In September of 1965, the fifth anniversary of my trip to Australia came and passed and I began receiving hints in letters from Mom that it was time that I returned home.
At that time all of the banks had an in-house travel agency so I made inquiries at the bank that I used and was directed to their travel department. What was shown to me was very intriguing so I booked a fare on that trip and began paying for it by installments.
The itinerary was a sailing from Sydney to Manilla, Hong Kong and Singapore, train travel to Bangkok, a plane over Burma to Calcutta, a trip up the Ganges to Benares and then across to Mumbai (with a stop in Agra along the way). In Mumbai I would join a bus camping trip through Pakistan, Iran. Jordan, Syria and Lebanon to Turkey. In Istanbul we would have boarded the Orient Express for the ride to London. From London by ship to New York and then by train to Montreal and across Canada to New Westminster. In the Middle East I would have seen Isfahan, Qom, Petra and the Arab controlled portion of Jerusalem. A dream trip to end all dream trips!
I was at work on November 17 when I received a message that there was a telegram waiting for me at the boarding house. I telephoned there and asked Fred Carroll to open and read the contents to me. It contained the news that Dad had died suddenly. He had not been well earlier in the year and I understood that he had recovered (he had returned to work). During the earlier illness the doctor had discovered an aneurism in his body but the technique had not been developed by which to excise it.
He had been at work - on the afternoon shift - the day before, had come home and went to bed. Mom and Dad had an appointment in New Westminster the next morning so she got up early to go downstairs to put on the coffee and to begin breakfast preparations. She went back upstairs to waken Dad and discovered that he was dead. My kid brother, Danny, was sleeping in a neighboring bedroom so she woke him to ask him to check what she had found was correct. Dan, who was just a teenager - 16 years old (he passed away suddenly in 2008) - confirmed what Mom had discovered to be true.
When I read the telegram I remembered a dream that I had had the night before. In my dream I had gone to the home of friends where I visited frequently. In the dream I was alone in the living room when there was a knock at the front door. I opened it, Dad was standing on the stoop, wordlessly we hugged and the dream ended. A few years ago I was in correspondence with a Canadian author whose books are compilations of Canadian 'ghost stories'. I told him my story and he replied that that phenomena is not at all uncommon.
Word of my news spread rapidly through the office and the Office Manager urged me to go home for the day. At the boardinghouse I read the telegram and then I went over to Kedron Methodist Church where I saw the Rev. Mr. Morton. Upon hearing my news he immediately (as there was no hope of me being home for the funeral) began planning a Memorial Service to be held on Saturday morning to coincide - as close as possible - with the time of the funeral at home. There were about 50 people at the service (including a dozen or so from Dunlop Rubber) and I was very touched.
My first task on Monday was to go to the travel agency to cancel my reservations for the overland trip and to book an air ticket home. However, as I could not make it in time for the funeral, I delayed my departure until Friday, December 17. In the meantime I was feted by various groups of people and given a number of lovely gifts. I will be forever grateful for all of that love.
Jets were a new means of transportation at that time. Trans Australian Airlines had purchased some 'Whispering T-jets' which were the latest wonder. I flew on one of them from Brisbane to Sydney. The word 'whispering' was an anomaly - they were, with the engines located above the back of the plane, very noisy.
As jets that were able to fly nonstop for long distances had not yet been created, I had to travel 'hop, skip, and jump' to Vancouver. My flight on to North America did not leave Sydney until Saturday evening - which was the first of two Saturdays that I lived through in 1965. I spent the day by visiting all of my haunts when I lived in Sydney. "Down Memory Lane" so to speak.
The Qantas flight left Sydney late Saturday evening, landed at Nandi International Airport in the Fiji Islands for refueling (and the Duty Free Shop) and then went on to Honolulu. Shortly after leaving Nandi we crossed the International Date Line and landed on the second Saturday morning (I had lost a day while crossing the Pacific on the SS Iberia in 1960).
In Honolulu we had to clear US Immigration and Customs. As luck would have it, we landed around the same time as aircraft from Manilla and Tokyo so had to queue with passengers from those aircraft in order to gain clearance to enter the U.S. In front of me was a late middle-aged American woman who was attempting to bring home, from Tokyo, what looked like the contents of a nursery. Naturally, practically all of the shrubbery was banned from the United States. The woman was so indignant - after all, she WAS an American!
In Honolulu I had an entire day to kill so I took a tour out to the newly completed 'Polynesian Village' on the north side of Oahu. The village - built by the Church of Latter Day Saints (Mormon) - was a collection of 'villages' depicting all of the island cultures to be found across the Pacific. It was fascinating.
My flight onward was supposed to be a Canadian Pacific Airlines flight from Honolulu to Vancouver. However, it was outbound from Amsterdam via Toronto and Vancouver to Honolulu and was delayed for upwards to twelve hours. As I had written home the details of my itinerary I was concerned that my folks would be at the airport to meet me at the time I mentioned in my letter to them. Therefore I arranged for a different flight.
This one was via Northwest/Orient Airlines to Portland, Oregon and Seattle, Washington (the aircraft was going on from there to Minneapolis and New York City - talk about a milk run!) and then another transfer to a United Airlines flight for the final hop to Vancouver. When I arrived in Seattle, I telephoned home - and learned that my letter containing my itinerary had not arrived. Dan was not yet old enough to drive so they had to scramble to find somebody else who could drive them to the airport. They located two cars and drivers so they could meet me and bring me and my hand luggage home.
Friday, 9 September 2011
Thursday, 8 September 2011
Brisbane
In an earlier post I shared an amusing quote about the mainland Australian capital cities. If you have read that blog, possibly you remember the statement that a citizen of Brisbane likely could make when meeting a stranger - "Come have a beer".
That syllogism summarizes my memories of the city and the people who live there - very friendly and laid back.
I lived in the same room in the same boardinghouse for most of the 2 1/2 years that I was there - and never had any cause to wish that I was elsewhere. There were a dozen or more lodgers (and when one left somebody else would take his bed almost immediately) . We all got along with each other.
Brisbane is a sub-tropical city and, therefore, the summers could be quite warm and humid while the winter days could be quite the opposite. In 1963 to 1965 there was no central air except in important buildings. Therefore, during the summer, one slept with no more than a sheet on top but winter was different. Then the prevailing winds seemed to be from over the hills and across the inland plain. The winds could be quite biting - and they brought the flies with them. The house was not insulated (beneath the window frame was a tiny gap through which I could see the outside).
The house at 81 Brookfield Road. Kedron was an older one. While it was a single story residence the land sloped from the road so that, while the front entrance (which was rarely used by anybody) was only one or two steps up from the ground level, the rear entrance was a story above the ground. Entering by the back door brought one into the kitchen. The dining table - a long rectangular piece of furniture - was around to the left. Oddly, at the back of the dining area was the bathroom with a shower and a sink. The toilet was directly below the shower at the foot of the outside stairs and backing on to the area where the cars were parked.
The driveway came into the east side of the yard and curved around to where drivers could park under the house and in rows. This arrangement, though odd to many of us from this side of the Pacific, was fairly common in that neighborhood.
Leaving the kitchen and walking past the dining area one passed bedrooms on the right. To the left was the living room and beyond it were more bedrooms. The Carroll's suite was on the right at the front of the house.
Being a warm climate, as well as the flies there were cockroaches and some of them made those found here seem awfully tiny! Every three months or so the exterminators came in - we boarders were warned in advance - and fumigated thoroughly. After they left there was quite a stench of chemicals but very few 'roaches. When they did begin to reappear it always seemed that they were sighted first in the downstairs toilet room.
The city - like all cities in the 'New World' - sprawled. While there were buses the main forms of transportation were streetcars and suburban trains. There was a streetcar stop about a block away and that streetcar passed right in front of the Dunlop Rubber building so it gave me easy access to work. The Dunlop building was on the north side of downtown and within walking distance of the major stores thereby making it easy for me to shop during my lunch hour.
Not long after I returned to Canada a major fire destroyed the streetcar barns. From photos that I have seen, it looks like Brisbane now has a very modern rail transit system.
The suburban trains were old as well and many still used steam power. The cars were not air conditioned so riders lowered the windows. Whenever the train passed beneath an over pass - or through a tunnel - the passengers would hastily raise the windows to prevent the engine smoke from entering the car.
One day the Beatles came to town and they were lodged in the 'premier hotel' near the river to the south of downtown. That was not that far from where I worked so, out of curiosity, I walked there at lunch and saw the usual gaggle of screaming teeny-boppers. Why I would have wanted to view that I don't remember!
Always I have loved theatrical productions and had seen some in Sydney and in Melbourne. Brisbane was to be no exception.
Two of the other boarders were a father (a widower) and a son, Brian. He - the son - was not really a theater kind of guy but he was curious so, when I purchased a ticket for a production of Offenbach's "Orpheus in the Underworld", I bought one for him. His reaction was priceless. When the cast launched into the Can Can Brian was the first on his feet cheering and calling for an encore. There wasn't one encore - there were two.
