Kate Julia Weindorfer
Don Congregational Cemetery
FUNERAL
The funeral of the late Kate Julia, beloved wife of G. Weindorfer, Kindred, will leave Levenbank private hospital, Ulverstone, at 3 p.m. THIS DAY, arriving at Don Cemetery at 4.30 p.m. R. L. Parsons, Undertaker.
The North West Post 1st May 1916
The death occurred at the Levenbank private hospital, Ulverstone, on Saturday evening of Mrs. Weindorfer, wife of Mr. George (Gustav) Weindorfer, of Kindred. The deceased was a daughter of the late Mr. Thomas Pressland Cowle, and was a sister of Mr. Dan Cowle, of Kindred, Mrs. Stephen Priest Jun., and Miss Cowle of Devonport, and Mr. A. E. Cowle of Stanley. With her husband, the late Mrs. Weindorfer had resided at Kindred for a number of years, and was a highly respected member of the community. The sympathies of residents will be extended to the bereaved family. The funeral will take place at the Don cemetery at 4.30 o’clock this afternoon.
The North West Post 1st May 1916
Gustav Weindorfer
Memorial Plaque
DEATH
WEINDORFER – On Thursday, May 5, at Cradle Valley, Gustav Weindorfer, husband of the late Kate Julia Weindorfer, in his 59th year.
The Advocate 9th May 1932
FUNERAL
WEINDORFER – The funeral of the late Gustav Weindorfer will leave the Sheffield Town Hall THIS MORNING at 8.30 for interment at Cradle Valley. Friends are respectfully invited to attend. Haslock and Gillard, Funeral Directors.
The Advocate 9th May 1932
‘The Hunter Home from the Hill’
In the Wilds
Gustav Weindorfer’s
Last Resting Place.
“Where he loved so well.”
Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me,
Here he lies where he longed to be,
Home is the sailor, home from the sea.
And the hunter home from the hill.
R. L. Stevenson
It was fitting that the last resting-place of Gustav Weindorfer, the man of the mountains, should be the mountain fastnesses of the roof of Tasmania. It might well be said that “they laid him to rest where he loved so well.” He was a man of the wilds. Recalling his early associations in the Carinthian Alps of the Tyrol region of Austria, he had a penchant for the hills.
He first saw Tasmania 27 years ago, and he must at once have realized that this was where he was destined to complete his allotted span. Acting on medical advice, he left the Austrian Consulate in Melbourne and sailed for Tasmania. Here was his beloved Tyrol reproduced in grandeur. For his honeymoon 23 years ago he chose the mountain region, and it is remembered still at Sheffield how this courtly foreigner delighted in scaling Mt. Roland and viewing the promised land of his subsequent life’s labours. So seven years later he has given up farming at Kindred, where he settled and married, and is erecting with his own hands a chalet on the Swiss pattern, where he is destined to entertain travellers.
Whether in the seclusion of the chalet, in front of its roaring fire, set in the most capacious fireplace that could be imagined, or wandering over the mountains and spying out the panorama of peaks which gives grandeur to this elevated region, whether in exploring dells or sounding the depths of the blue lakes – mere tarns for the most part, whose pellucid waters find lodgment at such elevations, whether giving a scientific lecture on the flora as well as the fauna of the region, whether satisfying with scientific accuracy the curiosity of some cultured mind on any abstruse subject, Host Weindorfer was equally facile, for he seemed to know the range of all their arts. “It will not be the same place again,” remarked one of the mourners at his funeral yesterday.
Scientist and guide
For he gave eyes to those who could not see and understanding to those who could not understand. To see the glories of the region under summer conditions was a delight, but it was the seventh heaven when the mysteries were unfolded by the guide, philosopher and friend of the sojourner. He made the crooked ways straight and rough ways plain to all who had an understanding mind, and with such he would go to an infinity of pains.
Hence it is fitting that after life’s fitful fever the man of the mountains should return to the mountains, to his adopted home, fashioned with his own hands, and which, because of his magnetic personality, was famous throughout the land, known well beyond the shores of Tasmania, to the ends of the earth. For while the remains were being conveyed to their last resting place there was on the table a letter with an Austrian superscription, one of the many which had not yet been placed in the satchel for the post, but awaited the final adjustment of his motor cycle before he started on the long journey to Launceston. He was not to know he was destined for a journey with no ending.
Despite the strenuous nature of the undertaking to take the remains to his mountain fastnesses out of due season, there was a general accord with the decision, even though it thinned the little procession in numbers. It was an unusual hour which had been fixed for starting, and so, when shortly before 9 a.m. the funeral left Sheffield, there were not many in the streets. A start was made from the Town Hall. Leading residents acted as a guard of honour out of the town and on to the West Kentish road.
