further relections and recollections€¦ · the langham hotel melbourne on saturday 31st may....

Further Reflections and Recollections

60th Anniversary

1954–2014

TABLE OF CONTENTS 60th Anniversary ........................................................................................................................ 1 FOREWORD .............................................................................................................................. 1 PREFACE .................................................................................................................................. 1 EDITORIAL ................................................................................................................................ 2 Past Presidents .......................................................................................................................... 3 AusIMM Awards Dinner 2014 .................................................................................................... 4 Victorian Women’s Auxiliary Award – Federation University Australia (Formerly University of

Ballarat) ...................................................................................................................................... 4 AusIMM VWA Awards List ......................................................................................................... 4 Christenings, crowning, corpses and closures .......................................................................... 5 An amazing journey ................................................................................................................... 6 Gulf country - Groote Eylandt .................................................................................................... 7 A meeting at the Royal School of Mines .................................................................................... 8 Memories of the West Coast ...................................................................................................... 9 Never say never ....................................................................................................................... 11 Don’t ask! ................................................................................................................................. 12 Renison and the wild West Coast of Tasmania - a single woman’s perspective!! .................. 14 Australia to America and back ................................................................................................. 17 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 2014 ............................................................................................... 18 Reflections and Recollections .................................................................................................. 19 50th Anniversary ...................................................................................................................... 19 1954–2004 ............................................................................................................................... 19 50th Anniversary ...................................................................................................................... 20 FOREWORD ............................................................................................................................ 20 PREFACE ................................................................................................................................ 20 Beryl Jacka and the VWA ........................................................................................................ 21 First home in Broken Hill .......................................................................................................... 22 More than just mining ............................................................................................................... 23 Pioneering in the West ............................................................................................................. 25 Mining wives ............................................................................................................................. 26 1950 - Hardly the back blocks .................................................................................................. 27 Journey to the other side ......................................................................................................... 29 A lesson in strine ...................................................................................................................... 29 Snakes alive! ............................................................................................................................ 30 On to the snakes ...................................................................................................................... 30 On to Kalimantan (Indonesia) .................................................................................................. 30 A caring mining community ...................................................................................................... 32 Aeroplane travel ....................................................................................................................... 33 First impressions ...................................................................................................................... 34 In Tasmania ............................................................................................................................. 35 Widgiemooltha 1972 - 1975 ..................................................................................................... 36 Sundays at Redross Camp ...................................................................................................... 36 Dinner in Kalgoorlie - 1973 ...................................................................................................... 36

On Bougainville ........................................................................................................................ 37 My First Day ............................................................................................................................. 37 Other Bougainville Stories ....................................................................................................... 37 Billiton Island ............................................................................................................................ 38 'Whither Thou Goest I Will Go' - but does it have to be the desert? ........................................ 39 Differences, differences ........................................................................................................... 41 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 2004 ............................................................................................... 43

Further Reflections and Recollections 2014 1

60th Anniversary

FOREWORD It is a pleasure to write a foreword for this “Further Reflections and Recollections” celebrating the 60th anniversary of the Victorian Women’s Auxiliary of the AusIMM. It forms a valuable addition to the earlier volume published at the time of their 50th anniversary. Formed in 1954, the Victorian Women’s Auxiliary has a long and proud history. It is the longest standing Women’s Auxiliary in the Institute and currently consists of 37 members.

The whole notion of a Women’s Auxiliary to welcome and assist partners of mining professionals transferred to a new region is a very worthwhile one. As one who has been transferred overseas and interstate in a minerals industry career, both my wife and I really appreciated support groups to welcome, help and provide friendship to someone in a new environment. In many ways the men are busy with their work and work colleagues, and life can be much more difficult for their partners.

The Victorian Women’s Auxiliary operates in the traditions of the AusIMM by providing this support and engendering what can, and have become lifelong friendships.

I congratulate the Victorian Women’s Auxiliary in reaching this significant anniversary. The VWA is an important part of the AusIMM’s history, and of its future.

My congratulations, my thanks for 60 years of support and my best wishes to you for the future.

Geoff Sharrock FAusIMM(CP)

PRESIDENT AusIMM 2014

PREFACE Since ‘Reflections and Recollections’ was published ten years ago there have been many changes in the mining industry in Australia. There are new exploration and mining centres, others have declined and a few ceased to exist. In some cases the emergence of fly-in fly-out has changed the nature and extent of mining towns with many wives choosing to live in larger towns and cities where living conditions are more agreeable and family facilities are more abundant.

Also during this period there has been a change in the composition of the workforce. There are now more young women graduating from universities as geologists, mining engineers, metallurgists and related technologists. There are also many more women involved in what were once considered a man’s domain, such as plant operators, heavy haulage truck drivers, machine operators and other skilled activities.

There are no doubt many new stories that can be told about the changes that have taken place over recent years and a few of our members have been kind enough to add their experiences and thoughts to this revised edition of Reflections and Recollections. I thank them for their contributions.

The Committee trusts you will enjoy reading the additional articles which have been written by members of the Victorian Women’s Auxiliary of the Australasian Institute of Mining and Metallurgy.

Nanette Ralph

PRESIDENT, VWA AusIMM Melbourne, July 2014


EDITORIAL When Noelle Garner, on behalf of the VWA committee first asked me to take on the coordination and production of this booklet, my immediate reaction was ‘Should I head for the hills now Noelle?’ Since then I have had the pleasure of speaking to all of the ladies who have submitted their stories for this updated version of ‘Reflections and Recollections’ and in the process, have spoken with many old friends and learned so much about people I thought I already knew.

These stories and anecdotes show a fascinating period of Australia’s social (and sometimes political) history, from the point of view of the women who lived far and wide, within Australia and overseas, who gave their support to husbands and made homes in some very unlikely places.

At the core of these stories is the friendship and camaraderie honed from experiences gained with involvement in the minerals industry throughout the last 60 years. It makes an interesting read and I hope everybody will enjoy it as much as I have.

My thanks to each and every one of the ladies who have participated (and to many of their husbands who helped in the coordination) for the wonderful stories and photographs, and to all the staff of the AusIMM who have helped me in the process.

Congratulations and Happy 60th Anniversary to the VWA!

Jane Morland

VWA AusIMM 2014

50th Anniversary VWA – Cutting the celebratory cake.

Front row: Lesley Harden, Grace Cuming. Back row: Marj Eshuys, Eleanor Lean, Nanette Ralph, Shirley Horseman, Natalie Stroud,

Barbara Nixon


PAST PRESIDENTS

Year President Membership numbers

From To

1954 1956 Mrs Joyce Garrety 80

1956 1958 Mrs Irene Wallace 94

1958 1960 Mrs Dora McLennan 101

1960 1961 Mrs Aileen Dunbar 116

1961 1962 " 125

1962 1963 Mrs Verna Bertram 121

1963 1964 " 119

1964 1966 Mrs Isobelle Shepley

1966 1968 Mrs Ronnie Willis 135

1968 1970 Mrs F Espie

1970 1971 Mrs Shirley Horseman 161

1971 1972 " 160

1972 1973 Mrs Pam Woodhouse 150

1973 1976 Mrs Cecily Anderton 144

1976 1978 Mrs Natalie Stroud 141

1978 1980 Mrs Barbara Nixon

1980 1981 Mrs Eleanor Lean 148

1981 1983 " 150

1983 1984 Mrs Lesley Harden 143

1984 1985 " 135

1985 1986 Mrs Nanette Ralph 121

1986 1987 Mrs Judith Davis 110

1987 1990 Mrs Ronella Stuart

1990 1993 Mrs Marj Eshuys

1993 1995 Mrs Annie Elliott 81

1995 1996 Mrs Eleanor Lean

1996 2004 " 58

2004 2008 " 42

2008 2009 Mrs Nanette Ralph

2009 2014 " 37


AUSIMM AWARDS DINNER 2014 The 2014 AusIMM Awards Dinner was held at the Langham Hotel Melbourne on Saturday 31st May.

Representing the Victorian Women's Auxiliary were Noelle Garner and Nanette Ralph with some other members also present.

It was a glittering event to honour people who have been recognised for their achievements in the industry including student awards, Honorary Fellowships (awarded to Professor Eric Grimsey and the Hon. Ian Macfarlane MP) and the Institute Medal (awarded to Andrew Forrest).

There was special mention of the Women's Auxiliary 60th anniversary and on behalf of the members Noelle Garner and I were each presented with magnificent bouquet of flowers by AusIMM President Geoff Sharrock.

The Auxiliary holds meetings to raise funds to make an annual award to a student engaged in minerals industry related subjects attending the Federation University (Ballarat).

Nanette Ralph

Nanette Ralph, President VWA; Noelle Garner, Secretary VWA; Geoff Sharrock, President

AusIMM – Awards Dinner May 2014

VICTORIAN WOMEN’S AUXILIARY AWARD – FEDERATION UNIVERSITY AUSTRALIA (FORMERLY UNIVERSITY OF BALLARAT) After many years of donating money to the Melbourne Branch of the AusIMM for books etc for the University Libraries, it was decided to add to these funds and make an award directly to a student in the School of Science and Engineering Faculty at Ballarat, now Federation University.

This award is made on the recommendation of the senior members of the Faculty to a student worthy of help but in financial difficulties due to family problems, lack of vacation work or need of extra tutoring in a particular area. The Vice-Chancellor made a very strong point to the President Mrs Nanette Ralph at the Awards Presentation that it is a most valuable addition to the usual recognition of top students only.

If the student is not already a Student Member of the AusIMM we make the subscription for the first year so that there is a connection to the Institute immediately.

2013 was the tenth year of the Award and so far $15,600 has been allocated for this. As a non-fund-raising organisation we are proud of our efforts and the Victorian Women’s Auxiliary is grateful to the AusIMM Melbourne Branch and the AusIMM Melbourne Student Chapter for their interest in the Award and their offer of additional funding to maintain it for as long as we are able.

To this end it has been decided that from 2014, the Award will be set at $1500, with $750 coming from the Auxiliary funds and $750 from the Melbourne Branch and Melbourne Student Chapter, and cheques for these amounts were presented at Ballarat on May 28 2014 to the nominated student.

We hope to keep the Award going as it is obviously of great help and is also a tribute to the interest of the staff in their students.

AUSIMM VWA AWARDS LIST 2004 Matthew Everitt

2005 Bul Bulkoch

2006 Danny Grellet

2007 Minh Phan

2008 Kim Adams

2009 Nirav Joshi

2010 Jarrad Sheils

2011 April Holmes

2012 Nikonora Ayuen

2013 Zhu Shenkin

2014 Rahel Abebe


CHRISTENINGS, CROWNING, CORPSES AND CLOSURES It all began in 1964 when I said “I do” and I certainly have done!

Off we sailed as newly-weds to South Africa, during the apartheid years, for five years and returned to the UK with 2 daughters for 1 year of study for Terry at his alma mater, Birmingham.

Late 1970 we made the long journey to Australia to Tasmania, where the locals considered themselves different from the ‘mainlanders’. Tasmania was our home for 6 months, before we were on the road/sea again to Sydney. How fast living was there after Tassie. We had just settled in to the life-style there when we packed our bags yet again and headed for the real mining world of the Pilbara, where we lived in Tom Price, (and another daughter) Dampier, Paraburdoo and back to Tom Price. White clothes turned pink and we learned to eat dust and perform the royal Aussie wave of swotting flies.

After 8 years there the company sent us to Queensland and we spent 4 very interesting years at Mary Kathleen. Uranium was such a political issue what with strikes, greenies and pollies all vying for front page news.

One difficult operation took place to ship out a huge consignment of uranium by road to Karumba in the Gulf and from there by barge to Singapore. We were all sworn to secrecy till ‘mission impossible’ was accomplished.

In 1983 Mary Kathleen was to close due to completion of sales contracts and the depletion of the ore, so the town, all mining equipment and buildings had to be removed for the whole area to undergo a rehabilitation programme.

An auction was arranged, which would take place over 6 days from morning till night. The town and mine were inundated with onlookers and keen buyers and many auctioneers. The small airstrip was full of parked small aircraft, about 20. One even went over the end of the runway. The local charities were there too with their food stalls. Why not? People were even bidding for their boss’s waste paper bins; perhaps hoping to find some incriminating evidence of their misdemeanours!

All was sold and all but 2 houses were removed and carted off to many parts of Australia. Ours went to the Alice!

Next came Melbourne and our very own home. After company houses for so long it was nice

to feel we were finally putting down roots. Ha! Ha!

