NEWRY ISLAND TALES

 

Me on the right with a guest as we fooled around entertaining other guests!

 

 

 Posing with a couple of guests out front of the restaurant, bar, kitchen building.  Pushkin's, Rimsky's, and my  "quarters" were upstairs

21ft De Havilland Trojan with 175hp motor

The humble little “resort”….using the description “resort” is, perhaps, a little extravagant…on Newry Island might have been a run-down, “past its use-by date island resort”, but it had many things to offer that the fancier resorts couldn’t or wouldn’t.

Because of my regular, abundant supply of seafood supplied to me by various visiting trawlers, my island guests were catered to with large feasts of fresh fish, prawns and crabs at a very low cost.

Sometimes, when yachts were anchored out in the channel between Newry Island and Outer Newry, the yachties collected oysters from the rocks on Outer Newry Island, and brought them across to me. I would lay-out piles of shucked oysters on large trays, sprinkle them with Worcestershire Sauce and diced bacon over the top, and then place the laden trays under the salamander (grill). It was worth every shucking moment just to see the looks on my guests’ faces when I presented them with the large, metal trays filled with Oysters Kilpatrick. Not only would I present oysters in this manner, but I would cook some on the barbecue in their shells and, also serve others natural, of course. It was an “eat as much and as many as you like” attitude barbecue with cold beer or wine to wash them down, or soft drinks, if preferred.  

Just outside from the bar area on the concrete deck looking out to the ocean and neighbouring islands was the area where I cooked on many of the evenings when I had guests on the island. A large six burner gas barbecue held pride of position, together with a couple or so outdoor tables and chairs. The moment I fired up the barbecue my two cats, Pushkin and Rimsky, were right there, salivating, eagerly awaiting the evening’s fare. They knew what was to follow. They weren’t silly. Their diet was mainly seafood, with some fresh meat thrown in for good measure. Pushkin and Rimsky didn’t even have to get their paws dirty as the guests willingly peeled prawns for them. What a life!  My two cats never concerned themselves with the wild life.  Sometimes at night, they would quietly sit on the window sill upstairs where “bedroom” was and watch the possums play on the roof, only two or three feet away from them.  Never did they make any attempts to interrupt the possums’ playtime.  At one stage, little birds built their hanging nests on a window at the rear of the upstairs area, and proceeded to raise their family in their safe, “within reach” home/haven.  Pushkin and Rimsky showed no interest whatsoever.  The birds were safe, and I believe, they knew they were.

During the day, the guests swam in the calm waters of the Coral Sea; relaxed with a book; some fished, others lingered under the palm trees fringing the beach contemplating their lives or whatever, or went for walks across the island through the forest. The children played freely and safely on the beach.

One morning a koala decided to join in the leisurely lifestyle by comfortably perched in a low tree all throughout the weekend at the start of the trail across to the other side of the island. My island guests, particularly the children, were delighted by its appearance. I asked everyone to look but not disturb or touch the beautiful animal. My request they adhered to, happy just to look. The koala remained in his spot until the Tuesday, when the winds changed direction to south-easterly. Once the winds arrived, he moved further inland.

Even though I was busy most of the time, running the bar, catering, driving the boat to and from the boat ramp at Victor Creek across on the mainland, ferrying guests and bringing provisions to the island, and doing my other daily chores, I relaxed too, as my guests weren’t demanding. Often during the afternoon, I would build a fire on the beach. After the evening barbecue, the fire was lit, often a guitar or two would magically appear, and a sing-a-long inevitably started, mingled with lots of conversation and laughter.

The beach in front of the bar and dining area was relatively safe for swimming. When the tide went out, it went out a long, long way leaving mud flats out far to battle. However, when the tide was in, the water flowed gently over the clean, golden sand that caressed the shoreline, making it an ideal swimming spot.

Because of the position of the bay and the distance from the warmer waters of the mainland, the island didn’t have a box-jellyfish problem. The stingers are more prevalent in the warmer, coastal and estuary waters. Similar conditions applied at the main beach at Hinchinbrook Island Resort. Pulling into the boat ramp at Victor Creek on the mainland one day, as I jumped out of the boat I spotted a large box-jellyfish languishing in the shallow water at the bank of the creek. I stayed well clear of it.

I hated having to take the De Havilland Trojan the island boat with a 175hp outboard motor, out when it was low tide, as I would have to plough through the mud to reach it, not being able to row my little boat out to where it was moored. The De Havilland was always moored a couple of feet out from the bank of the deep channel between Newry Island and Outer Newry to make it permanently sea-worthy, particularly if, God forbid, an emergency arose. Naturally, I tried to organise all my boat trips to the mainland around the high tides. This was not always possible, of course.

A few day-trippers arrived each day over the Easter weekend, setting up their own picnics along the beach or at the tables under the trees. Fishermen came and went after a couple of cleansing, refreshing cold ales at the bar. The island was alive with happy, trouble-free holidaymakers. That is, until Easter Sunday night when a “tinnie” bearing four, drunken, young fishermen arrived. I’d never set eyes on them before, or after, for that matter.

