Where ghostly riders haunt the Old Man Plain and a publican's legacy lives on

The Old Man Plain stretched endlessly under the merciless Australian sun, a vast expanse of red dirt and scattered scrub that had claimed more than its share of unwary travellers. In 1859, as bullock trains groaned along the stock route between Hay and Deniliquin, there was only one reliable source of water on this desolate stretch—a newly dug well at a place the drovers had come to call Pine Ridge.

The well had been funded by public subscription from the good citizens of Hay, who were tired of hearing stories about travellers and stock dying of thirst on the crossing. But it was Samuel Porter, a determined settler from England, who saw opportunity where others saw only hardship. Porter deepened the well and, around 1868, erected a solid stone building beside it that would become legendary throughout the district—the Royal Mail Hotel.

From its earliest days, the Royal Mail attracted an unusual clientele. Cobb & Co coaches thundered through in clouds of dust, their passengers grateful for the chance to stretch their legs and wash the grit from their throats. Drovers arrived with vast mobs of cattle and sheep, their dogs panting in whatever shade they could find. But there were others too—shadowy figures who arrived alone, paid for their drinks in coin that might have come from anywhere, and spoke in whispers about things that were best not discussed in daylight.

The publican's licence had originally belonged to another establishment, but Porter quickly became the proprietor of choice for travellers seeking more than just a drink. His hotel offered the only guaranteed water for miles, and in the harsh landscape of the 1860s and 1870s, water was literally a matter of life and death.

Local Aboriginal people warned Porter about the area around the hotel, speaking of restless spirits that rode the Old Man Plain when the moon was dark. They told stories of a swamp to the east called "Burraburoon"—a place where unwary travellers had vanished without trace, leaving only the echo of hoofbeats in the wind. Porter dismissed such tales as superstition, but even he noticed that his horses sometimes refused to venture toward the swamp after nightfall, their ears pricked forward as if listening to sounds no human could hear.

As the years passed, the settlement that grew around the Royal Mail acquired a reputation throughout the Riverina. Travellers spoke of strange encounters on the approaches to the hotel—glimpses of a rider in the distance who seemed to have no head, the sound of galloping hooves that left no tracks, and an unshakeable feeling of being watched from the surrounding scrub.

The transformation from Pine Ridge to Booroorban came about in 1885, when postal authorities discovered there was already another Pine Ridge in the colony. The new name was said to come from the local Aboriginal language, though no one could agree on its exact meaning. Some claimed it referred to the mysterious Burraburoon swamp; others believed it was connected to the strange phenomena that travellers continued to report.

By 1885, when Booroorban was formally proclaimed a village, it had grown to include two hotels, a school, a post office, a general store, and about 200 residents. The town bustled with activity during the day, but as darkness fell, most sensible folk stayed close to the warm glow of the Royal Mail's windows.

Porter's descendants continued to run the hotel for generations, and many of the families in the area could trace their ancestry back to the pioneering publican. The Porters themselves spoke little of the strange occurrences around their establishment, but locals noticed that they always kept a lamp burning in the hotel's front window throughout the night—a beacon for more than just lost travellers, perhaps.

Today, the Royal Mail Hotel still stands as the only surviving coaching inn from the great days of Cobb & Co in the district. The building seems frozen in time, its thick stone walls holding secrets that have never been fully revealed. The population has dwindled to just 33 souls, but on certain moonless nights, they say, you can still hear the thunder of hoofbeats crossing the Old Man Plain—and if you're brave enough to look, you might glimpse a rider whose silhouette lacks something essential as he gallops toward the distant glow of the Royal Mail's welcoming light.

Booroorban was indeed originally called Pine Ridge and was established around a well funded by public subscription from Hay residents in 1859. The settlement was officially proclaimed as the Village of Booroorban in December 1867, though the name change to avoid confusion with another Pine Ridge didn't occur until 1885.

Samuel Porter genuinely did establish the Royal Mail Hotel around 1868, building it beside the vital water source. The hotel became an essential stopping point on the Cobb & Co coach route between Hay and Deniliquin and remains the only surviving coaching inn from that era in the district.

The name "Booroorban" does appear to derive from local Aboriginal language, though its exact meaning remains uncertain. Some sources suggest it came from the Aboriginal name for a nearby swamp called "Burraburoon."

By 1885, Booroorban had indeed grown to approximately 200 residents with two hotels, a school, post office, general store, and about 20 houses, representing the height of the town's prosperity.

The Royal Mail Hotel continues to operate today, and many local families can trace their ancestry back to Samuel Porter. The current population is approximately 33 people according to the 2016 census.

One historical reference mentions that "Booroorban is the home of the Headless Horseman," though details of this legend are not extensively documented in available historical records. The hotel remains a significant historical site, preserving the heritage of the coaching era and the early settlement of the Old Man Plain.