I saw other productions - including the 'Farewell Concert' by Gracie Fields - as well as a production of Gershwin's "Porgy and Bess" performed by a Maori troupe from New Zealand which was pure magic. Like the Welsh, the Maori's are noted for their singing abilities. A group who are not noted for their singing abilities are the Australian Aborigines but an Aboriginal man from Victoria (State) gave a concert - he had a beautiful tenor voice.
Some Soviet Bloc performers came to Brisbane as well and, much to the horror of some of my workmates (the Cold War was still very present in world affairs), I bought a ticket to each. I saw a performance of the Georgian State Dancers (these were from the republic in the Caucasus - not the American state) and a circus from Omsk.
I went to sporting events - auto races at the Exhibition grounds (not my favorite form of entertainment), rugby, Aussie rules football and cricket matches. The Harlem Globetrotters came to town too and another boarder and I took in that entertainment. I have not heard of them for years so I wonder if they have folded?
Like most major capitol cities, Brisbane hosts an annual fair. The Methodist Church in Queensland rented a booth in order to sell costume jewelry created from the gem stones found in parts of the State. I volunteered to help in that booth when I wasn't working. That was one way to visit the "Ex" for free!
That syllogism summarizes my memories of the city and the people who live there - very friendly and laid back.
I lived in the same room in the same boardinghouse for most of the 2 1/2 years that I was there - and never had any cause to wish that I was elsewhere. There were a dozen or more lodgers (and when one left somebody else would take his bed almost immediately) . We all got along with each other.
Brisbane is a sub-tropical city and, therefore, the summers could be quite warm and humid while the winter days could be quite the opposite. In 1963 to 1965 there was no central air except in important buildings. Therefore, during the summer, one slept with no more than a sheet on top but winter was different. Then the prevailing winds seemed to be from over the hills and across the inland plain. The winds could be quite biting - and they brought the flies with them. The house was not insulated (beneath the window frame was a tiny gap through which I could see the outside).
The house at 81 Brookfield Road. Kedron was an older one. While it was a single story residence the land sloped from the road so that, while the front entrance (which was rarely used by anybody) was only one or two steps up from the ground level, the rear entrance was a story above the ground. Entering by the back door brought one into the kitchen. The dining table - a long rectangular piece of furniture - was around to the left. Oddly, at the back of the dining area was the bathroom with a shower and a sink. The toilet was directly below the shower at the foot of the outside stairs and backing on to the area where the cars were parked.
The driveway came into the east side of the yard and curved around to where drivers could park under the house and in rows. This arrangement, though odd to many of us from this side of the Pacific, was fairly common in that neighborhood.
Leaving the kitchen and walking past the dining area one passed bedrooms on the right. To the left was the living room and beyond it were more bedrooms. The Carroll's suite was on the right at the front of the house.
Being a warm climate, as well as the flies there were cockroaches and some of them made those found here seem awfully tiny! Every three months or so the exterminators came in - we boarders were warned in advance - and fumigated thoroughly. After they left there was quite a stench of chemicals but very few 'roaches. When they did begin to reappear it always seemed that they were sighted first in the downstairs toilet room.
The city - like all cities in the 'New World' - sprawled. While there were buses the main forms of transportation were streetcars and suburban trains. There was a streetcar stop about a block away and that streetcar passed right in front of the Dunlop Rubber building so it gave me easy access to work. The Dunlop building was on the north side of downtown and within walking distance of the major stores thereby making it easy for me to shop during my lunch hour.
Not long after I returned to Canada a major fire destroyed the streetcar barns. From photos that I have seen, it looks like Brisbane now has a very modern rail transit system.
The suburban trains were old as well and many still used steam power. The cars were not air conditioned so riders lowered the windows. Whenever the train passed beneath an over pass - or through a tunnel - the passengers would hastily raise the windows to prevent the engine smoke from entering the car.
One day the Beatles came to town and they were lodged in the 'premier hotel' near the river to the south of downtown. That was not that far from where I worked so, out of curiosity, I walked there at lunch and saw the usual gaggle of screaming teeny-boppers. Why I would have wanted to view that I don't remember!
Always I have loved theatrical productions and had seen some in Sydney and in Melbourne. Brisbane was to be no exception.
Two of the other boarders were a father (a widower) and a son, Brian. He - the son - was not really a theater kind of guy but he was curious so, when I purchased a ticket for a production of Offenbach's "Orpheus in the Underworld", I bought one for him. His reaction was priceless. When the cast launched into the Can Can Brian was the first on his feet cheering and calling for an encore. There wasn't one encore - there were two.
I saw other productions - including the 'Farewell Concert' by Gracie Fields - as well as a production of Gershwin's "Porgy and Bess" performed by a Maori troupe from New Zealand which was pure magic. Like the Welsh, the Maori's are noted for their singing abilities. A group who are not noted for their singing abilities are the Australian Aborigines but an Aboriginal man from Victoria (State) gave a concert - he had a beautiful tenor voice.
Some Soviet Bloc performers came to Brisbane as well and, much to the horror of some of my workmates (the Cold War was still very present in world affairs), I bought a ticket to each. I saw a performance of the Georgian State Dancers (these were from the republic in the Caucasus - not the American state) and a circus from Omsk.
I went to sporting events - auto races at the Exhibition grounds (not my favorite form of entertainment), rugby, Aussie rules football and cricket matches. The Harlem Globetrotters came to town too and another boarder and I took in that entertainment. I have not heard of them for years so I wonder if they have folded?
Like most major capitol cities, Brisbane hosts an annual fair. The Methodist Church in Queensland rented a booth in order to sell costume jewelry created from the gem stones found in parts of the State. I volunteered to help in that booth when I wasn't working. That was one way to visit the "Ex" for free!
Monday, 5 September 2011
Kedron Methodist Church
When I was about six years old some Mennonite people came to the Community Hall in Ruskin to set up a Sunday School. While the community of Whonnock to the west had something like seven churches and Silverdale to the east had one or two, Ruskin did not have any. The Mennonites came to communities with no churches nor organized Sunday Schools in an attempt to fill the void.
Our family was not particularly religious. Dad had grown up in a Roman Catholic orphanage in Montreal while Mom - as far as I know - had received no religious instructions. Her parents were not necessarily atheists but were Deists. On the other hand my Grandfather's sisters - Aunt Emma and Aunt Edith - were devout Christian ladies. Aunt Emma belonged to the Glad Tidings Tabernacle in Vancouver while Aunt Edith was a Baptist. The former was always a gentle sweetie while Aunt Edith was a strict disciplinarian and somewhat frightening (until she became elderly and then mellowed). Therefore their religious communities did not appeal to me.
My parents had been married by an itinerant United Church of Canada minister (the wedding was held in my grandmother's garden) so that was the denomination to which we always identified.
In Australia - when I did attend church - I went to one of the three denominations that made up the United Church of Canada (Methodist, Presbyterian or Congregationalist).
In Alice Springs, the John Flynn Memorial Church was a 'Uniting Church' and the pastors could be from any one of the three 'parent' denominations. The Reverend Lloyd Shirley was from a Methodist background.
When I settled into the boarding house on Brookfield Road in Kedron I looked in the yellow pages for any of the churches which represented my background. As the crow flies, the Presbyterian was the closest while the Methodist was the easiest to walk to. I did - and found a friendly, warm and welcoming group of people. When I arrived the minister was a man in late middle age (Reverend Gayden) but he was replaced shortly by Rev. Morton (the Methodist Conference rotated the clergy every three years).
Myself and two of the senior students - Kedron Methodist Church, Brisbane, Queensland
Some of the Sunday School. To my left is the minister's family, the Mortons.
I remained a faithful attendee - and volunteer - during all of my time in Brisbane.
The Methodist Church in Australia - particularly in Queensland - had a vigorously active Youth Ministry and seemed to have 'camps' all over the place. I attended three different camp Youth Conferences in different parts of the region and had a wonderful time.
The largest camp was down at Southport a few miles to the north of Surfers Paradise. Christmas arrives in the middle of summer Down Under and the youth flock to the beaches - especially to those along the Gold Coast. The Methodist Church - under the leadership of the very dynamic Rev. Ivan Alcorn - owned a huge camp at Southport and there - as well as at Surfers Paradise and Burleigh Heads - 'cabarets' were held each evening during the Christmas break. Methodist young people hit the beaches and boardwalks with flyers advertising the evening dances to every young person within reach. The attendance at these events was very good and, yes, evangelizing was part of it (this part of the evening did make me feel uncomfortable).
This was how I came to experience that very popular vacation spot - the Gold Coast.
Also. there were camps at a much smaller surfing center to the north of Brisbane (Caloundra) and near the community of Springdale in the highlands west of the Gold Coast on the New South Wales/Queensland border I attended camps at both of those locations.