My first meeting of the AusIMM in Melbourne (I had been a member before that in Queensland) was a tour of the new Concert Hall and Lesley Harden was the President.

During this time Melbourne has remained our home base while time has been spent in Botswana, Zimbabwe, Mauritania (where camels are given more priority over women) and Ghana....

In Ghana we attended ‘naming’ ceremonies where nearly all the babies were named after Terry and me; so there are quite a few Terrys, Thereas, Christines and Christians and whatever other combination you can think of! Of course there were always money donations involved; never thought I would have to pay for our names to be used!

Then there were the ‘crownings’ of chiefs and the whole of the township would be making merry and celebrating, wearing beautiful robes and their best jewellery. The drums were banging and music played till the next dawn.

I had the ‘pleasure’ to attend, with Terry, the funeral of a mine-worker. He had died about 6 months before and his body kept in the fridge (local speak), until the ceremony and festivity could be afforded and arranged.

Fridays are the commencement of the funeral wake when the body is removed from the fridge and Sundays are the burial day.

Sunday was a very hot and humid day and we were asked to pay our respects by parading around the coffin and donating money of course (wonder who removed it?) to the deceased. A citron essence was sprinkled everywhere to suppress the odour, which was not much relief in the enclosed crowded courtyard. Crowded I suspect to look at Terry and me and not the body! I was thankful when the coffin lid was finally closed; we had front row seats next to the coffin. More singing and dancing followed and the regulatory money giving.

After a few healthy snacks and refreshment it was off to the cemetery at full speed, as first there, first served (i.e. buried). The coffin was taken on the back of a ute and surprisingly it didn’t end up through our windscreen. The boys on the back holding on to the coffin as they went over bumps and potholes at lightning speed. What a rush to get in the


queue for the burial. No slow pace at funerals in Ghana.

It is customary in Ghana to make the coffins resemble something associated with the deceased’s life. This one was an elaborate but standard design; perhaps too difficult to make one like an open-pit mine!

At times I have felt like a piece of a jig-saw puzzle being moved around so often, but this is all part of the wonderful experience in the mining world. The Women’s Auxiliary has been invaluable in being that comfort area with like-minded people.

And no, I do not have packing down to a fine art...I just take everything.

Chris Ward

The crowning in Ghana

AN AMAZING JOURNEY In 1971 I joined the Adelaide branch of the Women's Aux of the AusIMM and was fascinated by the rich fabric of members lives as they talked about places in Australia and abroad that they had lived.

It wasn't until 1981, whilst a member of the Sydney Auxiliary that finally, I had a chance to live overseas. Wau in PNG was not necessarily on the list of places I had intended to visit but it was overseas and sounded rather exotic. Nancy Ewins and Eileen Marshall, both members of the Sydney Auxiliary, had lived in Wau and Edie Creek during the 1930s. If Wau was remote in 1981, I could only imagine what it would have been like in the 30s! They told me amazing stories of their times as young wives in a truly remote mining community.

So with our three children in tow, off we set on an amazing journey.

Wau and Edie Creek had been part of the rich Morobe Goldfields, discovered in the early 1920s. Bulolo further down the valley had been the site of one of the biggest airlifts in recent times, when in the mid-1920s the massive Placer dredges were flown over the mountains and the river flats in the vicinity were mined.

The existing gold treatment plant in Wau was something out of a text book. Amalgam plates and corduroy strakes were integral parts of the process. John's task was to commission a new, modern plant.

The children, aged 7, 8 and 9 attended the Katherine Lehman School in Wau. A boarding school catering largely for the children of Lutheran Missionaries from throughout PNG, which used a German curriculum, taught in German....quite an experience for Aussie kids!

PNG is a remote beautiful place, full of old traditions and hidden valleys. Aseki, where we visited the rock overhangs of the smoked dead, the silent moss forests of Mt Misim, Rabaul by coastal trading vessel, Madang and its aquatic paradise with walls of tropical fish. Finschafen and the wonderful house where we had to shower under a local waterfall and the Mumang valley with long forgotten ledges of bones of the Buyang people and labyrinth of spectacular caves.

So friendly, so kind with their beautiful string 'bilums' and songs, the local people were very much part of the fabric of our lives.

PNG was a wonderful experience that enriched our lives with lasting friendships and rich experiences.

Jenny Eltham


GULF COUNTRY - GROOTE EYLANDT The first Europeans to record visits to Groote Eylandt were the Dutch explorers in the 17th Century. In 1623 two ships, the Pera and the Arnhem, under the command of Jan Carstenz and Willem van Colsi respectively, were on expedition to explore New Guinea. They sailed into the Gulf (of Carpentaria) - van Colsi naming the north-west side of the Gulf, Arnhem Land. It was in 1644 on his second journey that Groote Eylandt (Old Dutch for Big Island) was named by Abel Tasman.

The earliest signs of human occupation are the fantastic aboriginal cave paintings of people, animals and Indonesian prau (fishing boats). Maccassan trepang fisherman visited over hundreds of years. Camp sites can be identified by tamarind trees and evidence of curing ovens.

In 1966 I first visited my then fiance, then in 1967 arrived to live with my now husband, and I was appointed as School Principal Alyangula by the South Australian education department. As I was the first applicant, they were very surprised to find they had a school in the area. (The Northern Territory since Federation, and still in my era, remained under the auspices of SA).

Life was incredible - no telephone, no doctor, no police and me, the one teacher. Communication was pedal radio - hours approximately from 8am to 4pm as thermal currents prevented outside these times. This also applied for the mine’s communications. We certainly were isolated and often forgotten!

School challenges were fun, stimulating and complex. Social challenges were likewise, and often my great ideas were not so great! One of these was to go crocodile shooting (still permissible then). Under the guidance of our aboriginal guide and good friend Gerry Blitner,

Ian (husband), friend Paul Jeans and I jumped at the chance.

It needed to be a moonless night and after midnight for complete darkness. We had to drive to the mouth of the Anurugu River, leave the comfort of the dirty four wheel drive and proceed up the shark infested estuary in a small wooden row boat. Any engines would warn the crocodiles we were on route.

Half a mile up the river with both sides deep with shadowy creaking mangroves many meters deep I realised the only way out would be back down the river! The two engineers on board proceeded to rock the boat literally and dangerously as they tried to calculate the angle of refraction. They lunged, attempting to spear the large leaping barramundi, which would tauntingly resurface unscathed and sneering.

The time had now come not to whisper, or move, just to glide into the darkness which was terrifying - we did this for ages. Now it was time to flash the torch around quietly, quickly and in theory whoever was holding the rifle (it certainly wasn’t me!) was to aim dead centre between the eyes of the beast which would be glowing red from the sudden torch light. We all let out an audible gasp - the enormous red eyes glowed red, red, red! They were at least a metre apart - how big was this crocodile?!!

We were all frightened till Gerry starting laughing hysterically as the crocodile kept blinking (not supposed to happen!).

Our young driver back at the estuary in the dirty four wheel drive was bored, and was obviously pumping the brake lights!

No crocs caught that night!

Joan Gunn

PS To be noted: my apparel for the evening, as it followed a party, was pale blue embroiderie anglaise, with a matching shoe string top - shoes also strappy with little gold heels.

Alyangula school children, ages 5 - 17


A MEETING AT THE ROYAL SCHOOL OF MINES I was born and raised in London. The prospect of mining and life overseas was far from my mind when I became the librarian at the Royal School of Mines. I did go underground at the Snibston coal mine in Leicestershire and probably thought that was a highlight. But life was to get far more interesting in 1977 as I met Peter at RSM and eventually followed him to Bougainville in PNG (where he had previously been). Peter had returned to Bougainville a few months earlier; when I left London in the middle of a very cold and snowy January day I started a Cooks tour. The plane was late leaving so it missed a connecting flight in Hong Kong - a few days there and we were sent on to Sydney staying at the Wentworth, care of Qantas, for a week! All very exciting and very hot - I had never experienced any temperature above 80 degrees F and certainly didn’t have the clothes to match! Neither did I have much money; my suitcase was filled with two large sheets which I been instructed to buy.

Finally I caught a plane to Port Moresby and on to Bougainville. Arriving on a cloudy day, the plane came in low, almost touching the waves - what a thrill for me but not for the long-time resident beside me who was quite white!

The next eight years were idyllic - once I became used to the differences in basics. Bananas that weren’t (i.e. some were for cooking) and eggs bought at the local market that were already hardboiled! (I had bought a dozen!), sweet corn that was tough no matter how long it was boiled (still remember that dinner party) and corned beef that didn’t come in a tin and certainly didn’t taste better as a roast (another memorable dinner party!). Plus jelly that never set so that it spread out over the plate. And what was (to this English greenhorn) pumpkin and vegemite!! But eventually, like all the other wives, I was using the local greens - aibika, chokos (including the vines) and snake beans - and coming to terms with finding what we needed at roadside stalls. Or getting up (very) early for market - better to go with someone who knew the local foods and spoke better Pidgin English. Making our own Baileys and ginger beer and also yoghurt (by the hot water tank) and Friendship Cake!

Meeting so many interesting people and doing things I had never dreamed of – running, but not for a bus! Trying water skiing, golf and squash, basketball and snorkelling - it was all there waiting for me. Why not help the RSPCA with a dog dip in our garden (using an

enormous ex-soup terrine donated by the camp caterers) - no problem and open every Saturday from 8am with dogs (and cats!). A roster of helpers dispensed advice whilst we dipped animals. Finally a proper dog pound and lots of fundraising - the renowned annual Valentine’s Day dance, the equally renowned car rally and art shows just for good measure! AusIMM Presidents turned up from time to time - a good excuse for a function at the golf club.

Finally in 1987 we had to say goodbye to the sun kissed beaches, palm trees, going out in our boat on weekends, the warm weather everyday (unless you went “up the mountain” to Panguna in the evening) and of course the fantastic work environment for Peter. We were moving to Australia!

Now with two small children (Ruth five and James three) we went to Broken Hill - how different the landscape was, from lush green forests and mountains to the arid outback. I was in shock and as it was getting on to autumn the weather was getting colder at night. Thank goodness for those lovely bright sunny days and the friendly locals! We were fortunate to live in Rainbow Avenue (on the mine lease) so we soon made great friends with other parents, the families of Peter’s work colleagues and some who had also been to Bougainville!! The mining web was weaving its magic around us! We became part owners of a trotter and had many enjoyable family Saturday evenings at the local trotting track. I can still hear the still night sound of the Zinc Corporation crusher.

We had a great five years in Broken Hill and have made many trips back since - it is such a wonderful and interesting place and definitely the Accessible Outback! All our overseas visitors are taken there and love it, for its history and art in the desert. There is always something different to discover for us and the world comes to Broken Hill with the visit of Fergie, the Flying Scotsman, a large piece of moon debris which flashed green on an early morning walk and endless film crews. I only wish I had seen it in the 1950s - what an eye opener that would have been. We have our passport back as Vivienne was born there and is our “A Grouper”!!


The dog dip in Arawa, Bougainville with Leonie

Peckham, RSPCA

But all good things come to a close so on to Goulburn in 1991 and Woodlawn Mines - getting colder! Watching James play soccer on those cold windswept fields, getting involved even more with schools and canteens and the Life Education van! Walking down Main Street dressed as a bird and making friends with a lovely Japanese couple. The trips over to the coast to see grandparents – now only a car ride away and what a novelty for children - the sea and relatives.

Our final move was to Melbourne in 1994 which came just at the right time for children to settle down for school and further education. It was just a bit different to be so far from the mine sites and all the friends we had made there. Catching up now is so much more difficult but it does happen and the old magic is still there with friends who have now been part of our lives for 30 years. I have now spent more time overseas than my life in UK, which is something I never thought would happen - thanks to Mining!

Christine Tilyard

MEMORIES OF THE WEST COAST My first encounter with mining was 1979 when I visited my fiancé in Queenstown and then again when he moved to Zeehan. Both holidays were fun, cold and a little daunting. Being a Brisbane girl the rugged scenery of Tassie’s west coast was certainly beautiful and the people were friendly, however the climate and isolation were certainly potential hiccups. City life was more appealing - after all I was marrying a mechanical engineer not a mining engineer or a geologist! C’est la vie. Andrew had a passion for mining so Zeehan is where we started our married life.

We spent the first 5 weeks sharing a single bed in the Single Staff quarters whilst waiting for a flat to be available. Sharing the quarters with 4 other males and cooking for them was not my ideal entry to the joys of marriage but we did have some crazy times. Within 2 weeks I gained a teaching position at the community college in Queenstown and did that daily drive from Zeehan to Queenstown for just over 5 years.

