On 20^th December, 1902, a party, consisting of Admiral N.K. Birks, Doctor Melville Birks, Lieutenant Richard W. Birks and Captain E. Bradwell, left Adelaide by the 5.25p.m. train, en route to the Coorong via Goolwa, there to meet Pilot R.S. Newell; there was a dog with the party from Adelaide, which was joined by another dog at Goolwa; both thoroughbred retrievers, guaranteed to watch a bone with any dog.  However, we arrived at Goolwa something after 9 o’clock p.m., we couldn’t see the time for baggage, and, by all accounts, the train was so much lighter after leaving Goolwa for Port Victor that she made up the time lost on the journey from Adelaide.  It was the biggest consignment of luggage ever landed at Goolwa; why there was a case that measured more than a ton, and it took five of us to get it up into the cart that Mr. Wat Newell (the Pilot’s brother) had brought to convey our goods to the Pilot’s house; besides this, of course, there were guns, rugs, bags and sundry other articles too numerous to mention, but all necessary for a trip of this description.

The house was reached in safety, and after unloading and unpacking all sat down to a real good supper provided by Mrs. Newell, after which it didn’t take us long to get into bunk in the shed recently erected by the Admiral for the storage of his goods and chattels (which are numerous).  There was a lot of talk about snakes, &c, in this shed, but none were seen or felt, and it isn’t to be supposed for a moment that it kept anyone awake thinking about such trivial matters.

Well, everyone was up in real good time in the morning (Sunday) ready to get things together for the trip, and after breakfast a start was made in the Admiral’s Good Ship “Meteor”, with a flatty in tow, fully loaded with all sorts and conditions of things, as well as the two dogs.  It is just as well that it was Sunday morning and the Harbourmaster was not about, for it is pretty certain that he would have had us detained for having our loadline submerged, but for all that we managed to sneak along quietly in the light air that was blowing off the land, but which edged around to the westward soon after starting, and it wasn’t long before we landed about half a mile on the north side of the Murray Mouth and on our way to the Ocean Beach for cockles.  After obtaining enough cockles to last us for a few days we had lunch enough to last us a few hours, and then another start was made for the Coorong.

We arrived at the tea (or ti) trees in nice time to erect the tent and make things snug for a day or two.  While at the Tea Trees another party landed, consisting of a man by the name of Mayfield, a great pigeon shot, and a boy with a hound (dog) – name and breed of hound forgotten – anyhow, the way this man talked will never be forgotten, for it was impossible to get a word in edge ways, on end or any other way, and as the saying goes he would talk the leg off a sauce pan.  When walking over to the other members of our party, who were swan shooting about a mile away, this man (Mayfield) told the boy that he had better be careful with that hound of his or he would be liable to a fine of £5 if he (the hound) killed one of the ostriches that were running along the fence as we went along.  The dog did make in the direction of the ostriches, but it is not known whether it had any intention of doing for any of them, but it is certain that if the bird had got a foot on to the dog he would have been seen no more in this World, for you couldn’t see the dog in the grass, which was only about 5 inches high.

Our party got three swan and a brace of teal, and after spending a couple of days amongst the ants, which were very thick, it was decided to pack up and shift to the favourite 10 Mile Camp, a few miles further up, and on the way several mountain duck and teal were shot from the boat, which helped considerably to fill the larder.  Having arrived at 10 Mile in good order and condition it was not many days before we bagged a couple of foxes.  The Pilot walked us to a standstill after a kangaroo that we saw, but were not successful in getting any nearer than seeing.  The Captain put up a record for the trip and himself by securing 23 toori with a both barrel shot; the toori were thankfully received by the natives from the other side of the Coorong.  We always managed to keep the larder fairly well filled, and it was never our misfortune to have to come down to toori soup or rabbit stew – the thought of rabbit stew seemed to stick in the Admiral’s pancreas – although the Lieutenant spoilt our averages by going back on the good things that we had had during the trip, and finished up by eating bread and butter with tomato sauce, for which he had his name called out.

On Xmas Day the Admiral and Pilot made an unsuccessful attempt to get to Goolwa for a fresh supply of bread and water for the convicts, our stock having been considerably reduced owing to the wonderful appetites of the crew in general.  At the time the start was made there was a good two reef breeze blowing, and when they got as far as Towaggaree Flat it was almost dry, so that there was nothing left for them to do but return to Camp and wait until the next day, when the whole crew made the trip in, and were fortunate enough to see the tail end of the Regatta; the Regatta Day being one of great gala at Goolwa.

After spending the night in the shed where the snakes were supposed to be, and getting the necessaries together, another start was made for the Camp, which was reached without anything of serious consequence happening.  The next day a start was made for Everlasting Point with a nice wind blowing.  The Admiral and Doctor landed and walked about five miles of the way to the Point, and were fortunate enough to get some wild cats – the Admiral knocking two over at one shot.  The Lieutenant made his debut at swan shooting from the boat, when he managed to bag two large ones.  While at Everlasting Point three of the party went to Black Hill which is in a southerly direction, while the other two went the opposite way.  Those who went to Black Hill got three foxes, while the others got nothing but red noses and a bundle of fish hooks.  Of course, we had mullet nets with us, and always seemed to have just enough to fill the pan every time just as breakfast was about to take place.  The Admiral, who is a great angler, was not very successful with his line this time, but as he had charge of the nets he used to bring in the fish just the same, although he would liked to have caught a few on the line just to show us how he could catch them.

