Made – At Home On The Sea

Made at work on Ocean Spirit Cruises vessel Spirit I in Cairns Australia

Made [pronounced: 'Mah-Day'] spent thousands of hours on boats in Bali before falling in love with an Aussie girl and following her home to Australia.

Sadly, all that time on the water in Indonesia turned out to mean little to Australian authorities. Disappointed, but taking this news in his characteristically wonderful relaxed stride, Made started studying for his ‘tickets’ and logging his sea time on tourist boats in Cairns all over again from scratch.

I first met Made in the mid 1990s. We met at about the same time Made was aiming to take to the water again in Cairns. By one of those crazy coincidences, when we first met, I realised that I happened to know his then girlfriend’s family back in South Australia.

Often together with another Australian-Indonesian couple, Jacqui and Kardek, we all used to catch up at each other’s houses for mouthwatering, mostly Indonesian, home cooked dinners. The fragrances and flavours of these meals still leave me in awe to this day. Being a lazy culinary batchelor at the time might have had much to do with it as well.

Then this month, after perhaps more than 5 years since we last met during a previous Cairns visit, I was surprised to be reunited with Made again.

Another old Cairns friend Bret Chadwick and I decided to relive our past and take a trip out to the Great Barrier Reef, and so on the day before we were set to go out, we took a walk down to the wharf to watch the “our old boat” return to its berth. 

Standing high on the wharf, we were keen to see if we could recognise any familiar faces on board. Leaning over the railing I felt the whole moment tinged with nostalgia as a stream of idealised memories of sailing, bikinis, champagne, unashamed flirtation, tanned bodies, and tranquil dives returned to me.  Then came memories of the long nights of drinking and dancing, many with more than a few of us still in our distinctive blue and white striped uniforms having come directly from the boat.

Bret Chadwick in front of Ocean Spirit I in Cairns Australia.

As the mooring lines were being thrown from the bow faces came into view. My gaze followed the crew as they went about their orderly tasks in preparation for coming alongside. Looking down from the rails, I fell into reverie again, this time recalling the weariness of this hour of the day and fragments the crew’s usual banter about plans for the coming night.

Who would be going to the pub? Who would be taking her? What where so and so’s chances?

It was carefree living I wanted to tell myself, knowing full well that there was also days of rough wet weather, passenger sea sickness, diving difficulties, jellyfish stings, sunburn, plenty of deck polishing and endless plates to clear after our guest had emptied the onboard buffets.

Most of the crew though rarely worked on board these day cruise boats for more than two years. Many drifted off overseas to bigger boats, bigger money and more advanced sailing. As a young cruise liaison officer I think I lasted 18 months. And on my final day I will never forget the ritual I was put through by the rest of the crew to mark my departure.

Doused in slops from the galley and smeared with vegemite, fat and who knows what else, I left the boat for the last time knowing I would be missed. It was the kind of fun loving send off I too had participated in for others numerous times, but had strangely never prepared to have happen to me.

Craig Hodges & Bret Chadwick on Ocean Spirit Cruises vessel Spirit I

Now over some 15 years later, standing alongside Bret, a former Dive Instructor and Japanese speaker, I caught a glimpse of myself peering into the working lives of crew standing where we once stood. And with this I was gripped by the fleeting sense of time folding full circle.

And then there on the deck a familiar smile caught my eye. It was Made. 

After more than ten years service he, the one who I had vividedly recalled starting his seatime right from the beginning again, stood on deck as one of the most loyal and knowledgeable crew.

He had proved what he wanted to have acknowledged years ago, that he was at home on the sea.

[Made works aboard Ocean Spirit Cruises]

Patrick Davies

Patrick Davies performing in Broome in March 2009

The night air was still and the semi-rural setting on the Fitzroy river was peaceful. For a few hours I settled into the rhythm of what was a fortunate candid discussion with someone who had quickly won my respect; a man who was a loving father and husband, tireless spiritual health worker and accomplished singer-muscian.