Our time in Zeehan was quite remarkable for many reasons – we made great lasting friendships with many people who now live far and wide but the closeness is always there; we survived what seemed like almost constant rain or drizzle with the occasional searing heatwave with its associated bushfire danger; I acquired a love of cooking and enjoyed

entertaining for the 4 course dinner parties and 100+ people parties – all the ladies (and some of the men) became Masterchefs because there was the Heemskirk Hotel or us!. Lastly I discovered I really liked living in small communities.

My favourite weird memories of West Coast living include the Zeehan Postmaster who would stay open late on Fridays and sometimes open on Saturdays (just for me) so I could post my external studies assignments or receive my huge packages of library books from Queensland Uni; sitting on deck chairs in the shallow waters of the Ring River and sipping wine from pewter cups that were chilled by the river: singing in the wee hours “101 ways to eat Coon Cheese” with a crazy Welsh entomologist aka leatherworker aka homebrewer extraordinaire in a small and very cold Queenstown house; watching my husband and the West Coast rugby team play at Williamsford, high on the mountain in the snow; traipsing the college film projector back to Zeehan once a month so that we could watch films at the Gaiety Theatre for our Zeehan Film Society and finally the weekly meeting of all like-minded souls, at Timmy’s Store midday Saturday waiting for the arrival of The Weekend Australian and other “mainland” papers.


Having spent 5 years in Zeehan I yearned to move and after a party at the Morland’s house Andrew was given a list of suggestions: mainland, warmer and bigger! I of course was thinking of Brisbane. The outcome – Kalgoorlie!

Another journey, another story, loads of fun adventures, more close friendships and Jessica the first of two additions (Rebecca is a Burnie girl) to the Ransley family. Our mining related journey continues for the foreseeable future. Even now small communities still hold greater appeal.

Donna Ransley

Main Street, Zeehan showing Gaiety Theatre and Post Office


NEVER SAY NEVER Who would have known that when a work colleague asked me to house sit whilst she took a family holiday to Romania that my life in the UK would change in a way I hadn’t imagined!

So it was that in July 1981, during the house-sitting period, a friend and I set off to the local village (which had already been swallowed up in the midst of a large city) for a night out after working in the local paediatric hospital. That was the evening I met my future husband, Ron. The next day, on our first date, I was picked up in his red MG sports car and so the fun began…

Our first trip meeting people from the minerals industry involved driving with Ron from Lancashire to Yorkshire where a group of his ex Riofinex Saudi friends met for the weekend which just happened to be the same weekend as the ill-fated marriage of Charles to Diana. A good weekend for a celebration! How exciting it all was, meeting people who had worked all over the world in what seemed dramatic and unusual circumstances whilst I had so far worked in the National Health System!

Four weeks after meeting, Ron left the UK for Australia and four months after that, I left for my first trip to Australia. What a trip that was (or almost wasn’t!) and the first time I had flown (all previous travel to Europe by coach/hovercraft and train and none of the exhausting security checks that are the bane of air travel today)!). Not known for doing things by halves, I decided, in my infinite wisdom, that I would fly from my local city airport to Heathrow and then connect with the main flight to Melbourne. Mistake number one according to Ron! The local airport was fog-bound and as the plane’s altimeter (what does that do?!) was not up to the task, the flight was cancelled and I was scheduled on a later flight. In the meantime, down at Heathrow, the plane I had been booked on flew off into the distance, leaving me stranded in the world’s biggest (at the time I believe) airport and just before Christmas to boot, the busiest time of year to catch a plane! A frantic telephone call to my parents ensued explaining what had happened.

Not to worry, I wasn’t alone. All the other unfortunate passengers who had missed their connections to various places were herded onto a bus and taken to a nearby airport hotel for the night. The unfortunates gathered for dinner to swap tales of woe.

I was taken back to Heathrow the next day to await a stand-by flight, but without luck. Then back again to the airport hotel (not paid for that night by the local airline, bother). Back to Heathrow again the next day, except this time, day three, success, I managed to get a stand-by flight!

Over to southern NSW, where Ron drove 5 hours from Holbrook to Melbourne to meet me from my original flight (these were the days before mobile phones and he had no landline at the time, living in a temporary exploration house). Needless to say, I wasn’t on the flight and no, the flight manifest was not for the public to see! Oops, poor Ron. Eventually through a series of telephone calls between UK and Australia and the fact that I hadn’t called home to say I was still waiting it was agreed I must have boarded a plane (no time for a phone call then) and would therefore be due to arrive in Melbourne 3 days late, which is in fact what happened! Lucky for me I was met at the airport as I had little idea how to get from Melbourne to Holbrook at the time!

A city girl travelling from a northern hemisphere winter to Holbrook, NSW in the middle of summer, what can I say? Nothing had prepared me for the heat and dust and I had never seen an outback town before. What does an exploration geologist do all day? Well I soon found out as I accompanied Ron on his many and varied trips and I got to see so much of the area, sometimes driving for hours and yes, there were kangaroos hopping along the roads! Very early on I found I couldn’t walk around, even with sunscreen, as I burnt almost to a crisp and blistered abominably. Once when we stopped in Mount Hope I was even told that as a female I wasn’t allowed into the pub to drink my glass of coke (What’s this? I’d never heard anything like it in my life and it was the only shady spot for miles around!). Needless to say, I decided I had to walk in so that I didn’t expire on the spot. Oh, and the flies – everywhere…

After a few weeks, Ron was moved to Tasmania and as it was in the middle of my holiday, I got to see Rosebery for the first time. What a relief, it was cool! The bliss was not to last long however as we were told after one night we weren’t allowed to stay in the exploration house unless I cleaned for all the other occupants there! Apparently those were the company rules if a woman was in the house…. Hmm, that wasn’t on my list of things to do! And so, we were sent off to the Plandome Hotel where we were fed and


somebody else cleaned up. I think that could be chalked up to an ‘upgrade’, although the whole situation seemed a little odd to me.

At the time, the lack of city facilities and the isolation were what affected me most and, although in my brief holiday I loved seeing parts of Australia some never get to see, I left the west coast of Tasmania saying ‘Never again’. A year later, Ron and I were married in UK and after a few weeks in Brisbane, where did we end up? Zeehan, west coast of Tasmania! My delighted ‘Oh look, all the houses have clothes driers’ not realising it

rained for 2/3 of the year did not get a response from Ron as he knew only too well how long it took to get clothes to dry. BBQ’s were held at a moment’s (sunny) notice or in Japara’s when the sun disappeared. We spent 5 wonderful years in Zeehan. Our eldest daughter was born in Burnie and later our second daughter was born in Adelaide – but that’s another story. We met friends who have remained to this day, some of whom are now in Melbourne and when we all catch up, it feels as though we are all in our 20’s again! Never say never is the lesson I learned.

Jane Morland

Exploration Office, Rosebery, Tasmania 1981

DON’T ASK! My life in mining did not involve living in isolated, out-of-the-way mining towns. I went as a new bride to Broken Hill but was there less than a year.

For some years I stayed home raising a family while John travelled. Thank God, during that period for the VWA. What a wonderful group of intelligent, adaptable, interesting ladies they were, who offered so much support and encouragement because we were all in the same situation with husbands being absent. I also remember the delicious selection of slices that they made for our lunches.

In that vein and because I didn’t evaluate prospects and talk of “rocks” on trips with John, I revelled in the various culinary

“delights” we were offered in different countries.

An early meal was in a village in Fiji, which had only just been opened up to missionaries. After the obligatory kava ceremony, sitting in a circle in a hut and waiting for my turn to clap hands and sip the horrible, dirty water taste of the kava, we sat outside with the villagers and missionaries for lunch. It was a tasty meaty stew. I had not noticed any animals nearby and asked the missionary sitting beside me what sort of meat it was. She rolled her eyes at the numerous odd dogs running around and said “Don’t ask”.

Another memorable occasion was at a conference in Taiwan. A banker asked a small


group to dinner at his house and I happened to be sitting next to him. He went into great explanations about the intricacies of birds’ nest soup and the next soup was even more interesting. He proudly explained that it was bulls’ penis soup. At that moment I could almost see it, floating round in a gelatinous, tasteless mess!

Sparrow, in Japan, was certainly not memorable, certainly unusual, but so bony and so little meat that it was hardly worth the trouble. On another occasion in America, we left Reno in a helicopter and landed on a rock in the middle of the Nevada Desert where we had a very simple lunch. The young geologist produced 2 packets of chips, bananas, apples and coke. What was memorable was sitting there watching American fighter planes training across the vast, empty desert.

One time in Australia, we called in on two geologists in two tents in what was subsequently to become the Argyle Diamond mine. All I can remember about that lunch was my adult executive companions pouncing with great delight on jugs of bright green and bright pink milk. We also spent a night in the Great Sandy Desert in a camp where we enjoyed a fabulous, sophisticated seafood meal. At a camp far north of Yellowknife in Canada, which became another diamond mine, I sampled the best sticky buns I have ever had.

I count myself so very lucky to have had a life where I have been able to explore the world from a mining point of view and have been able to visit so many interesting, unique and unusual places.

Deidre Collier

Loading fuel for diamond prospectors camp

Yellowknife, Canada 1980s


RENISON AND THE WILD WEST COAST OF TASMANIA – A SINGLE WOMAN’S PERSPECTIVE!! I had been travelling for 3 years overseas. In the classic way of the young Aussie traveller, I was ‘single and broke’ with a personal mission to study art at Hobart University.

However, first I needed some cash and savings to fund my plans and whilst still in London, I made a decision to look for work in the Tasmanian Mining Industry in the Wilds of the West Coast of Tasmania, renowned as being the place to earn ‘big dollars’.

Lo and behold, a position of Payroll Clerk was advertised at the Renison Tin Mine, based in Zeehan. After the standard process of collating resume, applying for job, interviews, etc I was offered the position! Within a few short weeks, I was sitting in my staff single quarters room on main street Zeehan, shaking my head at the speed of the whole process and wondering what on earth I was getting myself into!

During my first week at Rension, I was critiqued and admonished by the females in the administration staff. “You must be from the city, we can tell by your hair cut!” “You definitely dress like a city person!” “You can’t sit in that seat, Nancy sits there!” “Who on earth would do a crossword puzzle in their lunch break!?” “You do eat some strange food! Who eats red cabbage and lentil burgers?” “You have some weird interests!”

One day I walked into the lunch room and there was a seat for me. The crossword was photocopied for everyone and it became a race to finish first! People were interested in trying my weird food. There was banter and laughter. Acceptance!

I was also introduced to the peculiarly unique ways a mining community views the world. Included in a wide range of ephemeral criteria, acceptance also depended on job title, job description and the building in which one worked, the street in which one lived and the people with whom one associated!

“You must be a staffie? We don’t talk to staffies” “We can talk at work but can’t mix on the weekends.” “It’s suspicious that you have come down here on your own to the West Coast” “Who were those weird people you were hanging out with on the weekend?” (Satyananda Monks and Nuns in their full regalia whom I had organised to come to the west coast for a yoga and meditation weekend).

If there was a strike, there was an unwritten law of not seeing my ‘award’ friends during that time, as arguments and heated debates would ensue with no possibility of a positive outcome at times of such highly emotional turmoil.

Generally speaking, the rugby union club was, in the main, a ‘staff’ institute; conversely, the Aussie Rules club, that of ‘award’ workers and tradies. The local Golf Club was a melting pot for everyone.

I joined the local bush walking group, and we did many great walks throughout the west coast and discovered many abandoned small mining leases. Most members were young engineers from Pasminco Mine at Rosebery. I organised for the Launceston Walking Club to spend a weekend walking on the West Coast. I was informed later that week the Mine Town Officer was on a mission to find out who had given permission for a dozen smelly bushwalkers to camp out in the staff quarters communal room. Oops!

I tried my hand at sail-boarding and sailing. This was great fun, though my competency definitely remained in the ‘fun’ category. Swimming in Macquarie Harbour and navigating the Henty Sand Dunes were definitive West Coast rites of passage. I accompanied friends on weekend trips diving for crayfish and abalone at Granville Harbour. I chose to stay as an onshore spectator as I never overcame my fear of the six plus metre high forests of bull kelp.

In the early 1990s I was part of a group of men and women, urged by the Renison Mine General Manager to support our rugby club by getting out, in all weather, with pick and shovel, to build the new ground. I am not exaggerating. Build it we did!