As a rule something exciting takes place on a trip of this sort, and the Captain always seemed to be in it.  He woke up with a dark brown taste in his mouth one night about midnight – the Doctor couldn’t prescribe for this although we had a medicine chest about – and was perambulating about looking for the water keg, when he accidentally, of course it couldn’t be anything else, got foul of a bundle of fish hooks – the very bundle that the Lieutenant had so carefully carried for about four miles, and laid down in a conspicuous place so that they would not be over-looked, and for the moment the Captain thought that a death adder or something of the sort had got hold of him, but after some unusually high kicking and a good deal of jumping he managed to shake the nasty things off, but after all it only amused the crew when the tale was told.  Another strange thing was that all the tarantulas, tri-antelopes, tri-antebooboos and everything that crawled, such as lizards, beetles, &c, seemed to have a great liking for the Captain, and it was real good fun for the others to see the antics he cut when he found something crawling over him.  Bubbles – the dog – had a great liking for the Pilot, and after being out on one of our walking matches we found Bubbles in the tent with the Pilot’s rug around him and coiled up just where the Pilot had his bunk.  On another occasion we found that the dogs had been having a good time with the chocolate and condensed milk, which, no doubt, was taken for spite on account of not being allowed to come with the rest of us.

The Admiral had the misfortune to meet with an almost fatal accident; he got stuck in the mud. He had had a shot at some birds and was after the woundeds in the water when he nearly went out of sight, and had to lay his gun on the mud, which was about a foot under water, to enable him to get out of it, and but for the loss of a legging he landed safely on terra firma little the worse for his immersion, except that he was not quite so clean after as before he went in.

The weather throughout the trip was just the thing the Doctor ordered; we had two or three very light showers of rain, just enough to swear by, and we also had two or three warm days, but it was exceptional weather for the time of the year.  One day the Captain, while at the sucks waiting for a shot, had a piece of chocolate melted in his pocket, and had to go on short rations on that account, until the tent was reached.

Although the Coorong seemed to be free from mosquitoes, and had only a fair number of ants, there were some very well developed blowflies down there, and judging by the look of them they must have seen Sandow at the Tivoli or taken on the craze; they were real beauties, but we didn’t have anything for them to fasten onto.

After spending two or three days at Everlasting Point another start was made for 10 Mile, and the wind being light it was a case of pulling the boats for the best part of the distance.  The Admiral and Pilot got some teal from the flatty on the way, while the others rowed the big boat for about 4 miles.  We all landed at 10 Mile in nice time to get the tent up before dark, and after squaring up and getting things ready for tea all had a dip in the mud, it not being deep enough for a swim.

Besides the Coorong being a noted place for sport and a capital place for working up an appetite, its surroundings are historical, as most people have read of the murder of Captain Collet Barker on the sand hills near the Murray Mouth, and the account of his swimming the channel with a sextant on his head with which to take the observations; and while on the way from 10 Mile to Everlasting Point the Pilot pointed out the spot where the survivors from the wrecked brig “Maria” were murdered while attempting to cross the Coorong, where at the present time may be seen the Natives’ Camps, with their children running about without a stitch of clothing, and it most interesting to have these places so noted shewn you, as well as to watch the peculiar manner in which the channels twist and turn about, together with the far reaching spits and shifting sandhills.  A person unacquainted with the erratic manner of these channels and spits would soon get out of his reckoning, but it would not take long for those with the bump of locality well developed to find their way about, especially if they had been there once or twice.  Of course we had the best Pilot to be obtained in Goolwa, and our crew would have no hesitation in recommending him to the Governor General if he should take it into his head to make a trip to the Coorong or Lakes, and wanted a real good man, which, no doubt, he would.

The Admiral was very strict – as most Admirals are – and the Captain had his name called out several times.  Several reports were made to the Admiral, and they were generally referred to the Council (not the Port Adelaide Council) to consider whether it would be advisable to hold a Court Martial, but at the meetings a quorum could never be got together so that the matters, which must have been serious, had to lapse.

As we had plenty of ducks, &c, of course we had plenty to eat, and eat we did, for there was never a party on the Coorong that beat our averages. Our menu was of the first order.  Quaker oats, A la Mullet and anything that was going for breakfast;  ducks, stewed, boiled or baked, or stew with plenty of vegetables, puddings various (Montery and the usual sort for Xmas Day) with cream sauce (tinned milk) and all sorts of other things for filling up our hollow legs, and for tea we generally had something nice.  On the day of leaving 10 Mile for Goolwa our crew put up a record not previously beaten even by some of the greatest eaters on the Coorong, we ate two gallons of stew with other things for dinner.  It was thought that there would be some of this (real good) stew left for tea on the way home, when it would be very handy to fall back upon (not into it) owing to the inconvenience of making anything for tea in the boat; however such was not the case and we had to be satisfied with anything that we could get.

