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Brief History of Mt Gambier – the second city of SA after Adelaide (region population nearly 35,000, urban 28,000).
Lieutenant James Grant aboard the Lady Nelson sighted and named Mt Gambier in 1800 after a Lord of the Admiralty. The first white man to traverse the area was Stephen Henty of Portland in 1839 when he sighted the Blue Lake. He returned with cattle and stockmen in 1841. He later claimed that had he known the lake and volcano he had discovered in 1839 was in SA he would have immediately applied for an 1839 Special Survey. But Henty thought he was squatting on land in NSW and he was not an official SA settler so the government ordered him off the land in 1844. Thus the first official white settler of the South East and the Mt Gambier district became Evelyn Sturt, brother to Captain Charles Sturt, who took up an occupational license in March 1844 and a property he named Compton just north of the present city. In April 1844 Governor Grey and a party of assistants including the Assistant Surveyor General Thomas Burr and artist George French Angas explored the South East naming Robe and doing the first surveys. Evelyn Sturt became the first to have an occupational license to squat and the first purchase freehold land near Mt Gambier which he did in 1847- a section of 77 acres when 80 acres was the norm. He left the district in 1854 selling his freehold land to Hastings Cunningham who in 1855 subdivided some of this land thus creating the town of Gambierton. The town lands were adjacent to the site of the first police station selected near what is now Cave Gardens by the government in 1845. A small bush inn also operated at this spot. The first streets were named after early locals such as Evelyn Sturt, Compton, Ferrers and Crouch (built the first general store before the town was created) etc. The town grew quickly because of the mild climate, fertile soils, plentiful water and the influx of settlers from across the border in what was to become the colony of Victoria. Cunningham himself was a great benefactor and donated land for the first school in 1856. In 1861 the town name was changed by act of parliament to Mt Gambier. The Hundred of Mt Gambier (along with three other hundreds) was declared in 1858 and began the closer settlement of the South East.
Unlike other areas of SA the South East was seen as paradise for pastoralists and the optimistic pastoralists flocked to the area with their flocks in 1845. The large runs locked up the land and prevented farmers from settling in the region except for the fertile lands around Mount Gambier. Here small scale farmers had small properties and grew potatoes, hops, and later had dairy cows as well as growing wheat and oats. Land acts in the early 1870s designed to break up the big runs only partially succeeded in the South East where most station owners bought up their lands freehold. It was after 1905 before the big pastoral estates were really broken up for farmers and closer settlement, except for near Mt Gambier. Apart from Evelyn Sturt the other early white settlers of the South East in 1845 were Alexander Cameron at Penola, John Robertson at Struan, William Macintosh and George Ormerod at Naracoorte, the Austin brothers at Yallum Park (later John Riddoch), the Arthur brothers (nephews of Governor Arthur of Van Diemen’s Land) at Mt Schanck( now Mt Schank) and the Leake brothers at Glencoe. In fact in 1845 nineteen leasehold runs were taken up in the South East with a further thirty runs in 1846 and most had several 80 acres sections of freehold land near the main homestead. Most had got to the South East from Casterton and Portland in Victoria as the swamps near the coast were too difficult to traverse except for the country near Robe. Many of the estates were huge. Evelyn Sturt on the Compton/Mt Gambier run had 85 square miles as well as his freehold land; Robertson had 135 square miles at Struan; George Glen (and William Vansittart) of Mayurra had 110 square miles; the SA Company had 159 square miles on the Benara run; the Leake brothers had 194 square miles on Glencoe; Hunter had 56 square miles on Kalangadoo; Neil Black of Noorat Victoria had 45 square miles on Kongorong run and 101 square miles at Port MacDonnell and the Arthur brothers had a huge run at Mt Schanck. By 1851 almost 5,000 square miles of the South East was occupied by Occupational License and most licenses were converted to 14 year leases in that year. A third of all leasehold land in SA was taken up in the South East because of its higher rainfall and suitability for pastoralism and a third of all sheep in the colony were in the South East. When Hundreds were declared in the South East in the late 1850s and early 1860s pastoralists bought up the land. In one case John Riddoch of Yallum Park owned the entire Hundred of Monbulla. Another pastoralist W. Clarke who had purchased Mt Schancke station from the Arthur brothers in 1861 owned SA land valued at £1.25 million when he died in 1874 and he had 120,000 acres freehold in Victoria, 75,000 acres freehold in SA( Mt Schank) and 50,000 acres freehold in each of NSW and Tasmania! Mt Schanck was changed in Schank in 1917 when German place names in SA were changed as Schank without the second “c” is an old English name!
In the 1850s Mt Gambier was a shanty village as the South East was a region of large pastoral estates and little agricultural farming and very low population numbers. It was far from Adelaide and remote and it was only after the Princeland episode in 1862 with the threat of possible secession to a new state that the Adelaide government began to invest in the South East and really encourage settlement there. The Border Watch newspaper was established in 1861, the Mt Gambier Hotel opened in 1862 and the Mt Gambier Council was formed in 1863.By the early 1860s Mt Gambier had almost 1,000 residents making it one of the largest towns in SA after the copper mining centres of Burra, Kadina and Moonta. By the 1881 SA census Mt Gambier had 2,500 residents making it the biggest town outside of Adelaide. In 1865 four iconic historic buildings were erected-the Courthouse, the Gaol, Christ Church Anglican and the Post Office and Telegraph Station. The flourmill which later became the Oat Mill opened in 1867 as wheat farmers had now taken up lands around the Mount. Mt Gambier was growing into a fine prosperous looking town with churches, stores, banks, hotels and fine residences. In the 1870s the rural population increased dramatically with tenant potato farmers on Browne’s Moorak estate and intensive hop growing in several localities such as Yahl and OB Flat and Glenburnie etc. Also in 1876 the first commercial forestry was started at the behest of George Goyder. A tree nursery was established on the edge of Leg of Mutton Lake in 1876 on a site selected by George Goyder himself. A stone cottage for the first nurseryman Charles Beale was constructed and it survived until demolished in 1969 but the nursery closed in 1929. The nursery propagated eucalypts, Oak, Elm, Ash, Sycamore, and North American pines. Pinus radiata was first grown at Leg of Mutton Lake and was being dispersed to other areas by 1878. Pinus canariensis was also grown in the 1880s. Pinus radiata is now the most commonly grown commercial forest tree in SA and Australia. Also in the 1870s the first hospital was erected and Dr Wehl, the town’s doctor for many years was in residence.
In the mid 1880s the first rail line was laid as the railway lines pushed out from Mt Gambier to Naracoorte. The service to Naracoorte began in 1887 and connected on with the line to Bordertown and Adelaide. By 1897 a railway connected Mt Gambier to Millicent and the port at Beachport. The railway line across the border to Heywood and Melbourne was not completed until 1917 as the SA government resisted a line that would take goods and passengers from Mt Gambier to Port Melbourne rather than to Port Adelaide. Mt Gambier railway station used to be a hive of activity with daily trains to Adelaide and an overnight sleeper services several times a week. Passenger trains to Mt Gambier from Adelaide stopped in 1990 after Australian National took over the SA railway network. Freight services stopped in 1995 and the railway line and station was formally closed. The railyards and other buildings were cleared in 2013.
The Buandik Aboriginal People.
The Buandik people are commemorated in a city street but by little else. Yet they were resilient and determined fighters opposed to the white settlement of the South East. Their occupation of the Mt Gambier district stretches back to around 20,000+ years but their dated occupation from archaeological sites goes back to about 11,000 years with their myths and legends including stories about volcanic activity at Mt Gambier. The last volcanic explosions were about 4,000 years ago. Both Mt Schank and Mt Gambier were important places to the Buandik for ceremonies, hunting, access to water and stone implement making. A government report in 1867 noted that the Buandik people in government care were few in number mainly sickly and elderly. The younger people had presumably moved out into the white community. But back in the 1840s the Buandik were a force to be reckoned with. There are no common stories of Aboriginal massacres but white pastoralists certainly retaliated when sheep were stolen. On Mt Schank station the Buandik were so troublesome that shepherds would not venture out to care for sheep alone and the Arthur brothers gave this trouble as their reason for them selling the run in 1845. In 1845 the government established a police station at Mt Gambier, which the Protector of Aboriginals visited, to ensure that pastoralists did not massacre the Buandik.