Sitting with Patrick Davies outside the front of his home not far from the Fitzroy River late one night in May 2009 I discovered I was listening to a rare thing; a man with passion in his words and a significant achievement in his past.

Here was a man summarizing his activism; controversial work that sought to stem the flood of alcohol that had been coming into his community for decades. Here was a man revealing the local opposition and ostracism he and his family were now experiencing because he cared to stand up to the status quo that stood to benefit from the continuation of a flood of grog money.

“These kids,” he said in a quieter slower voice, one befitting the gravity of what he was about to say, “the ones with FAS, some are barely moving their arms around in school. It’s tragic, it’s the grog – it’s killing us.”

On hearing this simple tragic detail I fell silent.

Here was a man who was living, breathing and acting on policy he had help shape, fight for, implement and continue to defend each day in his community. Here was a man who had moved beyond the tangle of ABS figures, crisis meeting agendas and consultations to, with his wife and a group of fiercely strong women, put a stop to one of the most damaging forces in the lives of the people in his community – alcohol.

Background: For about 10 days in May 2009 I camped on the sandy banks of the Fitzroy River near the “old crossing” a couple of kilometres out of town. During the day I would head in and take the time to talk to all sorts of people who were open for a chat as they went about their daily lives. From time to time, usually on dusk, I caught up with Patrick and his son fishing down on the old crossing.

Location: Fitzroy Crossing in the region of Australia in Western Australia known as the Kimberley.

New Light on Cairns

 

 

Cracking Open The Long Silence…

Nine months soon.

No child born. Little money made. Anguish carried, fears faced and loneliness visited. Travel – why is it good? Do I still remember? What can be said?

Little really. I’ve enjoyed outback silences. I’ve soaked myself in silent pools, climbed windy desert peaks, camped on the fringes and ridden along empty roads.

Now words.

Now I am left to play with words, simple words. Left to play with the puzzle of those days gone by. It won’t do, I know that, but that is what I promised myself – and promised you. Of course, failure looms. Confusion gathers. Expectations hover. They always do.

So what has happened? What do you want to hear from one man after slicing open Northern Australia, dissecting this vast land and entering that space that hangs between country and city, that mythical land that separates bush from metropolitan bustle?

Dark wrestless nights in a flyless tent have hinted at freedom, connectedness with stars, fleeting feelings of elevated being, just as they have reminded me of imploding smallness, the realities of life’s eternal drift and the absurdity of our recurring dreams.

Know this. When you were smiling, working and worrying, so was I. When you were tired of routine, so was I. When you sought certainty, so did I – only I was “out there somewhere” doing much the same. Homeless, on the move, facing strangers – I talked like you of a tomorrow – not knowing, and equally hoping that my own words and beliefs would somehow straighten the many roads ahead.

Away from you, my conversations turned. I found time to listen to my own voice. Nature’s sound punctuated my thoughts. Unfamiliar horizons watched my moves, my confidences and concerns, much as you did my friends, much as you did.

In small towns I entered I brought little – only eyes and ears. They knew I would pass. They knew I wouldn’t be around for long. “Go”, “Pass”, “Leave” echoed through main street highways. “Forgotten”, “Gone”, “Never” were my expected states of being.

Travel, I have learnt is a form of naked movement. You are not meant to be impressionably visible. There are unspoken roles for you to play with locals, those grounded people, those who are more vested in place and time than you. They are clothed, visible, prominent.

You are not expected to understand in those fleeting moments their worries, their dreams, the dark and light of their lives. That cannot be. Move on. They wait for gravity to pull you away.

What can I say? What issues hang over me now? What new pains, hopes and loves?

Few I can express now. In time.

Cracking this long silence will be difficult, for me as much for you.

I fear there is perhaps too much for you to hear in the rudeness and the suddenness of “now”. Aren’t your own lives already ringing too loud in your ears? Saying too much and pressing you too firmly against a narrowing range of life’s limited possibilities?