Included in the cortege were the chief mourners, Mr. S. Priest, of Devonport (brother-in-law), with his son Mr. C. B. Priest, and son-in-law, Mr. A. Graves, of Spreyton, and Ven. Archdeacon Atkinson.
A genial sun shone out as the hearse traversed the first stage of the journey to Daisy Dell, a distance of over 25 miles. The elements were biding a kindly good-bye to a spirit of action as well as a genius. Mt. Roland towered above the countryside nearly the whole of the distance, a majestic monument reared by nature, with its rugged conglomerate of steel grey set in sharp contrast to the azure of the heavens. It was on this mountaintop that Gustav Weindorfer wandered 23 years before, and where he doubtless dreamed dreams which came true, of making the world admire this wonderful scenic region.
Back to the Horse
And then upward from Wilmot into the higher altitudes, and presently glimpses are caught of Black Bluff, inappropriately robed in snow, but the disharmony corrected by a pall of leaden cloud, suggestive of the weather inland. The road is good to the vicinity of Daisy Dell, but that point reached the motor vehicles in the
greasy soil “refuse the helm”, and so after a brief respite at Mr. R. Quaile, an old and trusted friend of “the Dorfer”, takes the reins at 1 o’clock behind a four-in-hand, and slowly the funeral march continues over the tracks which have been dignified by the title of roads.
One cannot help re-echoing the words of a member of the cortege who express the pity that so much money had been spent elsewhere and so little for the highway to the heart of Tasmania. Mr. Weindorfer himself expressed the need for an improved road in terms, which fit the circumstances when he said:
“My greatest disappointment always came when people keenly interested in the beauty of Cradle Mountain asked me for definite information, and I had to tell them that the transport arrangements for the last 15 miles are 20 years behind the times. In Cradle Mountain we have one of the most beautiful and fascinating scenic attractions in Australia, the Commonwealth Government has arranged to take a long film of its beauties for world-wide distribution, and there should be some definite policy on the part of the Government in regard to road from Daisy Dell to Cradle. It is not much use awakening people’s interest and enthusiasm, and then having to damp them down again. We don’t want a bitumen road, but surely it would be possible to make it at least passable, so that people could more easily enter into the enjoyment of what the glorious mountain has to offer. Private enterprise will see to the accommodation of visitors – just as it led me to spend nearly a hundred pounds on a trip to Melbourne to advertise the scenic attractions of this State.”
A Weary Journey
That was a summer-time description. Yesterday snow, which had previously fallen, lay crystallized on the roadside beyond the turn-off to Moina. It thickened somewhat as Daisy Dell was reached, while a light fall of snow was experienced. The height here is some 2400 feet, at Cradle Valley the altitude is just over 3000 feet. Mr. Quaile predicted heavy weather. The wind, which sang a rude requiem through the trees, was icy in its feel as the procession pushed on.
It was a long 15 miles, and towards the end of the journey it became essential to carry the casket on the shoulders. Hence it was dark by the time the funeral procession had reached its appointed end, a cemetery site chosen by his friends a little to the eastward of the chalet, on a elevated knoll, and giving a commanding view of the great mountain, which, however, was wreathed in snow mists, obscuring the snow which will lie thickly on its summit and capacious sides during the rest of the winter season. And here was the ground for the reception of the mortal remains.
Archdeacon Atkinson, who was chosen to conduct the beautiful service of the Church of England, was an old friend of Mr. Weindorfer’s. He had known him for years, and there was more than the relation between pastor and church member, there was a deep personal friendship. Archdeacon Atkinson confided that he was a man worthy of admiration, cultured and scholarly, with the accuracy of the true scientist in all his observations, whether of the heavens, the weather, of the fauna and flora, the soil and its rocks, and the waters. To him there were to be found sermons in stones and good in everything. The wild beasts of the fields and the otherwise timid birds of the air were his playmates and confidants. In this respect he was a descendant of St. Francis of Assisi, who made friends with the little birds of his native Italy and even preached sermons to them.
Friends of Nature
The Archdeacon assured his hearers that it was true that the wild cats of the region came to “Waldheim” to be fed from the hand of this lover of Nature and the creation of Nature’s God. While he also affirmed that the black jays were as tame with him as feathered pets. “Why should the native life be afraid of man?” was how this hermit of the mountain reasoned. And to show there was no reason why he proved his faith in God’s creation by his kindly works.
