The problem was Frank. You see, nobody enjoys making the trip from Melbourne to Canberra in one day with a toddler, unless you\u2019re a big fan of hours of howling and seat-kicking until you buy an over-priced monster bus toy from Yass petrol station just to make the pain stop. Or so I\u2019ve heard. So last time we\u2019d driven to Canberra, we\u2019d booked a gorgeous historic stone cottage in Albury to stay overnight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Enter Frank. Literally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don\u2019t know if you\u2019re aware,<\/em> my airbnb review said, that there\u2019s a huntsman the size of a shetland pony residing in your bathroom. We named him Frank. Frank enjoys relaxing in the steam of a hot bath with a glass of wine at the end of the day. Frank does not enjoy naked wet people running away screaming.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Are there likely other places to stay in Albury that don\u2019t feature giant arachnids? Without doubt. But also, why take the chance? Maybe all we needed was a little town just north of the border, a quiet place with clean beds, fresh air, and somewhere nice for dinner. And a submarine museum.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I go to an accommodation website and type in \u2018Holbrook\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Do you mean Woomargama?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Um, no, I don\u2019t. I don\u2019t even know what a Woomargama is. I type in \u2018Holbrook\u2019 again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Top results for \u2018Holbrook\u2019: the Woomargama Hotel.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n After more sniffing around, the Woomargama Hotel is the top-rated place to stay in Holbrook. And for all of the other towns just north of the border. About thirty kms out of Albury and eight kms before Holbrook, it appears to be a charming little town that has a petrol station, a hotel, and all the stars. Why? I have no idea. Reviews say the place was quiet and clean and nobody mentions being assaulted by eight-legged Cthulus so I book it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cIs this it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Wow, it takes so little to unimpress my eight year old, and Woomargama is certainly meeting his expectations. The hotel is deserted and our room is small and pristine, with wrapped glasses in the fridglette and an awards sash for the toilet. Beds are comfortable and the retro exposed brick is fashionably unfashionable. Everything is nice, especially after six hours in the car, but I have no idea why this place has five stars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cCome on,\u201d I tell everyone grimly. \u201cLet\u2019s take a walk.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Perhaps the stars are in the town. There are only four blocks, so we can walk the whole place in twenty minutes. There\u2019s a pony soliciting us opposite a yard full of cars. A flock of supercilious chickens stare down their beaks at us on the north side. There\u2019s a sheep and a dirt bike to the east. There\u2019s a hill over the highway and the park is closed for being too muddy. There is no evidence of a single other living soul.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I say, defeated. \u201cLet\u2019s just eat some dinner and go to bed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The kids and their gumboots tumble into the reception and dining area with us. It\u2019s about quarter to six. \u201cJust four for dinner,\u201d I say to the lady behind the counter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDid you book?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBook what?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cBook? For dinner? We\u2019re full up tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n I turn a slow 360 degrees. We are literally the only people in the entire place. Possibly the entire town. Possibly the entire southern half of New South Wales.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI guess I can put you at the counter, if you\u2019re not going to be too long.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSure,\u201d I say carefully. I really want to ask if she can see the other people right now, but I don\u2019t want to set her off. Maybe it\u2019s not even people she can see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n But the kids love the counter, and we get a view of the over-the-highway hill as the sun sets. They ask for spaghetti and steak from the kids menu, my husband orders a grown up steak and I, glugged out from hours of petrol station snacks, just want a salad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Two more families wander in while we\u2019re waiting for food. They\u2019ve definitely booked ahead, and I\u2019m favourably revising my initial impression of counter-lady\u2019s sanity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And then the buses pull up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Not just buses, but four wheel drives, sports cars, minivans and the whole array of typical beat up suburban family cars. Dozens of people \u2013 real people, not the imaginary kind \u2013 pour through the doors. It\u2019s five minutes past six and the place is packed wall to wall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The salad is parked beneath my astonished face. It\u2019s incredible. It\u2019s just a mixed leaf blend with tiny heirloom tomatoes, but there\u2019s minced pickled red onion on top, with pomegranate and house dressing. What is that? It\u2019s brown, sweet, tangy and creamy. Balsamic blended with mayonnaise? I could swim in it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I leave off raving about my salad for long enough to raid my kids\u2019 meals. The vegetables melt in my mouth. The little one is super picky, but now he\u2019s growling over his spag bol like a starving dog. I lick the side of his plate. He tries to stab my marauding tongue with his fork.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019ll give you some of my salad for some of your steak and mash,\u201d I say to my husband.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s a bad trade. But also I\u2019ve borne his genetic progeny twice and ruined my body in the process, so he doesn\u2019t get a say. His long-suffering sigh is rich with all the other possibilities his life held before he met me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The steak is magnificent. Crisp and well-seasoned on the outside, buttery smooth and deep pink on the inside. The mashed potatoes are like velvet. There\u2019s some kind of sauce he ordered to go with it and I don\u2019t know what it is or how to live without it now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Every single table and counter is full of people, squabbling over plates and groaning with delight. Screens are promising sports and live music and great deals on agricultural vehicles. The kitchen staff are hustling like mad to get all the plates out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n We order some kind of Eton Mess to devour in our room. Normally Eton Mess is code for packet jelly and custard with a meringue parked on top, but not this time. There are delicate quennelles of custard and raspberry sorbet, lemon curd, vanilla bean ice cream, fresh berries and meringue. It tastes like they\u2019ve made everything in-house. Four spoons attack and it\u2019s gone in moments.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Unbelievable. In the middle of nowhere, NSW, somebody is actually quennelling shit.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t know what the story is with Woomargama, or who\u2019s behind it. But I certainly know why it\u2019s grabbed all the stars. The submarine is great, but a perfect steak and Eton Mess will top it every time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Apologies to Frank though. We just weren\u2019t meant to be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Interested in staying at the Woomargama Hotel? Check it out here; https:\/\/www.visitgreaterhume.com.au\/Greater-Hume-Villages\/Woomargama\/Explore-Eat-Stay\/Woomargama-HotelMotel<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n\n