If so, I can only be left to wonder, how can I be expected to add more – now – here – and with anything that promises more lasting meaning?

People on my travels

Patrick Davies performing in Broome in March 2009

Roebuck Bay – Broome

After less than a week inland from Broome, my motorbike broke down forcing me to return to Broome.

So I suffered this setback by staying at the Roebuck Caravan Park overlooking Roebuck Bay (pictured above).

My digital camera also died out near Fitzroy Crossing, so I have been without photos too.

2 set backs… but they are only temporary. My traveling, dreaming and searching goes on.

Broome Concert – Friday 27th March 2009

WALMADANY CONCERT FOR HERITAGE
FRIDAY MARCH 27th 2009
MALE OVAL, CHINATOWN, BROOME, WESTERN AUSTRALIA
NO ALCOHOL

Featuring: PIGRAM BROTHERS, JOHN BUTLER, SCRAP METAL, KUCKLES, SHANE HOWARD, ERNIE DINGO, ROB HIRST (Midnight Oil), PATRICK DAVIES, WIL THOMAS & THE HOPEFUL 3, NAOMI PIGRAM, ANGUS GRANT (Scotland), TONCHI MCINTOSH, KIMBERLEY RIDERS

FREE ENTRY from 4pm
Donations gratefully accepted at entrance/exit gate to help cover costs of concert

Law Keeper and Custodian for the Goolarabooloo heritage, Joseph Roe, has asked the Pigram Brothers and friends to create this cultural celebration – “Walmadany Concert for Heritage”

The WA State Government have said they will build a gas processing precinct at Walmadany (James Price Point), 60 km north of Broome on the Kimberley coast, and are even prepared to compulsorily acquire this land.

Apart from the obvious environmental and social impact of such proposed industrialization, this event hopes to draw attention to the significant social and cultural values at stake in Broome should this development proceed.

Excerpt from the invitation to artists :

“The law and song cycles of Walmadany (James Price Point) are not ancient dreamtime history. This law has been kept alive through my grandfather Paddy Roe and now through me. If the threatened development goes ahead our Country is gone for good. Our Country holds our heritage including burial sites, and most importantly the Song Cycle that runs through this country from the north of the Dampier Peninsula from Burringbarr (Swan Point) to Wabbina (Bidyadanga) Your voice can help draw attention to this great plight and help protect our ancient and sacred song cycles – Bugarigaara (Dreamtime)”……..JOSEPH ROE, LAW KEEPER & CUSTODIAN – GOOLARABOOLOO

For further information:

helene jedwab
0413461088
email: silkmusic@westnet.com.au

Performers

The Pigram Brothers are a seven-piece country folk/rock band from the pearling town of Broome, Western Australia. Their original music captures Broome’s and the Kimberley’s Saltwater Spirit and Country. Songs from the albums Saltwater Country and Jiir have become hometown anthems and have also attracted critical acclaim. After many years of playing in a variety of bands and differing musical projects the brothers pooled together their skills and talent and officially formed The Pigram Brothers in 1996.

The Brothers opened the Deadly Awards at the Sydney Opera House in September 2006 and brought home the Deadly Award for 2006 Album Release of the Year. Stephen (lead singer, guitarist and songwriter) and Alan Pigram (producer and lead guitarist) were the first indigenous artists to be inducted into the West Australian Music Industry’s Hall of Fame in February 2006.

Nominated for Best World Music Album 2006 at the Australian Music Industry’s ARIA Awards, Under the Mango Tree is the Pigram Brothers latest CD release, produced and recorded at Pearlshell Studios in Broome by Alan Pigram. There is also a live DVD filmed at the Pearl Luggers in Broome, released in 2007.