The one at the highland camp was over an Easter weekend and, on Easter Sunday morning, a few of we young men got up before sunrise and hiked to the top of one of the peaks where we sat and watched the sun rise out of the Pacific Ocean miles to the east of where we were located.
The community near this camp is in an apple growing area - the only one in Queensland - and is the only place in that State that does receive the occasional recorded snow fall. I remember one Sunday morning when a radio newscaster announced that snow was falling up there. Our landlords loaded the kids into the car and left the boarding house to us - they were on their way for their first glimpse of real snow!.
This is a photo of the attendees at one of the Youth Camps - which one I can not recall.
It seemed to me that all Methodist teens - when they reach they age for Confirmation - are given a hymn book. Not ones with just the words but ones with the words between the lines of music. Therefore all - except the completely tone deaf - learn to read music and to sing parts (soprano, alto, tenor, bass). Also more than one could play a piano of which there was always one in the camp lounge.
I have always loved music so young voices singing hymns in near perfect harmony was wonderful.
Often I think back to those camps with feelings of nostalgia.
Our family was not particularly religious. Dad had grown up in a Roman Catholic orphanage in Montreal while Mom - as far as I know - had received no religious instructions. Her parents were not necessarily atheists but were Deists. On the other hand my Grandfather's sisters - Aunt Emma and Aunt Edith - were devout Christian ladies. Aunt Emma belonged to the Glad Tidings Tabernacle in Vancouver while Aunt Edith was a Baptist. The former was always a gentle sweetie while Aunt Edith was a strict disciplinarian and somewhat frightening (until she became elderly and then mellowed). Therefore their religious communities did not appeal to me.
My parents had been married by an itinerant United Church of Canada minister (the wedding was held in my grandmother's garden) so that was the denomination to which we always identified.
In Australia - when I did attend church - I went to one of the three denominations that made up the United Church of Canada (Methodist, Presbyterian or Congregationalist).
In Alice Springs, the John Flynn Memorial Church was a 'Uniting Church' and the pastors could be from any one of the three 'parent' denominations. The Reverend Lloyd Shirley was from a Methodist background.
When I settled into the boarding house on Brookfield Road in Kedron I looked in the yellow pages for any of the churches which represented my background. As the crow flies, the Presbyterian was the closest while the Methodist was the easiest to walk to. I did - and found a friendly, warm and welcoming group of people. When I arrived the minister was a man in late middle age (Reverend Gayden) but he was replaced shortly by Rev. Morton (the Methodist Conference rotated the clergy every three years).
I remained a faithful attendee - and volunteer - during all of my time in Brisbane.
The Methodist Church in Australia - particularly in Queensland - had a vigorously active Youth Ministry and seemed to have 'camps' all over the place. I attended three different camp Youth Conferences in different parts of the region and had a wonderful time.
The largest camp was down at Southport a few miles to the north of Surfers Paradise. Christmas arrives in the middle of summer Down Under and the youth flock to the beaches - especially to those along the Gold Coast. The Methodist Church - under the leadership of the very dynamic Rev. Ivan Alcorn - owned a huge camp at Southport and there - as well as at Surfers Paradise and Burleigh Heads - 'cabarets' were held each evening during the Christmas break. Methodist young people hit the beaches and boardwalks with flyers advertising the evening dances to every young person within reach. The attendance at these events was very good and, yes, evangelizing was part of it (this part of the evening did make me feel uncomfortable).
This was how I came to experience that very popular vacation spot - the Gold Coast.
Also. there were camps at a much smaller surfing center to the north of Brisbane (Caloundra) and near the community of Springdale in the highlands west of the Gold Coast on the New South Wales/Queensland border I attended camps at both of those locations.
The one at the highland camp was over an Easter weekend and, on Easter Sunday morning, a few of we young men got up before sunrise and hiked to the top of one of the peaks where we sat and watched the sun rise out of the Pacific Ocean miles to the east of where we were located.
The community near this camp is in an apple growing area - the only one in Queensland - and is the only place in that State that does receive the occasional recorded snow fall. I remember one Sunday morning when a radio newscaster announced that snow was falling up there. Our landlords loaded the kids into the car and left the boarding house to us - they were on their way for their first glimpse of real snow!.
It seemed to me that all Methodist teens - when they reach they age for Confirmation - are given a hymn book. Not ones with just the words but ones with the words between the lines of music. Therefore all - except the completely tone deaf - learn to read music and to sing parts (soprano, alto, tenor, bass). Also more than one could play a piano of which there was always one in the camp lounge.
I have always loved music so young voices singing hymns in near perfect harmony was wonderful.
Often I think back to those camps with feelings of nostalgia.
Saturday, 3 September 2011
Camping Trip Around Queensland.
During July, 1964 I saw an advertisement in the newspaper which I replied to immediately . It was for a bus camping tour of the State of Queensland towards the end of August (winter down under). I booked a seat and, on Monday, August 24, I was up very early and called a cab to take me down to the main bus station in Brisbane.
I was nonplussed to discover that the vehicle I was to board was a rejuvenated school bus! Not to worry - that was merely the shuttle up the Toll Bar Road to Toowoomba. The official buses (two of them) had been driven up from Sydney with passengers from the south and were waiting there - 28 seat motor coaches. My first seat was in the back and I was the companion of a middle-aged woman named Clare. She and I were 'partners' for the entire trip. She was a veteran camper - I was not - and the deal was that I would be collecting the firewood while she pitched both of our tents. We got along famously.
If memory serves me correctly, I was - at 29 - the youngest person on that trip.
As for being in the back seat - the capacity of each bus was 28 passengers and, each day when we boarded the bus, we moved one seat. We began in the rear seat but worked our way up to the seat behind the driver followed by the seat immediately behind the front door and then, row by row, back to the rear seat. The system worked well.
From Toowoomba we headed west along a highway that was very good for most of that day - paved for quite a while, then a well maintained gravel highway which eventually deteriorated to being no more than a couple of ruts in the dirt and the sand. The latter condition did cause some concern but the driver was skilled and we never became bogged down (nor did the other bus).
Inland Queensland - like the Canadian/American plains - is a wheat and crop growing area. Eventually, though, 'farmland' gave way to grazing for both cattle and sheep. We went through many towns and hamlets and we were a 'seven day wonder' in many of those hot and dusty places.
The further we went the further apart became the settlements and we stopped at stations ('ranches') for water and road directions. One of those stations was called Roseberth which - for us - was a source of amusement as well as pathos. The buses stopped there so that the drivers could ask directions for the remaining distance to the hamlet of Birdsville - considered to be the most remote community in Australia.
When the drivers got off the buses in order to confer with the Station Manager members of his family came out of the house to view the wonder of the vehicles and the passengers. One of the residents was a little boy of about 3 or 4 years. He was heard to exclaim, "Look at all the people! There must be a hundred head on there!". I don't believe that any of us had ever been referred to as cattle before - or since!
The pathos for we passengers came when we realized that this was where a tragedy had unfolded the previous Christmas. A young man had come out from England to work on the station and his parents and a sibling followed in order to spend Christmas with him. The lad was excited and decided to go down to Adelaide where he would buy a car and then meet the ship. From reports, the meeting was successful and then the young man set out to drive his family to the station up in Queensland. It was known that the family had passed through Marree (where I had changed trains while on my way to Alice Springs) and then vanished. Eventually the car was found and, nearby, the bodies of that family who had tried to cross the unfamiliar desert in the heat of summer.
From Roseberth Station the bus drivers drove the remaining 18 miles to Birdsville where we camped for the night - and where our arrival was a huge sensation. At that time Birdsville had a population of about 50 people - 12 white and 38 Aborigines. Needless to say, some of those residents were real characters. You couldn't have paid me enough money to live there - nor could you have paid those residents to live anywhere else!
Upon leaving Birdsville the bus drivers took us south to the South Australian border. This allowed us to claim that, indeed, we had driven on the Birdsville Track (a storied route Down Under) and also gave us a view of the terrible terrain which the British family had tried to cross on their fateful trip.
From Birdsville we traveled for many miles over roads that, sometimes, were no more than tracks across the desert. However - unlike the photos we have seen of the Sahara and other world deserts - while there was some sand (and a number of colorful sand dunes) - much of the land was pebbly with shrubs and spinefex (a low growing cactus like plant). At a couple of points the roads took us over the border into the Northern Territory and back. Lonely and dusty but still a fascinating trip. There were a number of river and stream crossings along that section and, mostly, they were concrete causeways across dry stream beds.
On the way we called into two large 'cattle stations' - Lake Nash and Austral Downs. Lake Nash was beautiful as it sits on the edge of a billabong which is a large pond left behind when the river stops flowing - that is until the monsoon rains return in the summer.