On a trip to Zeehan in February this year, we visited that same rugby ground and it still stands as the best drained flat playing area on the West Coast, though sadly, no longer utilised.

I worked at Renison from early 1985 until mid- 1991. This was during a time where no women were represented in mid and upper management, GM Secretary aside, until I was appointed the Personnel Officer in late 1987.

During Management meetings, I grew used to being the only female in amongst the cigarette smoking males and inappropriately placed


sexist slides flashed up during presentations. Interestingly, there was very little swearing in my presence during those meetings.

The Government campaign to increase women’s representation in the work force was occurring at this time, so I was part of the team given the task to bring women into the metallurgical, mechanical and mining areas of the company. This was no easy undertaking in areas of employment, fiercely protected by and traditionally allocated to men.

We initially placed two women into the work crews, which consisted of some of the more moderate, co-operative and open-minded males. I felt very nervous for these women as they were also required to work night shifts in the dark, noisy processing plant – a fertile area for some men to behave inappropriately. Female apprentices were also recruited as Diesel Fitters, Instrument Technicians, and Electricians and Painters. We did this by initiating a Youth Employment Scheme, with the emphasis on employing local youth. One of the more militant mining unionists was a staunch supporter of this scheme; particularly when one of his daughters was offered a diesel fitting apprenticeship.

During this time, there were more young professional women graduating from Universities. These were employed as graduate underground geologists, mining engineers and metallurgists.

For myself, work hours took on a whole new meaning, as even to go to the supermarket meant ‘running the gauntlet’ between local job applicants wanting to know if they could get a job and employees wishing to discuss their various situations in the middle of the fruit and veg aisle!

On reflection, whilst I experienced the privilege of being the first female Personnel Officer, I was also tested to learn and implement personal boundaries around myself, my working hours, private time and supporting others to self-empower and resolve work challenges.

My steepest learning curve occurred when, for a period of time, I was appointed as one of the two Human Resources Officers, which was a euphemism for Industrial Relations Officer.

This is when I became aware of the extent to which people will go to have their personal needs met. From my perspective, Industrial Relations is a world of game playing and one has to possess the ability to understand the nuances of the game, in order to stand any

chance of keeping ones head above water on that playing field!

It gave me a new appreciation for the qualities that make a Company a great place to work. It takes a strong, empathetic management team, with an equally strong, ethical and visionary leader at the top. I had the privilege of working and associating with a handful of amazing Managers whom I believe set a yardstick for leadership rarely seen even today.

The low tin price and falling sales during these years, led to retrenchments, restructurings and a short-term company closure, all occurred in a timeframe of less than 24 months.

I began to feel my focus shifting, as the tick of the biological clock grew louder and my taste for conflict resolution diminished. It was time for me to turn my attention to creating my own team at home.

My initial planned two years on the West Coast blew out to a 10-year stay, as I met my mining engineer husband, Paul, and birthed our daughter, Caroline, in Tasmania. A 12-month move to Queenstown when my husband did a secondment to Mt Lyell Copper Mine also occurred during this time. I was pregnant with our son, Oliver, when we eventually departed from Zeehan for Parkes NSW, where Paul was offered a role with North Parkes Mine in the mid-1990s.

On our recent February 2014 trip to the West Coast, I felt that familiar heart expansion at the crest of the road on Tunnel Hill, before it descends down to the river flats. That view to me has always been like a scene out of ‘Lord of the Rings’. Amazing light, mountain, fern, tree and sky. The heavily scented leatherwood blossom. The mineralised earth underfoot. The sound of rushing water. Unique. The township of Zeehan is a shadow of its former self. Neglect, relocated houses and shift rosters conducive to living further away, have taken much of the heart and vibrancy out of the West Coast communities.

I unexpectedly met my future husband. My direction and focus shifted. University ideas faded into the distance and I never returned to the ‘paid’ work force, though I did remain in the mining industry through my husband’s career. The art impulse though did not die, it just did a time-delayed shape shift; into Intuitive Painting and Spiritual Philosophy.

I joined the mining industry on the West Coast of Tasmania as a single 27 year old woman. My leanings were pro-green/sustainable industry. I was full of energy, awe, openness and a sense of adventure. I was not prepared


for the closeted views of life in which I was immersed on the West Coast. Yet, paradoxically, the mining industry taught me to really investigate my beliefs. It taught me that everything we touch and utilise as humans is either mined, farmed or harvested.

This new understanding has supported me to share a broader viewpoint with some of my

‘eco/green friends’. Now embedded in my heart, is a greater understanding and appreciation of our amazing mining industry, which supports everything we choose to do in this wonderful country we choose to call ‘home’.

Lois Harper

Mount Zeehan with the township on the top right


AUSTRALIA TO AMERICA AND BACK My first field season as a geologist’s wife was at Blencoe Falls inland from Ingham in North Queensland in 1963. There were two men and me while the geologists were out. The camp manager Happy Edwards and I chased a 6m amethyst python out of camp. His wife was not in camp because she caught scrub typhus and was just saved, by a Cairns doctor who knew typhus from the War.

One day a Bush Brother walked into camp asking for about ten men to help him right his Land Rover that he had turned over in a ditch by the track. He had to drive to Synod at Townsville Cathedral. Happy and I were the ten men. Happy, with a bit of shovelling and chopping away a log, and a rope over the vehicle, hauled it back onto the road OK.

Then we went to Harvard for Ross to do a PhD. The wives of students could get jobs if you had the right visa. I had a maths/physics degree and found a unique job at Smithsonian Astrophysical Observatory. They had a contract from NASA to track non-military satellites. SAO had 15 cameras around the world (one in Australia) to photograph satellites accurately against a background of stars. They had to send out a weekly program

telling the cameras where to point, and which direction to scan with the satellite orbit. My job was to write and then upgrade the tracking programs, as we learnt more, and as the orbits decayed. Gradually the satellites back-located the cameras, and we shifted Brazil over one metre, which horrified their secrecy.

Australia had only one computer then, and it was such a privilege for me to learn programming in Fortran. After three years we upgraded to a new CDC computer and a team of us went to Minneapolis in winter to try it out. We tended the computer in fur boots, overcoats with liners, caps and scarves, days and nights for three weeks. It may have helped that I am named Barbara Mary Napier after the ancestor Napier who invented logarithms in 1614.

Kalgoorlie after Boston was a comedown but I met such wonderful friends. I also met the Argus family when they found 3000 ounces of nugget gold in the red dirt. The largest nugget was as big as my outstretched hand, and the women had to dig the dirt out of the ragged nuggets with big safety pins, and store them all in Sunshine Milk tins on the mantel piece, except for the biggest that would not fit in!

Barbara Fardon

Facilities in Kalgoorlie


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 2014 President Mrs Nanette Ralph

Secretary Mrs Noelle Garner

Treasurer Mrs Helen Gregson

Vice President Mrs Marj Eshuys

Committee Mrs Pat Johnson

Mrs Katie Phillips

Mrs Jo Ransom

Booklet and liaison Mrs Jane Morland

Artwork Mrs Alwynne Fairweather

Proof reading Mr Ron Morland

Mrs Noelle Garner

Mr Eric Garner

AusIMM assistance Mr Michael Catchpole, Ms Miriam Way, Ms Mahala Summers,

Ms Donna Edwards and Mr Richard Startari

Reflections and Recollections

50th Anniversary

1954–2004


50th Anniversary

FOREWORD Congratulations to the Victorian Women's Auxiliary of The AusIMM for achieving their 50th Anniversary in 2004, also for preparing this short book of anecdotes which record recollections of the Auxiliary's and individual's contribution to the mining industry over the years. The memorable incidents as recalled by stalwarts of the industry are a delight to read.

The VWA is the oldest of the remaining seven Women's Auxiliaries of The AusIMM. Unfortunately with the changes in regional mining locations, the Auxiliaries at Broken Hill, Newcastle and West Coast Tasmania no longer exist. The VWA includes a number of members who have lived in those areas.

The VWA was set up following a decision of Council in 1954. This formal approval by Council recognised the Ladies Sub-Committee which had been set up by the Melbourne Branch to assist at the Fifth Empire Congress held in Melbourne early in 1952.

The Women's Auxiliaries have greatly assisted in maintaining friendships forged in remote communities and in the provision of support for partners and families following interstate and overseas transfers or into retirement.

Membership numbers have ranged from 150 to the current level of around 60 and at the 40th Birthday Celebration held at the Melbourne Town Hall in 1994 there were nine foundation members present who jointly cut the cake. It is these lighter and memorable moments that support this great industry which sustains the high standard of living of all Australians.

I wish you all the best for your celebrations and success of your book. Well done.

Ian Gould FAusIMM

PRESIDENT AusIMM 2004

PREFACE This publication is dedicated to all women who, with their families, became pioneers when they went to live in mining camps and centres. Not everyone knows or realises that, even as late as the period after the Second World War, living conditions could be so challenging. Their grit and humour is to be admired.

The articles are written by members of our Victorian Women's Auxiliary of the Australasian Institute of Mining and Metallurgy. They provide an insight into varied experiences in Australia and abroad.

The compilation is to some degree a record of social history spanning 50 years. We trust you will enjoy the reading.

Eleanor Lean

PRESIDENT, VWA AusIMM 2004


BERYL JACKA AND THE VWA

Beryl Jacka AM MBE

No fifty year birthday for the Victorian Women's Auxiliary can be celebrated without acknowledging the role played by Beryl Jacka who was Secretary of The Australasian Institute of Mining and Metallurgy from 1945 to 1976. It was due to her initiative that the

Women's Auxiliary groups were formed and that the title should include the word 'Women's' rather than 'Ladies'.

John Dew in his book "Mining People - a Century" says to assist with the Fifth Empire Mining Congress in 1953; a Ladies Committee was formed to entertain the accompanying ladies of delegates. It was decided that the Committee would be reconstituted as a Women's Auxiliary, and Council approved. Inaugural President was Mrs M D Garretty and Mrs Cuming was Honorary Secretary.

Beryl Jacka's ability as an organiser of conferences became recognised internationally throughout the mining world.

Anyone who has attended a conference as an 'accompanying lady' of a delegate can testify to the attention to detail given by the VWA in welcoming visitors and in ensuring that all who had booked on Conference tours were accounted for. This personal touch provided by the members of the VWA and other branches of the Women's Auxiliaries throughout Australia set a standard seldom reached in other countries.

Beryl Jacka was awarded an MBE in 1965 and in 1979 an AM for services to the Mining Industry.

Alwynne Fairweather

Stawell


FIRST HOME IN BROKEN HILL For someone born and raised in Sydney, arrival in Broken Hill in 1946, immediately post-war, with an eight month old baby was a culture shock.

Although my husband, Don, had gone ahead and after much searching had found a rented house (comfortable by local standards), the lack of paved footpaths, the endless corrugated iron fences, and the occasional dust storms blotting out the sun, came as a shock.

Transport was by bicycle - a skill I had to acquire with the baby on a seat at the back. It was possible to devise a route into the city making left hand turns only, to avoid taking the right hand off the handlebars and thus risking loss of control!

After eighteen months, we bought our first house - a wood and iron affair in Mica Street on Waterworks Hill. What an address! It sold itself to us because although the house was basic, there was a sewered toilet outside attached to a new laundry which boasted two cement wash troughs and a new gas copper. Corrugated iron houses were lined with lath and plaster (the better ones), flat iron (painted or papered) or hessian and paper. Don had examined the house before purchase by hitting the inner walls with a closed fist just above head height, to ensure that the house was lined with flat iron.

We moved in and that night there were record breaking rains. We rose next morning to find that the upper walls of the lounge room had fallen onto the floor - the roof had leaked, and the walls above head height were actually

made of hessian and paper which collapsed when wet. There began the task of rebuilding from leaking roof downwards; every weekend was occupied with replacing inner walls with gyprock, while sagging ceilings were removed revealing the dust of decades, and new ones installed.

It soon became evident that the house was at the end of the gas line and consequently the copper took an inordinate time to boil. It was rejected in favour of an ancient copper built in with local rock in the backyard, and needing wood for fuel. The gas supply was so poor that I had to resort to using a pressure cooker on a primus and gently transfer the cooker to the stove top when pressure was reached.

The old wiring of the house delivered 110 volts only, at 100 cycles per second and was in such a poor state that it was possible to receive an electric shock by simply lifting up the iron! Another replacement necessary.

Our second child was born while we lived there, and when at the crawling stage, managed to escape and crawl down two blocks before her absence was discovered. She was found at the Pig and Whistle hotel, and delivered to the door by a motorist!