The seven members of the Pigram Brothers are:

Alan Pigram – Lead guitar, mandolin, ukulele, tiple.
Stephen Pigram – Singer, acoustic guitar, harmonica, requinto, vahlia, ukulele, dulcimer.
David Pigram – Singer, acoustic guitar.
Colin Pigram – Singer, acoustic guitar.
Philip Pigram – Singer, drums.
Peter Pigram – Bass guitar.
Gavin Pigram – Percussion.

John Butler is an American-Australian artist and frontman for the John Butler Trio.

“In 1998, the first incarnation of the John Butler Trio launched ‘John Butler/ Self Titled’ followed in 2000/1 by the EP ‘Pickapart’, both were well received and the track ‘Pickapart’ was added to high rotation on national youth broadcaster, radio Triple J. This saw the band tour long and hard nationally in support of the release. In April 2001, the breakthrough album ‘Three’ was released through independent distributors MGM Distribution and remained in the national alternative charts for nine months rising to the number one position a record breaking three times.”

source: http://www.johnbutlertrio.com/bio.php

Scrap Metal are a band from Broome, Western Australia who played rock music with elements of country and reggae. The members had Aboriginal, Irish, Filipino, French, Chinese, Scottish, Indonesian and Japanese heritage. The band toured nationally as part of the Bran Nue Dae musical and with Midnight Oil, and were the first Aboriginal band to sign an international publishing deal. An ABC tv documentary From Broome to the Big Smoke was made about them. They were given the Best indigenous Act award by the West Australian Music Association in 1992.

Scrap Metal Albums

• Just Looking
• Broken Down Man (1988) – Jigil Records
• Scrap Metal (1990) – ABC Records
• Pub Sweat ‘n’ Tears (1992) – Jigil Records

Source: wikipedia

One Arm Point 7th to 11th March 09

Walking around Broome in March is entirely different from doing the same in October. Up here March is still the wet season and that means few tourists are seen in and around town. October on the other hand is the high tide for tourist activity. It’s the end of the dry season and people flock to enjoy the dry warm sunny weather.

Having visited Broome back in October last year, this time round I was keen to get out of town and ‘go bush’. I wanted to explore the Dampier Peninsular and see what life was like up on the coast. My Google Earth research in January got me interested in the string of islands running across the King Sound.

Strolling around Broome I stopped and spoke with Paul Boon an art dealer from the Old Broome Lockup gallery. Paul told me about one of his artists, Bruce Wiggan, a charismatic artist living in One Arm Point. He recommended that I should spend some time with him if I was planning a visit to that part of the world.

Two days later and two hundered kilometres north of Broome I found myself sitting in the cool shade of a tree in Bruce’s front garden. He was wearing his hand painted ’star hat’ over a bright yellow bandana and a wispy white shoulder length hair.

We talked for a solid couple of hours straight. By the end of that conversation it was obvious to me that Bruce was much, much more than an artist. He wore many hats including healer, playboy, respected elder, guide, model, hippy, dreamer, weatherman, turtle hunter, romantic, prankster and aging bachelor.

That day he invited me to stay at his house and proceeded to show me around his lounge/museum. The walls were all plastered with photos of people who had come into Bruce’s life. “They all come to me”, he said repeatedly. Many of them I couldn’t help notice were women. He was proud of his international network of friends and gave me a name and the story of each person frozen in time. They were all still very much alive in Bruce’s memory. He chuckled over his own stories and accounts of how and when he met many of them. I couldn’t help smile the entire time. He was clearly a magnet for interesting people.

Later that night after assisting at the scene of fatal accident, I wanted to escape the horror of the scene and agreed to  go boating with Bruce’s nephew David. Four of us went turtle hunting under moonlight for 3 hours. It was enlivening. The moon turned the water silver. The air was still and cool and the ocean calm.

There’s no doubt that the young guys saw me as balast, but sitting in the back of the boat near the furious outboard I had the best vantage point to see their hunting technique.

Just like the name of their town, the hunter standing up on the bow of the boat would point with one arm to give the driver in the back directions and speed signals. When coming on a turtle in the waters below the hunter would control a high speed chase whilst hanging onto a spear with one hand and giving instructions to the driver with the other. This required excellent balance and coordination between both the hunter and the driver.