It is said that Doctors require plenty of patience with women patients, but there were no women on this trip, so that the men have fallen in for some of the unkind things that are sometimes said and generally apply to the gentler sex.  Our Doctor was asked some real funny questions, and he must have wonderful patience to have stood the strain that was placed upon his professional knowledge by the crew.

The Pilot also came in for a lively time so far as questions were concerned, and it was nothing for two or three to be asking a question at the same time, yet we always seemed to be satisfied with the answer, and it would take some time to find a more easy going crew.  In f act they went so easy that they forgot the days and dates, which accounts for no dates being given herein, and the Captain’s chronometer forgot to go for an hour, for on landing at Goolwa it was found that we were an hour out of our reckoning.  However, after five hours sailing from 10 Mile we arrived in Goolwa North all safe and sound, on the last day of 1902, thus ending one of the best trips ever known on the Coorong.

“OFF   THE  CHAIN”

Holiday Experiences on Lake Coorong

February, 1903

Look out for a rather short, thick set gent, with grey moustache, florid complexion, and rather pleasant smile.  These were my “final instructions” from the organisers of a party of sportsmen who were going to “Camp Out” on the Coorong one week in February 1903.

The organiser was unable to start from Adelaide and the final directions above referred to were to enable me to find the senior member of our Party who would catch the same train as myself.  I was, however, notwithstanding this faithful description, unable to pick the gentleman out, and so journeyed alone as far as Adelaide.  At this place, two other members of the party (Messrs. Jones and Underwood) joined the train, and on making enquiries of them, I was introduced to the gentleman I had been looking for in Adelaide, Mr. Edwin Ellis Snr, of Covent Gardens, also Mr G.Bayly, of Kensington (another member of the company).  Mr. Ellis and the writer, being non-smokers, decided to occupy a carriage with an unclouded atmosphere, while the others returned to their pipes and smokes.  We continued in two parties as far as Strathalbyn, but at this station joined forces.  The travelling was very slow, so we amused each other by relating experiences of slow trains.  Each one had an “experience” to relate, but the champion prize was allotted for the following fairy tale: 

  “In a thinly populated place in the far north, an engine driver of a dead slow train had been in the habit of pulling up and giving a friend a ride to the nearest station.  One day he pulled up and invited his friend to jump up for the usual drive.  “No thanks, not today, I am in a hurry”, said he.

The unique way in which the train was backed into the station at Goolwa did not escape notice, and came in for a double share of criticism from the ready wit of our gay and festive party.

On arrival at the station, our luggage was packed together and made a tidy show.  The next thing to consider was how to get it to the wharf.  We were thinking of engaging a dray when the organiser of our party, Mr. Samuel Brown, and Mr. Ted Ellis, of Meadows hove in sight with an Express buggy.  After mutual congratulations on the beautiful weather and beautiful wind our baggage was stowed in the Express and driven to the wharf.

There we were met by the Skippers of the “Naomi” and “Lady”, Messrs. Richard Newell and Chas. Weston – most of the party had been out with Dick Newell (as he was known) before, and knew how to appreciate his sterling qualities as Navigator, Sport and his general agreeableness in Camp – Chas. Weston, however, was a stranger to us all, but his quiet pleasant manner and the businesslike way in which he stowed our traps soon put us at our ease, and we very soon dropped into calling him Charlie, as if he had known him for years.

I will not give details of our dinner at the Hotel – it was too painful.  The waitress at the table had ten hungry men to serve, and to say the least they were served badly.  No doubt the double quick time in which the Edibles were demolished completely demoralised the whole Establishment – One notable feature of the table decorations were some beautifully fresh tomatoes, and those in charge of the Commissariat Department were fortunate enough to get a supply for Camp use.  After dinner conversation drifted to our Gun licences, and a prominent member of our party declared if it was the law of the Country he would certainly abide by it and obtain one, but whether he sought out the worthy guardian of the peace for that purpose or not, history does not relate.  The other members were very silent on the subject, so it is fair to assume that they had already obtained theirs.  At any rate, we were allowed to sail away without being troubled to produce our permits to carry firearms.  The elements were in our favour, and we had a clear run as far as Narlong, and here it became necessary (owing to the shallowness of the water) for the passengers to shift into the flat bottomed dinghy, which we were towing, and pull.  The “Naomi”, lightened of her living freight, again negotiated the shallows, but frequently stuck in the mud, so the Skipper and Ted Ellis divested themselves of their nether garments, got out, and pushed the business on till deeper water was reached.  Then we got into the sailing boats again, and had a clear run to what is known as the 12 Mile Point Camp.  I must not omit to mention some good shooting from the boats.  Mr. Ellis Snr. was in good form with the little bayard rifle, and many of the things within range may have good cause to congratulate themselves on the narrow shaves they had.  Mr. S. Brown with a Winchester repeating rifle made some good shots and bagged one pelican.  Mr. Underwood fired once only (a flying shot) and he was congratulated for the brilliant way in which he brought his game down.

Our trip from Goolwa occupied about 5 hours (almost a record) and was most enjoyable.  The light was just fading as we disembarked.  The tents were soon erected, and the billy boiled.  We were all hungry after our journey, and were prepared to do full justice to our first meal at the 12 Mile Camp.  It consisted of tinned mutton and, to those who liked them, raw onions.  Early to bed were the orders, and very few required rocking to sleep.  2 of the Campers brought folding camp stretchers, but the rest had to make the best of the coarse and not over-clean looking sand for a Bed.  Mr. Underwood went to each tent after we had retired to enquire if we were all well, and if there were any complaints, for which he was dubbed “The Doctor”.

