Monday, April 19, 2021

A NEWRY ISLAND TALE.....CHAPTER TWO....

 




 

(Preface:   I related this Newry Island tale a few years ago, but believe it worthy of telling again.  I hope you do, too.   Also, I made a necessary amendment to the first chapter below...Glen arrived to the island via a small sailing skiff, not a Jet Ski.  

 A few years later, I posted another story about one of my guests on Hinchinbrook Island who took, without my permission, the resort’s small sailing craft, similar to a Hobie Cat, but smaller still.  I’d not been aware he had done so. Without thought to his own safety, or that of others, he sailed off to the Brook Islands further out to sea on the Great Barrier Reef.  Again, in that instance, dusk had begun to descend...danger loomed.   I asked a male member of my staff to grab the resort’s motor boat, and go to his rescue.  I gave the idiot guest the rounds of the table upon his return to the island).    

 

All through the sleepless night I kept hoping I’d hear Glen’s voice echoing up from the beach; calling out to me, making me aware he’d made it back to the safety of Newry Island 

It was a vain hope, I knew; but I had to hold onto something in an attempt to retain my sanity.

At first light the next morning I was informed by Air-Sea Rescue they’d resumed their search.

Once more I expressed my thoughts about where I felt Glen most likely would be. My feelings had strengthened as each moment had passed through the night. The corridor; the avenue of my thoughts had to be pursued, I believed; but, it became clear to me I was alone in my belief.  Nobody was listening.

It didn’t make sense to me that Glen would have ended up over towards St. Helens Beach where Air-Sea Rescue were directing the search.  They had set their minds upon that area, and wouldn't be swayed. My attempts were futile.

No matter how often I described the scud that had gone through as Glen was about to round the northern point of the island’s main beach, my words fell on deaf ears.  My attempts were ineffectual, but I was persistent.  I insisted I believed the wind would have picked Glen up, and pushed his tiny craft directly northward. My thoughts were the currents most likely would have carried him towards Midge Point.  Politely, but firmly I told the rescue crew I believed they were looking in the wrong area.  However, my pleas were ignored.  What the hell would I know!

My opinion made sense to me.  Even though I wasn’t familiar with the currents in the area north of Newry Island, my belief seemed logical to me. 

To reiterate, Glen had just begun rounding the northern point of Newry Island when the scud hit. 

In my mind’s eye, I imagined him being picked up by the strong wind, and forced in a northerly direction towards Midge Point.  It just didn’t sit right with me that the scud would have pushed him directly west between Newry and Rabbit Island.  To me, it didn’t make sense.  If Glen was at the northern point on Newry - in my reckoning the wind would’ve driven him northward, not around a corner, off to the west!

No amount of talking on my part convinced the searchers to consider my thoughts. I was beating my head against a brick wall. I felt like pounding, not only a brick wall, but the Air-Sea Rescue men, as well. 

As each second passed I was becoming more frustrated, and very angry.  They’d put me in a hopeless, helpless situation; and wanted to keep me there!   I had no voice.

What added to my frustration was - I believed I wasn’t being listened to because I was a woman!

Hell!  If I was capable of living alone on an island; if I was capable of running the whole show single-handedly, from driving the boat to and from the mainland; ferrying guests and provisions; operating the generators (driving a motor boat and operating generators I’d never done before I arrived on Newry Island); handling the gardening; cooking; cleaning; running the bar – everything to stay afloat, not only on the ocean, but on land - surely I deserved a fair hearing!

As it was, I could’ve talked until I was purple in the face. My words were going over their heads; in one ear and out the other.  On the other end of the phone, and my two-way radio, they were probably laughing at me.  They could laugh their heads off for all I cared.  I wasn’t going to give up!  I wasn’t going to give up on Glen.  The Air-Sea rescue fellows could keep searching the waters between Rabbit Island and St. Helens on the mainland until the fish came home, and the sting rays lost their sting.  As far as I was concerned, they could be WRONG! 

My intention was to keep harping on the matter until I was hoarse. I had all the time in the world; but Glen didn't!  I cared not how annoying I was. Continue along my vein of thought I would until someone was prepared to listen to me.

Between 11 am and 11.30 am on the Monday, almost 24 hours later, I saw a trawler arrive in the channel between my island and Outer Newry Island.  It set anchor a little north of my mooring…a few metres away from my boat.  The skipper, “Rolly” Rollinson never came ashore whenever he anchored up in the channel before heading out to sea, or on his return trip to Mackay Harbour. 

I’d never met the man face to face. I wouldn’t have recognised him if I’d fallen over him, but I had spoken with him via two-way radio and phone a few times. For various reasons “Rolly” wasn’t liked by many of his fellow-trawler skippers; most of whom, with their crews, were regular patrons of the resort’s bar. Most of them were good fellows.  In the majority of instances, I had no reasons to doubt their words, or opinions.

 “Rolly” was a fairly arrogant fellow.  Years before he’d had a falling out with Willie Litz, the lessee of the resort area on Newry Island. Their dispute was none of my business.  Willi didn’t live on the island; I did.   “Rolly” had fallen out with many people, I’d been told, but his standing within the trawler community was the least of my concerns.