We chased at least 12 turtles that night, but all were too fast or dove too deep to spear. It was their lucky escape, as David was keen to fill his fridge with turtle for his family that night and at the same time show me how turtle hunting was done under moonlight. Even though he didn’t let me down, I am sure he was disappointed that he came home without a catch that night. Whilst I was totally enthralled and on high from the turtle chases, he returned to our beach launch between the crocodile infested mangroves somewhat glum.

The next day we went out again, this time only with Bruce and Kayster. This time round David hit the very first turtle right in the centre of its shell with a powerful blow that made for the perfect catch. Kayster and older friend of Bruce and David wasted no time and dived into the water and hauled the heavy turtle into the small boat. I was filled with a powerful mix of excitement and controlled concern for this magnificent animal. In a few hours we would all be eating various parts of the creature and doing so with relish.

…more to come…

Turtle Hunting @ One Arm Point

Victoria to South Australia (Feb09) – Updated 5th March

Leaving Melbourne

On Saturday 21st February 2009 I left Melbourne in Victoria as bushfires continued to roar across the state. The sky was filled with smoke haze as the Overland train pulled out of Southern Cross station. And I did think of Rome.

Instead of flying out of the state I decided to book a train ticket for Murray Bridge in South Australia. This first leg was a visit to my family before the start of my outback walkabout.

To leave Melbourne I wanted to use the generous transit time that train travel affords to reflect and relax. In the previous week I had been frantic with activity, taking possessions out of storage, loading them onto a ute, driving, unpacking, holding a massive garage sale and then repacking and loading the remaining items into a hire truck. I then drove from Melbourne to South Australia and back in 48 hours covering some 1600 kilometers. This mad dash was to off load my last worldly possessions (some 15 cubic meters of stuff) into the cavenous storage space in Goolwa that my family kindly offered.

Offline in South Australia

For the last 10 days I have been offline. The time has been spent with family unpacking and sorting through books, papers, receipts, maps, photos, memories and petty conflicts. Like many of the items I have handled, the time itself has been intensely personal. Being around the family has been somewhat foreign to me, as I have not been very close to them for the last 5 years or so. Melbourne has afforded an indulgent isolation.

My brother however was kind enough to distract me from the huge task I set myself of sorting and storing with a drive to the Bluff at Victor Harbor for a dive (see photo above). In previous months I had sent my dive gear across to South Australia in preparation for an earlier holiday.

The beach dive with him was about 40 minutes and I was surprised to find the waters were warm and clear. Visibility was around 10 meters. What stood out was the dive location he recommended. As a young boy I had often swam and fished in the area and the waters beyond the shore were always dark and mysterious. The stretch of water between the island and shore was known to locals as ’shark alley’, so it was for me a dive into past memories, as much as the actual waters themselves.

Snorkelling, my brother spotted me from the surface. He bobbed up and down in the gentle roll of the ocean and visibly began to shiver after 30 minutes. He watched me like a hawk though. I supposed at the time he was not fully trusting of the safety of the waters and my diving experience. Only a week or so before at the very same location a young man had died in a lone diving accident. This too must have been foremost in his mind.

There is much more to tell about South Australia, particularly concerning Goolwa and the Murray River (creek), and I hope to share more with you all once I have finished my packing and said goodbye to my family. The train once again will open time for me to write.

Next leg of the trip: Ghan Train – Adelaide to Alice Springs (this plan fell over)

Next leg of the trip: Sterile Qantas flight to Broome via Perth Thursday 5th March (missed this flight by 1min 13 sec)

Next-next longer (laughable) leg of the escape plan: $66 extra to QANTAS for pleasure of taking the next connecting flight to Broome late on the morning of Thursday 5th March (Fingers crossed I can get from gate 21 to gate 24 in the Adelaide airport in 4.2 hours. What are my chances?)