All along the route we saw Australian wildlife - lots and lots of emus but, surprisingly, only a few kangaroos - and most of them were road kill. The most awesome sight was the bird life - many many cockatoos and at least one flock of colorful parrots. Further on were ant hills (both red and grey) - a misnomer as the insects actually are a variety of termites. One other 'wild thing' that was in abundance out there - as they were in Alice Springs - were flies. Probably you have seen photos of outback people wearing 'bush hats' decorated with pieces of cork tied at the ends of strings hanging from the hat brims. These are to prevent flies from landing on moist parts of the face - mouth, nostrils and eyes.
Communities in the central northern part of Queensland are storied - because they were landing places for aircraft that were fighting the Japanese in Indonesia and New Guinea. Burketown and Normanton (both on the Gulf of Carpentaria) are two of them. We visited both of those places - then sleepy small towns after their glory days during World War II.
The next leg of the journey was up over the uplands to the east and down to Cairns on the coast.
The uplands had busy mining centers in the 19th century and many of them were then ghost towns. One community, though, had a fair sized deposit of agates - a semi-precious stone - and so we were able to purchase decorated pieces of jewelry.
From there we went on up to the top of the Continental Divide and onto the Atherton Tablelands. Up there - and down to the coast - the vegetation was mainly jungle. There is one well known site which we visited - a curtain fig tree. The curtain fig is a parasite, not the fruit bearing fig but a relative, the seeds of which land in a crotch of another jungle tree where it sprouts sending tendrils down to the ground as roots. Eventually the host tree dies leaving this enormous parasite towering high in the jungle with its roots like a thick hemp curtain. To get there we left the buses down on the highway and walked up a well-marked trail. All around were the calls of birds and other tropical noises. I found the experience quite awesome!
A few miles away (all of these sites are located in a National Park) are two lakes. At the hotel on one of them the manager was persuaded into taking some of us out in his motor launch to the jungle on the other side. As we cruised in towards the shore we saw an enormous python resting on huge lily pads soaking up warmth from the misty sunshine. The temperature was 72F.
In my journal I noted that I would never forget the sighting of the snake - but I was wrong. Not having read my journal for a number of years I had completely forgotten about the python - but had a clear memory of the walk through the jungle to the curtain fig tree!
At the end of that day we were down on the coast in Cairns - that lovely northern city. We stayed there for a couple of days and, on one of them, many of us took the launch across to Green Island - the northern anchor of the Great Barrier Reef.
This was a few months after my trip to Heron Island and I could not help but to compare the two tropical paradises. Green Island is much closer to the mainland - only 1 1/2 hours to cross - while Heron is further and larger. As Green Island is closer to Cairns than Heron Island is to Gladstone, it is more developed.
When I crossed to Heron Island it was under relatively stormy conditions whereas the crossing to Green Island was on a lovely day - therefore the spectacular colors of the tropical sea were obvious - first bright blue, then emerald green (as we approached the Barrier Reef) and then milky green. I walked all the way around the atoll and then across it and visited the local aquarium before taking the launch back to the mainland.
There were two more excursions. One was the spectacular railway ride up the steep slope of the Tableland to a place named Kuranda. The train on which we traveled was fairly modern so it was possible to move from side to side in the car as the train went around curves opening new vistas. The station in Kuranda has flower beds on the platform and it is absolutely lovely.
Through my work at Dunlop Rubber I came to know the name of every community in Queensland and to be seeing many of these places for the first time was a real pleasure. Therefore I gladly accepted the opportunity to ride on the bus north from Cairns to Port Douglas passing through a number of other communities along the way. The escarpment angled to the northwest so the agricultural coastal plain became narrower and narrower. Still there were many fields of sugar cane along the way - as well as beaches beside the Coral Sea.
As the buses headed south along the coastal highway I saw more and more sugar cane - and even fires that were deliberately lit to burn out the underbrush (and chase out dangerous reptiles) so the cane cutters would have room to swing their machetes as they harvested the crop.
Two comments:-
Fires in the sugar cane fields are spectacular to watch - but not from the roadways. The order is "REMAIN IN YOUR VEHICLES!" Why? There are a number of types of poisonous snakes in Australia and the taipan - which lives in cane fields - is considered to be both the most ornery and the most deadly. No one in his right mind wants to meet an angry taipan - unless he is well armed with an instrument by which to kill it.
The second is the prevailing odor around burning sugar cane fields and around the mills which extract the sweet products from the cane. That aroma is of molasses - an overwhelming smell of molasses.
Leaving Cairns we traveled south to the larger city of Townsville. Most of the route was past cane fields and through the communities that thrived off of them. Some of the communities were picturesque while others were somewhat drab. One lovely town was Ingham - a lovely English name of a community that was almost entirely Italian!
The campground in Townsville was the loveliest one that we stayed at on this trip - but the 'regulars' there did not like us - we were up too early each morning! The grounds of this campground were well maintained and I camped beside a hibiscus bush the yellow flowers of which hung over my tent.
A few miles off of Townsville is the continental - as opposed to coral - Magnetic Island. Most of us spent the entire day over there. The island had three 'buses' which were converted flatbed trucks all gussied up. Each had a name (Flighty Flo, Nippy Nell and Galloping Gertie) with seats on the deck and a 'roof' of sorts overhead. They were free and one could hop on and off where ever one wished to.
After the day in Townsville (and on Magnetic Island) we continued south to the last major 'sugar town' of Mackay. There was a large sugar warehouse there into which we were able to look - at a mountain of brown sugar! I understand that the white sugar that we are used to seeing comes from local sugar mills located near where we grocery shop.
As we came nearer and nearer to Brisbane the towns (Maryborough, Gladstone, Bundaberg) were ones that I had visited while on trips north with Brisbane friends.
The people with whom I traveled were, by and large, quite nice. I do not remember one incident of hot temper and nasty words. One of the women on the other bus was a real character who 'read palms'. Normally I look upon the occult arts with a jaundiced eye but, towards the end of the trip, I allowed her to read my palm. It was a pleasant experience and I was amazed by what she perceived about me - most of it was absolutely correct!
If I had the chance would I book onto another trip like that one around Queensland? You bet I would!
I was nonplussed to discover that the vehicle I was to board was a rejuvenated school bus! Not to worry - that was merely the shuttle up the Toll Bar Road to Toowoomba. The official buses (two of them) had been driven up from Sydney with passengers from the south and were waiting there - 28 seat motor coaches. My first seat was in the back and I was the companion of a middle-aged woman named Clare. She and I were 'partners' for the entire trip. She was a veteran camper - I was not - and the deal was that I would be collecting the firewood while she pitched both of our tents. We got along famously.
If memory serves me correctly, I was - at 29 - the youngest person on that trip.
As for being in the back seat - the capacity of each bus was 28 passengers and, each day when we boarded the bus, we moved one seat. We began in the rear seat but worked our way up to the seat behind the driver followed by the seat immediately behind the front door and then, row by row, back to the rear seat. The system worked well.
From Toowoomba we headed west along a highway that was very good for most of that day - paved for quite a while, then a well maintained gravel highway which eventually deteriorated to being no more than a couple of ruts in the dirt and the sand. The latter condition did cause some concern but the driver was skilled and we never became bogged down (nor did the other bus).
Inland Queensland - like the Canadian/American plains - is a wheat and crop growing area. Eventually, though, 'farmland' gave way to grazing for both cattle and sheep. We went through many towns and hamlets and we were a 'seven day wonder' in many of those hot and dusty places.
The further we went the further apart became the settlements and we stopped at stations ('ranches') for water and road directions. One of those stations was called Roseberth which - for us - was a source of amusement as well as pathos. The buses stopped there so that the drivers could ask directions for the remaining distance to the hamlet of Birdsville - considered to be the most remote community in Australia.
When the drivers got off the buses in order to confer with the Station Manager members of his family came out of the house to view the wonder of the vehicles and the passengers. One of the residents was a little boy of about 3 or 4 years. He was heard to exclaim, "Look at all the people! There must be a hundred head on there!". I don't believe that any of us had ever been referred to as cattle before - or since!
The pathos for we passengers came when we realized that this was where a tragedy had unfolded the previous Christmas. A young man had come out from England to work on the station and his parents and a sibling followed in order to spend Christmas with him. The lad was excited and decided to go down to Adelaide where he would buy a car and then meet the ship. From reports, the meeting was successful and then the young man set out to drive his family to the station up in Queensland. It was known that the family had passed through Marree (where I had changed trains while on my way to Alice Springs) and then vanished. Eventually the car was found and, nearby, the bodies of that family who had tried to cross the unfamiliar desert in the heat of summer.
From Roseberth Station the bus drivers drove the remaining 18 miles to Birdsville where we camped for the night - and where our arrival was a huge sensation. At that time Birdsville had a population of about 50 people - 12 white and 38 Aborigines. Needless to say, some of those residents were real characters. You couldn't have paid me enough money to live there - nor could you have paid those residents to live anywhere else!
Upon leaving Birdsville the bus drivers took us south to the South Australian border. This allowed us to claim that, indeed, we had driven on the Birdsville Track (a storied route Down Under) and also gave us a view of the terrible terrain which the British family had tried to cross on their fateful trip.
