Castlemaine isn’t your average country town. It’s not quaint. It’s not sleepy. It’s not “five years behind Melbourne” — if anything, it’s five years ahead, just in a completely different direction no one in the city saw coming.
This is the place where Melbourne’s overstimulated thirty-somethings flee to “slow down,” only to immediately launch three side hustles, a pop-up market, and a podcast about soil health.
The People
You’ve basically got four main species:
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Old goldfields locals – Speak fluent bush banter, know everyone’s family tree, and could name at least 20 ways the town’s changed “since the Woollen Mill closed.”
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Tree-changers – Arrive in a Hilux full of IKEA boxes, start saying “Mount” instead of “Mount Alexander” after six weeks, and loudly declare how nice it is to finally live somewhere with “community.”
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Startup dreamers – Open niche businesses with great Instagram aesthetics but zero customers. (“It’s an artisanal oat milk refill station. No, we don’t take cash.”)
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Multi-hatters – Somehow run a pottery studio, a carpentry business, and an event management side gig, all out of the same shed.
The Scene
Castlemaine has more cafes than traffic lights, and every second person works remotely, which is code for “sitting in a café with a laptop and ordering one coffee every three hours.”
The music scene’s a mix of folk, punk, and that undefinable genre where everyone has a banjo but insists it’s not bluegrass.
If you’re into food, you’ll find sourdough with names, organic farmers markets, and enough craft beer to drown a medium-sized festival crowd.
The Weekly Pilgrimage to “Spendigo”
Despite all the talk about buying local, half the town is in Bendigo on a Saturday afternoon. You’ll see them at Bunnings, Kmart, and Aldi, loading the ute like they’re prepping for the apocalypse. It’s cheaper, okay? No one’s paying $28 for a jar of local honey unless it comes with a gold nugget in it.
What Keeps People Here
It’s not the weather (winters bite). It’s not the job market (you may end up working for beer).
It’s the sense that you’re part of an ongoing experiment — a blend of history, ambition, failure, and wild creativity. It’s the kind of place where your neighbours will help you put up a fence and then invite you to their kombucha-making workshop.
Castlemaine is not for everyone. But if it’s for you, you’ll never leave. Or you’ll try to leave and find yourself mysteriously back here within a year, starting an organic dog treat business and arguing over the best bread at the farmers market.