It's not what I was expecting to hear when I struck up a conversation with a fellow motorist at a rest area near Towong, on the NSW-Victoria border, earlier this week.
"Oh, you should check out the paddock down the road. It looks like the farmer has erected a guard tower to watch over his crop," he deadpanned.
While I have heard many stories of farmers fed up with tourists trampling through crops to snap selfies, a farmer erecting a tower seems a step too far. So, naturally, I went to investigate.
And the verdict? Far from being a farmer's watchtower, it was actually a racecaller's tower.
Still, it seemed a fitting place to ponder the phenomenon sweeping southern NSW - canola tourism.
Once upon a time, the October long weekend was synonymous with the Bathurst 1000. Then the race moved, and the NRL Grand Final settled into the holiday slot, joining other traditional spring events such as Canberra's very own Floriade and the nearby Boorowa Irish Woolfest.
However, over the past decade, fuelled by Instagram and the irresistible combination of brilliant yellow fields and big blue skies, the humble yellow crop has become an unlikely tourism superstar.
At first, it was simply the odd motorist pulling over. Then the photographs multiplied and people started travelling considerable distances to frame themselves against the expansive fields of gold.
But the boom hasn't been entirely welcome. Now, every spring, social media is abuzz with photos of tourists parked in unsafe locations on busy highways, while farmers report trespassers climbing fences into privately owned, active biosecurity zones.
Luke Quigg, who worked at the historic Wollogorang Station, near Collector, from 2017 to 2024, remembers the seasonal influx vividly.
"The October long weekend was always a headache," Luke recalls. "People pulled over along the highway, jumped the fence and walked through the field. It got to the point we had cops come out and move people on for the hazard on the Federal Highway."
Farmers have responded with signs and reminders that a field of canola is a working, commercial agribusiness - not a free photo studio. Beyond the damage to crops, there are strict biosecurity regulations to consider, not to mention the ever-present Australian risk of disturbing a brown snake enjoying the spring sunshine.
Yet trying to enforce rules on massive property boundaries remains a challenge for rural communities.
"One local cop told us it's more headache than it's worth to call the police for trespassing," Luke notes. Wollogorang has since changed management and no longer plants the crop, but the seasonal friction continues elsewhere.
Fortunately, an ingenious solution has emerged to balance farmer privacy with tourist demand - giving people somewhere they can legally walk into the yellow stuff.
Temora Shire Council, in partnership with FarmLink Research, has done exactly that with Yellow Bloom Road. Located right beside the town's Lake Centenary, this purpose-planted, public canola field features designated walking paths. Here, visitors can safely immerse themselves in the crop without risking a fine or tracking diseases into private farmland.
And the public is loving it.
"I've been photographing this area in spring for years, but this time I actually got to wander through it," says regional landscape photographer Belinda Doyle. "The Yellow Bloom Road Canola Walk lets you get right amongst all that yellow goodness without trespassing into someone's paddock. It's a great idea, seeing those endless yellow fields from a completely different perspective."
Then there is the aerial option: Goldrush Ballooning has been offering canola flights.
"We did the canola flight a fortnight ago. Magic," says Maree New. "One of the most serene experiences of my life, low-level drifting over a river of green and gold."
Some canola chasers are arranging their own access. Justin Bush, of MazdACT, recently led about 40 vehicles to a property near Harden after approaching the farmer in advance.
"We had permitted exclusive access to a beautiful canola field by the farmer," Justin says. "Our group worked hard to arrange access and avoid trespassing, and it should stand as an example of doing the right thing."
However, despite the surge in visitors flocking to crops across southern NSW, canola chasers who weren't quick off the mark this year have been dealt a curveball - the weather.
Recent warm weather has meant some crops have peaked early, with many fields already turning green as the flowers finish blooming. Even the Yellow Bloom Road was forced to close its gates early. Originally planned to remain open into October, the attraction was forced to shut ahead of schedule.
"The flowers literally turned within 24 hours," reveals Dimi Jayawardene, Tourism Officer at Temora Shire Council.
Despite the abrupt finish, the season has been a resounding success. According to Craig Sinclair, executive manager of economic and community development at the council, "Overall, numbers are up significantly this year".
So, this long weekend, if you are out on the region's roads, expect plenty of disappointed canola chasers.
