ANOTHER DAY...ANOTHER ISLAND TALE...

Foreshore Newry Island

Pushkin

Me Behind the Bar ...not in front of the bar...Newry Island

Me Driving the Newry Island Boat...(Image posted previously)..and fun in the sun

Balmy Newry Island Days.

When living and working on both Hinchinbrook Island and Newry Island I treated visitors to the islands...guests and day-trippers alike...as if they were guests in my own home.  In fact, they were guests in my home because at varying times both islands were my home.  My staff members on Hinchinbrook Island were urged to behave similarly, and they didn’t need their arms twisted to do so.

On Newry I lived alone.  Well, not quite “alone”...my two cats, Pushkin and Rimsky were with me, but they preferred to remain aloof from the island visitors.  

Often, after a few days had passed without another human having set foot on the island, when one dared do, Pushkin, my ginger cat, would huff, puff and growl under his breath as he stomped back upstairs to where the three of us hung out after hours.   

Actually, Pushkin and Rimsky hung out up there whenever “people” were milling around downstairs in the bar, dining area, and the outside surrounds. 

Pushkin and Rimsky weren’t very sociable, preferring their own company...and mine when I was available...to that of strangers.  Momentarily, their aloof personas were lifted the evenings when I fired up the barbecue.   

Being a couple of very smart, perceptive pussies they knew “barbecue” meant “seafood”.  Knowing what it meant for them, the lure was too tempting to ignore...the aroma of the fish, prawns, and crabs on the grill was not to be ignored. 

While the humans were occupied elsewhere, mingling and enjoying a few pre-dinner drinks, discussing what they’d done, or not done, during the day, my two furry mates, who always exhibited good manners, sat quietly and patiently at my feet, in the shadows at the side of the gas barbecue. They had first pickings from the barbecue. Their dinner was cooked before I began cooking for my guests.  The humans were second cabs off the rank.  Once sated, Pushkin and Rimsky scampered back upstairs to discuss the strangeness of human behaviour, and then went to sleep.  They’d read all the “Tom & Jerry” comics a thousand times over, so sleep was more enticing.

In previous posts I’ve described Newry Island resort, and its origins, which began way back in 1934.  The original operators, Fred and Marcelle Wooster set foot on the then leasehold island four years before the area became a national park.  They lived on the island for 20 years. Marecelle’s sister was Annette Kellermann...who became a well-known, vaudeville artist, international swimmer, along with other notable achievements. At the age of 19 she made her first attempt to swim the English Channel.  She made the attempt three times.  Kellermann often visited Newry Island to spend time with her sister.  During her visits she didn’t give up swimming.  Daily Annette swam to Outer Newry Island, as well as to Seaforth.  The 1952 movie “Million Dollar Mermaid” starred Esther Williams, who played the role of Annette Kellermann.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annette_Kellermann

The lessee of the island’s resort when I managed it was an avid collector of Kellermann memorabilia.  He, the then lessee, at the time lived mainly in Northern New South Wales. In 2001 (I was then living and working in Gympie) the run-down resort closed, and was taken over by Queensland National Parks and Wildlife. Ruins of the original buildings remain...as reminders of days past...

In my previous post before this one I listed human behaviour that annoys the hell out of me...behaviour I am sure annoys most other people, too. Some may think I am an intolerant person. Yes...freely and honestly, I admit they are correct. There are instances when I am intolerant to certain human behaviour. 

I don’t suffer fools, nor do I suffer perpetrators of domestic violence, paedophiles, or sexual abusers of any age...of any age.  

Does that help clear up any confusion...answer any questions you may have about me; who I am, and how I feel?

A family arrived on Newry to stay in one of the cabins overlooking the beach and ocean for a few days...father, mother, daughter and two sons.  The boys were aged 11 and 10 years.  The daughter, who was blossoming into a lovely young teenage girl was aged 14 years. Sadly, mentally, she was around 12 years of age, or that of her younger brothers.  She was an innocent, sweet, pretty lass.

After settling into their cabin, the family gathered on the beach out front of the main building.  I wandered down to chat with them.  The young daughter was wading in knee, thigh-deep water...dipping under the small, gentle waves every now and then.  Her younger brothers were playing together on the beach as I sat talking with their parents.

A couple of hours earlier a trawler had anchored out in the channel, as trawlers frequently did before they headed off to the Mackay Harbour where they unloaded their catches. Most of the trawlers spent three weeks or so out at sea.  Newry Island was their only and last port of call before returning to the mainland.

The skipper from the trawler moored out in the channel between “my island” and Outer Newry, was a nice, quiet fellow whom I’d met a few times when he’d called into the island for a drink or two at the bar before heading off to Mackay.  He and one of his “deckies”, whom I'd not previously met...rowed ashore.   

I told them to go up to the bar...to help themselves to a beer; that I would be up in a while.  I trusted the skipper would pay for what was drunk...there were no concerns regarding payment etc.   After a brief exchange, alone, he wandered up to the bar.