Somehow we surmounted all obstacles and lived in that small house with no such luxuries as a refrigerator, a telephone or an air conditioner. But we had music! Our prize possessions were a piano and a violin and there were many enjoyable evenings spent with friends listening to records and making music.

Alwynne Fairweather

Miners’ cottages – Broken Hill


MORE THAN JUST MINING Little did I think when I met the love of my life in the Falkland Islands and we married in Montevideo (Uruguay) that our first child would be born in Brunei.

After a short time in England, John was sent to the Dutch/German border and we lived in a little town called Emmen in Holland. This was in 1949, and John was given a bicycle to ride to the oil rig and was on shift work. After a cold night on the drilling rig, I was given strict instructions to stay fn bed until after he got home to keep the bed warm!

Food was rationed and the main diet seemed to be bread and cheese supplemented by cartons of dripping, courtesy of the Shell Oil Company. We were able to buy pork on the black market and Nasi Goreng became our favourite dish.

After a year of training in Holland as an exploration engineer, John was offered a job in Sarawak with Royal Dutch Shell, and to be quite honest, I'd never heard of Sarawak and had to look up its location on the map.

John was sent ahead and I followed 8 months' later, arriving at Kuching by boat. The tidal rise and fall was huge and we had to leap off the boat onto a barge .... and there - after such a long separation - was John with his arms outstretched and a face covered with gentian violet!!!! (the cure for impetigo in those days).

He was on call 24/7 and before Alan was born, I used to go with him during the night and we would stop by the gas flares (burning off the excess gas) and watch the monkeys competing for the insects that had been deliciously roasted by the flames. Our pleasures were pure and simple!!

On one occasion, I joined him up the Subis River on a "wild cat". I travelled by native prau - literally a dug out log with an outboard. I was wearing one of my nicest white, cool, cotton maternity dresses to dinner which was held outdoors that evening. Unfortunately for me, it attracted all the Borneo bugs (the size of a large moth) but I was saved by the "tool pusher" sitting next to me who caught them as they landed and fed them to his dog!!

We lived in Seria in an attap bungalow near the beach. This was "temporary" accommodation which lasted for years because the company kept finding oil where the permanent houses were meant to be built. To stop your clothes from becoming mouldy, a naked electric light globe was hung in the wardrobes, and the danger of something

dropping onto the bulb and the grass house going up in flames was considerable. Several houses burnt to the ground - it only took about 3 minutes.

I worked as a Private Secretary for the Chief of Police at Kuala Belait during the time of the emergency in Malaya, handling secret information. I had a security clearance as I'd worked for the Governor of the Falkland Islands and from the moment I took that job, everyone in the local shopping bazaar knew who I was and by name, which was a bit worrying.

I was helping John change the oil in our old car when I had to get to the hospital in Kuala Belait in a Bedford truck- three weeks early for Alan's birth. I couldn't get my nails clean!

John's claim to fame was his total lack of fear of heights and he worked on some of the first deviated oil wells off the coast of Brunei, but after a couple of years, we decided to try our luck in Australia.

We landed in Melbourne in 1952 and in the course of looking for a job John met Struan Anderson and Maurie Mawby who were very keen to find an offsider for their geologist, Harry Evans, who was searching for oil near Roma, Queensland.

This I remember as my year of "kerosene". We lived in converted shearers' sheds. We had a kerosene fridge, stove, heater, and a kerosene drip hot water system, that went 'huff', 'huff'. And what was more, a chemical loo at the bottom of the garden, remembered especially for the frogs that clung to the beams ready to pounce!

There was no problem with drying the nappies. By the time I'd finished hanging them out, the first ones were dry. The winter nights though were bitterly cold.

John and Harry ran the oil rig and were great improvisers when it came to needing new equipment or tools. There was barely a challenge that wasn't met with whatever lay around. At 'home', John connected up a drain to the washing up bowl so I no longer had to empty it outside ... sheer luxury!

I was accepted into the social life at Roma and was surprised that, despite the summer dust and heat, we dressed with hats and gloves and all our finery when going out for luncheons or to the races.

As you would all know, Harry went on to Rum Jungle and then to North Queensland where


he discovered bauxite near Weipa. We moved to Rum Jungle in 1953.

As was usual in those days, husbands went first, and wives followed with family and baggage!! I, with 2 year old Alan and 7 months pregnant, went by train from Roma to Charleville and then caught a plane at 5 in the morning for my trip to Darwin. I was really excited at the prospect of seeing so much of Australia as we were stopping at so many "towns" on the way. Need I say more? After landing and taking off from little tin sheds in the middle of nowhere so many times and Alan succumbing to air sickness at Katherine, I arrived completely exhausted in Darwin vowing never to leave. John greeted me with the great news that he had managed to get a room for us "together" at the Darwin Hotel?!! I didn't know what he meant ... hard to believe, but in those days, men shared a room, and women likewise.

We drove to Batchelor the following day - 4th July, 1953 and John waved to everyone on the way. I couldn't get over how many people he had met in such a short time, but it was the custom in the outback in those days to wave to anyone you passed. We were to remain in Batchelor for the next eight years.

John was in charge of personnel and security at the Rum Jungle Uranium Mine for the first three years and then as General Manager from 1956 - 1961.

The Batchelor community was a friendly one and we made lifelong friends. We became each other's extended family as most of us were totally isolated from relatives. Memories that come to mind would include the red dust that was everywhere and how superior we felt when newcomers would arrive with white sheets ... "just wait" ... we would think. Even the children were covered in red dust and needed to be bathed at least twice a day when small.

Buffalo would feast on our hibiscus hedge at night and Very pistol flares were shot off to send them on their way.

The heat - hot and wet then hot and dry and the build-up before the wet season arrived (the suicide month) - I can still see little Alan on his red bike, racing home followed by a solid wall of rain!

Our second child, Jane was born in the Darwin hospital, as were two more sons, Pete and

Mike. The hospital was still quite primitive, with again, frogs in the loo and even in the delivery room. Everyone was in together. We were always promised an air-conditioned delivery room, but I got tired of waiting for it- just as well as we already had a family of four!

John took over as General Manager on the day that the Finnis River broke its banks and the mine was flooded. Nobody believed me when I said I'd seen a crocodile near the community centre, but Boyne Litchfield caught it.

During the dry season, we had many important visitors, (parliamentarians, company directors and such) whom we entertained. Nowadays my grandchildren need degrees to be event managers, but in those days, it was only Bob Cutler (who ran the mess) and me!

We also had official functions at Government House meeting interesting people in Darwin as John was a member of the Legislative Council. I was always determined to stay awake for the drive back to Batchelor (some 62 miles) to keep John company, but the journey seemed to become shorter and shorter and I would be quite cross with myself as I woke at the "Welcome to Batchelor" sign.

Embarrassing moments included entertaining the Duke of Edinburgh and his entourage for drinks at home before lunch, when the Duke requested fresh lime juice and then EVERYBODY wanted fresh lime juice ... there was panic in the kitchen. The house was groaning with cold beer!

The children would be farmed out on these official occasions and my good friend Eileen Searle offered to have the children for the day when Sir William and Lady Slim were visiting for lunch. As we farewelled them at the Batchelor airstrip, these two red-dusted and blonde haired children ran forward in their underpants calling "Mummy, Mummy". In her letter of thanks, Lady Slim mentioned 'what a pleasure it was to have met your children' ...... she was human after all!

I could go on and on.

There's something special about the members of the AusIMM in that we've all shared similar times in remote areas and looking back, it's enriched our lives. So Happy 50th Anniversary to the Auxiliary!

Heather Tonkin


Mulga

PIONEERING IN THE WEST I remember arriving in Western Australia at midnight in February and the smell of that unique WA summer aroma of eucalyptus and sand, heat and ocean. Driving on and on through the black night until suddenly seeing a myriad of lights - "Our new town?" I asked - no, the B.P. Refinery. Our town was well and truly tucked up in bed by then with not a light to be seen.

The heat of that first two weeks - "One more day over 100° and we'll break the record!" the locals exclaimed - one more day and I felt I would expire! Learning to close up the house by 7.00 am to keep out the heat, hoping for fresh produce "if the truck gets through" (what did they mean? Ambush at the pass?!), the fuel stove, flies and more flies (pre aeroguard days), the odd dugite snake to contend with, and the homesickness when having to reply cheerfully to the constant question "Don't you love it here better than in the east, aren't we more friendly?" - all snippets from the first year.

However what I really remember now and cherish are the lifelong friendships made with locals and fellow 'ex-pats', the closeness of a small and new community where everyone was from elsewhere and so we all depended on each other, the wonderful bush maternity hospital and matron's gourmet meals, the support found in working for the kinder, school and church.

Where was all this? Not hundreds or thousands of miles from Perth, but only just over twenty five miles at Medina on Cockburn Sound where BHP and BP were the main employers - classified as "country" then, and certainly with the country feel.

PS How times move on. In the forty-three years since our arrival in Medina the Infant Welfare Centre became the Youth Drop In Centre, then the Senior Citizens meeting rooms and it is now the Funeral Parlour.

Lesley Harden


Quandong

MINING WIVES The first thing that always comes to mind when I talk about being married to a mining engineer, is the memory of a passionate courting goodnight on my parents' front lawn, with John saying something about " .... if you marry me, you could be living in all sorts of strange places" and my innocent response " .... of course darling, anywhere with you!" That exchange has often come back to me over the years.

Other windows of memory which immediately open include sitting in an unfurnished (except for some empty fracture cases) company house in Rosebery on Tasmania's west coast, in the dark with the rain pouring down outside, a tearful tense bride of two weeks, wondering what was in store for me; Radium Hill dust storms, and baby clothes that never quite lost their red dirt stains; (and in contrast to Rosebery where the washing was never quite dry, in Radium Hill, no sooner than the last nappy was pegged out, the first was dry enough to bring in); the resentment and grief I felt at having to cope with four children in Melbourne, without John for weeks and months at a time, while he worked 'temporarily' in Queensland; learning the lessons of the mining pecking order in small towns, the levels of acceptance very clearly defined; standing in our new home in extremely oppressive Jakarta heat, with the formidable task of organising the

household and five servants, shopping, and schools, with no common language and thinking "I am not able to cope with this" but of course doing just that; the bottomless black hole I felt I was thrown into when I knew we would be leaving the family in Melbourne, and going to live on Bougainville Island - I was leaving my children, my home, my friends, my job, my community.

That all sounds rather negative, and perhaps it was the effect of these outside forces and (I thought) the indifference and distance of those in charge, which made family life so very important to me. That was something I could influence, and I worked hard at it. It was my security. Just the impact of packing up and moving to fourteen different houses added up to a huge amount of 'time out' from living, enormous adjustments for the whole family, and emotional swings.

Having said all that, I am quick to admit that much of life was exciting. Lives of mining engineers in books I had read, were usually portrayed as adventurous, 'different', romantic, full of exotic experiences, and thus it was a lot of the time. And I know many of my one-home, city-bound friends look upon our working life as having just those qualities.

Plenty of 'character building' experiences too.


While living in Rosebery I had to spend two weeks in Queenstown hospital. Much of the road from Rosebery to Zeehan was but a track through the rainforest, and from Zeehan to Queenstown a rough unsealed road. The 35 miles took 2 hours in our little 8 hp Austin tourer. John would leave after work and arrive in Queenstown a few minutes before the strictly-kept visiting hours were over. He then had the 2 hour return trip. How precious were those few minutes.

Although there was an AIM hospital in Radium Hill, with two wonderful Sisters in charge, because I was having my first baby, I had to travel to Broken Hill for the birth. My mother and I stayed in the CWA Hostel and waited for a couple of weeks before I went to hospital.

Then Susan arrived, during a raging Broken Hill dust-storm, with the temperature at 105°F, and a cranky Matron, who insisted that bedcovers were pulled up for the doctor's visit!

Travelling on the train from Adelaide to Radium Hill, with 6 week old Susan, the train was delayed for several hours. I was still breast-feeding, and although I had prepared for the journey by expressing milk for one meal, knowing that I wouldn't be able to breast

feed on the train (that just wasn't done in those days), I was unprepared for those extra hours. Nothing for it but to retire to the toilet and feed her while sitting on the toilet seat. Fortunately she was a very placid baby, and we both coped with the discomfort and the rocking train.