From Birdsville we traveled for many miles over roads that, sometimes, were no more than tracks across the desert. However - unlike the photos we have seen of the Sahara and other world deserts - while there was some sand (and a number of colorful sand dunes) - much of the land was pebbly with shrubs and spinefex (a low growing cactus like plant). At a couple of points the roads took us over the border into the Northern Territory and back. Lonely and dusty but still a fascinating trip. There were a number of river and stream crossings along that section and, mostly, they were concrete causeways across dry stream beds.
On the way we called into two large 'cattle stations' - Lake Nash and Austral Downs. Lake Nash was beautiful as it sits on the edge of a billabong which is a large pond left behind when the river stops flowing - that is until the monsoon rains return in the summer.
All along the route we saw Australian wildlife - lots and lots of emus but, surprisingly, only a few kangaroos - and most of them were road kill. The most awesome sight was the bird life - many many cockatoos and at least one flock of colorful parrots. Further on were ant hills (both red and grey) - a misnomer as the insects actually are a variety of termites. One other 'wild thing' that was in abundance out there - as they were in Alice Springs - were flies. Probably you have seen photos of outback people wearing 'bush hats' decorated with pieces of cork tied at the ends of strings hanging from the hat brims. These are to prevent flies from landing on moist parts of the face - mouth, nostrils and eyes.
Communities in the central northern part of Queensland are storied - because they were landing places for aircraft that were fighting the Japanese in Indonesia and New Guinea. Burketown and Normanton (both on the Gulf of Carpentaria) are two of them. We visited both of those places - then sleepy small towns after their glory days during World War II.
The next leg of the journey was up over the uplands to the east and down to Cairns on the coast.
The uplands had busy mining centers in the 19th century and many of them were then ghost towns. One community, though, had a fair sized deposit of agates - a semi-precious stone - and so we were able to purchase decorated pieces of jewelry.
From there we went on up to the top of the Continental Divide and onto the Atherton Tablelands. Up there - and down to the coast - the vegetation was mainly jungle. There is one well known site which we visited - a curtain fig tree. The curtain fig is a parasite, not the fruit bearing fig but a relative, the seeds of which land in a crotch of another jungle tree where it sprouts sending tendrils down to the ground as roots. Eventually the host tree dies leaving this enormous parasite towering high in the jungle with its roots like a thick hemp curtain. To get there we left the buses down on the highway and walked up a well-marked trail. All around were the calls of birds and other tropical noises. I found the experience quite awesome!
A few miles away (all of these sites are located in a National Park) are two lakes. At the hotel on one of them the manager was persuaded into taking some of us out in his motor launch to the jungle on the other side. As we cruised in towards the shore we saw an enormous python resting on huge lily pads soaking up warmth from the misty sunshine. The temperature was 72F.
In my journal I noted that I would never forget the sighting of the snake - but I was wrong. Not having read my journal for a number of years I had completely forgotten about the python - but had a clear memory of the walk through the jungle to the curtain fig tree!
At the end of that day we were down on the coast in Cairns - that lovely northern city. We stayed there for a couple of days and, on one of them, many of us took the launch across to Green Island - the northern anchor of the Great Barrier Reef.
This was a few months after my trip to Heron Island and I could not help but to compare the two tropical paradises. Green Island is much closer to the mainland - only 1 1/2 hours to cross - while Heron is further and larger. As Green Island is closer to Cairns than Heron Island is to Gladstone, it is more developed.
When I crossed to Heron Island it was under relatively stormy conditions whereas the crossing to Green Island was on a lovely day - therefore the spectacular colors of the tropical sea were obvious - first bright blue, then emerald green (as we approached the Barrier Reef) and then milky green. I walked all the way around the atoll and then across it and visited the local aquarium before taking the launch back to the mainland.
There were two more excursions. One was the spectacular railway ride up the steep slope of the Tableland to a place named Kuranda. The train on which we traveled was fairly modern so it was possible to move from side to side in the car as the train went around curves opening new vistas. The station in Kuranda has flower beds on the platform and it is absolutely lovely.
Through my work at Dunlop Rubber I came to know the name of every community in Queensland and to be seeing many of these places for the first time was a real pleasure. Therefore I gladly accepted the opportunity to ride on the bus north from Cairns to Port Douglas passing through a number of other communities along the way. The escarpment angled to the northwest so the agricultural coastal plain became narrower and narrower. Still there were many fields of sugar cane along the way - as well as beaches beside the Coral Sea.
As the buses headed south along the coastal highway I saw more and more sugar cane - and even fires that were deliberately lit to burn out the underbrush (and chase out dangerous reptiles) so the cane cutters would have room to swing their machetes as they harvested the crop.
Two comments:-
Fires in the sugar cane fields are spectacular to watch - but not from the roadways. The order is "REMAIN IN YOUR VEHICLES!" Why? There are a number of types of poisonous snakes in Australia and the taipan - which lives in cane fields - is considered to be both the most ornery and the most deadly. No one in his right mind wants to meet an angry taipan - unless he is well armed with an instrument by which to kill it.
The second is the prevailing odor around burning sugar cane fields and around the mills which extract the sweet products from the cane. That aroma is of molasses - an overwhelming smell of molasses.
Leaving Cairns we traveled south to the larger city of Townsville. Most of the route was past cane fields and through the communities that thrived off of them. Some of the communities were picturesque while others were somewhat drab. One lovely town was Ingham - a lovely English name of a community that was almost entirely Italian!
The campground in Townsville was the loveliest one that we stayed at on this trip - but the 'regulars' there did not like us - we were up too early each morning! The grounds of this campground were well maintained and I camped beside a hibiscus bush the yellow flowers of which hung over my tent.
A few miles off of Townsville is the continental - as opposed to coral - Magnetic Island. Most of us spent the entire day over there. The island had three 'buses' which were converted flatbed trucks all gussied up. Each had a name (Flighty Flo, Nippy Nell and Galloping Gertie) with seats on the deck and a 'roof' of sorts overhead. They were free and one could hop on and off where ever one wished to.
After the day in Townsville (and on Magnetic Island) we continued south to the last major 'sugar town' of Mackay. There was a large sugar warehouse there into which we were able to look - at a mountain of brown sugar! I understand that the white sugar that we are used to seeing comes from local sugar mills located near where we grocery shop.
As we came nearer and nearer to Brisbane the towns (Maryborough, Gladstone, Bundaberg) were ones that I had visited while on trips north with Brisbane friends.
The people with whom I traveled were, by and large, quite nice. I do not remember one incident of hot temper and nasty words. One of the women on the other bus was a real character who 'read palms'. Normally I look upon the occult arts with a jaundiced eye but, towards the end of the trip, I allowed her to read my palm. It was a pleasant experience and I was amazed by what she perceived about me - most of it was absolutely correct!
If I had the chance would I book onto another trip like that one around Queensland? You bet I would!
Friday, 2 September 2011
Out of Town Excursions
Having steady employment - in Brisbane - and receiving weekly pay envelopes I was able to avail myself of out of town excursions. Not long after arriving in Brisbane (May 1963 - autumn down under) I read an advertisement for a day long bus trip up to the City of Toowoomba on the edge of the escarpment to the west of Brisbane. It was the annual Flower Festival. I booked a seat on the comfortable coach for the trip up and back.
The highlight of the day was the Flower Parade in which all of the entries were either covered by flower petals or carried huge bouquets. This was the first 'Flower Parade' that I had seen - since then I have been to the Rose Festival Parade in Portland, Oregon and I have watched the like parade from Pasadena, California on TV. The one in Toowoomba was as beautiful as the others. After the parade we were driven around the city in order to view the prize winning gardens.
One of the young women whom I had met while in Alice Springs kept in touch with me and invited me to join her and a girlfriend on a weekend trip to Heron Island which is a coral atoll at the southern end of the Great Barrier Reef. On a Friday evening we caught a Queensland Railway train from Brisbane up north to the town of Gladstone. What we were not aware of was that a cyclone was moving down the coast - but out to sea. However, the winds did affect the coastal areas which delayed our trip out to the island for one day. In the meantime, it was perfectly clear and calm in town. We had nothing to do but to book into a hotel and laze around a rather uninteresting place.
The next morning the off shore seas had calmed enough for the launch to come in with returning vacationers and pick us up to take us out to the reef. Also, in some parts of Australia, that was a school break week, so there were families on board. The launch was fairly new and quite comfortable. While we were still in the lee of off shore continental islands, the sea was relatively calm. Once we were clear of the coast islands the water became quite rough. I am used to being out on the water and have never been subject to seasickness - therefore, I remained up on the top deck. However, most of the others went down to the cabin or even down to the few bunks below. They were near the engine and just above the oil smelling bilge waters so everyone of those people became sick. I believe that there were only three of us who were not ill.
When we arrived at Heron Island we had to get off the launch and into smaller boats to be taken over the reef to where the water was shallow from where we waded the rest of the way.