William Vansittart and Vansittart Park.
Vansittart Park has been a focal point of Mt Gambier since 1884 for activities such as family picnics, political rallies and speeches, bike racing, band rotunda concerts, bowling greens, sport oval, grandstand (1927) and Anzac memorial services. But who was William Vansittart? He was an Anglican reverend from England (Vansittart is a noble and political Anglo-Irish family in the UK) who arrived in SA in 1847 as a young bachelor. He was never licensed as a minister in SA but he developed his passions for making money and horse racing here. He mixed with the elite of Adelaide like Sir Samuel Davenport, the Governor and was a friend of Hurtle Fisher and he was Master of the Hounds. In 1850 he purchased 35 acres at Beaumont where he built Tower House and 80 acres at Mt Gambier. He imported a thoroughbred horse from Hobart called Lucifer. Ironic that a minister of religion would have a horse called Lucifer! His horses raced in Adelaide, Salisbury, Gawler, Brighton and Clare as well as in Mt Gambier and Penola. In 1851 he also took over the 110 square mile 14 year lease of Mayurra run with George Glen of Millicent. In 1852 he returned to England for a short time and on his return he purchased more freehold land bringing his estate to around 800 acres. Not long after in 1854 his horse shied, he was thrown against a tree and died of head injuries but he died intestate with an estate worth over £10,000. Glen bought out his share of Mayurra; the Beaumont house and property was sold in 1867 as were his race horses and his brother Captain Spencer Vansittart eventually inherited the Mt Gambier property. In accordance with William’s wishes 115 acres were set aside to provide income for a scholarship for boarders at St Peters Boys College which happened from 1859. Later in 1883 Spencer Vansittart offered 20 acres to the Mt Gambier Council for a memorial park at the “nominal” sum of £400 which hardly seems “nominal”. The Council raised a loan and purchased the land and the park is still enjoyed by the city’s residents and visitors. Captain Spencer’s widow sold the last package of 300 acres of land in 1912 thus ending the Vansittart links with Mt Gambier. The Vansittart scholarship is still available for boarders from the South East and is operated by a group of College trustees.
Some Historic Buildings in Mt Gambier and a town walk.
Your town walk is basically straight ahead along Penola Road towards the Mount itself which becomes Bay Road( the bay is at Port MacDonnell) once you cross Commercial Street which is the Main Street. There are just a few diversions to the left as you face the Mount. The coach will collect you at the Mount end of the walk near the Old Courthouse.
If you a good walker check out the fine houses in Jardine Street at numbers 1, 7, 9, 11, 12, 17 and 22. They range from cottages to Gothic and turreted mansions including the home of Jens the hotelier. This detour will add another 10 minutes to the walk if you elect to do it.
1.Catholic Covent. Sisters of Mercy setup a convent school in 1880. This wonderful convent was not built until 1908 in local dolomite stone & limestone quoins. Note the fine stone gables with small niches for statuary, the well proportioned arched colonnades and upstairs oriel windows – the projecting bay windows with stone supports. This is one of the finest buildings in Mt Gambier. The convent closed in 1986. Now Auspine.
2.Wesleyan Methodist Church Hall/Sunday School. Across the street is pink dolomite neo-classical style Wesleyan Methodist Sunday School Hall. Hundreds of children attended Sunday School in those days. It opened in 1904. It is now commercial offices. (If you want to walk up Wyatt Street beside the Sunday School and turn right at second street which is at Gray you will see the old two storey Methodist Manse at 101 Gray St. It was built in 1868 and sold 1941. As you turn into Gray Street the Salvation Army Hall is on your left. Allow 10 minutes for this detour before returning to Penola Road).
3.Methodist Church now Liberty Church. A Gothic large church built in 1862 by the Wesleyans. Opened by minister from Portland. Additions made 1877 with new entrance. The old lecture hall and Sunday School was beneath the church. Note the buttress on corners and sides. Became Uniting Church 1977 and closed 1994 when services moved to St Andrews Presbyterian Church. Behind the church (walk through the car park) in Colhurst Place is LLandovery two storey mansion now a B&B. Built 1878 for a flour and oat miller who had his mill in Percy Street.
4.St Paul’s Catholic Church. This impressive Gothic church with huge tower with crenulations was opened in 1884 and will be open today. There are 1966 extensions to the rear of it. The Presbytery is behind the church facing Alexander St. it was built in 1901 when the church was free of building debt. The first thatched bush church was built in another location in 1855. From 1857 the priest was Father Julian Tenison Woods, explorer, academic, horseman etc. A second church opened in 1861 in Sturt St and is now demolished. It closed in 1885 as this church opened. The bells came from Dublin. The church fence and gates built 1936.
5.The Mount Gambier Club. Across the street is the Club. It was built in 1904 for a local distiller as chambers for lease. The wealthy pastoralists of the South East formed an exclusive men only club in 1913 and it has used the upper floor of Engelbrecht’s chambers ever since. They purchased the whole building in 1920. The Club is a beautifully proportioned classical style building with pediments, balustrades, window entablature, and perfect symmetry. Look down the sides and you can see it is made of Mt Gambier limestone blocks.
6.Mt Gambier Caledonian Hall. Next door is the Scots Club. Its prominence signifies the Scottish links of many Gambier residents. The hall was opened in 1914 and opened by the former Prime Minister Sir George Reid, another Scot. It has classical features but is rather ugly and neglected these days. It is now a night club.
7.The Trustees Building. Next to the Caledonian is the Trustee Building erected in 1958. Its blue and bone tiled façade is typical of 1950s architecture yet the rectangular appearance has a slight classical look about it. It is on the SA Heritage Register. Accountants now occupy it.
8.Turn left into Percy Street and go along here beyond KFC for one town block to the next corner for the Oatmills (now a coffee shop and cinemas). Milling and brewing were two of Mt Gambier’s prime 19th century industries. The 4 storey complex here was started in 1867 for Welsh Thomas Williams who eventually had five flour mills. His mill was called Commercial Flourmills. A new owner converted the mill from wheat milling to oat milling. A new oatmill was built in 1901 and operated until 1975 producing Scottish porridge oats. The mill has now been restored with café, shops and cinemas. Return to Penola Rd.
9. Mt Gambier Hotel. No hotel could have a more remarkable origin than the Mt Gambier. An African American John Byng built a weatherboard hotel near here in 1847. The third licensee Alexander Mitchell, another Scot, took it over and moved the hotel to this corner site in 1862 as an impressive two storey hotel which was unusual at that time. The western wing was added in 1883 and balconies affixed in 1902.
10.Cross towards the Mount with the traffic lights then turn left into Commercial Street East.
11.Mt Gambier Town Hall. Marked as the Riddoch Gallery this fine Venetian Gothic style building is impressive with its coloured stone work contrasting well with cement rendered horizontal lines and vertical panels around windows and doors. The upper windows are mullioned with stone divisions between the glass. It was built in 1882 with the clock tower added in 1883 after a donation. The first Council meeting was in 1863 with Dr Wehl as chairman held in a hotel. Later the Council hired a room at the Foresters Hall and then they purchased this site in 1868 with a weatherboard room. This was used until 1882.
12.Mt Gambier old Institute. The Literary Institute was formed in 1862 and a foundation stone laid for a reading room/hall in 1868 by John Riddoch. The single storey institute opened in 1869. The upper floor was added in 1887, so that it would match the new Town Hall. It is built in a similar style- Venetian Romanesque as the windows and rounded and not arched as with a gothic structure.
13.Captain Gardiner Memorial Fountain 1884. The fountain was presented by Captain Robert Gardiner the grandfather of Sir Robert Helpman (his name was originally Helpmann). The fountain was made in Melbourne .Gardiner was also a benefactor of St Andrew’s Presbyterian -he donated the pipe organ in 1885.
14.Jens Hotel. After demolishing an earlier hotel (the 1847 hotel of John Byng) Johannes Jens had the first section of his Jens Hotel built on this corner in 1884. An almost identical eastern wing was erected in 1904 and the Spanish Art Deco section in 1927. Turn right here and go behind the Town hall to the Cave Gardens.