And I can just as easily remember all the great times - the wonderful life-time friendships formed with families in each community we lived in, friendships made quite quickly in the knowledge that we might be 'ships passing in the night' and that we needed rich relationships for support in an alien environment; the deep love I have for the Australian desert, gained from living in and being part of it; the enriching experience of living among people with a culture different to mine; the overwhelming beauty of the place called Bougainville; Java, the nearest place I can imagine to the Garden of Eden; the love and warmth of welcome we received whenever we came 'home', the comfort and understanding of my friends in the VWA, women who have all 'been there', and, most of all, the solidarity of our marriage through it all.

Would I do it all again? Most of it, yes!

Noreen Westley

1950 - HARDLY THE BACK BLOCKS As a bride in 1950, I was carried over the threshold of a converted boatshed on the shores of Lake Macquarie, NSW. This was to be our home for almost four years. In a way it was idyllic. But one problem was deciding whether to walk the mile into town to buy the meat or to spend an hour fishing. The latter won out and enough fish was caught for the evening meal.

Soon we bought an acre of bush land across the road for our house to be built at the top of the hill.

Toronto at this time was a one-hour drive from Newcastle. A steam train was the public means of transport to the city, also a one-hour trip. Toronto was evolving at this time from being a holiday resort where many people had holiday cottages on the lakeside to a more substantial centre due to the growth of coal mining and the building of new power stations in the area. During the war, the flying boat base at nearby Rathmines had also started to put the place on the map.

This was the post-war period when home building was a very expensive business so we literally had to learn to do it ourselves. John

dug and poured the foundations, getting up earlier to do an hour's toil before going to work and also toiling at weekends. It was before ready-mix concrete and was all hand mixing. Nevertheless, these were happy days and two babies and four years later we moved in.

The boatshed had been great; we even learned how to cope with floods. This boatshed was two-storied; we lived downstairs and slept upstairs. In January 1951 John went downstairs to make the early morning tea and stepped into water. It had rained heavily during the night and the floor of the boatshed was below the level of the lake. We learned how to dry the carpet out and put the fridge up on bricks and kept it there for the remainder of our stay. We had six floods in three years and would sit and wait for the water to come under the door before starting to roll up the carpet (it was a civilized boatshed). We would cook on a "Primus" upstairs - fortunately the plumbing was above flood water level.

Being married into the industrial world, I had to adjust to a husband who was called out at nights and who never missed a day visiting the works, even Saturdays, Sundays and public holidays and later often had to go away at


short notice and travelled overseas. We had no parents nearby, mine being in the Blue Mountains and John's in Melbourne. His first o/s trip was for 12 weeks and it was amazing what I learnt to cope with, being alone with two young children, such as plumbing crises. Having 200 feet of sewer in the bushland it was often blocked by roots and it was

fascinating to see healthy tomato plants growing in the front "garden" after a blockage was cleared!

This was not really living in the back-blocks. Toronto today is far removed from what it was in 1950. Today our house has disappeared and eight two-storey town houses are now on the block.

Frances Reynolds

Roman miner’s lamp


JOURNEY TO THE OTHER SIDE In a hot January in the late 70's my husband, Roy, from Melbourne, and his partner, from Adelaide, went to Perth to establish a Consulting Engineering Office. The wives and children were to join them later. Accommodation was hard to find.

I had to drive our car from Melbourne to Adelaide (packed with saucepans, cutlery, china and bedding, etc.) then collect more goods from our partner's wife (since their children would need to start school after arriving in W.A.) and take the train.

I drove alone to the railway line at Port Pirie, then (very scary!) without guidance drove the car up two planks onto a "flat top" in the railway yards for the journey to the West.

When I arrived in March I found that Roy had managed to find a furnished duplex - so then I had double the amount of kitchen equipment to return home to Melbourne!

To meet people the families became the best "joiners" in Perth. Among many organisations we became members of the Perth Women's Auxiliary of the AusIMM and enjoyed their monthly luncheons and outings.

With the office established, Roy and I returned to the East in mid-December. I had packed LP records to give as presents, but by the time we arrived in Melbourne for our office party the LPs were buckled in the boot of the car.

Although ten years retired, we have enjoyed our association with the AusIMM and are still members after all this time.

June Hardcastle

A LESSON IN STRINE As a young English wife, following my Metallurgist husband to various mining towns provided contrasts of climate, culture and environment, and many new experiences.

I recall one experience arriving in Rosebery, Tasmania in 1967 after almost four years in Africa. I had spent time researching the Apple Isle and felt well prepared for most things - but not the language. English took on new meaning. This was often a source of amusement and confusion in the early days.

Flotation cell

A sweet or toffee became a 'lolly'. A baby's vest became a 'singlet'. Fields became 'paddocks'. People would 'shoot through' at weekends.

In my prior experience cheerio meant goodbye. I recall listening to a radio programme in which people sent ‘cheerios’ to friends and family ill in hospital.

I imagined those poor unfortunates were not long for this world! Being farewelled with 'see you later' did not necessarily mean see you in about an hour or even the same day, it could be next week or even longer.

When I told my next door neighbour (a Queenslander) we were going away for the weekend I was surprised when she asked if I had 'packed my port'. I thought she must have suspected I was a secret drinker.

I remember being invited to a meeting in a church hall during my first week and requested to 'bring a plate' (I was not familiar with this term). Further enquiry revealed one plate would be sufficient. I did as requested and found to my mortification that there was not a shortage of plates but one was expected to have put some food on top of it!

Eventually I learned to wear my singlet, pack my port and shoot through to the paddocks with my cobbers!

Pat Johnson


SNAKES ALIVE! This isn't really a snake story but it seems a good one to start with.

The road between the airport and Port Harcourt (Nigeria) was the usual narrow bitumen strip winding through a couple of villages. After seeing the company doctor off on leave, his driver and I were heading back to the town weaving through village dogs, goats, women with large enamel dishes of yams and ground cassava on their heads, children everywhere and 'Mammy Wagons' with such great names as 'God will Provide', 'Providence', and 'God helps those who ride on me'. On the last straight stretch Aloysius put his foot down, and a hen followed by six chickens chose to cross the road. With me clutching at the seat and yelling at him to slow down, he planted his foot even more firmly and amidst a flurry of feathers and squawks announced very piously - "That were grievous accident Madam. She a very stupid mother and never done teach her family nothing." Looking back at the carnage, it was obvious that further education was not going to be needed.

On to the snakes At 6.30 am the Master put his head around the bedroom door - "Tell Samuel (the gardener) to kill the snakes in the driveway, I've got a meeting to go to." After a leisurely shower and breakfast I had hoped the snakes would have moved on, but there they were - stuck in the bitumen put down the afternoon before. Spoke to Samuel - he had a 'nervy' and had to be revived with tea by Vincent (the Small Boy). Lazarus (the Cook) felt that as a married man with five children it wasn't part of his job description to dispatch snakes. That left Madam, who showing much more poise than she felt, took the spade and with a certain disfigurement of the driveway chopped off the heads of the three unfortunate creatures firmly stuck by their tails.

On to Kalimantan (Indonesia) A new arrival in Balikpapan was to be housed in the Company Guest House half way up the hill. His airline carry-on bag was left outside on the verandah while he went with his other luggage to his room and after a shower and a beer or three, he forgot about the bag. When he finally looked for it, it was gone - an expat airline bag! - camera, wallet - who knows what could be traded at the local market! The empty bag was found next day in the Chinese Cemetery across the road and down the hill,

and the contents - two pet snakes - were never seen again. A fitting haul for a light-fingered passer-by taking a short cut to the village!

Tandjung is in Kalimantan Selatan, 150 km west of Balikpapan and the start of the oil slurry pipeline to the Shell Refinery in Balikpapan. With an expat group of only 15 families it was unusual to have a real eccentric among their number. Peter and his wife Val came from Los Angeles - he was the workshop Supervisor and Rig Mechanic and had organised a contract on the side with the LA zoo to collect birds, animals and snakes over the two years of his contract in Tandjung. Consequently his house and garden became a temporary home for about 60 varieties of creatures and Val had to produce about sixty different meals twice a day. There were Secretary birds walking around and alligators in ponds Peter built in the garden, fruit bats hanging from the shower rail, little deer wandering through the house, snakes in fish tanks in the garage, and a baby orangutan in an enclosure on the front verandah. Visiting was by invitation only as the house was surrounded by electric fencing and the villagers would bring in large lizards, monkeys, snakes and birds to add to the collection, ring the bell and Val had to find room for the new arrivals. The orangutan was the same age as Peter's little girl, 2 ½ years old and they played together in the enclosure. Our daughter was just two, was talking well with a great vocabulary and Peter and Val were amazed at her language skills as their child, in spite of being older, only spoke orangutan and had a few other less than desirable monkey habits! Who said environment doesn't count. Peter's contract finished and he chartered a PanAm 707 from Jakarta to get his flock back to LA. We didn't ever hear how the trip went, but it cost $5000 (in 1963) to restore the house and garden so that it was fit to be re-occupied by a normal (relatively) family.

One house there had been empty for some months because the family's pet python escaped just before they left and couldn't be found. With a plane to catch they couldn't spend time searching so confessed at the airport - and departed hurriedly. Finally after some weeks a newly arrived family had to be housed so Peter was asked if he would see if he could locate the snake. After an hour or so he arrived back in the office, covered in dust, but empty-handed. "Forgot the torch" he said, but found nothing in the house so got into the roof space and crawled all around - "pretty


dark up there but couldn't feel it anywhere!" The house was reluctantly occupied but it took a long time for the new occupants to stop searching in the cupboards and under the beds before retiring at night.

The pipeline construction crews worked twelve-hour days, six days a week. Lunch was delivered on the job, so Taffy's evening meal was six bottles of beer (no stubbies then) lined up on the bar at the Club. The big joke this night was to put a dead snake, a bit of road-kill, in Taffy's bed. His 'mates' waited for him to

roll home expecting a violent reaction when he finally hit the bed. All went quiet and after ten minutes of snoring, the joke seemed to have misfired and they woke him up, only to find no snake and a pretty mean Taffy. He leaned on the doorway and directed the search at such high volume that no-one got any sleep in the camp until he finally let them go to bed about two hours later. The snake was never seen again - it must have recovered enough to crawl out and disappear but relations between Taffy and his 'mates' took a few days to recover.

Noelle Garner

Wire silver


A CARING MINING COMMUNITY I was born in a mining town - Queenstown, Tasmania, the town that supported the Mt Lyell Mining and Railway Company.

My great uncle, R.M. Murray, and both of my grandfathers were in mining (Broken Hill and Mt Lyell). My father Geoff Hudspeth, was born in Gormanston, near Queenstown, and was educated at Scotch College and Melbourne University. He moved back to Mt Lyell, married Joan, and had three daughters. He spent his whole working life at Mt Lyell until his retirement in 1974.

My mother, born in Broken Hill, and married to a miner, used to say to we three girls "don't ever marry a mining engineer, or you'll end up in a place like Queenstown".

I married Brian in Queenstown in January, 1966, at the start of Brian's third year of mining engineering at the Western Australian School of Mines, in Kalgoorlie. We moved to Mt Lyell when Brian graduated: He claims that I inspired him to complete four years' work in three! We had three children in our nine years

in Queenstown, and then transferred to the United Kingdom for two years. After some four years in Perth, we relocated to Melbourne.

In 2003 we suffered everyone's worst nightmare; our eldest daughter, Belinda and her only child, our granddaughter Olivia Kathryn, died in a car accident. Belinda was 35 and Olivia was 15 months old. It was devastating. The biggest lesson that Brian and I learned was that the mining world is very close and caring, even though it is worldwide. We had the love and support of everyone that we had ever met in the industry and further, and I have to say it was overwhelming and such a comfort to us.

We are grateful to be part of such a special Australian industry.

Our life continues in mining, an industry that we love. We have Richard and Emma, with their partners, and four beautiful grandsons. Maybe one of our grandsons will be moved to go into the mining industry, which I believe is so important to Australia.

Katie Phillips

This photograph, taken in the mid-sixties, is an example of Broken Hill architecture. Dave told everyone that it was my family home. He also told everyone at our wedding that he married me because I had told him my father had an interest in the zinc mine, only to discover he was the gardener!

Jo Ransom


AEROPLANE TRAVEL When my husband, Mike, was transferred to Whyalla in 1966, he drove from Melbourne, closely followed by the furniture van, and I flew in with two children - 20 months and 5 months old. It was the first day of autumn and it looked as if I was landing in a desert - nothing in sight but red soil. The temperature was over 100°F.

From the airport I was taken to inspect the house we were to live in. It was attractive, with a well-established garden, and I put the baby in her basket in the shade of a bush. When I checked her moments later I was alarmed to find her covered in black spots. On close inspection these turned out to be the largest mosquitos I had ever seen. We dosed the water tank with kerosene and learned to live with them.

