Euroa was not on our radar; we were simply passing through.

We had left Glenrowan at the end of July, headed for Benalla, home of incredible street art, a botanical garden so full of heritage roses that Benalla is dubbed the Rose City, Lake Benalla with its walking tracks, and not far away, the Winton Wetlands, a nature lovers’ delight with its wildlife and plentiful opportunities for birdwatching.  There was so much we were going to see and do in Benalla.

And yet, as we approached the outskirts, I had a distinct feeling of being back in the big city again, and I didn’t like it. After relishing in the calm of the High Country’s little villages and towns, their lack of traffic, their glorious country town ambience, we were suddenly thrust back into the outskirts of a city, with its helter-skelter traffic, irritating lack of parking, and confusion. The slower pace that we had come to love on this trip was about to end. 

We kept on driving, vowing to return to Benalla sometime in the future. But today was going to be an unplanned adventure, experienced at a tranquil pace. 

The town of Euroa was our coffee stop not long after. 

What was that famous line from The Castle? “Ah, the serenity!”. 

As we drove in, I felt it. The serenity.

Soon we were walking the tree-lined main shopping area, Binney Street, in much-needed sunshine which was lovely on this crisp winter morning. There were heritage shop fronts every now and then interspersed with outdoor seating, café goers deep in conversation whilst enjoying a cuppa, parked pushbikes, and the occasional tethered fur baby waiting for their owners to return from a stint in the very large IGA. There is a quiet, slow-paced charm about the place.

We had our caffeine hit at a busy little café next door to the Already Read Bookshop, and made a mental note to pop back later for a good browse. Essentially a second-hand bookstore and totally run by volunteers, this enterprise supports the local library and various literacy initiatives, a fabulous idea and very profitable for the community. 

A poster in the window of the nearby visitor centre advertised a fete to be held the next day, a fundraiser for the local first responders, at the lawn tennis club. 

Euroa and surrounding towns had been significantly impacted by bushfire as recently as January 2026; we had seen that as we drove through kilometres of blackened trees, in some cases totally bare hills, on our way here. 

The local community is heavily focussed on long-term recovery and rebuilding programs, and so we decided we’d go to the fete tomorrow. Which, of course, meant we were staying here in Euroa.  The promise of a good old-fashioned fete, with line dancing entertainment, miniature train rides, craft stalls, homemade toffee apples all for a worthy cause, was too big a drawcard. Off now to find a campsite.

Once again we were able to camp right beside water, this time a prominent waterway called Seven Creeks which actually flows through the town, dividing the commercial from the residential area. Only 15 minutes’ walk into the township, and less to the very stylish Seven Creeks Hotel with its jungle-like beer garden setting, perfect. 

From only stopping for coffee, to staying for three nights, had happened very quickly. Lots here to see, do, and experience, and it all starts tomorrow.

Nothing gives greater insight into the spirit, the heart of a place than walking its streets, passing by old but lovingly kept heritage cottages, houses proudly displaying their pretty country gardens, visiting the various sites held dear to the community, and mixing with local people. 

Crossing the bridge into town, an impressive 3.5m high sculpture of a magpie, Swoop the Big Barrawarrang greets you, a community-led project constructed in 2023 by local artists to honour both the traditional custodians of the land and the region’s famous AFL and netball clubs, the Euroa Magpies. Quite a major attraction it is, celebrating community spirit and cultural heritage.

Further into town, there is the VC Memorial Park, honouring three Euroa heroes who had been awarded the Victoria Cross, the highest award for acts of bravery during wartime. 

A small group of community members collaborating with the Council took five years to complete the project to honour these men and their families, and it was opened in 2014. A superb visual display, with three bronze Life-Size statues, is accompanied by the story of each man, Leslie Magyar VC, Frederick Tubb VC, and Alexander Burton VC. It is very moving as a visitor to be here in this peaceful setting, right near a stand of majestic old trees. These are the red gums, prolific in the Seven Creeks reserve, which provide hollows for birds and animals to shelter in and nest. No accident, I’m sure, that the Memorial was placed here so near to these striking, comforting trees.

The fete now beckoned, and though small in size, there was quite a decent turnout, all there to have a bit of fun and support their local firies, police, and medical first responders. As we walked in, loud music through the intercom heralded a sole young girl whose gymnastic and dancing prowess would not have been out of place in elite circles. 

And then came the elderly ladies of the local line dancing club. I had been chatting to them on the side of the performing space, as a visitor to their town, prior to them performing. They took their positions and, in no uncertain terms, beckoned me to join them. The bystanders were laughingly egging them on. Oh my. I had to save face. I lasted five minutes before realising how unfit I was, completely losing the steps, and with that, my confidence. I can assure you it’s harder than it looks, even though I’m supposed to be “a natural,” according to the ladies. Ah, the welcoming loveliness of locals!

Just outside of Euroa are some magical natural places, Gooram Falls being our first stop. There are two cascades, feeding the Seven Creeks, and walking between the two is easy and rewarding; it’s a gorgeous spot. In the summer months, it is a pretty place to swim, but alas, too cold today.

And the same can be said for Polly McQuinns, a spectacular spot for picnicking, swimming, and just enjoying. Combine a bridge, a weir with sparkling flowing water, large granite rocks, and surrounding reedy fringed shores. The place eerily reeks of the folklore surrounding it. You could imagine the story of Polly, a man so named because he couldn’t grow a beard, drunk and driving his cart and horse off the bridge into the waters below and drowning. Legend has it that Polly, his horse, and cart sank into a bottomless hole, never to be found. The place is indeed one I will not forget.

How better to end a wonderful day than a meal at the gloriously yesteryear pub, the Seven Creeks Hotel, accompanied by live piano music, and then a short and nippy stroll in the dark and across the bridge, back to the coziness of our waterside caravan. We passed many campers sitting around their campfires, enjoying the night air and their drinks and the stars. I am a little in love with Euroa.