Wednesday morning saw a few of the party early astir to visit the fresh water soaks, but they returned with only a few Tourai and rabbits.  The nets, which had been set the previous evening, yielded enough beautiful fresh mullet for breakfast.  Mr. Ellis was appointed as Chef, and Yours Truly as Cooks Mate and, although our stack of game was very limited, Mr. Ellis was equal to the occasion and his first Menu Card, which was printed in the Mate’s best style, read as follows:-

MENU     Salami of Tourai   Haricot of Rabbit   Stewed Snipe   Plum Pudding (a la Covent Gardens) Brandy Sauce

While the dinner was in progress, we had a Visitor in Camp in the person of the boundary rider of the Station on whose property our Camp was pitched.  We invited him to partake of our fare and he seemed well pleased he had struck our Camp at such an opportune time – after thanking us for our hospitality, he started off to hunt up the cattle.  We had seen them during the morning and were much surprised to find them in such excellent condition.  After tea, several of our enthusiasts made preparations to spend the night at the soaks;  these soaks, by the way, only occur at intervals along the Banks.  The water just trickles out and the ducks, swan and Game of all kinds suck the water before it reaches the Coorong, which of course is salt.  Our Sports in this case divided into 2 parties, Messrs. Bayly, Underwood and Ellis Jnr. going to the soaks beyond the camp and Messrs. Brown and Jones to those nearer Goolwa.  The luxurious campers invited the Chef and his mate to take possession of the stretchers but we declined with thanks as we fully expected to see most of them back in Camp long before sunrise.

Thursday morning.  On examining the nets we found a good supply of fish including a Skate, and the flaps of this were found to be equal to Flounder in taste.  The Campers in the top soaks returned in time for breakfast without bringing any game and seemed quite satisfied that they had had sufficient experience of camping at the soaks to last them for the remainder of the trip.  The 2 Sports on the Goolwa side, however, did not return for breakfast.

Dick has been busy all the morning preparing to return to Goolwa for further supply of stores, and to bring another member of our party (Mr. Bert Brown, of Meadows) back with him.  Others were busy writing letters and cards to friends at home.  Ted especially, he got into a quiet corner penning a letter, and being a single young fellow, we naturally drew our own conclusions as to who would be the recipient.

Mr. Ellis Snr. was again acting in the capacity of Cook, and received very able assistance in the matter of potato and onion peeling from his mate of the previous day.  Charlie arranged a relief Expedition and proceeded to the Soaks in the Dinghy for the purpose of bringing back the Sports – and game.  Mr. Brown had a very successful evening shooting & bagging 6 Ducks and 6 Swans; the latter in two shots.  Burli was unfortunate and did not have the satisfaction of firing once.

The weather was beginning to warm up, and cooking at the camp fire not the most pleasant job; however, the Chef provided a most acceptable dinner, the most notable items being a Soup of oysters and giblets – Stew made a la Stockpot with plum pudding to finish up.  In the afternoon a fishing excursion with hook and line was arranged, but a very small haul of one fish was the reward of our patience.  Two novices endeavoured to row the boat back, and caused much amusement by the erratic course taken.  After taking an early tea, our soak enthusiasts, reduced now to 3, set out to spend the night in the open air.  The Chef (flushed with his previous success) decided to go one better by making some pies (with the flesh from the Tomacoolas - Swan) that would be remembered when all the other dishes he had made were forgotten.  He was very busy cutting up the various ingredients, rolling the dough, etc., and it was not till a late hour that the last batch of pies were cooked.  The stretcher vacated by Mr. Jones was occupied by Mr. Bayly and he found it much more pleasant than the coarse Coorong sand.

Friday morning.  Our haul of fish today was more satisfactory; one fine mulloway of 8 pounds, a flounder and several mullet – the Doctor and Mr. Ellis dividing the flounder which was cooked and served up by

Mr. Bayly who promised to go halves with the next flounder caught, with the writer of these notes – but alas, the writer remembers regretfully there was no next.

After breakfast the whole of the party left the camp in the sailing boat “Lady” and proceeded to the soaks.  As we approached the place we noticed the decoy ducks propped up with sticks.  They looked very lifelike and natural – so natural indeed that Burli let fly at one that had got away from its moorings.  We found that Sam Brown had generously given up his lucky spot of the previous day to Burli, and that Sportsman did all the shooting, bagging a half dozen ducks.  Before leaving camp our Chef noted pasties were warmed up for our enthusiasts and were of course much appreciated.