Twenty months later I was on a plane again returning to Melbourne with four children - twins had arrived.

From 1971 until 1975 we lived in Jakarta and with annual home leave and six monthly local leave the family became experienced

aeroplane travellers. A train or bus trip was a treat.

The journey I remember best was my flight to Jakarta. When we were shown to our seats in the front rows of first class the looks of horror on the faces of our fellow passengers (all male) still makes me smile to think about. Without exception they covered their faces with their newspapers and ignored us totally. I had plenty of activities to occupy the children and they behaved well. But they did not like the food. Pre-ordering suitable meals was not an option in those days. By the time the crew had searched all galleys and exhausted the supply of nibbles, nuts, bread rolls, etc., on board, our neighbours had smiled a little. When the smallest daughter was too frightened to go to the toilet because she thought she would be sucked into it, and I was enquiring if there was a bucket or large plastic basin on board, they began to warm towards me. We were on speaking terms by the time we landed.

Helen Gregson

Harvey’s Pumphouse, Wallaroo Mines


FIRST IMPRESSIONS "We are going to work in South Africa" were the words my husband offered one evening in 1974. I was 6 months pregnant and awaiting the birth of our first child. My husband who was working for Australian Anglo American Corporation as an exploration geologist had been seconded to South Africa as a resident mine geologist at Vaal Reefs Gold Mine. Six months later we flew to Johannesburg with a 3 month old son Nicholas.

Flying time is shorter today than 30 years ago and tentatively I faced the thought of Nicholas possibly crying all the way across the Indian Ocean but he was good until we reached the Carlton Hotel in Johannesburg. His crying attracted the attention of a hotel maid who on entering the room collected Nicholas and left the room laughing with a confident assurance that "Madam, I will look after him". My first thoughts were he was being kidnapped only to realise that her intentions were genuine as she securely wrapped him in a blanket onto her back and continued to do her chores. Over the continuing weeks it became a familiar sight. I recall seeing an African woman walking with her man one day and though he wasn't carrying a thing she managed to have a baby strapped on her back, a suitcase balanced on her head and at the same time continued with her knitting. An impossible feat for most it seemed.

Several days later we were travelling to the small township of Orkney near Vaal Reefs, a gold mine in the Transvaal 160 km west from Johannesburg. It was to be our home until 1977. On the way we passed Soweto, the large black African township with a population then of I million people located on the outskirts of Johannesburg. My recollection was of endless rows of small brick huts with corrugated roofs, dirt roads and a permanent thick haze of smoke derived from row upon row of small chimneys. Two years later it was to become an unsafe route for motorists travelling to and from Johannesburg.

At the time Vaal Reefs was the largest gold mine in the world and employed 30,000 Africans from neighbouring countries and the South African homelands. They were housed in compounds on the mine site. The 3,500 whites who were employed on the mine lived in Orkney and nearby Klerksdorp. Our arrival complicated matters as we had not been allocated a mine house. In fact, due to poor communication from Head Office we were not even expected by the mine management. Therefore, the Constantia Hotel became our

first home for six weeks leading up to Christmas. We were an oddity there too because the hotel had not had guests for years. It was located in the centre of town opposite the police station and every night at 9:00 pm we awaited the predictable piercing curfew siren that was to remind the Africans to be off the streets. Needless to say it woke Nicholas every evening. Dinner in the hotel became an occasion we looked forward to because the dining room maid had a penchant for hats and usually her head was adorned with a hat to impress. This was not unusual since African women, being self-conscious about their short tuffs of hair, generally covered their heads with colourful scarves. It became a point of conversation and speculation as to which hat she would be wearing that evening.

Closer to Christmas the management announced that the hotel was closing for a number of weeks. By this time we were totally frustrated and on suggesting we return to Australia a mine house was instantly provided along with an unkempt garden. Gardening didn't appeal to most Africans and when I employed one it took only half an hour before I noticed him disappearing over the back fence. I have been a gardener ever since.

We moved into the house with a mattress, a cot for Nicholas and an unreliable fridge but were thankful to have some unfurnished space and be distant from the ritual siren. A few nights later we were awoken to the noise of running feet, barking dogs and a strobe light fanning over the yard from a police helicopter above. It turned out that the African mine workers housed in a compound at the end of the street had rioted. Eventually, it smouldered into an inter-racial confrontation between the fierce Zulus and any tribe brave enough to challenge them. By the end of the week the Corporation closed Vaal Reefs and sent the Africans back to their countries and homelands. The memory to this day is of lines of Africans with their few belongings wandering homewards across the veldt plains. The mine closure at least gave my husband an opportunity to adjust geologically to working underground.

Being so far away, the idea of Christmas Day on our own was a bleak thought. Our container was still on the Indian Ocean and we were surviving with minimal home wares. We awoke on Christmas morning to the sound of barking dogs, chanting children and a cacophonous


sound of drums, whistles and rattling cans. Small African boys dressed in tattered white sheets and faces covered in white paint rhythmically danced down our long driveway to the front door. We seized the moment to

Carbide lamp

record the music and encouraged them to continue with their rendition in exchange for the coins we had emptied from our purse and pockets. Eventually they stopped, a little bemused with the situation of being wanted when everybody else had urged them to go away. For the next two Christmas days we waited in vain for them to return.

Our remaining time was enjoyable as we eventually made new friends. For my husband the experience of going from exploration to mining was quite different. It involved a daily trip underground to 3000 metres, waiting for the inevitable jerk of the cage at the bottom, as well as having to manage the mine lingua franca commonly known as Fanakalo with its vocabulary used to bridge the Zulu, Xhosa, Afrikaans and English language.

Every day at 2.00 pm blasting time I would subconsciously wait for the underground detonations and if there wasn't a phone call I would leave for the daily walk. The Afrikaans had their servants push their prams but because I chose not to I became known as "the Australian lady who walked her baby in the pram".

Our move to South Africa required resilience and some adjustments but provided fascinating insights into how other people work and live.

Cynthia Bravo

IN TASMANIA In the early 1960s, the Annual Conference of the AusIMM was held in Queenstown.

As usual a programme had been arranged for the Ladies.

We were to take the train to Strahan on the shores of Macquarie Harbour, a spectacular journey, alongside the King River, through the forests, over wooden bridges, to very steep sections with a second set of toothed rack and pinion rails - popularly known as the switch-back railway.

It was a lovely sunny morning; the ladies arrived early, ready to board the train. The Station Master became very anxious. It was time to depart - why didn't the ladies board the train - what to do?

So, he rang the station bell - everyone hopped on board and away we went. Little did we visitors know that we left the residents of Queenstown in a very anxious and worried state; what had happened?

The station bell was only rung in a state of emergency!

Grace Cuming


WIDGIEMOOLTHA 1972 - 1975 Sundays at Redross Camp The Redross Camp at Widgiemooltha was found by sighting the 407 mile peg from Perth and then turning right into the bush.

The landscape was magnificent, the red earth, eucalyptus and saltbush went on forever. Springtime brought an abundance of wildflowers, as well as visitors from the East.

On Sundays the four members of our family would jump in the one-tonner and head off around the drilling rigs - an esky, a barbeque, a rug - and into the West Australian outback. We lit little sandalwood fires on the edge of the enormous salt lakes - nothing tastes as good as a sausage and chop cooked on an open sandalwood fire. We clambered on the rocky outcrops, played on the lakes and examined the many wildflowers.

Panning for gold – after S T Gill

On our journey back to camp the outing was completed with an icecream from the Widgie store - what a perfect day!

One very memorable AusIMM day was held in this magnificent area with members from Kalgoorlie and Kambalda. We all enjoyed a picnic and barbeque with lots of wine and song.

Dinner in Kalgoorlie - 1973 We had been living in Southern Cross and Widgiemooltha for nearly four years - never in the "big smoke" of Kalgoorlie.

There was much excitement when we received an invitation to the home of a prominent Kalgoorlie businessman for dinner. This was a great reason for me to sew myself something special for the occasion. A trip to Montgomery's in Kalgoorlie, seventy five miles away, soon followed - a pattern and fabric was chosen - back to Redross to make my outfit - a tailored jacket over a black top with matching long skirt in black and red pinwale velveteen. Very becoming!

The big evening eventuated - babysitter from the single men's quarters arrived - then it was off to Kalgoorlie.

On stepping into our host's lovely home I immediately noticed that the hostess had also been to Monty's, not for her outfit, but for the interesting table cloth and chair covers in exactly the same fabric as mine. Highly embarrassed, I slipped my jacket off to show only my black top, and was very relieved when we were all seated.

Now I can laugh about it - but definitely not that night!

Marj Eshuys


ON BOUGAINVILLE My First Day In May 1971 we arrived on Bougainville and prepared to set up home in the town of Panguna where the Bougainville Copper Mine was being established. On that first morning, my friend Doreen kindly offered to take me to the Panguna tradestore. She picked me up at 10 am and off we went with my three year old in tow. It was a life changing experience!

Having lived the previous three years in Melbourne with its beautiful supermarkets, and friendly assistants, the Panguna store was quite a culture shock. The store was full of native locals padding around in bare feet, and to my horror, sampling various items of produce with their fingers! One learnt never to buy anything in a bottle or jar if one could open it easily. Eventually we found the odd item that would keep the wolf from the door - until I specifically looked for fresh produce. All those shelves appeared to be empty! Doreen, on seeing my bewilderment, guided me to a few sacks on the floor. There were the potatoes, what joy, until I put my hand in - they were rotten! My three year old stuck her nose in and made it abundantly clear that they were definitely not for consumption! I left them there in their sack, although Doreen wasn't going to be so fussy. Moving on, I collected a few packets of rice instead. My eyes then fell upon a few miserable (and definitely past their use-by-date) lettuces, which in my wisdom, and fearful for my families health, I walked on by. My friend saw my intention, and urged me back! "You must buy one of these", she said, "We haven't had a lettuce for months!" "Doreen, these lettuces are absolutely rotten!" I said. She looked at me pityingly and then explained "If you buy one you will find there will be a few edible leaves right in the centre!" Not wanting to disappoint her, I took her advice. That night, to my surprise, I found she was absolutely right. We each had one lettuce leaf with our dinner!

Other Bougainville Stories All new arrivals to Bougainville were given temporary accommodation in Panguna where the mine was located. Every family was issued with a survival kit to use until their belongings arrived by ship. This had been a wonderful idea until it became apparent that the first arrivals had kept many of the necessary items for themselves. By the time we arrived, the survival kit had dwindled alarmingly. If my memory serves me correctly, we had one saucepan, one frying-pan, a few cups,

saucers, bowls and plates, a tea towel, bath towels, sheets and pillowslips, and a grey blanket for each bed. There should have been a kettle, an iron, a straw broom and an ironing board, plus many other items that would have made life a little easier. To add to the atmosphere one of our front windows had been broken, and boarded up!

At this time I was reading Alexander Solzhenitsyn's book 'Cancer Ward' which had the effect of making me feel like I was living it. An early experience of Reality Reading!

After several weeks, on a wet, miserable day, an open truck arrived with our belongings (including some of our favourite paintings) perched precariously on top, surrounded by half a dozen local chaps. They then proceeded, with little regard for our property, to toss boxes, paintings and all, into a space under the house. And that was the beginning of a life, which lasted for the next ten years, on this beautiful island.

Cooking was quite difficult, as all the ovens had been delivered in the same manner as our belongings, thrown off the back of a truck! Consequently, the oven doors did not shut properly making it impossible to accurately predict the end result of any gourmet endeavour, but that did not deter the creativity of the women who lived there. Anything was possible!

There were two other events which remain vividly in my memory. One was the RIOTS and the other the EARTHQUAKE! Both in their different ways were frightening and unforgettable.

Geologist pick


The riots occurred one evening as I was preparing dinner for the children. Bill and I were going to the company guest house for dinner. Several visitors had arrived that day from Melbourne, little realising what was in store for them.

Just as the cutlets were almost cooked, Security pulled up outside our house to tell us that riots had broken out in the men's quarters. We were strongly advised to collect our precious possessions, children also, and drive up the valley to the Trezise's house. The frypan was turned off, we gathered everyone together, locked up the house and left. On our arrival we found that the entire town was sheltering there, and there we stayed until 11 pm. Not one to be fazed, Marcia Trezise decided to continue baking her Christmas cake, even though we might have to evacuate her house and escape into the jungle. She had timed this event to take place while she was at the dinner and certainly wasn't going to let any drunken, rampaging hordes upset her timing. As it turned out the rampaging hordes wore themselves out, and decided to have a rest before starting up again the following morning. Which they did!

