I moved to my Brisbane suburb to get closer to the mountains – and further from the rats

Life in the ’burbs is a series that highlights the good, bad and beautiful of Brisbane suburbs. Writers from around the city are penning love letters (mostly) to their suburbs every week.

I moved from Coffs Harbour to Brisbane to attend university. My preselected destination was West End (I’d heard it was “alternative” like I was – at least back then). I lived in groovy poverty in a ratty rental.

It was an old house, divided into drab flats. My preschooler drew a lovely picture of us walking home. It included drunks lying on the footpath in puddles of vomit.

Seeking betterment, we moved to Ferny Grove. A train line terminus surrounded by trees, it was refreshingly rural. The townhouse I rented was rat-free and conveniently located opposite the small train station – ideal for a young, solo parent/student without a car.

Post-graduation employment improved my circumstances. Being able to afford a car meant I no longer needed proximity to a train station. And I could rent an entire house! With my child now settled in primary school, I chose to remain in the immediate vicinity.

Eventually, I procured my permanent home in the penultimate stop on the Ferny Grove Line: Keperra. The suburb gained a train station the same year Sydney Harbour gained a bridge.

Once a ceremonial ground and axe-grinding site, the name Keperra derives, I believe, from the Yuggera word “kipper”, which means a young man initiated into manhood.

In wartime, the region was put to military use. Gallipoli Barracks, which remain at nearby Enoggera, was visited recently by non-disgraced royal sibling Princess Anne, adding to the area’s prestige.

For those who play golf: Keperra has its own golf course. For those of us who don’t, at least we get advance warning of severe storms. An air-raid siren sounds; the golfers rush to put away their metal clubs. I put away my car.

Each year, young players gather at the golf course to compete for the Keperra Bowl. As amateurs, Cameron Smith and Jason Day both failed in their attempts to procure the prize for their trophy cabinets, but that doesn’t seem to have held them back.

I’m not all that popular on fairways. I’ve been on one just once – to retrieve my horse. (Horses were a big part of my pre-Queensland life. I rode daily. Barefoot, bareback, no helmet. That’s another story.) Spooked, he’d thrown me, and galloped to nirvana. By the time I finally caught him, he’d torn up and eaten parts of the course. Players shook their clubs at me as I cantered, shamefaced, towards the exit.

A virtue of living in Keperra is its proximity to lovely places. I love Samford Village. Their patisserie sells strawberry cupcakes inspired by the Ekka’s famed strawberry sundaes.

Samford has a historical museum and cemetery, but closer to home, we have the Brisbane Tramway Museum. I finally visited when they held a tram-pulling competition, with gym teams and single strongmen straining to move a historic horse-drawn tram along a 50-metre track. I went back recently and enjoyed a ride with majestic Clydesdale horses pulling us along.

When I want some misty rainforest, Mount Glorious is only half an hour away. The mountaintop cafe is popular with motorcyclists. I know the eatery well because I used to be a regular pillion passenger on a variety of motorbikes, with a variety of men. (Again: another story.)

These days, I prefer to picnic alone at an empty table among the trees, journalling and listening to the bellbirds.

Keperra has its own shopping centre, the “Great Western”, which perplexes me. Aren’t we on the northside? This retail hub crouches in the shadow of a huge granite quarry, which has dominated the landscape for more than 60 years.

I’d joyfully anticipated that upon closure, it would become a beautiful, tree-covered lookout. I was wrong. It’s going to be the site of another housing development.

To cater for the growing population, the little Ferny Grove station has grown an ugly, multistorey commuter car park. I avoid it by catching the train from Keperra, where I can look at trees and listen to the birds. Amazingly, Brisbane’s CBD and the cultural precinct are only a half-hour train ride away, and as an arts critic, I spend a lot of time at QPAC. Who needs to live in West End?

A couple of years ago, searching for a pallet during council’s kerb collection, I drove to classy, neighbouring Upper Kedron. On Upper Kedron Road, I came across The Grove Baptist Church, which looked more like an enticing rural resort. Services are followed by coffee served on a timber deck overlooking a forest. They also host weekly table tennis games, with morning tea provided – also on that gorgeous deck. I suddenly became quite interested in religion. And table tennis.

I relocated to Brisbane’s north-west outskirts for a more rural outlook. Over time, estates have replaced the trees. But it’s fine – they can’t move the mountains.

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