The Archdeacon said that while staying at “Waldheim” on one occasion Mr. Weindorfer took him to view the magnificent clump of King William Pine in the confines of the chalet. There lay a dead tree, a prostrate giant of this forest of giants. From its trunk a second pine was growing and Mr Weindorfer, calling his scientific knowledge to aid affirmed it was at least 400 years old. “That means,” he added as he reverently raised his hat, “that this fallen tree was meeting the breezes of God’s heaven before Christ preached his positive doctrine of love and fellowship to man.” The Archdeacon said this incident made a deep impression on him, and added to his admiration of Weindorfer, the believer.
And from this fallen trunk of Pine he built part of his wonderful chalet. Despite the long years since it had fallen it was perfectly sound.
Journey’s End
The little cortege from the mud, the snow and the mist was met near “Waldheim” by devoted friends of the dead host scientist. The number included Messrs. F. Smithie, G. Perrin, C. Monds and J. Branagan, of Launceston, and Major R. Smith, of Ulverstone. They had awaited patiently the coming of the bier in the comfort of the capacious chalet, with its various appointments, nearly the whole of which, including the furniture, was the handiwork of the departed owner. From the pine trees palings had been split, and, so excellent is the wood, that 8ft. lengths, measuring up to 10 inches in breath and a half-inch in thickness, possess the symmetry almost to sawn wood.
It was a melancholy scene to realize that the man who had created it departed this life before due time. It might have been thought that his muscular frame would have weathered the winters of the region and delighted as well as instructed sojourners of many years yet. But it was not to be. He had over-taxed his Herculean strength in getting out his motorcycle onto the firm road – a task which, those who should be competent to speak affirm, was above the capacity of any ordinary man.
“And what will be the future of ‘Waldheim’ now,” it was asked, “with the inspiring spirit gone?” It is to be trusted that some caretaker will be found willing to devote his time to the place and to use some of the many instruments with which much meticulous records were kept by the late Mr. Weindorfer. It cannot be expected that his replica can be found. “Such another man is not
likely to be found in a century,” is the reasoning of Archdeacon Atkinson.
The funeral arrangements were carried out by Messrs. Haslock and Gillard. The floral tokens included a wreath from the Alpine Club.
A Lover of Birds.
H. Stuart Dove writes: -
It is with deep regret that I heard of the untimely decease of Mr. G. Weindorfer, of Cradle Valley. A friend of many years standing, he generally called on me for a chat on subjects of mutual interest when he came down from the highlands, and I had been expecting to see him this month, before he went over to Melbourne on a lecturing tour.
Although botany and geology were Mr. Weindorfer’s main studies, he yet took a great interest in the native birds of his domain, and was very pleased with the paper on “The Birds of Cradle Valley” which appeared in the “Emu” of 1929, and of which he was given a reprint.
I shall not readily forget the entertainment afforded by a pair of the quaint black jays which used to come foraging about the kitchen door at “Waldheim” for any scraps thrown out, and which were as tame as the barnyard fowl. These jays used to nest in the King Billy forest adjoining “Waldheim”, and their ringing calls at dawn were the first sounds to break upon the ear. I feel sure they will miss the genial nature-lover who protected them as much as we will.
It is only a little over two months ago that I met Mr. Weindorfer on the hill above the junction of Forth and Wilmot Rivers, and thought that he had never looked better during our years of friendship – a man in perfect health and high spirits. His place, both as genial host and as protector of the wild life of that district, will be exceptionally hard to fill.
The Advocate 10th May 1932
Wedding
Weidorfer – Cowle
On Thursday Miss Kate Cowle, sister of Mr. T. P. Cowle, J.P., was wedded to Mr. Gustav Weindorfer, late of the Austrian Consulate in Melbourne. The wedding was to have taken place in Stowport church, but owing to the fire raging round the building; the ceremony was performed at “Killara” by the Rev. J. A. Gault. Miss Laura Cowle acted as bridesmaid, while Mr. Boden officiated as best man. Afterwards a reception was held by Mrs. T. P. Cowle, from 3 until 5 o’clock, at which some of the wedding presents were on view. The bride was dressed in a beautiful gown of ivory white voile, trimmed with lace and silk, and wore the customary wreath and veil of tulle, embroidered with true lovers knots, and carried an exquisite shower bouquet. The travelling dress was a tailor-made coat and skirt of navy blue cloth, with white Paris hat trimmed with roses. The bridesmaid wore a pretty costume of fawn voile, trimmed with silk and lace. The happy couple left amidst a shower of confetti and satin shoes for a tour among the Tasmanian lakes.
The North West Post 3rd February 1906