It was very interesting to observe what people held dear, or what articles they felt they could not live without. One lady arrived with her entire make up case, another with family photos, and another (obviously a business woman) with all her family's financial and medical records. A rather frightening aspect of this night was the number of children armed with their mothers' carving knives, and the mothers quite unconcerned.

Gurias (earthquakes) were a common occurrence on Bougainville and we were quite used to being shaken up at frequent intervals. In fact they made our life rather exciting. They were never very severe, until one night we experienced the BIG ONE!

At first we were woken by a roar, which seemed to be coming up the valley, rather like a steam train. Then it developed into a full-scale event. Fortunately, the houses were built to withstand the great San Francisco quake. But this one really tested the design! My initial reaction was to flee, but my husband's idea was to save all our wine and crockery from being smashed to smithereens. Leaving him to hold as many cupboard doors shut as possible (they were built with magnetic catches), I grabbed our five year old daughter and made for the outside stairs. Just as we were about to sit on the top step, shaking uncontrollably, I observed our next door neighbour coming down his staircase. Modesty prevailed! I just had to go back into the house to get a dressing-gown, as all I was wearing was a very thin see-through nightgown! The house felt as though it was about to collapse at any moment, but Bill was determined to lose as little as possible.

The guria seemed to go on forever, but in reality it only lasted a few minutes. The aftershocks continued for the next three days, slowly diminishing in intensity. Thanks to my very brave husband, we lost very little crockery. It was a great recommendation for the Finnish firm that made Arabia plates, bowls and cups. They just seemed to bounce!

Judith Davis

BILLITON ISLAND In 1971 our family of six went to live in Jakarta for four years. My husband was in charge of BHP's first overseas investment. The initial stage was to de-water a tin mine at Kelapa Kampit on Billiton Island (Belitung). The mine had been owned by Shell and when the Japanese invaded Indonesia the pumps were stopped and Shell left, never to return. The budget was $A1 million and the news made the front pages of The Financial Review.

I never lived on the island, but visited many times. Dutch houses were renovated for the exploration team and one became a guest house.

Later when it was decided to go into production, twenty houses suitable for the tropical climate were designed and built to

Australian standards. I was asked to order furniture for them and purchase all household items. Beds could be made on the island, so I was spared the job of ordering these. When I went to make my first inspection of the houses, I found the beds already installed. However, instead of our standard size beds of three feet wide singles and five feet wide queen size for the main bedroom, which I would have purchased, and for which the rooms were designed, the singles were one meter wide and the doubles measured two metres wide. To say I was very disappointed is an understatement! These enormous beds reduced the floor space of the bedrooms considerably, and even with sliding doors on cupboards, the remaining furniture for them had to be carefully selected. There was


nothing available ready-made; I had to choose it all from brochures and drawings.

In the early days the company owned three work vehicles. These were utilities which seated three in the front and extra passengers sat in the tray. Family outings to the beach or for picnics had to be rostered. So there was great excitement when the budget was stretched to purchase two ten-seater buses and their arrival was imminent. My husband came home one evening, a bit upset. He said "The boat sank". I said "What do you mean?" He replied "The boat with the buses sank". The insurance company paid up and in due course two buses did arrive.

In Jakarta, the company vehicle was a Kingswood station wagon. This was multi-purpose - it was used for jobs such as meeting the Chairman and VIP's at the airport when they arrived by Learjet, to delivering cheques in payment of bills on Friday mornings, as was the custom, as well as family outings. After three years of lurching from pothole to pothole (there was only one good main road in Jakarta then), the springs and shock absorbers were not in the best shape and it was converted to an ambulance and shipped to the island.

After the mine was de-watered, the timbers and equipment were found to be in good condition and investigations in Holland indicated that there was sufficient tin to carry out further mining. It was still considered unlucky for a female to go underground, but I was taken down in the two-man cage that seemed rather unsafe to me. I kept my arms and hands closely by my side. The locals were quite superstitious people and I suspect they were not privy to everything these Aussies got up to.

The Dukun (medicine man, sometimes called the witch doctor) was a very important person in each village and was called upon when it was suggested that this would be a good idea. It was always necessary to pay a fee for his services of course. All the houses, both renovated and new, had to have the evil spirits driven out before they were occupied and plant and equipment had to be blessed before it went into operation.

When the Queen and Prince Philip visited Jakarta we were invited to a reception where we were introduced to her. She asked what we were doing in Indonesia, and when told "de-watering a tin mine", she said "Well, that's new!" How right she was!

Helen Gregson

'WHITHER THOU GOEST I WILL GO' - BUT DOES IT HAVE TO BE THE DESERT? As a young Adelaide girl in the '60's, used to city life, I thought I was marrying an academic in the mineral industry and moving to Melbourne. No outback living for me! How wrong I was. Many VWA members will agree that once connected to this industry be it by birth or marriage, the Australian outback somehow creeps into your life to become a life-long passion.

My husband Des grew up in a family closely associated with the mineral industry and the early gold rush days in Western Australia. As a metallurgist, he had spent time in mineral centres of Australia, such as his home town of Port Pirie, as well as Mount Isa, Kalgoorlie, the Pilbara, Broken Hill, Mt Lyell and Wallaroo. During our early years of marriage, we travelled as a family to universities and mining centres all over the world, but it wasn't until 1987 when Des was able to follow his interest in Lasseter's Lost Gold Reef, that I became intimately involved with the desert in Central Australia.

Somehow I was swept up in the initial excitement of the planning and preparation of

Des' first expedition to follow up on scientific research he had carried out on the story of Harold Bell Lasseter. My involvement was to arrange the catering for a group of about 15 people for the duration of the expedition. After mentally multiplying family meals by three, I thought this would be no problem. It was only after making up my lists of provisions needed for the trip that I realised three things. Firstly, each vehicle had to carry all provisions for several weeks including fuel, water and food. Secondly, the priority was exactly in that order, fuel first, water second and food last in importance! Thirdly, as we were not going to be within range of the Flying Doctor, medical supplies and first aid skills were essential. Back to the drawing board. I now had to delete all those packets of dried food. Water was too precious to be used for other than drinking (with a limited amount for washing), and all supplies for the trip had to be carefully weighed and measured.

At last we were off, and another surprise awaited me on our arrival at Ayers Rock. This was where our party of prospectors, surveyors,


Sturt’s Desert Pea

a biologist, geologist, survival expert and film crew, were joined by members of the Australian army who had expressed an interest in coming along with us.

Suddenly I found myself the chief cook for 29 personnel, and with no way of returning home to Melbourne! After the initial shock we were on our way, and with lots of willing helpers (except for the early 6 a.m. starts), it was an experience never to be forgotten. Meals were

cooked in camp ovens in a hole in the ground - sometimes under quite difficult conditions. Our biologist and survival expert taught us where and how to find food in the desert. (Yes, witchety grubs are actually delicious). Later, in our base camp, our young daughter Rebecca (my sous-chef) and I managed to produce treats such as pizzas, ham steaks and chips and even an 8-egg sponge for one expedition member's birthday. Camp fires at the end of the day were a chance to swap yarns and hear bush stories. The days were hot and the nights so cold that we all slept in not only our boots but our hats as well. With only one cup of water per day to keep ourselves nice, we couldn't recognise each other when we finally reached civilisation and were able to shower!

The memory of this expedition into the Australian outback will stay with me all my life. The red of the desert, the deep blue of the sky, the picture perfect desert oaks, the odd wild camel or dingo on the horizon, even the prickly spinifex to avoid as you traverse the dunes, are all imprinted on my mind. And everywhere, the intense and brooding quiet.

The experience of this trip to the desert helped me become a true partner to Des, a committed member of the Australian mineral industry. And yes, I continue to follow him wherever our interests take us.

Just think - I would have missed it all, had I remained just a 'city girl'!

Natalie Stroud


DIFFERENCES, DIFFERENCES Our overseas experiences commenced in France where we lived for two years at St. Germain-en-Laye (near Paris). Some seventeen years later we went to Surrey, England, for five years and, ten years later, to India, to Calcutta (now Kolkata) in Bengal State for a further two years.

Most of us are aware that any move implies a steep learning curve, even to cope with mundane matters like garbage disposal. In France and England this was well organised - indeed in France we first met the need to bin glass and metals separately from kitchen refuse. In India in contrast many households dump the garbage in the gutter (some throw it from the balcony - so it is wise to look up!). It is then sorted by children and adults into saleable scrap paper, metals and glass. The soft remains are dumped. Contact with scrap merchants can lead to temptation. Cast iron manhole covers were stolen just before the monsoon - when water covers everything - making it very dangerous. One night 2 km of copper cabling was stolen from under the Maidan - a team effort. Dung from the many cows is picked up in bare hands by ecstatic children who race home where it is plastered onto sunlit walls to dry and be used as cooking fuel. The odour is acrid.

Hospitality everywhere was generous and warm. In France on our first invitation was for 8pm; used to Newcastle hours we, unwisely, had a small snack beforehand. We rose from the table - with difficulty - at midnight. The conversation was always urbane; the food prepared with much thought and care. One year we were invited on Boxing Day. Our hostess informed us she was cooking the poultry in English style; she invited me to peep into her oven and there was the capon sizzling away- with, to my surprise, its head still on! She asked "Is that how the English cook it?". Not to hurt feelings I replied "Well almost". In England in summer we enjoyed high tea, eating in lovely walled gardens and in winter playing charades after Christmas Dinner and taking mulled wines - not our usual back yard cricket and beer. In India our hosts were very kind. Frequently we did not dine until 9 pm. Once the meal was finished the host would leave the room and the evening would end abruptly. You were expected to bring any house guests to the meal, without prior notice.

On one occasion we planned a dinner party for 10. When our Indian guest arrived I was surprised to receive 8 persons instead of 2. Relatives were visiting so they brought them

along too. Then I appreciated why the Indians mostly served a smorgasbord. Our cook always over catered, saying "Sahib might be hungry".

The food in France was a gourmet's delight but to obtain the best meant mastering market shopping - and avoiding the horse butchers! There was a vast variety of cheeses, bread baked every two hours, special sausages and, in season, an abundance of fruits. The most unexpected was to see a little man running his tape measure around hips and busts at the corset and bra stall. English food was traditional and largely familiar - except for the game hanging exposed at the butcher's shop. By that time food was coming in from afar, for example melons from Israel so the diet was improving though expensive. Regional cooking was interesting. India is the land of spices - curries and colour abound. Market shopping is a continual barter best left to Indians, my cook could buy at a third of the price that I could achieve. With little refrigeration in the Calcutta market it was best to shop before 7 am.

Weddings differ. In France two are usual, a civil wedding at the town hall and a religious ceremony in the church. In England we attended a garden wedding with the bride in traditional white. Our practices derive from and resemble theirs. In India in contrast the wedding saris are in rich red and gold - white is for funerals and widows wear white. We attended one large wedding in the country in India. It was held in a huge marquee and at night - then the power failed just as we were eating a very bony fish dish. One unusual event was an invitation to the wedding of our sweeper's brother (we had eight servants in all and that is another story!). This was held some kilometres out of the city near "Bata village", where shoes are made. We had to bring our bearer, Gopal, to look after us and take our own crockery and cutlery because a high caste Brahmin priest would be officiating and we would be untouchable (no caste). After paying our respects to bride and groom, ensconced on a dais behind a curtain, and giving our gift to the matriarch of the family we were taken to a small room where we were to have our meal totally isolated from all the other guests except our staff. The room had barred windows and during the evening people would come up and look at us as we ate. At that time I felt how zoo animals must feel!

The differences enrich, are exciting and a challenge. It is just not possible to convey them all.


Silvermine St Nicholas

Eleanor Lean


ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 2004 President: Mrs Eleanor Lean

Secretary: Mrs Noelle Garner

Treasurer: Mrs Helen Gregson

Committee: Mrs Mignon Baker

Mrs Marj Eshuys

Mrs Pat Johnson

Mrs Katie Phillips

Mrs Jo Ransom

Mrs Ann Wright

Booklet Mrs Helen Gregson

Artwork Mrs Alwynne Fairweather

Proof reading Mr Barry Lean

Liaison Mr Eric Garner

AusIMM assistance Mr Don Larkin and Ms Bronwyn Meadows-Smith

further relections and recollections€¦ · the langham hotel melbourne on saturday 31st may....

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