I was shown to a cabin under the palm trees in which I was the only guest.
The island - coral atoll - was only about a mile and a quarter in circumference and, therefore, easy to hike around. The vegetation consisted of tropical shrubbery and palm trees. There were holes in the sand at the base of each palm and in those holes were mutton birds. They are about the size of a good-sized pigeon and are very docile. As many were nesting we were asked not to disturb them. Meals were taken together in the main lodge and, one evening when I returned from dinner, I found a mutton bird in my cabin and had the 'fun' of shooing it out.
We were there for only three days - arrival, a day on the island, and departure. One of the activities offered during the middle day was a walk on the coral reef that surrounds the island. By this time the cyclone had moved well out to sea but its effect was still evident. While it was safe to walk on the reef - at low tide - the water was still very murky and the vivid colors of the reef were dimmed. Still - to be walking on a coral reef (in footwear provided to prevent cuts from the coral some of which is poisonous) - was thrilling.
The next morning, after breakfast, we were ferried out to the launch for the return trip to Gladstone. The water was still rather rough but the transfer from skiff to launch went without incident. Again the 'fools' went down below for the crossing while we 'smarter ones' remained up on top . While they were ill again we were not.
Naturally, while in Brisbane, I went on more than one trip down to the Gold Coast and I will write about being in that area in my blog about the Methodist Church which I attended while in that city.
Also, the most pleasant way to get to the Brisbane Zoo was an 'excursion' on a launch from downtown Brisbane up the river to the park. I was there a few times and that is one place with the gimmick of having guests 'wear' a carpet snake (a type of python) around the neck in order to gain permission to hold and pet a koala bear. I passed on that one!
On other road trips north from Brisbane the highway passed through the town of Nambour which is in the heart of the pineapple growing area. That was another place where I got to eat fresh pineapple which had been ripened before picking. Oh Yummers! Nambour is next to a geological phenomena called 'The Glasshouse Mountains' which are remnants of volcanoes from a distant past. What is left are the inside of the long extinct cones that have not completely eroded away. They are quite striking.
The highlight of the day was the Flower Parade in which all of the entries were either covered by flower petals or carried huge bouquets. This was the first 'Flower Parade' that I had seen - since then I have been to the Rose Festival Parade in Portland, Oregon and I have watched the like parade from Pasadena, California on TV. The one in Toowoomba was as beautiful as the others. After the parade we were driven around the city in order to view the prize winning gardens.
One of the young women whom I had met while in Alice Springs kept in touch with me and invited me to join her and a girlfriend on a weekend trip to Heron Island which is a coral atoll at the southern end of the Great Barrier Reef. On a Friday evening we caught a Queensland Railway train from Brisbane up north to the town of Gladstone. What we were not aware of was that a cyclone was moving down the coast - but out to sea. However, the winds did affect the coastal areas which delayed our trip out to the island for one day. In the meantime, it was perfectly clear and calm in town. We had nothing to do but to book into a hotel and laze around a rather uninteresting place.
The next morning the off shore seas had calmed enough for the launch to come in with returning vacationers and pick us up to take us out to the reef. Also, in some parts of Australia, that was a school break week, so there were families on board. The launch was fairly new and quite comfortable. While we were still in the lee of off shore continental islands, the sea was relatively calm. Once we were clear of the coast islands the water became quite rough. I am used to being out on the water and have never been subject to seasickness - therefore, I remained up on the top deck. However, most of the others went down to the cabin or even down to the few bunks below. They were near the engine and just above the oil smelling bilge waters so everyone of those people became sick. I believe that there were only three of us who were not ill.
When we arrived at Heron Island we had to get off the launch and into smaller boats to be taken over the reef to where the water was shallow from where we waded the rest of the way.
I was shown to a cabin under the palm trees in which I was the only guest.
The island - coral atoll - was only about a mile and a quarter in circumference and, therefore, easy to hike around. The vegetation consisted of tropical shrubbery and palm trees. There were holes in the sand at the base of each palm and in those holes were mutton birds. They are about the size of a good-sized pigeon and are very docile. As many were nesting we were asked not to disturb them. Meals were taken together in the main lodge and, one evening when I returned from dinner, I found a mutton bird in my cabin and had the 'fun' of shooing it out.
We were there for only three days - arrival, a day on the island, and departure. One of the activities offered during the middle day was a walk on the coral reef that surrounds the island. By this time the cyclone had moved well out to sea but its effect was still evident. While it was safe to walk on the reef - at low tide - the water was still very murky and the vivid colors of the reef were dimmed. Still - to be walking on a coral reef (in footwear provided to prevent cuts from the coral some of which is poisonous) - was thrilling.
The next morning, after breakfast, we were ferried out to the launch for the return trip to Gladstone. The water was still rather rough but the transfer from skiff to launch went without incident. Again the 'fools' went down below for the crossing while we 'smarter ones' remained up on top . While they were ill again we were not.
Naturally, while in Brisbane, I went on more than one trip down to the Gold Coast and I will write about being in that area in my blog about the Methodist Church which I attended while in that city.
Also, the most pleasant way to get to the Brisbane Zoo was an 'excursion' on a launch from downtown Brisbane up the river to the park. I was there a few times and that is one place with the gimmick of having guests 'wear' a carpet snake (a type of python) around the neck in order to gain permission to hold and pet a koala bear. I passed on that one!
On other road trips north from Brisbane the highway passed through the town of Nambour which is in the heart of the pineapple growing area. That was another place where I got to eat fresh pineapple which had been ripened before picking. Oh Yummers! Nambour is next to a geological phenomena called 'The Glasshouse Mountains' which are remnants of volcanoes from a distant past. What is left are the inside of the long extinct cones that have not completely eroded away. They are quite striking.
Friday, 12 August 2011
Brisbane Queensland Boarding House
Arriving in Brisbane, my first task was to find steady employment and, closely after, a permanent place in which to live. Looking for work took longer than I liked and I had to settle for a couple of 'icky jobs'. One of them was washing new vehicles at a Ford motor dealership (at least there were no drinking straws nor cigarette butts to remove from tight spots!).
I did not work for long at that Ford dealership washing cars - an advertisement in the newspaper from the Dunlop Rubber Distribution Center in downtown Brisbane asked for an experienced Accounts Receivable clerk. I applied and was hired. Very soon thereafter, an ad was placed by the owner of a boarding house in the suburban area of Kedron - about a mile from where I was staying. I went there for a look, liked what I saw (and was liked by Marj Carroll - the owner) and moved in. I lived there for 2 1/2 years.
This is me leaning on the gate to 81 Brookfield Road. The snapshot is a small one and my scanner does not seem to recognize 'petite sizes' so allots space for a large photo instead!
There were 6 or 8 bedrooms in the house with two tenants in each. My room was next to the kitchen and right off of the dining area. All of the boarders were men. Marj's husband, Fred - an assistant stationary engineer in a nearby garment factory - and their two sons were there as well. The couple were Jehovah's Witnesses but they did not try to proselytize to we boarders - although I and two others - who attended church fairly regularly - did receive the occasional 'dig'.
One of the recipients of the 'digs' was Russell who was a Cadet Officer in the downtown Salvation Army Corps. Russell and I liked each other so, when the Queensland leader of the Army was elected the General of the world wide Army, Russell invited me to come with him to the downtown citadel for the sendoff meeting (General Coutts had to move to London, England in order to carry out his duties).
Russell had a motor scooter so I rode 'pillion passenger' behind him downtown to the gathering. We were a little late in arriving and the only two adjoining seats still empty were in the front row. The event consisted of music - band and choral - and speeches. When it ended, General Coutts marched out with the color party and then returned to accept personal greetings. Naturally there was a crush of people wanting to shake his hand. However, he noticed the 'cadet' flashers on Russell's lapel so he reached over and grabbed both of our hands, squeezed them, and wished us God's blessing. I was awestruck!
My first roommate was a young guy who was also a Jehovah Witness. On Saturday, November 23, 1963, I was partially awakened by the noise of Fred - Marj's husband - puttering around in the kitchen and came fully awake with a jolt as the feet of Barry - my roommate - hit the floor as he rushed to the kitchen saying, "Fred! Fred! President Kennedy has been shot!" Sleepily I thought, "You Jehovah's Witnesses always make a political crisis out of anything" - and then realized that what he was saying was true! Another boarder, Brian, and I went into downtown Brisbane that morning. People were out and about shopping, buying each new edition of the tabloid newspapers, and were very somber. A day later we were watching the news on TV and Marj kept saying "Poor Jackie! Poor woman!" She had lost her first husband tragically in an auto accident.
+and+I+strolling+along+Queen+Street+in+downtown+Brisbane.JPG)
Another boarder was Jack McCamy. He remained with us for only a few months but, during that period, we became friends. Here we are on a Saturday morning strolling along Queen Street in downtown Brisbane. This photo was taken by a professional photographer.
All of the guys who lived there were great (being a boarding house tenants kept coming and going) - including two men who were brothers.