On return to Camp, Sam was very soon busy with the camp fire and promised to give us something special for dinner – Roast Duck, to wit.  They were duly served and some very complimentary things were said about the way the cooking was done – one special feature being the patent stuffing.  Sam was very reticent about the way in which it was prepared, but most of us could make a fairly shrewd guess, that a small hole in the bag in which the game was kept the previous day would account for rice-like stuffing – fortunately, however, the meal was nearly completed before anything unusual was discovered.  After the dinner things had been cleared up, a sail up the Lake was suggested, and received unanimous support.  Charlie soon had the sails set up and we all enjoyed the cool refreshing Breeze off the water, so different to the enervating heat of the sandhills.  The different points of interest passed were pointed out by the Skipper, the most notable being Immigrants’ Point – the place where a party of shipwrecked immigrants were murdered by the Blacks (this incident is fully inscribed by Simpson Newland in his book “Paving the Way”).  We all voted that our afternoon trip was a pleasant one.  Sam had several shots with the Winchester, but as far as we could ascertain, did not meet with success.

The writer, who was feeling the effects of high living by a beautiful attack of biliousness, decided to deny himself the pleasure of the table, and take a long walk across the Sandhills and along the beach alone.  He walked on and on, along the beach until he came to 2 upright posts.  Now these posts mark the last resting place of some poor traveller, and only the week before, the wind, which blows with terrific force, exposed the coffin and it had to be reinterred by the police from Goolwa.  The place is very solitary and uncanny – night was fast approaching – and although the writer is not a believer in Spooks, he considered discretion the better part of valour, and returned with all possible haste to the Camp.  The “Naomi” had just returned from Goolwa bringing reinforcement in the person of Mr. Bert Brown, of Meadows.    The Doctor was soon on board and, after ascertaining no contagious diseases had occurred during the voyage, granted a clean Bill of Health.  The Doctor then introduced to our visitor Mr. Ellis Snr. as the Mayor of the 12 Mile Corporation, Mr. Bayly as the Collector of Customs and Mr. Jones as the Health Officer of the Corporation.  This in itself was a small thing to do, but great things evolved from it, for henceforth our Camp became known as the 12 Mile Corporation, our upturned landing boat as the “Pier” and our boats became the Coorong Fleet – with Dick as Commodore and Charlie as Captain.  Tea was prepared for Bert and Dick and quite a pleasant evening was spent.  Dick was plied with all sorts of questions as to his trip down, and back again.  Anxious enquiries were also made about the Montri Jam and pickles which were promised.  We were not long in sampling them, as Dick had not forgotten his promise, and had brought a nice size pot of Jam and a bottle of pickles.  We predicted a fortune for the Mayor who intends to introduce the fruit to the Adelaide Public next season.  There is an unlimited supply of the berries which grow wild on the Sandhills.

After the excitement of the evening, no one cared to leave camp for the soaks, so our tent accommodation was severely taxed, five occupying the largest tent.  Two or three, however, were up early and visited the soaks, our newly elected Health Officer was very successful, and bagged 22 Tourai in one shot, and not content with this record he carried the whole of the Birds to the Camp himself, a distance of about 2 miles.  After breakfast a trial was made of the “Duckey” which was brought from Goolwa the previous evening, and for the purpose of getting into shorter range of the ducks – only partial success attended the experiment, Dick bagging about a dozen Neversits, a specie of snipe.

The Doctor was very much amused with the hunting costume of our visitor, and he playfully dubbed him a “Warrigal” after one of the characters in “Robbery Under Arms”.  Bert was very popular, his reputation as an untiring Sport was well known to all.

Charlie started for Goolwa at noon, and expected to return next day.  The weather was again oppressive, so after a light dinner we all started off with the exception of Bert, who was still hunting for another sail.  The wind died away and sailing was not so pleasant as it was on the previous day.  We went further through a point known as Woodpile Point.  The Winchester again played a prominent part in the shooting, but it remained for the Mayor to finish off the first Swan, and it was earmarked for our Sunday dinner, the Mayor inviting us all to spend the day with him.  The Collector of Customs secured the second swan with a wonderfully close shot.  The genial Collector decided to preserve the Swan’s down as a trophy of his powers.

On our return to camp, we did as much work as possible, so that on the Sabbath no unnecessary work would have to be done.  The work, however, fell on two or three, the others going out in the Dinghy to shake out the nets.  On their return, the Mayor (who was doing yeoman service at the campfire) lectured the “pointers” for not remaining to help.

Of course, they were all extremely sorry, and to show how he was, the Doctor, with very great assistance from Ted Ellis, finished picking the Tomacoola.

A meeting of residents was held that evening in Polignum Avenue, the Mayor presiding.  It was suggested that a Paper should be published giving details of camp life at 12 Mile Corporation.

The writer of these notes scribbled out the first Edition of the “Coorong Times” on the only available piece of white Teapaper, and it was passed around among the various campers and seemed to be appreciated.  I must now allow The Times to be Chronicler of the Events for the rest of these reminiscences.

 

 
  

12 Mile Camp, Sunday March 1^st 1903

At a meeting of 12 Mile Corporation held on Saturday evening, Edward Ellis Esq., the Mayor, occupied the chair.  There was a crowded attendance of Ratepayers including Dr. Underwood (late of Klondyke), Mr. Bayly, the Collector of Customs and Mr. A. Burli Jones, the Health Officer.

