Paul Tooker's memories of Rosedale
Paul's Memories
Our Rosedale summers were wonderful wonderful days.
I had a little boat, given to me by Paul Millar. On one of those rare rainy overcast days, I followed the creek up as far as it would go, where it was choked by all the fallen logs. I climbed out of the boat and struggled across all the fallen trees etc. to explore the top of the creek. It was really dark and spooky. I came around a tree and walked into the biggest, hairiest, blackest, smelliest, ugliest (wait for it.....) PIG. Fortunately it got as big a fright as I did , and I think we both knocked over small trees as we beat a hasty retreat from each other (there is some debate to this day who was the ugliest of us). Quite frankly it frightened the living daylights out of me.
Remember the lovely days. We would get up to a breakfast of bacon and eggs, and if we were lucky, score a trip on the milk truck when it did its rounds. The milk truck was a flat tray with a few milk churns roped on the back, and we kids would pile on
the back and hold on like grim death while the driver whizzed along the narrow dirt tracks to the various small settlements. There was always the chance of a blackberry bush adding a few thorns to our legs as we raced along. The driver would pull up and blow his horn, and the women would gather around the truck with their billy cans and he would ladle out the milk from the churn. The round trip took over an hour and was tremendous fun. I guess fear of common law claims, plus Workplace Health & Safety legislation, would stop the trips happening these days.
We used to spend a lot of the time on the beach just gas bagging to each other. When we got bored, we would walk around to Malua Bay to buy cigarettes. It was quite an interesting trip. Most of it could be done around the rocks, although there was
the tricky bit where you had to time your run between the waves, and also the dash across Brigadier MacKenzie's beach (he was reputedly a fierce old cove, although I do not think I ever saw him).
The spear fishing around Rosedale was a treat in those days. We would make home made spears out of curtain rods with a multi-pronged spear head jammed on one end and a hole drilled in the other ento take the cord holding the rubber. I remember we got some great fish. I always liked the small groupers - a bit oily but nice big bones. Except after storms the water was usually clear - there were plenty of rocky reefs and kelp beds. We used to tow a rubber tyre (with a net in the middle) around after us, to put the speared fish in. We used to get out of the water when too many sharks started showing an interest in the blood. I guess fortune favoured the brave (or the stupid!!).
I really enjoyed the surfing down there. Occasionally there would be a big hurricane out at sea, and we would have beautiful hot sunny days and humungous surf. I learned to stand up on my 5' foam board which was extremely unstable. I had pretty good balance in those days. We also battled around at one stage on an old solid balsa wood surfboard belonging to someone else.
When we went down the coast in winter it could be very cold. We initially had an old wood range in the house for cooking. We didn't have hot water bottles, and Mum used to put bricks in the oven until they were very hot, then wrap them in newspaper (which would sometimes scorch but never catch fire) and then wrap them in a towel.
These would go in the end of our beds as temporary hot "water" bottles and would hold some warmth until about 1.00am. I think I still have a weak ankle from when I suddenly straightened my leg without thinking and my foot ran straight into a brick.
The New Years Eve parties were something special. Even though I was under age, Mum and Dad used to turn a blind eye and allow me to take some warm beer (perhaps there was a method in their madness?) from the old brown suitcase under their bed. The highlight for me was seeing my brother Alan drink a whole bottle of vodka & orange - I did not think it was possible for someone to be so sick for so long and still live. He spent most of New Year's Eve sitting on the edge of next door’s tank
stand and throwing up into their passionfruit.
Going back to Canberra after Christmas or Easter could be a nightmare. There were punts across the Clyde at Nelligen (next to the old Steampacket Hotel), and sometimes the traffic would back up all the way to Batemans Bay. I remember Dad taking a back way through the bush once to bypass the traffic. We went past an old Chinese cemetery with big headstones etc. left over from the gold days. Dad went too fast and slid into a bank and put a dent in the bodywork under one door. We never went that way again.
Random memories:
- The big rock shelf on the way around to Guerilla Bay - the water seemed to go down forever.
- Lighting a fire over on Jimmy's Island, and having it blow up on us (I think there were air bubbles in the shale).
- Throwing glass floats off the cliffs to see them break on the rocks (believe it or not, I still have 2 of these glass floats, all
the way from Rosedale days).
- Sitting around the fire in the dunes in the evenings, smoking and staring into the fire
.
- Getting beaten up for being a bit too inquisitive with my torch in the dunes in the evening (I deserved that one!).
- Wearing a duffle coat, jeans and desert boots in the evenings (how cool!!).
- Fishing for mullet in the creek, using old oyster bottles as fish traps.
- The whale coming into the bay.
- Mending the mosquito nets over our beds, as our first job, when we arrived down the coast on a Friday night.
- Interminable games of "21" (for pennies) on rain afternoons.
- Picking blackberries.
- Fishing off the rocks (I remember Alan caught a big salmon from the small patch of rocks between the two beaches - just
near the log cabins. I caught a big one once when I was out trolling with Mr Hoad - Mum stuffed it with oysters then baked it,
and it was delicious).
- Buying hot chips cooked in peanut oil, in Bateman's Bay.
- Buying cherry pies from the Chinese baker in Braidwood, on our way down the coast.
- NOT missing TV or radio!