15.Cave Gardens. This spot was an early water supply. A garden was created in 1893 and then improved and reconstructed in 1925. This sink hole has recently been upgraded again and it is lit at night.
16.Post Office. This important communications centre was erected in 1865 as a telegraph office/post office. This is till one of the finest buildings in Mt Gambier and a rare example of the Georgian style for the city. . The single storey side wings were added in 1906 in a sympathetic style. It is still the main city Post Office.
17.Norris Agency Building. This superb Italianate building was completed in 1900 as chambers for businessmen. Owner was Alexander Norris who died in 1917. The façade is pink dolomite with cement quoins and unusual lined decoration work above the windows and door each contained within a triangular classical pediment.
18.Farmers Union Building. Another classical style building built when this style was out of fashion in 1914.Erected for Farmers Union as a large two storey building. It has none of the grace of the Norris building next door. FU was formed in 1888 in Jamestown by Thomas Mitchell, a Scot and others to provide cheap rates for grains, seeds and superphosphate but in the early 1900s they branched into products for dairy farmers and the marketing of milk products. The Mt Gambier district had plenty of dairy farmers. It is now owned by a Japanese company Kirin but it still markets its chocolate milk drinks as Farmers Union. Upper floor has double pilasters (flattened pillars) with top volutes but little other decoration.
19.Savings Bank Building on the corner. The former Savings Bank in Gothic style is unusual for commercial premises in Mt Gambier. It is constructed of weathered local limestone and was built in 1906. Note the different cut stone for the foundations, simulated turrets on the corners and by the door to break the façade appearance and the stone line above the lower window which then divides the façade into equal thirds.
20.Macs Hotel. This hotel was built in 1864 and is largely unchanged except that the upper floor was added in 1881. The first licensee was a Scot named John MacDonald. The double veranda supports are very elegant.
21.Roller flourmill now a painted hardware store. Built 1885 as a steam flourmill in pink dolomite. Note the small 12 paned windows set in much larger indented niches in the walls on the northern wall. (Sturt St.)
22.Christ Church Anglican Church and hall. Dr Browne of Moorak donated half the money for the construction of Christ Church in pink dolomite and with an unusual gabled tower. Church and tower completed in 1866. Adjacent is the Jubilee Hall built in 1915, destroyed by fire in 1951, and rebuilt exactly the same in weathered local limestone blocks with the original foundation stone still in place. It has the single Gothic window in the street facing gable and a crenulated square tower. Adjoining it is the 1869 Sunday School with the narrow double pointed Gothic windows. It was extended in 1892. The lychgate is more recent as a memorial to a regular church goer, Margaret French who died in 1927.
23.The old railway station just visible along the rail lines to your right. The first rail line was to Beachport in 1879 and the second to Naracoorte (and so to Adelaide) in 1887. Portland and Melbourne line opened 1917. A spur line to Glencoe was completed in 1904. First station was erected in 1879. It was demolished for the erection of the current station in 1918 which is similar in design to those in Tailem Bend, Bordertown, Moonta etc. Bluebird rail cars started on the Mt Gambier run in 1953 when the old 3’6” gauge line to Wolseley was converted to 5’3”. The last passenger service to Adelaide finished in 1990 and the station closed for freight in 1995. The railyards were cleared in 2013 and the future of the station is bleak. The rail lines to Beachport and Glencoe closed in 1956/57.
24.The Old Courthouse, 42 Bay Rd. It has a great low wall suitable for sitting on. This well designed Georgian style Courthouse opened in 1865 and the similarly styled side wings were added in 1877. The front veranda, which is not Georgian in style, was added in 1880. In 1975 the Courthouse was granted to the National Trust for a museum. The adjoining new Courthouse opened in 1975 at the same time. Note the “blind” windows to the façade but the same rounded Georgian shaped, 16 paned windows on the sides.
The Blue Lake, Mt Schank and Volcanoes.
The jewel in the crown of Mt Gambier is undoubtedly the volcanic cone, the crater lakes especially the Blue Lake and the surrounding Botanic Gardens and parklands. The Botanic Garden on the north side was approved in 1872 but nothing happened about plantings and care until 1882. The first pleasure road through the saddle between the Blue Lake and the Valley Lake was created in the 1861 as a more direct road to the then newly created international port named Port MacDonnell. That is why the road is called the Bay road. Surveyor General George Goyder explored the lake surrounds himself in 1876 when he selected the site for the government tree nursery. Later the government established the first sawmill on the edge of the crater reserve near Moorak homestead in the early 1920s. The Centenary Tower was initiated in 1900 to celebrate the centenary of Captain Grant sighting Mt Gambier. It took several years to complete and was opened by the Chief Justice of SA Sir Samuel Way in 1907 but it was completed in 1904. The whole complex is a maar geomorphological formation which originated during a volcanic era about 28,000 years ago but in a second phase of volcanic activity 4,000 to 6,000 years ago the cones and lakes of Mt Gambier were created along with the cones of Mt Schank and Mt Burr near Millicent. Mt Gambier was the most recent volcanic explosion in Australia. The crater lakes are: Blue Lake, Valley Lake, Leg of Mutton Lake and Browne’s Lake (dry). The Blue Lake is linked to the aquifers beneath the deep layers of limestone which underlay the entire South East. Blue Lake is about 72 metres deep and some of the water in it is estimated to be about 500 years old but it is mixed with rain runoff each year as well. The Lake provides the water supply for Mt Gambier. Deep in the lake are examples of the oldest living organisms on earth- stromatalites. The lake changes colour from grey to vivid blue each November and reverts in the following April. The change in colour is related to the position of the sun and reflected light from suspended particles in the lake which reflect blue green light rather than brown grey light. Secondly the suspended matter only occurs because the water near the surface rises in temperature in the spring and it is this which causes the particles to precipitate out of the water. The precipitated matter settles on the bottom of the lake ready for a new cycle the following spring. Like the Blue Lake various sink holes in the district have linkages to the underlying aquifer through the layers of limestone too and they include Cave Gardens, Umpherstone, Piccaninni Ponds, etc.
Moorak Station and Tenison Woods College.
Moorak station as originally known as Mount Gambier Station established by George Glen in the 1840s. The leasehold was later taken over by David Power who in turn sold it to Fisher and Rochford who in turn sold the estate as freehold to the Scottish Dr William Browne who had established Booborowie run with his brother in 1843 north of Burra. The Browne brothers dissolved their partnership around 1865 and John went to live at Buckland Park and William took up residence at Moorak. William had purchased Moorak Station in 1862 and built the grand Moorak homestead in impressive Georgian style onto a smaller house there. William died in 1894 and the Moorak Estate passed to his son Colonel Percival Browne who was to disappear on the ill-fated voyage of the new steamer the Waratah in 1909 which disappeared during a storm off Durban, South Africa. Also on that voyage was Mrs. Agnes Hay (nee Gosse) of Mt Breckan Victor Harbor and Linden Park Estate Adelaide and some 200 other poor souls. Around 1909 the Moorak Station was subdivided for closer settlement and in the 1920s the Marist Brothers purchased the homestead with a little land for their and monastery and opened the Marist Brothers Agricultural College for boys in 1931. That college in turn merged with the Mater Christi College in 1972 to become Tenison College. (Mater Christi College had been formed in 1952 by the merger of the St Josephs Convent School (1880) and St Peters Parish School but the primary section of St Peters broke away in 1969 from Mater Christi College and formed a separate St Peters Primary School. This primary school in turn merged with Tenison College in 2001 to form Tenison Woods College!) The College name commemorates the work of Father Julian Tenison Woods who arrived in Mt Gambier in 1857 to work in Penola and Mt Gambier. It was he who encouraged Mary MacKillop to take her vows and establish her Sisters of St Joseph.