The utmost enthusiasm was shown, all present were anxious that the 12 Mile Corporation should be brought up to date - one ratepayer allowed his enthusiasm to run away with his better judgement by suggesting the deep drainage system, the Collector of Customs complained that his boots had not been cleaned for some considerable time and suggested that the latest arrival to the Corporation should be appointed to the position of Boots.  Dr. Klondyke objected to this and suggested that as Mr. Brown was a late arrival and had missed many of the pleasures that had fallen to the lot of the Pioneers, he should be exempt from such menial duties.  This sentiment was received with cheers.  Dr. Klondyke  then moved that the Collector of Customs be appointed to the position of Boots.  That gentleman vigorously protested, but on the Mayor putting the motion to the meeting it was unanimously carried.  The Collector was not pleased with the position, but promised the residents if they left their boots outside the door he would see that they received a liberal coating of Coorong mud which was the only blacking available.

Dr. Klondyke then proposed that Mr. Bert Brown be allowed one day’s exemption from cooking duty, in order that he might have the day for fox hunting.  He would not even hint as to the disposal of the brushes, but he knew of a gent who was anxious to have a pair.  The Collector objected to anyone but himself having the brushes.  Since he had been appointed to the position of Boots, he required a pair of brushes for his office.  Unanimously decided that we first catch our foxes.

 

 

REST  AFTER  HARD TOIL

At this stage, the Mayor courteously invited all present at the meeting to breakfast, dinner and tea on the morrow.  We understand that 2 noted Chefs have been engaged by the Mayor and a sumptuous repast may be looked for.

 

Monday, March 2, 1903

The breakfast given by the Mayor was voted as A1 at Lloyd’s.  The Chefs were at their posts early, the nets were ransacked for mullet, no less than 2 for each of the guests being procured.  These were served up a-la-Newalli and were much appreciated, each guest loyally helping himself to the second fish. The coffee, a-la-Burli’s patent fire-stick method of charring the coffee, was a great success.  A photographer took a snap shot of the breakfast party, a copy of which is now available for this edition.  The Mayor’s Tomacoola is seen hanging on the outer tent.  The Collector of Customs is a prominent figure, in fact so prominent that the photographer had a job to squeeze him into the narrow focus, but eventually getting over the difficulty by getting him side on.  The Doctor was also to the fore with his medicine chest.  The Mayor in his robes of office was the central figure of the group, and looked the daddy of the lot.  The Chef was taken with a frying pan – a mild kind of fever which takes hold of men when camping out.  We all felt a little anxious about him, but the Doctor, calm and resourceful, soon had a remedy, and Burli was seen skipping about as if nothing had happened. The photographer has, however, secured to us a lasting memento of how Burli looked when in the dreaded throes of the dreaded frying pan, he has also secured a snapshot of him in the act of swallowing the Doctor’s physic.

The 3 Aldermen, Bert Brown, Ted Ellis and Dick Newell, are shown busy clearing up their plates, and the Editor occupying a position in the background.  Our little thoroughbred fox terrier however is well to the front and looks as smart as they make them.

After the ordeal of posing for our pictures, some of the party decided to have a refresher in the shape of a swim, and have arranged to pull across to the opposite side of the lake where there is not such a liberal supply of mud.

Later: 12 Noon

The calm serenity of our camp was rudely shaken by a report that the Pier was submerged; a party of residents had just left for their morning dip.  Luckily for them they had time to push off before the timber end of the Pier sank out of sight.  A party of skilled Engineers under the direction of Sambroni the Eminent Engineer and wire worked speedily and raised the Pier to its normal level.  Stone from the distant quarries was brought in by the useful little yacht “Widgenowie” owned by Richard Newell Esq., who generously lent it to the Corporation for that purpose.  Able assistance was rendered by Dr. Klondyke and the Health Officer’s advice was also tendered by the Editor of this paper, but as it was not acted upon, it was decided to retire to his office to write up this Edition.

The weather today is most oppressively close and sultry, and it is to be feared that the Mayor’s dinner party will suffer in consequence.

Later:  2 p.m.

Roast Tomacoola, the principal item on the Menu of the Mayor’s Banquet, was much appreciated.  The guests were unanimously agreed that the Chefs excelled any of their previous efforts, the stuffing being particularly good and was baked so nicely that it would have done credit to a City Café.  Messrs. Jones and Newalli, however, wish me to state they are not able to accept any permanent position as Chefs.

After the dinner most of the party strolled across the sandhills to the ocean.  Three enthusiastic naturalists walked along the Beach for about 3 miles in search of sea eggs and were successful in getting a fair collection.  The rest amused themselves by erecting finger posts directing shipwrecked mariners to the 12 Mile Corporation.

  

 

COUNTRY NEWS

Towadgeree, Feb. 26

 

Mr. R.S. Newell, who passed this port last Tuesday with a party of city folk bound for 12 Mile Point, returned today en route for Goolwa.  He left an order for a sample of montries and reported that if the sample is equal to what he has represented,

a gentleman of his p

a gentleman of his party doing a large trade in Adelaide would introduce the new fruit to the Adelaide public. Great hopes are entertained that a new industry will spring up and solve the great unemployed problem.  Holders of sandhills are now quoting them at a substantial advance.

Goolwa, Feb 27^th

Arrived “Naomi” yacht from 12 Mile Point.  Captain Newell, when interviewed by our reporter, said he had returned for stores, the appetites of the Campers having increased so abnormally, that notwith-standing the liberal provision made by the Commissariat Dept. it was necessary for him to return for more stores.  He also states that the Doctor had run out of one particular kind of medicine and another bottle was required.  Captain Newell expects to return tomorrow with Mr. Bert Brown, another member of the party who was unable to go with the main body.