His mate strolled down to the water’s edge...and then into the ocean where he struck up a conversation with the young girl.  Something...to this day, I know not what...put me on high alert.

Not wanting, at that particular moment, to draw the parents’ attention...particularly the father’s...nonchalantly, I excused myself, telling them I was going to go and wet my feet. 

I wandered down the beach to join the deckie, a stranger to me, and the young girl.

She was blushing and giggling as young girls do.  The stranger was standing close to her.  He was so involved in his own self, and his “charming” of the lass, he’d not heard, nor had he noticed my arrival, a step or two behind him.   

I could hear everything he was saying to the young girl.  Innocently, she was lapping up the slimy bastard’s attention...his sly, cunning, softly-spoken words.

He was still unaware when I silently moved to his side. 

He almost shit himself when I said, quietly, but with conviction; “I know what you’re up to!   But, I tell you here and now, mate...what you have in mind is not going happen on my island...not on my watch!  Move on, you prick...now!  Get back into that dinghy. Go back to the trawler, and do not set foot on this island again...ever again!  My one and only warning...it would be in your best interests to heed it!  If you do set foot back on this island, your voice will go up a few octaves! I advise you to leave right now, before I tell this young girl’s father what you have in mind!  I assure you, you don’t want me to do that.  I assure you...you don’t want me to take matters into my own hands, either!  Get the f*** off my island...now!”

I’d not brought attention to the situation.  No one other than the creature standing in the water beside me heard the words I’d spoken.

I had told the girl it was almost lunch time, for her to join her parents.  The parents sitting further up the beach had not heard a word.   

When the skipper noticed his deckie had stepped into the dinghy, he, the skipper came down to the water’s edge.  Without further ado, off they went back out to the trawler.

As dusk was approaching that evening, I saw the dinghy on its way from the trawler back to the resort.  I recognised who was rowing the boat. 

That was like waving a red flag at the bull...the bull was me!

The tide was out...and further out from the sandy part of the ocean floor it was very muddy, as the ocean floor led to the deep channel drop-of.

Again, without drawing my guests' attention to me, I picked up my heavy-duty land and sea Dolphin torch/flashlight.  As I passed my own little dinghy resting high and dry on the foreshore, I grabbed one of its oars. 

Purposely and determinedly, I strode out to the water’s edge...beyond the solid, wet sand base, onto the muddy flats near the channels edge.  As I reached that area, the dinghy carrying the repulsive clown I had banned from ever setting foot on the island again was readying himself to get out of the dinghy.

Even though I was ankle-deep in mud, I knew I had the upper-hand,    

He had to step out of a rocking boat...and would be unbalanced.  (He was unbalanced!)

“Make one more move, and I’ll take your head off!” I said, in a tone that left nothing to the imagination.  I wasn’t fooling around.

  

In my right hand the oar was raised in a threatening manner; likewise, in my left hand was the heavy, bulky flashlight.

At that moment in time, what I felt was white anger.   I’d gone from black anger to white...and I believe white anger is more powerful, more potent than black anger. 

Not lowering my gaze, I stared the worthless, despicable excuse for a human directly in his eyes throughout.

  

Like the cur he was, without a uttering a word, or making a move to alight, he turned the dinghy around, and rowed back out to the trawler.

I waited until I saw him climb aboard the trawler before going back up to the main building.

The evening proceeded at normal...I served my guests drinks and dinner.  The parents were none the wiser to what had occurred that day, and at sundown.  They continued to enjoy a pleasant, peaceful, uneventful holiday break.

Yes...I am intolerant when it comes to the behaviour of some within our society...

I give no apologies for being so.

On a lighter note...

One day two day-trippers arrived.  A husband and wife, aged in their mid-sixties, at a guess...they were a lovely couple.  The three of us sat outside at the table near the barbecue area...looking out to the ocean.  Over coffee we chatted at length. They planned to walk the track across to the other side of the island to view Rabbit Island over the back of Newry.

As they rose to leave, they asked me if there was anything they had to be aware of during their walk through the track bordered by trees, shrubs and long grasses.

  

I’m the worst, and the last person to whom that question or similar should be asked!

   

Open the gate, and I will bolt at high speed right through it - taking no prisoners as I gallop!

Straight of face, in all seriousness, I said to them, “Yes, there is!  Be careful of the Killer Koalas!”

The blood ran from their faces...turning white, they gasped, “Killer Koalas?  My goodness!  We had no idea!”  

They were serious...I, on the other hand, of course, was not!

Immediately, I burst out laughing.  I’d not thought they would believe my insane statement, but they had!

Fortunately, the couple had a sense of humour...a sense of the ridiculous.  

Joining me in the laughter, they said, “Oh! Dear!  You really got us going on that one!”

Off they went for their walk...still laughing as they left....

They returned, unharmed...no Killer Koalas were spotted that day.

Everywhere else had "Drop Bears"....I had the Killer Koalas on Newry!!

PS....There actually were koalas on Newry Island  (and, no doubt, still are)...but they were harmless!!   (It was me who was the worry...the danger!!)