I radioed “Rolly”.  Not wasting words I described the frustrating position in which I’d found myself.  I explained what had occurred over the previous 24 hours, expressing my belief about where I thought the missing Glen was most likely could be found…up towards Midge Point, on the mainland; not where the search was presently being conducted.

Precious time was being wasted!

To my surprise, “Rolly” agreed with my assessment.

I asked “Rolly” if he was prepared to get in touch with the Air-Sea Rescue people, and relate his thoughts; but, when doing so, to leave my name out of it.  They’d take more notice of him – he who had been sailing those waters for many years – than they were taking of me – a mere female!  They'd made it very obvious they were taking no notice of me.

The rest of Monday afternoon I spent anxiously by the phone and two-way radio.  There was little else I could do, but wait…and wait...

Once again, like clockwork, the sun had begun its descent, and no positive results regarding Glen’s safety were to hand. Night was just around the corner. 

Shortly after 5 pm on Monday, the island phone rang. 

On their final fly-over for the day before pulling the plug on the search, with the intention of recommencing the search the following morning, the plane’s pilot spotted something on the beach, on the southern end of Midge Point, on the mainland.

It was Glen’s small sailing skiff.  On the beach, Glen was standing beside it waving like a crazed lunatic!

 Oh! God!  It was the best news I’d heard in years! 

Tears of joy and relief flowed, unhampered, down my cheeks.  I cheered loudly with no one within reach to hear other than Pushkin and Rimsky, my two furry best mates.  Barely moving a whisker, they didn’t mind being disturbed from their cat naps

Glen had been found where all along I had thought it most likely he would have been. 

The scud’s strong wind had picked him up, and carried him northward. He didn’t turn the corner, nor was he forced west toward St. Helens. His passage along the ocean had been taken completely out of his control.  He’d spent Sunday night, and Monday in the open sea.  In sheer desperation, and with the will to survive, he’d held onto his small sailing skiff. At one point it had flipped over.  Fortunately, he managed to right it. 

Finally, the currents nudged him toward the shore about an hour before the search plane spotted him – on their last fly-over for the day!

I felt extremely grateful to the faceless “Rolly” for insisting the search be extended to that particular area. 

Once I’d learnt Glen was safe, I made contact with "Rolly" Rollison to give him my sincere, heartfelt appreciation for his most important role in the play...the drama. 

I never did meet “Rolly” face to face, but I was grateful...forever grateful...for his actions in assisting in the search for Glen...and for listening to me.

The following afternoon...on the Tuesday after his rescue...Glen rang me from Mackay to thank me for alerting the authorities etc.  He’d spent Monday evening in hospital where he'd been kept under observation overnight. Fortunately he had suffered no injuries from his dramatic ocean adventure.  Glen was calm and collected when we spoke. It was how he was at any given time. 

I never saw Glen again.  I think he’d had his fill of the ocean to last him for a while.  Who could blame him?

 

Three or so years later I was the cook/chef at the Town & Country Hotel Motel in Collinsville; back on dry land, with no ocean in sight.

One evening after dinner service I chatted with a young fellow sitting at the lounge bar. He had the Hastings Deering insignia on his shirt.  The insignia was what had drawn me to him. He was a motel guest, being in town to visit the nearby Collinsville Coal Mine, and had been one of my dinner guests. 

During our conversation, I related the above story. 

A wide smile broke across the young man’s face as he said: “So you’re the one! You're the "Lee"! Glen told me about you! He’s told the whole crew!  I know of the story you’ve just told me! You have no idea how grateful he was for what you did.  He speaks often about that time. Everyone at work knows about it!”

I was taken aback to discover the story I’d just finished sharing was familiar to the young bloke I'd never previously met...not until that evening at Collinsville’s Town and Country Hotel-Motel.

At the time, Glen was still employed by Hastings Deering.  I asked the fellow sitting beside me at the bar to pass on my very best wishes to Glen the next time their paths crossed.

Through the ensuing years I’ve often wondered how Glen’s life has panned out.  I hope he met a fine young lady to spend it with; he was, indeed. a fine fellow.

It is a small world after all.  And, it was a lesson well-learned...never embellish when telling a story.  99.99% of the time...the six degrees of separation come into play.  If you embellish...lie...you will get found out!!

26 comments:

  1. Wow, that was quite a post. I was on the edge of my seat reading it. I was hoping so much that Glen made it and was OK. Good for you for not giving up and finding a way for others to listen to you (through a male voice) You knew what you had to do to save your friend's life and I am glad Glen was found and you were finally given the credit for it.

    Women's voices have been cancelled from time immortal. Times, now, they are a'changin'.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi, Arleen...it certainly was a worrying time. Having no other person at hand to discuss it with didn't make things easier, either. All's well that ends well...and that particular episode did end well, thankfully.

      Thanks for coming by...take good care. :)

      Delete
  2. I am so glad it ended well even if it could have ended much sooner if you had been listened to. And of course Glen remembered it. How could he not.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was a harrowing episode, EC, that is for sure...and it was so damned frustrating trying to get someone to listen to me! I was banging my head against a 12ft thick brick wall it seemed. I was so, so happy and relieved Glen was found safe and sound.