Kurt was living there when I moved in. He was German by birth - born during World War II. He was a handsome blond Nordic man - and extremely fastidious. When we first met he was working at a tannery and absolutely loathed the stench of tannic acid on his clothes - the first thing he would do when he arrived home was take a shower and change clothes. He quit that job and found another at a factory which made concrete culvert pipes. No stench on his clothes - just cement dust which he detested as well.
Kurt owned a Harley Davidson motorcycle and, one day, he took me out for a ride. We went up to the top of two mountains in the old range west of Brisbane from where one has a panoramic view of the coastal area and the city.
Some months later Kurt's younger brother, Roland, arrived. As there were no vacancies in the boarding house at that time, Kurt talked Marj Carroll into letting Roland have his bed while Kurt took a cot down under the house where the cars were parked. Roland was easy going and not at all as fastidious as was his brother. Kurt told the rest of us that Roland had been up north cutting sugar cane. We all bought that but I began to wonder - wasn't the sugar cane cutting season a little later in the year than May?
I knew that Kurt was frustrated by having to work at menial jobs. Also I gathered that he did consider crime as a way out of their penurious situation. At that time the film version of "West Side Story" was making the rounds of various cinemas. When it began a run at the local movie house I talked Kurt into going with me hoping that somehow "Crime Doesn't Pay" could seep into his thinking. Naively I forgot that the movie dealt with gang violence in New York City and not organized crime!
When I lived in Australia the afternoon tabloids were brought to offices for people to read while on the transit going home. On a Friday in November 1964 the screaming headline on the front page of the tabloid caused my heart to sink into my boots. There had been a bank robbery - something unheard of in Australian cities in the 1960s.
However, when I arrived home everything seemed normal. Soon, though, the Police were at the door. As all of we tenants were 'transient' we were looked at very closely. Kurt had moved out a few days before - with Roland - but we (and especially Marjorie) could not believe that Kurt and Roland were suspects. As she ran a good, clean house it was not long before she rented out the spare bed. My new roommate came home from work on the Monday evening to find his part of the room completely covered by fingerprint dust. What a mess!
One night I was in bed asleep and was awakened by Fred - the Police were out on the back stoop and wanted to talk with me. Being a 'boarder' with a home address far away and knowing the accused - I was a suspect too.
One afternoon at work I was called down to the front desk where the Branch Manager was standing at the front counter with two police detectives. I had to go with them in the squad car to Police Headquarters where I was shown a garment that was suspected to belong to Kurt. Did I recognize it? Not really!
Roland was caught not too long afterwards and was sentenced to a hefty jail term. The papers mentioned which prison he was in so I wrote to him. More visits by the police asking if I would find out from him where his brother was? I knew Kurt - he loved his brother dearly but he also knew that Roland was a blabber so he would never have revealed to him where he was planning to go.
About a month later I was informed of a family emergency back in Canada so I returned home. However, I kept in touch with Marj and, some months later, she sent me a letter and enclosed newspaper clippings. There had been an automobile accident and one of the drivers had been knocked unconscious. When the authorities went to identify him they learned that he was Kurt. I never heard anything more.
I did not work for long at that Ford dealership washing cars - an advertisement in the newspaper from the Dunlop Rubber Distribution Center in downtown Brisbane asked for an experienced Accounts Receivable clerk. I applied and was hired. Very soon thereafter, an ad was placed by the owner of a boarding house in the suburban area of Kedron - about a mile from where I was staying. I went there for a look, liked what I saw (and was liked by Marj Carroll - the owner) and moved in. I lived there for 2 1/2 years.
There were 6 or 8 bedrooms in the house with two tenants in each. My room was next to the kitchen and right off of the dining area. All of the boarders were men. Marj's husband, Fred - an assistant stationary engineer in a nearby garment factory - and their two sons were there as well. The couple were Jehovah's Witnesses but they did not try to proselytize to we boarders - although I and two others - who attended church fairly regularly - did receive the occasional 'dig'.
One of the recipients of the 'digs' was Russell who was a Cadet Officer in the downtown Salvation Army Corps. Russell and I liked each other so, when the Queensland leader of the Army was elected the General of the world wide Army, Russell invited me to come with him to the downtown citadel for the sendoff meeting (General Coutts had to move to London, England in order to carry out his duties).
Russell had a motor scooter so I rode 'pillion passenger' behind him downtown to the gathering. We were a little late in arriving and the only two adjoining seats still empty were in the front row. The event consisted of music - band and choral - and speeches. When it ended, General Coutts marched out with the color party and then returned to accept personal greetings. Naturally there was a crush of people wanting to shake his hand. However, he noticed the 'cadet' flashers on Russell's lapel so he reached over and grabbed both of our hands, squeezed them, and wished us God's blessing. I was awestruck!
My first roommate was a young guy who was also a Jehovah Witness. On Saturday, November 23, 1963, I was partially awakened by the noise of Fred - Marj's husband - puttering around in the kitchen and came fully awake with a jolt as the feet of Barry - my roommate - hit the floor as he rushed to the kitchen saying, "Fred! Fred! President Kennedy has been shot!" Sleepily I thought, "You Jehovah's Witnesses always make a political crisis out of anything" - and then realized that what he was saying was true! Another boarder, Brian, and I went into downtown Brisbane that morning. People were out and about shopping, buying each new edition of the tabloid newspapers, and were very somber. A day later we were watching the news on TV and Marj kept saying "Poor Jackie! Poor woman!" She had lost her first husband tragically in an auto accident.
+and+I+strolling+along+Queen+Street+in+downtown+Brisbane.JPG)
Another boarder was Jack McCamy. He remained with us for only a few months but, during that period, we became friends. Here we are on a Saturday morning strolling along Queen Street in downtown Brisbane. This photo was taken by a professional photographer.
All of the guys who lived there were great (being a boarding house tenants kept coming and going) - including two men who were brothers.
Kurt was living there when I moved in. He was German by birth - born during World War II. He was a handsome blond Nordic man - and extremely fastidious. When we first met he was working at a tannery and absolutely loathed the stench of tannic acid on his clothes - the first thing he would do when he arrived home was take a shower and change clothes. He quit that job and found another at a factory which made concrete culvert pipes. No stench on his clothes - just cement dust which he detested as well.
Kurt owned a Harley Davidson motorcycle and, one day, he took me out for a ride. We went up to the top of two mountains in the old range west of Brisbane from where one has a panoramic view of the coastal area and the city.
Some months later Kurt's younger brother, Roland, arrived. As there were no vacancies in the boarding house at that time, Kurt talked Marj Carroll into letting Roland have his bed while Kurt took a cot down under the house where the cars were parked. Roland was easy going and not at all as fastidious as was his brother. Kurt told the rest of us that Roland had been up north cutting sugar cane. We all bought that but I began to wonder - wasn't the sugar cane cutting season a little later in the year than May?
I knew that Kurt was frustrated by having to work at menial jobs. Also I gathered that he did consider crime as a way out of their penurious situation. At that time the film version of "West Side Story" was making the rounds of various cinemas. When it began a run at the local movie house I talked Kurt into going with me hoping that somehow "Crime Doesn't Pay" could seep into his thinking. Naively I forgot that the movie dealt with gang violence in New York City and not organized crime!
When I lived in Australia the afternoon tabloids were brought to offices for people to read while on the transit going home. On a Friday in November 1964 the screaming headline on the front page of the tabloid caused my heart to sink into my boots. There had been a bank robbery - something unheard of in Australian cities in the 1960s.
However, when I arrived home everything seemed normal. Soon, though, the Police were at the door. As all of we tenants were 'transient' we were looked at very closely. Kurt had moved out a few days before - with Roland - but we (and especially Marjorie) could not believe that Kurt and Roland were suspects. As she ran a good, clean house it was not long before she rented out the spare bed. My new roommate came home from work on the Monday evening to find his part of the room completely covered by fingerprint dust. What a mess!
One night I was in bed asleep and was awakened by Fred - the Police were out on the back stoop and wanted to talk with me. Being a 'boarder' with a home address far away and knowing the accused - I was a suspect too.
One afternoon at work I was called down to the front desk where the Branch Manager was standing at the front counter with two police detectives. I had to go with them in the squad car to Police Headquarters where I was shown a garment that was suspected to belong to Kurt. Did I recognize it? Not really!
Roland was caught not too long afterwards and was sentenced to a hefty jail term. The papers mentioned which prison he was in so I wrote to him. More visits by the police asking if I would find out from him where his brother was? I knew Kurt - he loved his brother dearly but he also knew that Roland was a blabber so he would never have revealed to him where he was planning to go.
About a month later I was informed of a family emergency back in Canada so I returned home. However, I kept in touch with Marj and, some months later, she sent me a letter and enclosed newspaper clippings. There had been an automobile accident and one of the drivers had been knocked unconscious. When the authorities went to identify him they learned that he was Kurt. I never heard anything more.