They staggered noisily up to the bar shortly after 9pm demanding drinks and food. In no uncertain terms, I told them I thought they had had enough to drink by the looks and sounds of them. I wasn’t happy about having to feed them. There was no way I was going to start cooking them a meal at that hour of the night.  By this time, my island guests had eaten at the barbecue, and were by then up along the beach enjoying each other’s company around the fire.

The rowdy infiltrators demanded something to eat.

“All I have left are meat pies. I will heat some up for you,” I told them, reluctantly. “But, I’m telling you this…if I see the pies again…you guys will be cleaning up the mess, not me!”

I didn’t need a crystal ball to know I would “see” the pies again! Of course, I was right in my assumption! I handed the young fellows the hose, and made them clean down the deck where the regurgitated pies covered the concrete. When they finished cleaning up their mess, I asked them to leave immediately.

Upon noticing the fire up the beach, the renegades informed me they were going to join the guests.

“No, you’re not!” I said firmly. “They’re my paying guests enjoying time with their children. They’re entitled to their privacy. You will not go up there. You’ll get into your boat and go back to wherever you came from! You will leave them alone! Now, get going!”

They mumbled as they staggered down the beach towards their boat. I watched from the deck as they manoeuvred the she-oaks and palm trees. Hitting the centre of the beach, they veered right in the direction of the fire and my guests.

Letting out a growl, I headed off after the pests, catching up with them just as they were approaching the guests. Steering them about face, I marched them back along the beach. They didn’t notice that I was walking at an angle, forcing them closer and closer to the water’s edge. They were too busy cursing me. Far too busy calling me every name they could muster to notice with each step they were getting into ankle-deep water. My feet were still dry.

“I’ve heard it all before.” Was my non-interested reaction to their abuse.  “Say what you wish, but you are not staying here!”

Continuing with their diatribe, one of them blurted out for me to take care of a particular portion of his anatomy that is akin to male poultry. As quick as a flash, without thought, I retaliated with a very apt reply, which embarrassed him in front of his mates. Without another word from any of them, like meek little lambs they stumbled into their boat. Without a backward glance, they headed back out to sea. I had no idea where they’d come from, and I’m sure they had no idea where they were headed.  It was not my worry. If they were stupid enough to travel at night in their little “tinnie” in the state they were in, I wasn’t going to be their keeper, nor was I going to accept their abuse.

Their bravado was restored the further they travelled from the shore. Their infantile abuse re-commenced. Around and around like the idiots they were, they circled one of the trawlers anchored out in the bay, shouting and yahooing.

By this time, the men guests joined me. The fellow who had donated the crabs, agreed with me in that we hoped “Rollo”, a rather gruff trawler-man who never set foot on the island, but always anchored out in the channel before heading to Mackay, would wake up. “Rollo”, like all trawlers, carried shot-guns on board. How we wished “Rollo” would wake up. I reckon those four fellows shouting abuse would have sobered up pretty damn quickly and high-tailed it away from there while crying out for their mothers!

I joined my guests around the fire after the unwanted disruption. The women informed me they’d told their husbands to give me a hand. Their husbands all said, “Naah…Lee’ll be okay…she’ll be right! She’ll take care of them!”

“Thanks, guys!” I laughed.

They would have been there for me if I had needed them, but I preferred to handle situations like that myself, where possible if or when they arose.

From the direction my inebriated, bad-mannered visitors had headed out to sea, I think they probably ended up on the west coast waters of South America!

By the Tuesday, everyone had departed. Once more I was alone on the island except for Pushkin and Rimsky, and of course, the koala, and the rest of the native population.  It had been a wonderful Easter, unwelcome visitors notwithstanding.

I settled into a peaceful few days until the next boat arrived, or my next trip to the mainland to meet new guests. I was grateful for the respite as the south-easterly winds had arrived. The winds always made it difficult for me to row my little dinghy out to my island boat, the 21-foot Trojan De Havilland, moored out in the channel. It was a sight to behold, me trying to “marry” my little row boat up to the bigger motor boat with strong south-easterlies blowing!

The link below gives you a bit of the history of Newry Island.

http://www.abc.net.au/tropic/stories/s1128222.htm

https://www.mackayandwhitsundaylife.com/article/annette-kellerman-a-mermaid-in-our-midst (This link will take you to a bit of the history of Newry Island that is linked to the swimmer, Annette Kellerman..."Million Dollar Mermaid" starring Esther Williams as Kellerman. On 24 August 1905, aged 19, Kellermann was one of the first women to attempt to swim across the English Channel. A dover ship pilot said Kellermann was not permitted to swim any further on her attempts, despite his opinion being that she could have kept going for much longer. After three unsuccessful swims she declared, "I had the endurance but not the brute strength." The first woman to attempt a Channel crossing had been Austrian Baroness Walburga von Isacescu, in September 1900. She had made a previous effort the month before alongside Ted Heaton, but had to leave the water several miles out in the channel due to sea-sickness. Kellermann later challenged and defeated von Isacescu in a Danube race. Annette Kellerman's sister and her husband lived on Newry Island back in the 1930s. The story goes that Annette swam from the island across to Seaforth on the mainland. https://beachsafe.org.au/beach/qld/mackay/seaforth/newry-island-3