A FORECAST

Our little journal is published in the interests of the Coorong as a holiday resort.  In chronicling the doings of our party, it will be advertising the appetite promoting qualities of the Coorong air and the shooting records of Burli and Sambroni will show that game is plentiful if sportsmen are satisfied to camp at the soaks and play the waiting game.  But in the near future it is probable that another paper’s sun will rise, which will be published in the interests of the thousands who flock to the great Coorong Oil Fields.  The Editor hopes the paper will be called the “Coorong Times”.

We publish today the portrait of Mr. Sam’l V Brown, organiser of our party, and to whom much of the pleasure of our excursion is due.  Up to the present he has obtained the best results in shooting.  His ability as a photographer is of no mean order, as the artistic grouping of the pictures on previous pages will show, to say nothing of the engineering feat in raising the submerged pier, and his success at the cooking range.  We are sure that our readers will treasure the portrait as a memento of the visit to the Coorong.

  
   
 

  

 

VOL.III

COORONG TIMES

Lousy Jack’s Hill

 

Tuesday March 3^rd  1903

The Mayor issued invitations for a farewell tea on Tuesday evening, and by way of extra inducement baked some scones in his most approved style.

Tea over, the guests strolled round to the Esplanade for harmony and a few farewell speeches.  The Doctor was asked to provide and first of all proposed the health of the King.  Then after the national anthem had been sung, he proposed the Toast of the Evening “The Mayor of the 12 Mile Corporation”.  He thanked the Mayor for the splendid way in which he had done his share of the cooking.  Now, said the Doctor, some would consider that the cooking of meals was a menial task, but the willing way in which the Mayor set to work, he seemed to elevate the task from the menial to the sublime (amongst the 12 Milers at any rate), and those that had had the pleasure of tasting his Tomacoola pasties

would know that they were the essence of perfection.  The Editor of the Times supported the Toast and all present burst into singing “For he’s a jolly good fellow”.

The Mayor in reply thanked the speakers for their kind remarks, and hoped that the outing could be an annual affair, or at any rate an annual reunion in Adelaide.  The Toast of The Organizing of the Party was ably proposed by the Collector of Customs, Mr. George Wasingtub Bayly, who explained that he arranged to come with the party at the last moment, and had never enjoyed camping out so much; the only thing against it was that he came to the Coorong to lose weight by taking plenty of exercise, but instead of that, owing to the excellent Commissariat arrangements made by the organizers, he had gained considerably in girth and weight.  He also mentioned that the Editor of the “Coorong Times” had been engaged at considerable expense, to write up the principal events of the trip, and that the manuscript copy would be handed to Mr. Brown as a souvenir of the splendid time spent on the Coorong.

Mr. Brown briefly and suitably replied, and assured the party that although he did not expect anything for what he had done, he would appreciate the souvenir very much.  The toast of the “Coorong Fleet” was next proposed.  The Doctor and the Collector paid very flattering testimony to the ability and general good qualities of the Commodore and the Captain of the Fleet.  Dick, in replying, said “Mr. Chairman, Mr. Mayor and Sportsmen” (this prelude to his address provoked much merriment), “it has been quite a pleasure to be the Commodore of the fleet, and I hope next time I have the honour to command in the same company that the fish and game will be a little more plentiful” – Charlie first of all commented on the liberal fare (but this is not to be wondered at as the last party he took out brought 4 loaves of bread and a tin of jam and a pound of butter to last 4 men 3 days); he also regretted the scarcity of game and hoped to have the honour of being one of the party next year.

At  the call of Mr. S Brown, three cheers were given for the chairman, all present rose to their feet and lustily cheered the good kind Doctor and the spontaneous singing of “For he’s a jolly good fellow” showed that the Doctor had quite won the hearts of the Campers.

The speeches were interspersed with songs; the gem of the evening being one by Charlie in his native tongue (Swedish) - as far as we could judge, it was a love song, and if so, no doubt Charlie’s thoughts once more wandered back to the home of his childhood, on the Baltic.

The name of the camp was the next item brought forward, and caused no little excitement; the first vote resulted in a win for the Mozambique Party, but the Doctor ruled that Charlie and Dick were not legally qualified to vote and ordered another count, and this time it was a tie, so the Doctor exercised his casting vote and decided that the camp should be known as “Lousy Jack’s”.

At the close of the meeting the Doctor said casually “Have you ever been shipwrecked, Charlie?”. To our surprise, we found that he had been twice, and we were very much interested in hearing of the experiences he had gone through – on one occasion, he was sole survivor of a ship’s crew.  The Captain was also rescued but died from the severity of the exposure, and it required a gradually heated bath to bring Charlie round.  When the water was getting fairly warm, he recovered consciousness and seeing the steam rising and the black faces of the attendants (for he had been picked up by a Portuguese boat), the first thoughts that flashed across his mind were “I’m in Hell”.  He was, however, treated well and was taken to Glasgow to give evidence before the Marine Board.

