The roots of my family tree are deep in Charters Towers soil and the leaves, though many now fallen, were once thick and lush. My father was born here in 1933, and so too was his father in 1911. My great-grandfather came to the Towers as a young child with his family in 1891. His father (my great-great grandfather) emigrated from Switzerland and ended up here, first as a Lutheran minister and later as a watchman at the Daydawn Gold Mine. It was wonderful exploring the streets where they once lived and the cemetery where some now rest. These were the Giesendanners. The McNeills were on my grandfather's mother's side and he took this name later in life, thus making an interesting, but very confusing tree to trace.

The people here are very friendly and helpful. The ladies at the Tourist Information Centre were a wealth of knowledge and happily pulled out old photographs and records for me to pore over in my search for family information. I also spent an interesting hour with an archivist in the library who was able to assist me with more information.

Charters Towers is much bigger than I expected, yet it was much bigger in its heyday. In fact, it was the second largest city in Queensland at one time. Gold was discovered here in 1871 and Charters Towers soon became a bustling metropolis with 11 crushing mills, 65 hotels, the first ambulance service in the state outside Brisbane, and one of the first Regional Stock Exchanges in Australia. Today, although quite laid back, the town has preserved its past well in its buildings and archives and museums and history groups.

My great-great grandfather arrived here in 1891 as a Lutheran minister. The church (now heritage listed) he served in still stands, in all its glory with a bell tower Later, after leaving the church and shortly before his death, he worked at the Daydawn Goldmine as a night watchman. We stayed in a wonderful old hotel on a street where he lived and, knowing that he loved a wee drop of the amber fluid, I feel pretty certain he probably drank at the bar here sometimes.

This morning I walked the streets of where my family of four previous generations lived and worked, but I just couldn't grasp how they lived and felt. What were their dreams and aspirations? How did they deal with the hardships of the time? How much did they miss their home countries? Were they sorry to have come to such a raw, new life in a harsh, distant country or were they happy with their lot? And what would they think if they could see us now?

I found my great-great grandfather's grave in the cemetery, the head stone still standing and clearly inscribed, set amid so many others. His son (my great-grandfather) is also buried in the same cemetery, but I could not find it amongst the long grass. The Charters Towers cemetery is extensive and one could spend hours reading the stories of the past in its headstones, but we eventually dragged ourselves away and moved on to other things.

We had lunch with a couple of ladies we had met on our Indian-Pacific trip earlier this year and we also looked up a friend who once taught at Beenleigh and is now Principal of All Souls and St Gabriels.

Time for us has passed way too quickly in Charters Towers and the ghosts of the past seem elusive. Perhaps we need to return.