Dr Browne’s manager of Moorak Estate in 1868 introduced hops as a viable crop in the South East and large quantities were grown for about 20 years. Other early experimental crops grown included tobacco, cotton and flax. Dr Browne and Moorak were also important in the potato industry. Dr Browne leased around 830 acres to 20 tenants for the express purpose of growing potatoes. He was keen to emulate the British aristocracy although he was a good Scot with being a manorial style landlord with tenant farmers. Potatoes were also grown from the early years at Yahl, OB Flat and Compton near Mt Gambier. The potatoes were carted down to Port MacDonnell and shipped to Adelaide for consumers. As one of the major wool producers of Australia William Browne contributed roughly half of the funds for the erection of Christ Church Anglican in Mt Gambier. The Moorak estate consisted of around 11,000 acres of the most fertile volcanic soil in SA with another 2,000 acres in a nearby property, German Creek near Carpenter’s Rocks. Dr Browne ran Silky Lincolns on Moorak for their wool as Merinos did not fare well on the damp South East pastures. About 2,000 acres was in wheat, about 2,500 acres was tenanted to other farmers and around 4,000 acres were in lucerne, clover, rye and other pasture grasses. William Browne returned to live in England in 1866 so his sons could attend Eton and military training colleges there. He made regular trips to SA about every second year to oversee his many pastoral properties here. When he died in 1894 he left 100,000 acres of freehold land in SA to his children who all resided here as well as leasehold land. He was an extremely wealthy man. Son Percival took control of Moorak. Before Percival’s death Moorak Estate was partly purchased by the SA government in 1904 for closer settlement when they acquired around 1,000 acres. After Percival’s death a further 6,300 acres was acquired for closer settlement and the remainder of the estate was sold to other farmers. The government paid between £10 and £31 per acre for the land. Percival Browne was highly respected in Mt Gambier and a reserve around the Blue Lake is named after him. The fourth of the crater lakes of Mt Gambier is also named Browne’s Lake after the family but it has been dry for decades. In 1900 Colonel Browne planted the ring of English Oaks around what was to become the oval of the Marist Brothers College.
Moorak.
There is a memorial by the station to William Browne as founder of the Coriadale Sheep Stud. The great Moorak woolshed was demolished in 1939. The Union church which opened in 1920 was used by the Methodists and the Anglicans. It is now a private residence. Moorak hall was opened in 1926. New classrooms were added to the Moorak School in 1928 and the first rooms opened in 1913. The cheese factory in Moorak opened in 1913 as a cooperative and was sold to Farmers Union in 1949. They closed the factory in 1979. Most of the cheese produced at Moorak went to the Melbourne market. The first cheese maker at Moorak was trained at Lauterbach’s cheese factory at Woodside. Moorak was one of a circle of settlements around Mt Gambier that had butter/cheese factories. These towns were: Kongorong; Glencoe East; Glencoe West; Suttontown; Glenburnie; Mil Lel; Yahl; OB Flat; Moorak; Mt Schank; and Eight Mile Creek.
Yahl.
In the 1860s this tiny settlement was a tobacco, hop and potato growing district and it persisted with potatoes up until recent times. Today Yahl is little more than a suburban village of Mt Gambier with a Primary school with approx 120 students. The old government school was erected in 1879. It had a Methodist church built in 1880 which operated as a church until 1977 and it had a large butter factory which had opened in 1888. The butter and cheese factory was taken over by the OB Flat cheese factory in 1939 and the two operated in conjunction with each other. The OB Flat cheese factory closed in 1950 and all production moved to Yahl. The factory finally closed in 1971. The township of Yahl also had a General Store and a Salvation Army Hall which was built in 1919.
Sink Holes: Umpherston Gardens and Cave Gardens.
James Umpherston purchased land near Mt Gambier in 1864 which included a large sink hole or collapsed cavern with a lake in the bottom. He was born in Scotland in 1812 and came to SA in the 1850s with his brother William. William purchased his first land at Yahl in 1859. James Umpherston was a civic minded chap being a local councilor, a parliamentarian in Adelaide for two years and President of the Mt Gambier Agricultural and Horticultural Society for 13 years. When he retired from civic life and farming in 1884 he decided to create a garden in his sinkhole. He beautified it and encouraged visitors and even provided a boat in the lake for boat rides. Access was gained by steps and a path carved into the sinkhole walls. However after he died in 1900 the garden was ignored, became overgrown and was largely forgotten in 1949 when the Woods and Forests Department obtained the land for a new sawmill at Mt Gambier. By then the lake had dried up as the water table had fallen over the decades. In 1976 staff, rather than the government, decided to restore the Umpherstone gardens. The cleared out the rubbish that had been dumped in the sinkhole, restored the path access, trimmed the ivy and replanted the hydrangeas and tree ferns. In 1994 the Woos and Forests Department handed over the land around the sinkhole to the City of Mt Gambier. It was added to the SA Heritage Register in 1995.
Duncan is cautiously optimistic about his Mets right now.
But, while baseball is fun, we are all extremely concerned about the enormous hurricane that's about to hit Florida. Prayers to all in the path of Milton.
(and yes, Liz, this is from two years ago. With Duncan's back leg mobility issues right now, I'm not taking a lot of photos)
#221 / 365 - #2413 / Year 7 - 05.10.2014
Day five of #Lovetober is all about sharing our Daily Mantras. I'm choosing to share this fabulous quotation from the Dalai Lama Xiv - "Choose to be optimistic, it feels better".
He optimistically orchestrated an onerous operation to overtly oppress the obnoxious outlaw owl to outrage by overtaking him with an old oaken oar. The ordinary ordinance only offered the odds to offset the odoriferous and odious oaf to operate with obscurity. We observe an obsolete obsession with obstreperousness originating with ornate obstacles.
Feb 15 O
February Alphabet Fun Month: 2019 Edition
Pretty dim day at Brighton, the light began to come out a little bit by the end of the day though... luckily!
By Douglas Ringer 2009
Amex Vignettes
Amex vignettes? Well yes, these are for the enormous cauldron that still is bubbling away in the campfire of my mind, filled with an alphabet soup of unforgettable fragments culled from those so many Amex personalities and those so many jobs. Multi-coloured fragments, or mosaic like shards that I know that my memory collected and put carefully wrapped in my treasure chest of experiences, because it seemed my memory found so much to treasure in that moment… but the totality of that particular job has gone on a long walk about. These bits and pieces though still remain and cover what I found to be profoundly funny, full of the rollicking silly, the hopefully not to serious, the mind-bogglingly stupidity and, naturally, the totally incomprehensible.
Amex was a universe unto itself and, like our infinite homes, possessed all the wonderful complexity that nature and humans could conjure up and… speaking for myself… these delightful vignettes must have had that very special something because at 62 they are still firmly embedded and I am still chortling. Over this time they may be chronologically misplaced, burnished up a little but the essence remains.
That sinking feeling
This first one still brings a big smile to my face. This is somewhere in the Highland Valley, Logan Lake area in that busy time of summer, 1969. It’s a grid and I’m working with Gary Lyall and we are doing some exemplary lines in which we both were taking great pride in. They were not just “lines” they were masterpieces of well placed flagging, pickets that you would want to take home to and show your girlfriend, blazes that were like stars on a dark night, compassed lines so straight that plumb bobs became redundant and so well cut out that even the most disparaging geologist would have given them the nod.
It’s a really hot day and on one of our lines we come to a small lake and have to naturally stop although, in theory, the mapped end of the line would have ended up on the far side of the lake. We sit down and do the cig thing and Gary starts giggling. He has a vision that has tickled his funny bone. “Hey Doug, lets run out and put as many pickets as we can out into the lake. That will really blow the geologist mind.” I thought that great fun too. After all it was a hot, hot day and we would dry off quick enough and I had become totally inured and indifferent to walking in wet-soaked-damp, work boots.
So off we go and cut 3 very long pickets, spruce them up and write the line numbers down on them. Slowly Gary starts wading into the lake. It was, so Gary reported, not too gooey on the bottom and it didn’t seem to have a surprising drop off, as yet. He gets out about 25 feet. The water is about thigh level and I call chain. Gary sticks in our extra long picket and I wade out to the picket while Gary continues out.