The Zulu war was his next experience and Charlie appeared to get a “good wicket” at 10/- per day, but he narrowly escaped being bowled out with an assagai.

After the war, Charlie soon became sufficiently accustomed to the language, and on one occasion bargained for a Zulu girl as a wife.  The girl (so “C” said) looked very disappointed when the  dad and he failed to come to terms about the number of cattle for the Dowry.

We were reminded by the Mayor that it would be necessary to be up at sunrise for the morrow for an early start, so we reluctantly turned in and after the Doctor had paid us his usual visit, we were soon fast asleep.  We were up in the morning early, before the sun, in fact, and after a hurried breakfast of mullet prepared by Burli, we started packing our various equipment.  The Doctor, Health Officer and Collector of Customs decided to remain at Lousy Jack’s for a few days longer, so one tent was left up for their special benefit.  Ted Ellis and Bert Brown decided to sail with Charlie, and got a good start on account of the “Lady” being hampered with a heavy dinghy.  The embarking of the remainder of the party was accomplished by Dick carrying us pick-a-back to the flat bottomed boat and then rowing us out to the “Naomi” which was anchored some distance out.  Dick was anxious that our boots should not be soiled with the Coorong Blacking.  The Collector decided to remain at the Camp and get dinner whilst Burli and the Doctor went with us to Narlong for a supply of tea and sugar.  They proposed hunting foxes across the sandhills on the way back to Camp.

The wind took us to the opposite side of the Lake and then it died away, so that we just drifted with the tide. It was a rather tedious experience for us after the smart run we had made on our way up. The Doctor enlivened proceedings by relating anecdotes of his school days and school mates.  He also gave short selections from the poems of Adam Lindsay Gordon.  After passing the shallow flats (which were negotiated without having to push behind), we landed our 2 passengers and wished them a pleasant trip back to Camp.  We were rather doubtful about the Doctor being able to do the distance, as the day was very warm and trudging across the sandhills would not be a very pleasant experience.

From Narlong to the Murray Mouth, our progress was very slow and tedious.  Several shags flew within easy distance and added to our discomfort as our shooting irons were packed up and in the other boat.  We pulled up at the Mouth to allow the photographer to get a snapshot of the romantic spot for the Coorong Times.  As we pushed off, we observed a porpoise making his way from the ocean to the Lake, in quest of mullet.  He came quite close to the boat and gave a splendid exhibition of his speed - the water was quite clear and we could watch his movements and could see him put on a spurt every now and then when a fish was sighted.  The Commodore seemed to regret the absence of a gun very much.  He would have liked Mr. Porpoise to have carried a few ounces of lead back with him instead of being allowed to poach on the fishing grounds unmolested.

At Goolwa, we made up a merry little sunburnt party at the same Hotel as previously, and were treated to a real Indian curry and Happy Charlotte pudding.

We were pleased to find that due economy had been observed by the Commissariat Department, and after settling the score with the organiser, the Mayor and the Editor caught the afternoon train well satisfied with the pleasant time and inexpensive holiday.  The Meadows contingent with the Commodore and Captain waited to see the train off.  At Strathalbyn we were able to make a closer inspection of some mountain duck and pelicans. They were in cages and had been trapped at Point Sturt and were en route to the Melbourne market.

Quite a sensation was caused at the Mount Barker station by which the Editor made a name for himself.  The event is best told in a supposed clipping from the “Mount Barker Courier”

Mount Barker, March 4^th

At the Police Court this morning, one defendant was called on, and the case caused great amusement.  He described himself as the Editor of the “Coorong Times”, and was charged with breaking 4 cups and 4 saucers, and the same number of plates; the property of the Railway Commissioner.  Defendant conducted his own defence, and called Edwin Ellis (who, it is alleged, occupied the position of Lord Mayor of an important Corporation).  He deposed that he and defendant were travelling together from Goolwa.  At Strathalbyn, he asked the guard if he might break the journey at Balhannah, and the guard replied “Yes, break anything you like”.  At Mount Barker, he and the Editor went to the Refreshment Room for a cup of coffee, but had to wait on account of an extra rush of passengers who were on the way to the Adelaide Show.  We had not finished drinking our coffee when the porter called out sharply “Seats, please!”.  We rushed to our seats and the Editor, who was in the rear, kicked the crockery (which had been left lying on the platform) over, with the result stated.

Defendant pleaded that the remarks of the Plaintiff’s servant at Strathalbyn gave him the privilege to do as he had done, and that the platform was not the place to keep crockery.  Case dismissed.

Defendant allowed to go without a stain on his character.

The Editor left the train at Balhannah with the purpose of putting in the rest of his holiday at Nairne.  The Mayor proceeded to Adelaide, and expressed a hope that our trip would not soon be forgotten.  We can imagine the Mayor gathering his family around him and telling them his thrilling adventures with the Tomacoolas and foxes, and we can almost see his proud smile when he tells them of the honour conferred upon him by the grateful 12 Milers.

The Editor regrets he is unable to accede to the numerous requests for political utterances of his own.  He thinks, however, in closing the “Times” office that he cannot do better than to quote a few lines of Tom Hood:

“Let fate do her worst

There are moments of joy

Sweet dreams of the past

She cannot destroy

  

 

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