Shocking events happened in a Victorian bush town which got out of hand while I was there. I told a version of this story on West Bremer Radio.

I went to ghost town in Victoria’s western district called Milltown, so named because its connection to the timber industry beginning 170 years ago.

There’s nothing there these days, none of the shops, railway platform, or post office of a century ago. Not even the sawmill boiler that exploded in 1895 killing two cousins, placing them in long-forgotten newspaper headlines around Australia. The boiler sat as a poignant memorial and unmoved from the accident site for over a century. Today it’s a pizza over in nearby Portland. Milltown remains an idyllic, historic site, alive with memories in the middle of the Australian bush.

I did expect to see a modest 1880’s weatherboard house built from timbers milled by the boys who were killed in the explosion right beside it all those years ago. I’ve been there many times. But this time I was shocked when it wasn’t there. It was just gone. Nothing remained beyond memories of the thirteen family members who once squeezed in there at its peak during the Depression.

The home was burnt to the ground just a few months ago when a clothes dryer over-heated. And so with the permission of the owner, I spent my time sifting through the ashes, finding brass horse tack, coins and medals. The birds in the adjoining bush sang to keep me company.

Then I went up the road to another old family home. The paddocks there were beautiful, green and quite serene. I stopped, got out, and absorbed the atmosphere.

As I was driving away, I noticed a 1980s-style utility vehicle, with a mural painted on the bonnet, driving a little fast and a little too close behind me. It was very much out of place. Remember, this was in the back blocks, out in the bush where no one is around, so this was slightly concerning.

I accelerated, the ute following me also sped up and flashed its lights. I pulled over to let it past, but it also too pulled over, and the driver was making all sorts of hand signals at me which I didn’t understand. My concern was growing.

Anxiety was now taking over as I drove to the nearest town called Heywood with a population of around 1,800, maybe. As I came into town, I signalled to turn into the local footy ground. The ute signalled too.

There was now absolutely no doubt, I was being followed and was headed for a show-down.

I headed straight to the local police station and drove right up their driveway, thinking surely I must be safe there. But the ute followed me there as well and stopped at the gate.

I thought well, there’s nothing else for to but to have a confrontation. I got out, put on my hat, and walked back towards the aggressor, who by this time was pacing purposely towards me.

We got to within feet of one another.

At this stage, let me change the names to protect the innocent. I’m still called Harold, but I’ll call him Randy.

Randy held up his mobile and said he had the police on the phone.

I said but we’re at the police station, surely they could see us.

I asked him why was he following me.

He asked what was I doing at his house.

A young country policeman emerged the station, I think he might have been armed to the teeth.

Randy said he saw on his security cameras a black SUV with full tint pull up in front of his property. He phoned a neighbour and asked could he see what was happening. The neighbour said yes there’s a black SUV and people are taking pictures.

Randy jumped in his ute and sped to the scene.

Meanwhile, after taking some pictures from the road, I casually got back into my black Kluger hire car and quietly drove away, content with the fond memories that I had recorded, not realising the chaos that was about to unfold.

The chase was on, and here we were now, in a face-off in the police driveway.

Now let me say right now that Randy is a really nice guy. All he was doing was protecting his property, which a family member was set to move into soon. And there had been a lot of stuff stolen in the district of late.

All I was doing was reminiscing about the past and shooting some photos of where I had spent many enjoyable holidays at my cousin’s place, which my cousin had recently sold to Randy.

It was all a big misunderstanding and we parted as friends.

I’m calling this the great Milltown shoot-out, because for a moment there, I really thought that I might have shot into headlines and next week’s history.

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO A VERSION OF THIS STORY TOLD ON WEST BREMER RADIO.

Photo credits:
Milltown forest, 2024- Harold Peacock 20241112_115253-C.
Milltown fire relics, 2024 – Harold Peacock 20241112_191142.
Milltown shoot-out house and street number erased, 2024 – Harold Peacock 20241112_121016.