The water is now slowly climbing up over his waist when he begins to gradually sink. The bottom seems to have developed a quick-sand effect and he quickly realizes he’s losing it. He knows he has a few decisions to make quickly. As the water creeps up, he thinks first of the cigarettes in his front shirt pocket…pulls them out…and holds them high in the air. Cigs in one hand, axe and picket in the other, he looks like a torpedoed ship, continuing to leisurely sink. He does manage to extract himself , but in doing so, had to reluctantly admit that he would have to use both hands and that something precious would have to be sacrificed.
Moon landing
On this particular day I know exactly the date and where I was. Millions of others know it too.
It was the 20th of July, 1969. For some reason in that busy summer working for Amex I found myself back in Kamloops on some days off which were needed to replenish your bush wardrobe, doing the socials and trying to be as unproductive as possible. You were tanking up for your next 12 rounder with the bush.
These few days off must have been planned in heaven because on one of those days the Americans were going to land on the moon. I had been sitting in Mum’s living room watching the TV since the morning to witness this stunning, historical event and could not believe how long it was taking and was getting a little antsy. It was a beautiful Kamloops summer day out side and I was hoping, not only to witness this historic sight but to meet up with a few friends…have the chats and quaff a few. As it was now the late afternoon it seemed that the Eagle was getting close to landing.
Just as the Eagle seems to be getting close to landing on the moon the phone rings. It’s Ab! “I guess you are watching the moon landing, eh? Sorry to bother you but I got a bit of a panic thing here. Can you grab a taxi and head over here? Pick up a truck, drive to Ashcroft-Wallichin and pick Frosty up and he’ll take it from there.” I was naturally shocked and more than surprised to find out that Ab, himself, was not ensconced in his living room sofa, surrounded by Ella and the kids, engrossed in this incredible event. Did the exigencies of that busy summer not leave him with time to witness this historical happening? Now telling the Eagle to hold up a bit…I got a taxi and headed over to Ab’s place.
Ab was quite apologetic and all…but I’m trying to hurry things up a bit and get back home and plus, I must confess, as well, that a little shot of anticipation was dancing through me…as this would be the first time that I had ever driven a 4 by 4! I felt I had graduated from being a mere passenger, who had to experience the oft scary-whimsical driving skills of others and now , potentially in some future, perhaps, had the power to get in a little pay-back and scare the day-lights out of those kind lads who had played havoc with my fear factors.
Scenarios like, “Going a little too fast for you…am I? Gee, please don’t put any deep, finger indentations in the dash, Ab won’t be pleased. Or, perhaps: Oh, sorry about that. I didn’t really see that heavily loaded logging truck coming around that ever so dangerously, narrow, 90 degree, wash-board, boulder-strewn bend. I was just gazing out the rear view mirror and admiring our dust plume. I think there is a creek up ahead where I can stop and you can tidy up a bit. Did you bring a change of underwear?”
I saddled up that 4 by 4, mounted, and headed off home. I ran into the house but they didn’t wait for me! The Eagle had already landed! Neil Armstrong had walked on the moon and voiced those big steps for humankind. Edwin Aldrin had also bounced around. I was probably crossing The Overlander’s Bridge when Armstrong’s foot first touched the moon’s surface. Of course, there were ceaseless replays…but was it the same?
Have to add this short offering. I could not really remember some crucial facts about Colin Macdonald’s 1969 summer job with Laura Mines and other later details so, I sent off my queries. He was kind enough to send me the asked for details and I was more than surprised to find out that Colin was not stuck deep into the green charms of the Highland Valley when the Eagle landed… but watched it in the cosy comfort of a Cache Creek motel.
Gil
This event still sticks in my mind and, can to this day, raise within me a little discomfort. A little discomfort, because it brought to the surface those rather ugly emotions that we all have deep within us…laying in wait for just that right moment to come bubbling up like an artesian well. These emotions are tied very closely to the ever strong survival instinct and we have in reality read about them and truly know they can happen. Most have seen the old movie “The Goldrush,” with a starving Charlie Chaplin up in Alaska boiling a shoe for dinner and his much bigger partner wanting badly to eat him.
It has happened where a group of people have been stranded way out in the middle of no where, with out food, and after a week or two your companions begin to look like a large platter of Big Macs with copious loads of greasy fries.
We know of some of these stories and probably have played the game of…”What would I do?” and, I think way, way back in that emotional cauldron you have probably realized that in a dire situation, that, your companion’s well turned thigh, might, just perhaps, look delicious on your mind’s menu. Terrible thoughts and they do, indeed, make me to this day feel uncomfortable.
On this day in question when these frightening emotions arose in me they had nothing at all to do with food but “water.” Normally, in the Highland Valley, water wasn’t a big problem. There were creeks of all sizes, lakes or swamps where one could quench one’s thirst. Normally, I say, because surprisingly there were one or two days… and I was not prepared for them…when it was hot and no water was to be found. It was a treed desert! I noticed, that emotionally, this was very, very upsetting to me because to drink the blood of my compass man seemed uncivilized.
Realizing, that I tended to sweat, and lose water in litres while carving out those lines, water, was my prime thought most of the time.”Beverage,” is such a beautiful word! Before the Amex experience, a friend, had noticed my almost obsessive need for water when the day waxed hot. He suggested, that when I was reincarnated, that I really should ask to come back as a water buffalo.
I remedied that whole problem, and eased my mind a lot, by investing in a canteen. Until that fateful day, I thought all was hunky-dory. It was another hot, hot day and I was now compassing and was given a long, long line which, with the time needed to walk in, would no doubt, take the whole day. I’m guessing here but I think it was around 6000 or 7000 feet and I had no idea what kind gifts the line was to give me.
My partner was a French Canadian lad called, Gil, who I had never worked with before. He was new blood and I think, he had only worked a couple of days for Ab and his English skills were similar, to my French skills.
We started off and did the big walk in and got located at our base line origin. I took my first shot and plunged downward into a deep creek crevasse and at about 400 feet down I came to a lovely, bubbling brook. We had a smoke break. Drank deep from its soothing waters and I naturally replenished my canteen. Then we headed off and it was another 400 feet, panting upwards until I crested and found myself standing on a rock outcrop with a commanding view that was absolutely stunning!
Jesus! I was on a promontory where I could look way down on the highway between Merritt and Spence’s Bridge. I could see tiny cars wending their way up and down the highway and an occasional blue tinkle of the Nicola River running merrily away to Spence’s Bridge. Another one of those… it doesn’t come any better views.
I took another compass shot to get some idea of what we were up against and it looked liked for some distance that we would be walking pretty much along these exposed bluffs. Not much vegetation and finding material for pickets was going to be fun. Up above us, you could see where the woods started to thicken up a bit and, I thought, that maybe it could be nicer up there, shadier and maybe a tad cooler.
From what I could see of the first bit of this line there would not be much blazing but we would need lots of flagging and hoped that we had brought enough. It was starting to get real hot and I was beginning to get that egg, frying on a Kamloops’ sidewalk feeling. Thought about having a drink but decided not to…brave it out a few feet. I thought, as well, that there must be some cascade , cooling creek up ahead lying in wait for us. Who knew?
So starting off the first 500 feet of terrain was quite reasonable… a little of this, and a little of that. I noticed, as well, that Gil was having a hard time keeping up and I had to make a pause or two to compensate for that. Plus, in this rather bare area, he was not so imaginative about what would do for a picket. He did lots of Gallic shrugs and many,” Tabernacs!.” They are so special!
It did not take so long before within the next 3000 feet or so and that we began to be really mentally and physically challenged .The line of bluffs that kept on running were getting quite dramatic and my rock climbing skills, dreadfully basic due to a fear of heights were really slowing me down.
The sun was now eliminating any resemblance to B.C. and I was now somewhere trapped out in the Khalahari. Mirages with palms swaying and deep pools of cold water began to cloud my senses. Amazingly, I could hear water running everywhere except where I was. The Nicola River, far below, was so tantalizing. It was so, so tempting to launch off those bluffs into a half gainer of joy and plunge into its beckoning sweetness.
The terrain became steeper in places and was harder to find ways to get up and off the bluffs…then plunging into a gully and crawling back up on your hands and knees. This was now pretty thirsty, slow going and I knew that the straightness of this line was not going to win any compassing awards. Today, I still hope that no one ever looked for that line.