Happy memories.
Paul Tooker
Our Rosedale summers were wonderful wonderful days.
I had a little boat, given to me by Paul Millar. On one of those rare rainy overcast days, I followed the creek up as far as it would go, where it was choked by all the fallen logs. I climbed out of the boat and struggled across all the fallen trees etc. to explore the top of the creek. It was really dark and spooky. I came around a tree and walked into the biggest, hairiest, blackest, smelliest, ugliest (wait for it.....) PIG. Fortunately it got as big a fright as I did , and I think we both knocked over small trees as we beat a hasty retreat from each other (there is some debate to this day who was the ugliest of us). Quite frankly it frightened the living daylights out of me.
Remember the lovely days. We would get up to a breakfast of bacon and eggs, and if we were lucky, score a trip on the milk truck when it did its rounds. The milk truck was a flat tray with a few milk churns roped on the back, and we kids would pile on
the back and hold on like grim death while the driver whizzed along the narrow dirt tracks to the various small settlements. There was always the chance of a blackberry bush adding a few thorns to our legs as we raced along. The driver would pull up and blow his horn, and the women would gather around the truck with their billy cans and he would ladle out the milk from the churn. The round trip took over an hour and was tremendous fun. I guess fear of common law claims, plus Workplace Health & Safety legislation, would stop the trips happening these days.
We used to spend a lot of the time on the beach just gas bagging to each other. When we got bored, we would walk around to Malua Bay to buy cigarettes. It was quite an interesting trip. Most of it could be done around the rocks, although there was
the tricky bit where you had to time your run between the waves, and also the dash across Brigadier MacKenzie's beach (he was reputedly a fierce old cove, although I do not think I ever saw him).
The spear fishing around Rosedale was a treat in those days. We would make home made spears out of curtain rods with a multi-pronged spear head jammed on one end and a hole drilled in the other ento take the cord holding the rubber. I remember we got some great fish. I always liked the small groupers - a bit oily but nice big bones. Except after storms the water was usually clear - there were plenty of rocky reefs and kelp beds. We used to tow a rubber tyre (with a net in the middle) around after us, to put the speared fish in. We used to get out of the water when too many sharks started showing an interest in the blood. I guess fortune favoured the brave (or the stupid!!).
I really enjoyed the surfing down there. Occasionally there would be a big hurricane out at sea, and we would have beautiful hot sunny days and humungous surf. I learned to stand up on my 5' foam board which was extremely unstable. I had pretty good balance in those days. We also battled around at one stage on an old solid balsa wood surfboard belonging to someone else.
When we went down the coast in winter it could be very cold. We initially had an old wood range in the house for cooking. We didn't have hot water bottles, and Mum used to put bricks in the oven until they were very hot, then wrap them in newspaper (which would sometimes scorch but never catch fire) and then wrap them in a towel.
These would go in the end of our beds as temporary hot "water" bottles and would hold some warmth until about 1.00am. I think I still have a weak ankle from when I suddenly straightened my leg without thinking and my foot ran straight into a brick.
The New Years Eve parties were something special. Even though I was under age, Mum and Dad used to turn a blind eye and allow me to take some warm beer (perhaps there was a method in their madness?) from the old brown suitcase under their bed. The highlight for me was seeing my brother Alan drink a whole bottle of vodka & orange - I did not think it was possible for someone to be so sick for so long and still live. He spent most of New Year's Eve sitting on the edge of next door’s tank
stand and throwing up into their passionfruit.
Going back to Canberra after Christmas or Easter could be a nightmare. There were punts across the Clyde at Nelligen (next to the old Steampacket Hotel), and sometimes the traffic would back up all the way to Batemans Bay. I remember Dad taking a back way through the bush once to bypass the traffic. We went past an old Chinese cemetery with big headstones etc. left over from the gold days. Dad went too fast and slid into a bank and put a dent in the bodywork under one door. We never went that way again.
Random memories:
- The big rock shelf on the way around to Guerilla Bay - the water seemed to go down forever.
- Lighting a fire over on Jimmy's Island, and having it blow up on us (I think there were air bubbles in the shale).
- Throwing glass floats off the cliffs to see them break on the rocks (believe it or not, I still have 2 of these glass floats, all
the way from Rosedale days).
- Sitting around the fire in the dunes in the evenings, smoking and staring into the fire
.
- Getting beaten up for being a bit too inquisitive with my torch in the dunes in the evening (I deserved that one!).
- Wearing a duffle coat, jeans and desert boots in the evenings (how cool!!).
- Fishing for mullet in the creek, using old oyster bottles as fish traps.
- The whale coming into the bay.
- Mending the mosquito nets over our beds, as our first job, when we arrived down the coast on a Friday night.
- Interminable games of "21" (for pennies) on rain afternoons.
- Picking blackberries.
- Fishing off the rocks (I remember Alan caught a big salmon from the small patch of rocks between the two beaches - just
near the log cabins. I caught a big one once when I was out trolling with Mr Hoad - Mum stuffed it with oysters then baked it,
and it was delicious).
- Buying hot chips cooked in peanut oil, in Bateman's Bay.
- Buying cherry pies from the Chinese baker in Braidwood, on our way down the coast.
- NOT missing TV or radio!
Happy memories.
Paul Tooker