Calwell - a descendent of Thomas Locker, a subsequent overseer who lived in Bluebeards - is that on hot summer days, the door to the hut would be left wide open to allow a breeze in. However, built into the banks of the Murrumbidgee, the open door also allowed snakes to slither in. "Lockyer came up with an innovative alert system for such unwanted guests - he'd place an old harp at the door," reveals Barry. "Apparently as a snake slithered over the instrument, it would make a sound, warning Lockyer of its arrival." Ingenious.

While duck shooting near Bluebeards on New Years' Eve in 1837, James Wright's brother William was accidentally shot. He was the first to be buried in a private cemetery just to the south of the current homestead. Due to the threat of marauding packs of dingoes in the area, his grave was covered in stones to prevent it being dug up.

Another of the 50-plus burials (that we know of) in this cemetery is that of Jane Cynthia Cunningham, the granddaughter of Jane and Andrew Cunningham who bought Lanyon from Wright in 1841. It was the Cunninghams who built the current homestead we have come to love so much. Hastily buried later the same day as her death, Jane Cynthia's funeral procession was eerily held by candlelight.

There's so much at Lanyon, if you just venture beyond the homestead.

Lanyon Historic Precinct: ACT Historic Places which manages Lanyon Homestead offers a wide a range of events, including my pick, the ''Beyond the Farm Gate'' tour. Call ahead (6237 6500) or check out their website (www.historicplaces.com.au ) to plan your post-lockdown visit. Re-opens October 29. Tharwa Drive, Tharwa

Midnight Burial: Despite her official cause of death reported as a "perforated appendix", 20-year-old Jane Cynthia Cunningham was buried hastily on December 8, 1910, because her father feared her symptoms were consistent with typhoid and he didn't want the highly contagious disease to spread. As an extra precaution, all her clothes were burnt.

In her biography on Jane's mother, Mary Cunningham - an Australian Life (Ginninderra Press, 2004), Canberra historian Jennifer Horsfield reports the memories of Ruby Tong, a young girl whose family lived in a cottage at the property at the time of the night funeral.

"From the window of her room in the cottage Ruby could see the old Lanyon cemetery with its rosemary hedges and dark, solemn pines. She never forgot Jane Cunningham's funeral. Their father attended, and the Tong children sat on a horse rug and watched the lamplit ceremony from the hill near the house, till a furious storm of rain drove them indoors". Imagine the grief.

Did You Know? Jane's candlelight burial inspired Pauline Deeves' tween historical novel Midnight Burial (NLA, 2014) which is written in diary and letter format.

Dingoes: 'Native dogs' weren't just a threat to freshly dug graves, convicts were assigned to protect the sheep from the ravages of dingoes both day and night. When the sheep were folded at night, hutkeepers like Maurice Welsh slept in a portable ''watchbox''. These generally had a light pole frame covered with bark, with projecting handles for carrying and legs for keeping it off the ground. I wonder if any of these contraptions still exist?

Next Week: My top 10 secrets of Lanyon.

Cryptic Clue: Where's the emu?

Last week: Congratulations to John Smithers of Kaleen who was first to identify last week's photo, sent in by Cheryl Pryce, as a metallic fish symbol nailed to a post on Redfern Street, near Jamison Centre. Mysteriously, there are several more of these symbols which resemble a native Macquarie Perch, and another representing a small bird, nailed to posts in nearby streets. Some of them have been around for at least a year. Does anyone know their purpose?

While recently exploring Black Mountain with his two grandsons, Tony Weir of Melba was struck by the height of this termite mound on the mountain's western slopes. "While they of course make them bigger in the NT", Tony wants to know "if this is the tallest in the ACT". And for the record, Tony is 1.7 metres tall, meaning this mound measures "at least two metres".

Earlier this week, while snooping around Bullen Range, Stephen Goggs of Curtin spotted this stony sentinel. "It made me wonder about the average range of Belconnen's powerful owl," muses Stephen who thinks it's a dead ringer for Belco's infamous statue. I agree, all that's missing are the two black eyes.