Fast forwarding here…We are now at the end of the line. The canteen has been empty for many a foot now and Gil and I are not the same two lads who optimistically left that bubbling, clear brook way, way back there. Gil would rather be anywhere else but here... and I have been thinking about and wanting for quite some time now, to do insanely, dreadful things to him.
As we humped up and down those bluffs, Gil must have known he was missing something. As the sun beat down hard on us and the meaning of the English word, “parched,” was being etched on his and my mind. Gil couldn’t reach back and pull out a canteen. Gil didn’t have a canteen!!! I did, and like a good Christian shared it with him because your intrepid compass man was still dreaming of this illusive, bloody, cascading, ever so cool creek up ahead. My canteen was empty before we had done half the line. Gil, had gone from human being, to albatross, in 3000 feet.
I was more than really out of sorts. Internally, I was a mess of ugly emotions all of them focused sharply on Gil. I had never felt so much animosity flowing out of myself! Every time Gil took a drink from my canteen...I watched to see how many times his Adams apple, bobbed up and down. I counted every water molecule that entered his system! Every molecule that I was deprived of!
I was now in a Hollywood movie…force marching across the Sahara… where the sadistic, French Foreign Legion Sergeant...me... with all the water…in the middle of the hottest part of the Sahara…turns to his totally, dehydrated companion, Private Gil…and... just to piss him off…lifts up a canteen…takes a long, long draught… burps a very satisfying, water burp…then pours half a canteen of water into the sand…and with cruel merriment... watches as Private Gil collapses... and the Sergeant... gleefully, glancing upward…into a burning, blue sky… is marvelled by the wing span as vultures circle, high above.
The return journey back across the Kalahari-Sahara was oven-like. This time, I knew there was no water, except at that long ago, bubbling brook…way, way, way, back there! Looking down at the Nicola River had gone from pleasant scene to knowing how unreachable its blessed succour was. Tongue, wrenching, torture itself! In fact, my tongue, is now glued to the roof of my mouth and my inability to spit, intriguing.
Atacama dry! Moisture free winds played havoc with my drought-racked senses! My hearing was all over the place. Water sounds flowing everywhere! I even thought I could hear... from those wee cars down on the highway…way down there... imaginary sounds that might quench. I could clearly hear the liquid, swishing, swaying sounds that the designated bottle opener made while reaching into the cooler. The cooler, strategically set, with much thought, in the back seat... while eyes feasted on scenary.
The holy, perfect, cubes of melting ice, crashing together like ice bergs. His fingers seeking out the coolest! The “holy” designated, pulling out a fresh, cold-cold- beer! His, well sung, ritual prayer upon opening the bottle: “Here is to you and here is to me,” type of thing! How gracefully he opened the bottle! Well tended finger nails! How he so enjoyed, the so, so very cool, so cool, pop-sizzle sounds on bottle opening and the following... vocal,” Cheers” to life!”
Worse for me, was the fascinating picture of the, “chug, chug,” as a tidal wave of cooled, liquid went down his throat! A mind wrenching vision while the sun pelted down!
We scrabbled over those bluffs and made it back to that bubbling brook, half demented from thirst. I wanted to tell Gil not to drink too fast because being so dehydrated... his body might find it difficult dealing with multi litres of water in such a rapid succession. You see it in the movies. But then, I thought the better of it. We must have spent about a half a hour pouring that bubbling brook into ourselves. I never worked with Gil again.
I learned that if it was hot out and I was working with a new guy…I never, at first, asked him to entertain me with the interesting details about his drugs, sex life or latest book read... but asked, politely, if he had a canteen?
MY FIRST BONUS...1969.
My first summer with Amex is over. It is late August, and I’m looking forward to a two week trip with Joe and Don, more than friends, to Mexico. We would travel in Joe’s 1955 Chev station wagon. We would sleep and drive a mammoth distance through the complex nature of our large part of the world in that beautiful car. What did we know of the enormity of North America?
So job over... and Ab said, I could pick up my last check at his place. I made my way over to Ab’s place. I think Ross Rd, before Ella and Ab had moved to Brocklehurst. They’ll have to check it out.
So, I walked over there to North Kamloops from normal, Kamloops. Having no car at the time I liked to walk and hitch-hike. Hitch –hiking... what a learning experience and how noble the good people who picked you up were.
I saw that Ab was in the small front yard they had. Ab was leaning over the fence, as I remember it. Perhaps chatting to a neighbour. We, greeted each other...and he went inside... and then brought out my check. I said how much I liked this bushy, scary experience. He said: “Come back next year.”
With check in hand, I walked about 20 feet down the road, when I heard Ab say: ” Whoa Doug, whoa!. Shit! I forgot your bonus.”
At this point in my life, I must confess, I had never heard of the word “bonus” before. I stopped and turned around and walked back to Ab. He had opened his wallet and fished out fifty dollars and gave it to me. Well shit!
It gets a little difficult here to describe my emotions at that perfect time. I was so elated and so full of good wishes to all. So, blown away, that my body grew wings and I flew home! 50 bucks! 50 bucks! Fifty dollars! A very, awesome, spending power in 1969. You could bet your bottom dollar that I was coming back!
LEAVE THIS OFF YOUR RESUME
It is now 1970 and I have rejoined Amex for the summer and my first Job is up at East Barrier Lake. We are not camped on the lake but high above it on one of the many logging roads found in the area. It is a big job for Noranda and the geologist on site is Laurie Rhynerson.
Laurie, fantastic man and a guy you really want in a camp with you, in fact, later on other jobs… it was hard to know if he was working for Noranda or for Amex. As well, I met Colin MacDonald and John Watters for the first time.
In fact, John drove me up to the camp from Kamloops so we had some initial contact there. The lads from my 1969 summer who were also there…as I remember…Bruce Bried, Gary Lyall, Gordy Seimens, Dennis Siemens and I think, Frosty. And maybe there were others who I can’t remember.
!970 was to be for me, a most incredible time with Amex. We covered areas in B.C. that I had never imagined seeing. Plus the lads were probably the best you could ever find to spend the rest of your life with.
At East Barrier Lake, I had an inkling that it was going to be a super summer when John Watters on his way to our out house, passed me just leaving and kindly asked…..”Clean break, Doug?” That stopped me in my tracks. “Clean break? Clean break?” Suddenly the lights came on and I brightened up immensely. Now knowing that our days and evenings in camp would not only be conversationally filled with, infinitely interesting topics such as films ,literature, oral sagas, myths, music, science astrology, psychology, entomology, biology, genecology, axe and power saw sharpening seminars but rollicking takes on faecal matter.
One unforgettable story that is still firmly intact from the East Barrier Lake job concerns a lad from Edmonton. One day in the morning there appeared in our camp a few men, who were accompanied by Ab. One of the men also had his son with him. The man, as I remember, was a higher up manager with the construction company ,Mannix. Why they were there…I don’t know. As it transpired, Gordy and I had drawn an all day line. I believe it was 10 or12 thousand feet long. It would run from the baseline all the way down to the edge of East Barrier Lake and due to its length we were given a third person… who happened to be the inexperienced son of the man from, Mannix.
The son was about seventeen years old and wore a high school football jacket from his Edmonton school. He was husky built and looked pretty fit. He followed us down the baseline to our starting point. He was to cut out behind us as we made the run to the lake edge. Gordy showed him the basics of cutting, blazing and flagging. We had the smoke and chats and off we headed....I think around 10 o’clock.. Unlike my first day, I could keep up to Gordy, make those pickets, throw those blazes , tie that flagging. and even do some limbing on the way. The vegetation was pretty bushy so it would mean a quite a bit of limbing on the way out.
We took a couple of breaks along the way and reached the lake at around 2 in the afternoon. We had lunch, admired the view, and naturally wondered how much line the lad would manage to cut. Much speculation here, but, .I thought if he could do half the line that would be pretty good. The line didn’t have to be perfection because we could tidy it up on the way out. Gordy hoped he could do more because he looked pretty tough. Around 5:30 or so, it would be time for supper and that was becoming a bigger factor in our lives.
We headed back about 2:30 banging and hacking away and I think at about 3000 feet up the line we stopped for a smoke and listened to hear if we could hear the lad’s axe. We could only hear ourselves breathing.
