My Dad was drawn to Australia from England by the prospect of sun, sand, sea and the opportunity to learn to sail a boat. When I was three he took this to its extreme by becoming a lighthouse keeper.
Althorpes was like Ayers Rock out in the ocean with a white lighthouse.
Supplies were bought up to the top of the island by flying fox from the jetty that reached out into the ocean.
There were two houses for the two lighthouse keepers and their families. They were over a hundred years old.
Communications were basic in the seventies. This was the flag cupboard. They could be flown from the lighthouse to signal passing ships.
There was all kinds of wildlife on the island including mutton birds. When the airplane had to land Mum & Dad would have to move the mutton bird nests and fill in the holes in the landing strip.
Dad would give me and my sister rides in the lamp like a marygoround from time to time.
I could go anywhere I wanted on the island and had names for all the features so I could tell Mum where I was going. It was decided a cliff wasn’t a safe place to bring up small children so we got moved to Troubridge; a patch of sand with a red and white lighthouse.
I did my first year of school by radio. The school got together in the Flinders Rangers for Christmas. The rest of the kids were farmers. So me and Sara were the odd ones out. I got a zap gun from Santa that made noises and set off sparks when the trigger was pulled. I wore it out.
I got an eye infection at one point. A long way from the doctor so we had to use the flying doctor service by radio. We had a very comprehensive first aid kit and I was sorted with an eye patch. Perfect excuse to put a pirate costume together.
This strange vehicle was known as the duck. An amphibious vehicle that could go on land and out at sea.
You can’t have too many boats.
There was no future in the lighthouse service as it was being mechanised. That and me and my sister really needed a regular school. So next it was to Whyalla where the Jabberwocky was acquired.
Sailing was a great education. I learned to use the rudder and compass to keep on course. How to triangulate my position on a map. How to row a dingy. I came to terms with my own mortality; we would often face mighty storms in that little boat. Mum & Dad would insist we lash our selves to the hull when this happened, much to our protests. Then I looked at the power of the waves and the relatively whimsical rails around the boat. Mum & Dad couldn’t get to me if I went overboard. I was a strong swimmer, but I couldn’t make it all the way to the coast at that distance. Would I drown first, or would the sharks get me. No good reason for not doing this, but a good reason to shackle myself to the boat.
We had great adventures, sometimes weeks at a time. We played with dolphins. We were in three shipwrecks. We engaged in yacht racing. But we were poor, we made the best of it in a spectacular fashion, but we were poor. We had to constantly scrimp and save. When we went shopping Mum had to literally count every cent on a mechanical calculator; home made bloody everything. Dad got a much better offer in California and that was the end of the ocean years. There was one other boat years later in Darwin. But it wasn’t the same.
To this day the ocean has a special place in my heart, at the foundations of who I am.
Clown Artist Philosopher 