Tuesday, 9 August 2011
HItchhiking the Coastal Highway Melbourne to Brisbane
I remained in Melbourne for a number of days visiting with friends, sightseeing, and taking in shows. One of the fellows whom I met while working in the orchards in Tasmania had promised to take me to a game of Aussie Rules Football so I held him to that promise.
He and his mates lived in the Hawthorne area of the city. On the Saturday when we went to a game Hawthorne was hosting a team from Essenden, northwest of there. I had seen a game of Aussie Rules on my previous visit to Melbourne but that was at the Melbourne Cricket Grounds - a large stadium that had been built to host the Olympic Games in 1956. The Hawthorne 'pitch' was much more usual in being smaller than the Olympic Stadium - yet hosted over 30,000 people. There were bleachers - which were more expensive - but most of the crowd stood around the playing area. We were a bit late in arriving so the only spot that we could find was at the back - I could see the far goal posts but the crowd in front blocked my view of the near ones.
Just before the game began, three women came in (two middle-aged and one elderly), They had brought a small bench with them which they placed back near the fence and upon which they stood to watch the game. A little later a couple of men came in and stood between these women and where we were. One of them was a big bruiser of a guy - and just as foulmouthed as his size. After a while his buddy said, "Tone it down, Mate, there are some women behind us!" The older woman of the three at the back spoke up and said (with a strong Scottish brogue), "It's all reecht - ye're barracking for ma team!"
The visiting team prevailed by a big margin over the hosts.
While still on the subject of Melbourne, there is one afternoon in November when the entire nation stops for half an hour or so. That is for the Melbourne Cup - Australia's premier horse race. In the offices where I worked in Sydney and in Brisbane all work stopped, radios appeared, and everybody listened and then groaned or shrieked - depending upon who had the winning ticket in the office pool.
It took me four days to hitchhike southwest from Melbourne and then northwest up the coast of New South Wales to Sydney. I passed through hilly countrysides for most of the route, saw many towns and countless farms and stations. Even though I thought that that route would be lightly traveled, I did get offered many rides, met some great people, and stayed at hotels (charming older ones) and B&Bs each night.
Arriving back in Sydney I went to the old flat at Tamarama Beach where I saw my former flatmates and met a new one. While in Sydney I revisited familiar sites and saw a few movies. During my stay a cyclone blew through leaving a lot of water but not too much damage. However, when I left to hitchhike north I encountered a lot of showers - some were downpours - so travel was a bit dicey. Also, because of the weather, I couldn't camp out but sought hotels and guest houses each night.
After a few days on the road I arrived in Kempsey - an agricultural center - and, again, encountered an angel. The weather forecaster was predicting the advent of a second cyclone (cyclones are to the Southern Hemisphere what hurricanes are to the Northern - they cause a lot of damage during their passage but do bring much needed moisture to the hinterland). I had planned to keep on going but I went into a branch of my bank to withdraw some cash and was accosted by a younger man - the next angel!
He had inherited his Dad's dairy farm a couple of miles from the town and, as a teenager, he had been to North America to an international gathering of young people who belonged to the 4H movement. While over here he had hitchhiked around so immediately recognized a 'kindred spirit'. He invited me out to the farm for the duration of the wet weather to stay with him, his wife, and small child.
Much of the farm was low lying land along the river. It was a dairy and he had more than 100 milkers. During my stay of nearly a week I helped out with the farm chores - the first of which was to herd the cows in a riverside meadow to higher ground for safety. Of all the cows in his herd he lost only one to the flood.
I am a 'city boy' but I do enjoy being on a farm and, where I am able, to help with the chores. Neither my hiking boots, oxfords, nor flip flops were appropriate wear out and around the flooded land - so I went barefoot. Some of my readers may find this disgusting but stepping into fresh cow dung is not gross at all - it is warm and soft - and the bare feet are easily washed off.
When the waters subsided and the roads reopened, I continued on to Brisbane arriving there two days later. While picking pears near Shepparton, Victoria I met two brothers from Brisbane. They wrote to their Mom (Mrs. Dears) about me and arranged for me to stay at their home until I found proper employment in Brisbane and could afford to live in a boarding house.
While the other State Capitals are ocean side cities, Brisbane is not. Being very sub-tropical the terrain along the coast is either sand dunes or mangrove type swamps. Where the Brisbane River empties into the ocean there are some offshore islands which block the formation of beaches. Therefore, the city is a few miles inland straddling the Brisbane River. Thus it is not as picturesque - in my opinion - as the others. One thing, though, it is very laid back.
More about Brisbane in further chapters. While I visited the other cities only for days or months, I lived in Brisbane for 2 1/2 years and loved every moment of it.
He and his mates lived in the Hawthorne area of the city. On the Saturday when we went to a game Hawthorne was hosting a team from Essenden, northwest of there. I had seen a game of Aussie Rules on my previous visit to Melbourne but that was at the Melbourne Cricket Grounds - a large stadium that had been built to host the Olympic Games in 1956. The Hawthorne 'pitch' was much more usual in being smaller than the Olympic Stadium - yet hosted over 30,000 people. There were bleachers - which were more expensive - but most of the crowd stood around the playing area. We were a bit late in arriving so the only spot that we could find was at the back - I could see the far goal posts but the crowd in front blocked my view of the near ones.
Just before the game began, three women came in (two middle-aged and one elderly), They had brought a small bench with them which they placed back near the fence and upon which they stood to watch the game. A little later a couple of men came in and stood between these women and where we were. One of them was a big bruiser of a guy - and just as foulmouthed as his size. After a while his buddy said, "Tone it down, Mate, there are some women behind us!" The older woman of the three at the back spoke up and said (with a strong Scottish brogue), "It's all reecht - ye're barracking for ma team!"
The visiting team prevailed by a big margin over the hosts.
While still on the subject of Melbourne, there is one afternoon in November when the entire nation stops for half an hour or so. That is for the Melbourne Cup - Australia's premier horse race. In the offices where I worked in Sydney and in Brisbane all work stopped, radios appeared, and everybody listened and then groaned or shrieked - depending upon who had the winning ticket in the office pool.
It took me four days to hitchhike southwest from Melbourne and then northwest up the coast of New South Wales to Sydney. I passed through hilly countrysides for most of the route, saw many towns and countless farms and stations. Even though I thought that that route would be lightly traveled, I did get offered many rides, met some great people, and stayed at hotels (charming older ones) and B&Bs each night.
Arriving back in Sydney I went to the old flat at Tamarama Beach where I saw my former flatmates and met a new one. While in Sydney I revisited familiar sites and saw a few movies. During my stay a cyclone blew through leaving a lot of water but not too much damage. However, when I left to hitchhike north I encountered a lot of showers - some were downpours - so travel was a bit dicey. Also, because of the weather, I couldn't camp out but sought hotels and guest houses each night.
After a few days on the road I arrived in Kempsey - an agricultural center - and, again, encountered an angel. The weather forecaster was predicting the advent of a second cyclone (cyclones are to the Southern Hemisphere what hurricanes are to the Northern - they cause a lot of damage during their passage but do bring much needed moisture to the hinterland). I had planned to keep on going but I went into a branch of my bank to withdraw some cash and was accosted by a younger man - the next angel!
He had inherited his Dad's dairy farm a couple of miles from the town and, as a teenager, he had been to North America to an international gathering of young people who belonged to the 4H movement. While over here he had hitchhiked around so immediately recognized a 'kindred spirit'. He invited me out to the farm for the duration of the wet weather to stay with him, his wife, and small child.
Much of the farm was low lying land along the river. It was a dairy and he had more than 100 milkers. During my stay of nearly a week I helped out with the farm chores - the first of which was to herd the cows in a riverside meadow to higher ground for safety. Of all the cows in his herd he lost only one to the flood.
I am a 'city boy' but I do enjoy being on a farm and, where I am able, to help with the chores. Neither my hiking boots, oxfords, nor flip flops were appropriate wear out and around the flooded land - so I went barefoot. Some of my readers may find this disgusting but stepping into fresh cow dung is not gross at all - it is warm and soft - and the bare feet are easily washed off.
When the waters subsided and the roads reopened, I continued on to Brisbane arriving there two days later. While picking pears near Shepparton, Victoria I met two brothers from Brisbane. They wrote to their Mom (Mrs. Dears) about me and arranged for me to stay at their home until I found proper employment in Brisbane and could afford to live in a boarding house.
While the other State Capitals are ocean side cities, Brisbane is not. Being very sub-tropical the terrain along the coast is either sand dunes or mangrove type swamps. Where the Brisbane River empties into the ocean there are some offshore islands which block the formation of beaches. Therefore, the city is a few miles inland straddling the Brisbane River. Thus it is not as picturesque - in my opinion - as the others. One thing, though, it is very laid back.
More about Brisbane in further chapters. While I visited the other cities only for days or months, I lived in Brisbane for 2 1/2 years and loved every moment of it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)