At 6000 feet…the half way point, we still couldn’t hear his axe .I personally was a bit surprised because I thought he could do 6000 feet and began to think that he had hurt himself somehow. So off we went and at about 3000 feet from the baseline we were becoming more than surprised that we had not met up with the lad. Not a sound to be heard from his swinging axe.
Gordy was now starting to get a little testy…yelling loudly up the line, but getting no response. Now I really thought something must have happened to him and I imagined gruesome axe cuts to bear problems. Or maybe he had wandered off the line and was hopelessly lost.
.We, chopped on…stopping occasionally to listen for his axe sound, and hooting and hollering hoping that we would get some response from him. Gordy was beginning to really spice up our hooting and hollering with some rather coarse references to his work abilities. We were starting to get really hungry and knew we had missed the serving of supper. On we hacked away and at 1000 feet from the baseline I knew something had happened to him but not knowing is what made it a little scary.
At 500 feet from the baseline an amazing thing happened. We could hear an axe chipping away…slowly coming towards us. In astonishment, Gordy and I looked at each other and Gordy immediately started up an incredibly, large barrage of profanity aimed in the direction of that chipping axe. Gordy was pissed. I was totally stunned. When we met the lad he had only cut 300 feet! Gordy was not verbally gently all over the lad. That remarkable English was marching up one side and down the other. The lad didn’t say a word and meekly followed us back to camp where he disappeared. Where, I don’t know.
We got back to camp at close to 8 o clock. Ate our late supper and, of course, the lad was the main topic of conversation. We still didn’t know why he only managed to cut 300 feet. During the story, Laurie popped into the tent and heard a little of what we were saying. Laurie realized immediately who we were talking about... and told us that about six o clock he was making his way back to camp when he almost step on the lad who was curled up in a ball sleeping. Laurie actually woke him up and inquired as to his health. He was okay.
Even today, I often wonder what became of him and if he achieved what he most desired. Sure hope so.
KENNY KILLS A BEAR.
Kenny was a great guy from Barrirer. I think 18 years old at this time, His father, a bulldozer artist, who had been hired by Laurie to punch in some roads and potential drill sites on the East Barrier Lake project. Amex, in need of more lads, had hired his son, Kenny. Coming from Barrier, Kenny was used to the bush and all that lies therein and suffered no adaptation problems.
This was all pretty much the norm for him. I believe he was in love at this time, and preferred to be at home and do a hug or two. More preferable than the camp. He enjoyed our company, but, in the past, had seen camp life up close and knew the smell. But, under duress, but would dine and sleep a few days in our camp…Barrier was not, after all, that far away.
The camp was set up beside one of the many logging roads that crisscrossed the area. There was a cook tent…I think two sleeping tents and the necessary outdoor biffy smelling, hopefully, lemon fresh.
Gordy’s Dad was cooking for us at that time and slept in the cook tent. One night he was awoken by a bear enjoying the delights of the of cook- tent food. I think he was pretty calm about this visitation but those in the know…knew the bear would come back.
Kenny said I’ll just run on down to Barrier and get my gun. Of course, we knew that he was going to get more than his gun and wished we could be there too. I think one or two days passed.
During these couple of days…Kenny slept beside his gun…when we were awoken by a clanging,falling of tin sounds from the kitchen. Kenny, reluctantly groans, half-asleep rolls out of a comfortable bed in his “Stanfields”…grabs his rifle, yawning, leaves the tent…then you hear “BANG!” Kenny comes back…flops back onto his foamy-cot,falls quickly asleep. After the shot, with Kenny definitely sound a sleep…I…, but it seemed nobody else...,, was still wide-eyed awake wondering about it all.
In the morning we had to drag the dead bear out of the kitchen before Gordy’s Dad would cook breakfast.
FEAR OF FLYING
Gordy …like so many…enjoyed having the gas pedal pressed very close to the floor and, as well, enjoyed seeing your finger nails dig deeply into the dash-board and seeing the margarine, smear of fear spreading across your face. This would be the first time that I would drive with Gordy and, unknown at the time, I would enjoy more times while Gordy drove. I did survive all the fear and somehow, overcame it all.
In this case, I think, Gordy and Dennis had an important appointment to make and were quite wired to their own world and scaring the be-Jesus out of you was secondary. His brother, Dennis, was accustomed to his brother’s love of motion on high octane and proved to be more than an able navigator. Cautioning and urging on in appropriate breaks when the dust gave a slight inkling to what might be manifesting itself around the next corner.
The East Barrier Lake job is over and we are decamping and heading back to our various haunts for reconnection time and hopefully, an interesting beer or two. In that way, as it goes, the dice were rolled…and one other guy and myself ended up been driven to Kamloops with Gordy and Dennis. The drive to Barrier…I think…is about 30- 40 miles. At this time it’s mostly a dirt road with lots of … look out...I’m coming around curves and other surprising potholes and gravelled tid-bits that faithfully followed the terrain downward into the North Thompson valley.
Being a dirt road, for most of the way, it is blessed in the summer time, with heaving humps of spitting gravel and surprising dips where you raise your hands high trying to wrestle your stomach back in place. A rodeo for those in the back seat…sort of. Lots of rattling, quick like snare drum cattle crossings and fearsome, loaded and unload logging trucks coming up and down the road claiming right of way… and, in hot weather…lots of dust plumes that could hide surprising closure.
So we left the East Barrier camp in the blast of a deeply depressed gas peddle that must have left a vast spray of every mineral-molecule found on that park place hanging from the greenery.
My first thought was… this is what astronauts must feel like…the forceful thrust of your body thrown deep into the back seat upholstery unable to lean yourself forward…. your body trapped in the force. Your face strangely distorted.. In the first, very frightening few miles, I knew this was going to be a very taxing emotionally... hang on for your dear life ride. I had no idea what hell or tidal waves of the scary that I was to experience on this run. The Robert Mitchum movie...“Thunder Road”…ran continuously through my colourful imagination. He died in the end. Robert, playing a southern moonshiner who left the road at only 90 mph, chased relentless by the tax people. Revenoures!
So the guy, seated with me in the back-seat, who , as well, had drew a short straw, we both were to be treated to a virtuoso performance of nervy driving that had you either wishing you were totally somewhere else or thinking about safety features that were still on the drawing boards…thanks to Nader.
No fire extinguishers, no seatbelts, no cell phones to call emergency services, no parachutes: No! If you hit something solid or found yourself kissing the inside of the roof… none of that how the auto would kindly fold in on itself… cuddling occupants in a warm hug of security until responsible people arrived to cut you out. No! It was just a basic early sixties model that did not give a shit about you.
So, there we were roaring down that East Barrier road with a dust plume miles long. The car doing a lot of roller-coaster ups and downs...doing dips and leaps like some circus acrobat…zipping into the air and crunching down on a frame that you bloody well hoped wasn’t built on Monday. You try…though helpless… to sketch imaginary survival strategies. I quickly realized, that looking between the shoulders of Gordy and Dennis, straight at the road, was simply too horrendous. Every real and imaginary, micro and macro horror, could happen at any second.
I chose to pretend that I was a tourist in these parts and that by, looking out the side, car window, I could admire the beauties that nature had so gallantly laid on the areas plate. As they very quickly passed by...it provided only seconds of relief…not really relief, as I was scared–shitless... but I was not going to let on! But, as I looked at my partner, sharing the back seat… I realized his eyes were just as fixated on the road ahead, and, he, no doubt, was thinking quite seriously about his future.
The future he may not experience. He would never experience the alarmingly, fullness of the sexual thing. Thinking a lot about the potential, miserable way in which his young life could end. All a-tangled- up in the metal and plastic bits of a failed rocket, ship-car...without bandages or sutures...and all of this could happen in the most immediate of seconds of the right now. Who could even conjure up the obit?
We did get to Barrier unscathed… and we pulled in to tank up. Gordy and Dennis were still pretty keyed up about this appointment and were hurrying it up a bit. I was enjoying the feel of cement under the soles of my boots. That very alive feeling and the smell that gas has as it wafts through the air. I was still alive!