      Thanks for coming by. Take care. :)

      Delete
  3. I knew you would turn out to be right. Thanks for the story and for learning that Glen carried the tale to all he encountered. You became a famous Lee!!!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi, Annie...Famous, I wasn't, but certainly very happy and relieved..and, surprised to have met someone who was aware of that particular event. I think that both Glen and I have related that event often over the years. It's one not easily forgotten! :)

      Take good care, Annie...thanks for coming by. :)

      Delete
  4. The list of men i would love to see spanked for not listening when a woman talks sense gets longer and longer.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi, messymimi...yes...it can be very frustrating at times, that is for sure.

      Thanks for coming by...take good care. :)

      Delete
  5. How silly of the Air and Sea rescue team to not listen, they could have kept searching and sent another person to scout the area you'd mentioned. Glen would have been found much sooner>

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It was very frustrating, River. I was tearing my hair out, but I wasn't going to shut up, either. A voice in the wilderness, I seemed to be...

      Take care...thanks for coming by. :)

      Delete
  6. I didn't leave a comment on the last post because I only read it a few minutes ago and couldn't wait to get to the second half. Quite a story. I'm glad that it had a good out come. I agree about never embellishing a story or it may come back to bite you on the bum. I wonder if I've ever blogged about that...must check.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hey there, Graham. I was glad it was a good outcome...as was Glen, of course. He even more so than me, of course! :)

      Yep! It's foolish to embellish, and downright embarrassing if you do so and get caught out! lol

      Take good care...thanks for coming by. :)

      Delete
  7. Very well written! A lot of suspense and concern for the life of Glen. Glad it had a happy end.
    Your post reminds me of the search for the Malaysian plane(2014) which was thought to have disappeared near Australia. It's still a mystery, and I remember there was talk of searching in the wrong direction, wasting time and money.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, DUTA. It was a harrowing time, that is for sure. It was a huge, huge relief that it ended well...particularly for Glen!

      There is still mystery surrounding Malaysian Airlines Flight MHS370...much conjecture...many theories. I imagine we will never know the truth...

      Thanks for coming by...take good care. :)

      Delete
  8. Amazing. Kudos for keeping on in the face of insurmountable odds.
    Great story.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I felt so helpless, Sandra...I was helpless except for my voice. The motor on my boat was playing up, so I only had my voice. I HAD to be heard...and I would keep speaking until I was heard.

      Thanks for coming by...take good care. :)

      Delete
  9. I was hoping there's be a happy ending. I was thinking as I was reading what a shame I wasn't in Proserpine at that time, I had several friends with holiday homes at Midge Point. I could have rung them and got them to go have a look for you. At least I would have listened! Good on you for sticking to your guns. I'm sure you will long live in Glen's reminisces.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I reckon you and I would have had some fun together, Pauline, if our paths had crossed back then.

      My late es, Randall's also now late uncle, lived at Midge Point...Percy Peters and his wife We stayed with them back in 1981 when we did a caravan trip to the North...when we were living at Sunshine Beach. Percy, like many others who lived there at Midge Point, used his tractor to launch his fishing boat, and then drag it back to the foreshore when his fishing trips were over.

      I wasn't going to give up...even if I went hoarse, that is for sure!

      Thanks for coming by...take good care. :)

      Our Kiwi mates are on my mind today...and on the minds of other Aussies...on this day of remembrance...ANZAC Day. Lest We Forget...

      Delete
  10. What a great story! And yes indeed, don't ever embellish your telling of it, there just might be someone listening who knows it already! So glad it had a happy ending too. xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi, Kay. To embellish and lie when relating a true story soon let's one know how small the world really is. I can never see any point in doing so. Fact, it has been said many times, is stranger than fiction. :)

      Take good care...thanks for coming by. :)

      Delete
  11. I am so pleased it ended well :)

    Stay well Lee, my good wishes.

    All the best Jan

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, Jan...there were long, loud sighs issued, that is for sure!!

      You, too, stay well and take good care...thanks for coming by. :)

      Delete
  12. My brother bought a sailboat last year and is intent on taking it out far enough on one of the Great Lakes here so that he sees nothing but water. But he says he has several high tech devices on board to detect bad weather, ascertain his position, contact the coast guard if necessary. As your story demonstrates, you must be prepared for anything.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes, Dave...the ocean can be cruel...weather can be cruel. Risks should not be taken when out on the water, whether the ocean or lakes. I hope your brother enjoys his new acquisition.

      Thanks for coming by...take good care. :)

      Delete
  13. Lucky for Glen, you persevered and thanks to your efforts, he was rescued and apparently has shared that tale. Your caution about not stretching a story’s details were well taken, Lee, as indeed you never know who would also know the facts. The world is similar in many ways the. We would lime to believe.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi Beatrice...I can see no point in embellishing. Doing so and getting found out would be very embarrassing...certainly not worth the effort.

      It was a wonderful outcome and I'm sure Glen has never forgotten it, either.

      Thanks for coming by...take care. :)

      Delete