If you do happen to find a crop still in bloom - your best bet may be further south or up in the cooler country, with fields near Bungendore and Binalong both holding their colour earlier this week - remember the golden rule: admire the crop, respect the farmer and, above all, pull over safely.
The perfect selfie isn't worth becoming part of the traffic report.
Or, given the price of fuel, maybe ditch the road trip entirely this weekend, put your feet up and watch the football instead. Go the Knights!
This column's recent exposé on Canberra's Piccadilly Circus struck a chord with Graham Downie, a former much-loved columnist of this newspaper, who sent me the tale of his dusty arrival in the bush capital.
On 10 January 1968 - the very day John Gorton was appointed Prime Minister - Graham piled into the family car at the farm near Tumut, bound for Canberra and a job interview. Seeking a fresh start, his father "bypassed the comfortable bitumen of the Hume and Barton highways", pointing the tyres towards the shortest, roughest, and dustiest route available: the unsealed Brindabella Road from Tumut to Canberra via Piccadilly Circus.
By the time the family reached Cotter Reserve, they were dusty and weary, so stopped for a breather. That's when Graham's guide dog, Greg, became agitated. The culprit? The irresistible lure of the river.
Graham "attempted to explain" to Greg that turning up with a dripping-wet dog probably wasn't the best way to impress a prospective employer.
It all worked out well, for six months later, Graham landed a job as a telephone operator at The Canberra Times, beginning a career as a reporter and columnist.
Years later, Graham and his sister tackled Brindabella Road again after Christmas at the family farm. Despite Graham's warning about a notorious hairpin bend, they approached too fast. Their old Rover spun around and stopped facing back towards Tumut. With the windows open in the scorching heat, the cabin promptly filled with a vast cloud of high-country dust.
"Future trips to the farm - until its sad sale in 1974 - were strictly restricted to the highways," recalls Graham.
Yet Piccadilly Circus lured him back in the early 1970s for a cross-country ski trip - although there was barely enough snow to slide on.
Thanks for the memories, Graham!
Rating: Medium - Hard
Clue: The first houses in this suburb are about to turn 100.
How to enter: Email your guess along with your name and address to [email protected] The first correct email received after 10am, Saturday 3 October wins a double pass to Dendy, the Home of Quality Cinema.
Congratulations to Lyn Millar of Hughes, who was the first to correctly identify last week's mystery photo as the retro "talking information toadstool" that once overlooked the city from Red Hill Lookout. Lyn narrowly beat out Andrew Gleeson of O'Connor, Harry Hains of Ainslie, and Mark Handley to claim the prize.
According to Peter Harris of Latham, these unique coin-operated audio guides were installed at six prominent spots across the capital in 1973. In addition to Red Hill, you could find them at Mount Ainslie, Government House, Black Mountain, City Hill Lookout and Scrivener Dam. "Even though they were anchored to a six-inch-thick concrete base and weighed over 100 pounds, a few were still vandalised or completely stolen over the years," reveals Peter.
Meanwhile, Steve Leahy fondly remembers the experience: "I recall the simple joy of getting a 20-cent coin from Dad, and my sister and I listening in silent awe to the robotic voice coming from within. What can I say? The seventies were a much simpler time." Much like Steve, I cannot help but wonder if any of the original audio reels survived. Hopefully, the Canberra Museum and Gallery have one or two safely tucked away in its archives.
It may not be blanketed in blooming canola, but this vibrant hillside near Gundagai is just as striking - even if its colours come from a duo of invasive weeds. The vivid tapestry features the deep purple of Paterson's curse (Echium plantagineum) interwoven with the bright yellow of Capeweed.
The best-known common name for Echium plantagineum points back to the Paterson family of Cumberoona, near Albury, whose 1880s garden escapee rapidly multiplied across the region. Venture into South Australia, however, and it is known more fondly as "Salvation Jane", a moniker born from its ability to offer emergency grazing for livestock during harsh droughts when little else would grow. Meanwhile, locals in the Riverina call it the "Riverina bluebell", trading its notorious reputation for a much gentler nod to its brilliant purple blooms.
CONTACT TIM: Email: [email protected] or Twitter: @TimYowie or write c/- The Canberra Times, GPO Box 606, Civic, ACT, 2601
