Showing posts with label fishermen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fishermen. Show all posts

Sunday, 22 December 2019

1929 Boat Trip Through Bribie Passage

90 years ago! - An "on-the-water" tale from 1929

Two men in a boat 
by E.J.S.


Taking advantage of a holiday, a companionable friend, an outboard motor, and a serviceable boat, it was decided to achieve a long-cherished desire, and travel to Caloundra, by way of the Pumice Stone Channel, or Bribie passage as it is more generally termed.

That this waterway was mistaken for a river by its first visitors is understandable, for at the southern end it is an imposing stretch, deep, and at times turbulent. The upper reaches are more often shallow, and the course tortuous, as one portion, known as "The W's" testifies.

Though unrelieved by heights necessary to break the regularity of low islands, whose wooded shores are reflected in the quiet water, the scenery is delightful. Swamps abound where, in season, may be found wild boronia and Christmas bell - the largest and most resplendent of our wild flowers.

On the landward side distant some 12 miles are the bold outlines of Beerwah, Coonowrin, Beerburrum, Tibrogargan, and Tibberwowucum Mountains. These heights, thrown into relief by the morning sun, or silhouetted against a glorious winter sunset, are indeed beautiful.

From seaward, plainly heard across the narrow island, comes a continuous roll of muffled sounds. It is the surf breaking on the outer beach, affording a striking contrast with the placid land-locked waters which provide a home and sanctuary to all bird life.

Here, except at risk of penalty, the killer of the inoffensive may not follow his sport. Herons, curlews, snipe, cormorants, and black swans abound, the latter at times in flocks of hundreds. On the island the air vibrates with the sweet piping of terrestrial birds, whose melody is more pronounced when heard amid the harsh notes which seem to characterise our sea-birds.

One solitary brolga we saw dancing for no apparent reason other than the joy of life, for no mate to whom it might be making demonstrations of courtship was visible. With half-poised wings it pirouetted, now in a grave and stately measure, then breaking into a wild fandango till the noise of our approach warned it that not in all cases was the sanctuary respected.


Our boat, 14 feet long and five feet in beam, though well loaded with food, water, benzine, camp and fishing gear, afforded amply room and permitted us to sleep in it with comfort - that is, holiday comfort.

On the second day we made Caloundra, having navigated the Passage without touching a bank and negotiating Suez Canal with mishap. Suez is a deep gutter between two islands, not easy for a stranger to locate, and so narrow that, like its famous namesake, boats even so small as ours could not pass in it.

Caloundra is perhaps the most charming of our seaside resorts. Distant some 15 miles from the North Coast railway, lack of good roads, or, better still, railway extension, has retarded its progress. Fine beaches, rocky headland, the open seas on one side, Bribie Island and the quiet passage on the other, gave to this place a natural supremacy.

Here people were universally kind to us. Voyagers in a small boat, we probably presented an unusual spectacle, but from the fisherman who waved us from a wrong course, to the chubby angel of five years bearing a bowl of "pudden" and an invitation from Auntie to bring a billy and get some milk, we experienced welcome hospitality.

The return journey was uneventful but adventure awaited us. One very dark and hazy night we set forth on a fishing expedition and lost ourselves. Familiar objects no longer appeared so and strange features were wrongly recognised as old friends. The benzine gave out and for seven weary hours we pulled that boat.

Daybreak found us at Comboyouro Point, Moreton Island, 15 miles from home. Fortunately the sea was calm but with a heavy ground swell. How we avoided the numerous banks on which we might have been easily and quickly smashed I do not know.

Article caption: Doors of the boat shed decorated with facetious notices
[Bongaree?]
On the following day, in response to our telephonic S.O.S., a motor launch came from Bribie and towed us ingloriously home to find the boat shed will decorated with humourous notices: "Shed for Sale - Owner gone abroad!" "In moments like this you need petrol!"  "Nightly service to Comboyouro!"

The lesson has been learned. Never again will we be caught short on petrol.


SOURCE:
Two men in a boat : The beauties of Caloundra by E.J. S.
Sunday Mail (Brisbane) Sun 30 June 1929 p. 21
http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article97696700

Wednesday, 19 July 2017

Bribie by the sea

In an effort to attract fisherman to travel on the Koopa to Bribie Island, a small article in the Daily Standard (Brisbane) of 26 October 1917 shared the following piece of poetry.


--00oo00--


October 1917

Anglers are reminded that the favourite steamer Koopa is to make another trip to Bribie Island tomorrow leaving Kennedy Wharf at 2 p.m. and tickets are available for return by Sunday’s boat. Particulars are advertised in yesterday’s “Daily Standard”.

The following verses give an angler’s idea of the sport to be had there:

BRIBIE BY THE SEA (1917)

If you want a pleasant week-end, and 
you haven't too much cash.
Where you need not dress for dinner, in 
fact, where nothing's flash;
And you like a bit of angling, or a day's
sport with the gun,
Then go aboard the Koopa and to
Bribie take a run. 

The angling it is splendid, no matter
how the tide,
You need not be an expert, for the fish
they suicide.
It is there you find the whiting, that
take you all your time to land,
If asked how you enjoyed your trip,
you'd say, "Man, it was grand!"

If you want to try your tackle, and
prove it is the best,
The fish are there and ready and will
give you any test,
Such as groper, dew, or schnapper, and
flathead by the score.
While bream or whiting you reel them
in until your arms are sore.

Just read the Friday's "Standard,"
you'll find my words are true,
Next time the Koopa runs again, just
see that she takes you.
I bet you will enjoy yourself, and will
with me agree.
You cannot beat a week-end at Bribie
by the sea.
                                  "TUG TELLUM."

REFERENCES:
Bribie by the Sea (poem) Daily Standard, Friday 26 October 1917, p. 7 http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article179427805