In this small repose...amazingly...I saw my back seat partner lifting his kit out of the car and with all of that in hand... he walked over to me and said. “Fuck this! I’m taking the Greyhound into Kamloops.” I was astounded! Wordless! Who was I going to hold hands with when we had to face the uncertain road histories embedded in the curves of the infamous, Louis Creek Canyon? All alone in the back seat!
I think Dennis said..”Chickenshit.” Deep down I admired my former back seat partners love of life...as we rocketed out of the Barrier gas station.
I like to think, I remember a few details of that last phase of the trip to Kamloops. I remember passing cars where you would glimpse looks out the windows from the people in the cars we passed. Nobody was passing us! Did I see a mouthed...”Holy Fuck!,” here and there? See lips, silently moving, uttering a prayer or two for our safety, in passing?
Was that a small boy, in the back seat of one passed auto, with enormous round, blue eyes...waving a friendly greeting or a, I hope you make it? It all went by so fast. With my eyes faking allergies...tightly closed... Gordy mastered the Louis Creek highway maze with frightening élan.
I knew I would survive when I saw the Red Bridge up ahead. You simply had to slow down for it. Gargantuan waves of relief bathed my nervous system. All we had to do now was navigate Lorne Street. Whip up eighth Ave, turn on Battle Street and I was to see another day.
This did indeed happen. I can’t remember how I lied about the pleasures of the ride. Riding high on survival, I think I said we should do this more often. But I can tell you a ride like that makes you know how great it is just to breath Kamloops air with a shot of Pulp Mill air in it.
Later on, I was to learn that the young man, who shared that back seat with me to Barrier, was not the only one to decline a ride with Gordy.
Percy: The ongoing search for love. The Art of Compliments. 1972 or 1973:
So there we were. The crew was composed of Colin MacDonald, John Watters, Percy and myself. We found ourselves way North of Fort St. James on a long staking job. On finishing the job we crossed over to McKenzie...a real, new town of no history. We were hungry and went into the local supermarket.
A few days out in the bush can cause a strange, overwhelming taste for the opposite sex. Every female looks so delicious, tempting and so desirous regardless of form or shape. So, when we had collected our goods in the McKenzie supermarket, and standing in line to pay, Percy strikes up a conversation with the nice looking cashier. And in the hormone fever that erupted... Percy can only say to her...” Gee, that’s a beautiful apron you have on.”
I think we made Prince George that night.
Randy and “The Chain.”1971 Merritt-Princeton area.
This is a “short-chain like story that still makes me laugh. An Amex, really true,inspired, priceless pearl. Truth be told, there are no “pearls,” out in the bush. You may find that some interesting antlers lay upon the surface, scattered bones of prey, great, growth mushrooms singing and hanging from rotting trees. Perhaps an interesting-shaped rock or two may lay upon the surface, awaiting your eager hands...I took all I could find...but no nuggets will wink at you. It was a dream time to, expect so.
The pearl in Randy’s story, which I write, has nothing to do with the geological creations of long ago but a 100 foot, nylon chain.”The Chain,” was our master! It determined speed and footage and complexities of life when tangled in vegetation. Knots and a long-time slow-voiced...”Chain”...” meant bad bush. A fast- quick-voiced...“Chain”....meant good going. Repeated over time.
If you worked side by side on different lines but not that far apart...”Chain!” indicated how well your partners were progressing. 100 foot space between Amexers’ could mean hell or heaven. In B.C. nature spreads its difficulties pell-mell in the bush. 10 feet can mean heaven or hell! In B.C. vegetation is complex in its emotional distribution of forgiveness and punishments.
Now, in The Princeton- Merritt, area we find ourselves doing a property 20 kilometres north of Princeton. It is a mountain. We park cars on the side of the highway...facing Princeton way. Where, later,survivors Cheese burgers and milk will nurishbekon.
We climbed up this mountain following the before cut out base line. The mountain has many dips and doodles...it has wrinkles where water has pooled to create alder swamps and being a mountain... many trees have fallen in the direction that gravity dictates. It was the alder swamps that were difficult. My partner and I were doing a few lines to the south of Randy but we confirmed that we would meet up for lunch.
Shared tinfoil wrapped sandwiches... where the tinfoil drove your cavities crazy.
So we had done our bit and located Randy’s start point. Some Dante expert had written on a nicely blazed –start point branch...”Abandon all hope ye who enter here.”
I remember starting off...and...as my boots filled with water realized the intricate horrors of this complex alder swamp. A Darwinian night-mare!
We followed the cut, flagged and blazed line both feeling like a python on the slither. Soon in the distance I could hear...”Chain!” We were going up, down, under, over, above and, on stomachs under the warp and weave of the Alder’s life's watery-carpet. But I knew that we were closing. I heard “Chain!” again!
In fact... I heard ...”Chain!” Getting faster than I thought possible in this Alder swamp. When, On my belly...I looked up and found a 10 foot strand of nylon-chain hanging forlornly off an alder branch. I knew now the twist. The tail chainer was setting new standards of the cut.
This can easily happen when bush is too entwined...tail chainers can cut-chain and not notice their transgressions In that run before meeting up with Randy at the base line...the tail chainer had cut that nylon chain four times. Randy was probably pulling, at this time, sixty feet.
As we closed in on Randy all I could hear was a singular, vibrant-well-vocalize word through the dense, bushy, air...”Chain! Chain! Chain! Chain!" Which meant that they had stumbled upon Ab’s famed...”Park-Land.”
When we finally met at the base-line and I presented Randy with four pieces of the cut chain. He did not laugh.
Even now in his prime...Randy can be quite prickly when I sound out with..."Chain! Chain! Chain! Chain!"
Bright, optimistic and lovely illustration detail on a serving platter from the final year of the New York World's Fair of 1939-1940.
This optimistic young woman will get her sun about a half hour after I took this photo. She has her iPhone, sun glasses, book and beach towel and plans to spend some time on the rock.
(I could see all that from another angle.)
I'm optimistic that since I made it around the sun one more time and my health is still good I feel like there may just be another trip or two in store for this April Fool!!
The photo of daffodil buds was taken at Darts Hill Garden Park on Feb. 4th 2015 in South Surrey BC.
Spring time is early on the West coast and the warm southern exposure of Darts Hill is a full two weeks ahead of my home in North Surrey, 30 km (19 miles) away. When walking through the garden, looking for signs of spring, these three optimistic daffodil buds, arranged in a row, made me smile. They seemed so stalwart and optimistic. I knew that people viewing this photo would likely smile and feel the same way as I did.
Some background information about Darts Hill:
“Darts Hill Garden Park is a plantsman’s garden, created by Francisca Darts and gifted to the City of Surrey. The garden contains countless species and varieties of plants from all over the world. Mrs. Darts developed a particular affection for rhododendrons and magnolias and her collection of these species is outstanding.”
I am a garden and fine art photographer. I take pictures of Darts Hill Garden in all seasons in an effort to promote and celebrate the beauty of this unique garden.
My Darts Hill Garden photography blog can be viewed at: dartshillgarden.wordpress.com/
Under the salty muddy water
filled with despair,
clinching my teeth,
I hold my breath,
and survive like an ancient tree.
God himself whispers on my ears;
"I did not gave up on you,
so don't you give up on me."
finally we are getting a few fall like days
I do love weather in the seventies though, but watching fall foliage change around the ritzy streets of Charlotte is always a sight!
(this moleskin, dated sept was a little optimistic ;) )
Madrid
LOS QUE SOBREVIVEN NUNCA SON LOS MISMOS, mi libro de relatos...my short-story book...you can find it in...podéis encontrarlo en...
itunes.apple.com/es/book/los-que-sobreviven-nunca-son/id8...
www.amazon.es/Los-que-sobreviven-nunca-mismos-ebook/dp/B0...
bertadelgadomelgosa.wordpress.com/
www.facebook.com/pages/BERTA-DELGADO-MELGOSA/255830687785188?
"You're out of the woods, You're out of the dark, You're out of the night.
Step into the sun, Step into the light."
- Optimistic Voices chorus
Portrait of an african girl looking with curiosity at the camera, and wearing a colourful scarf on her head