Thursday Island

To get the story into perspective, here are some of the Queensland islands of the Torres Strait.  Tuesday Islets are marked with an A, Wednesday Island is to their north west,  Thursday Island is in the centre and Friday Island is to its South West.  Nothing of any consequence happened on Saturday, Sunday or Monday!

The trip to Thursday Island was via a Qantas Dash 8 that held approximately 70 passengers. Its cruising height was only 24,000 feet and as it was a clear blue sky for a lot of the way, the view (for Rob who had the window seat) was pretty spectacular.

Our flight captain was great. He told us in detail of the route he would be flying and what views we could look forward to as the flight progressed. He held a fairly straight course from the shore line in Cairns to Bamaga right on the tip of Cape York Peninsular so for some of the way we were flying over the forests of the Peninsular and at other times over the water where the reef could be seen in all its glory.

As we passed over Bamaga, the captain came back on to warn us that he was about to commence the decent and, as was usually the case in that part of the world, it could be a little bumpy as there was now some cloud about. He told us not to worry as it was all a part of the experience of visiting Thursday Island.

We started the decent into the cloud and at one point the captain must have spotted a hole that he tightly turned towards and dove down into. In very quick time we were under the cloud and straightening out. Soon after, we could see through the windows across the aisle, the mountains of Prince Of Wales then, when we were probably 1500 feet, Thursday Island came into full view. We really didn't know much about the place and were surprised at how small and well populated it is.

TI from the air.  Hammond Island is to the right.  The hospital is bottom right and Rod & Sue's place is in the building on the right in the little compound behind the hospital's large buildings.  The treed hill front centre of the photo is the remnants of an 1800's fort built to protect the inhabitants from a possible Russian invasion.
Photo by Rob

Soon we were on the ground at Horn, a much larger island than TI but smaller than Prince Of Wales. It is only a five and a half minute boat ride from TI by very fast ferry.

When we got off the plane and moved through the small terminal we saw Rod, looking very official with clip-board in hand, standing with a lady in traditional Islander dress at the door of his bus welcoming the new arrivals. How good was that service and how good was it to see him?

Prior to our arrival, Sue had done some detective work to find things we could do on Horn while she was still at work on TI. There is a privately owned and operated museum that she believed would be worth visiting and the hamburgers at the island's pub were to die for.

After dropping most of his passengers at the ferry, Rod drove us to the museum. He suggested we leave our luggage on the bus while at the museum and then give him a call when we were done and he would pick us up and drive us to the pub for lunch. How absolutely civilised!

The museum was all that Sue said it would be. Much of it was about Horn's strategic position during WW11 as a military base for allied forces, both army and air force. There were scraps of several planes that had either crashed on the island or been destroyed during many of the strikes on the airfield by Japanese bombers. It was interesting to learn that, although TI was the administrative centre of the Torres Straight islands, it was never bombed. It has been speculated that the reason behind it was there are graves of 700 Japanese pearl divers on TI which their countrymen held as sacred.

The museum was not just about the war but about the islands, their people, customs and lifestyles. It gave us a good insight into what to expect. There were two haunting exhibits that will really stay in our memories forever.

First was a photo of an allied airman kneeling blindfolded on the ground. Standing above him, posing for the photograph, was a Japanese soldier with sword raised above his head, about to swing it down and behead the hapless person below him. Notwithstanding his imminent death, there was no look of fear on his face (the blindfold covered his eyes only), just that of a brave airman about to give his life for his country.

The second photo was of a crowd of islanders standing around a croc that had just been killed and cut open. The contents of its stomach had been removed and placed in full view of the camera. They included parts of a human body such as the head, torso, hands, arms and legs.

After we had had our fill, we called Rod and a very short time later he arrived, picked us up and took us to the pub. After placing our order and arming ourselves with a drink we began chatting to the barmaid. She was a young French lass in Oz on a working holiday. She started out picking cherries at Young and when that finished she saw an advert for the position on Horn Island. She was very interested in our previous life as grey nomads and we in her so we had plenty to talk about. Except for a couple of gamblers betting on horse races via the pub's TAB facility, we were her only customers.

Then our lunches arrived. Mine was the biggest hamburger you have ever seen accompanied by a bountiful supply of chips. The bread roll was big, big, the meat pattie was real mince and was as wide as the roll and was 1.5cms thick. All the usual accompaniments were there plus a slice or two of grilled cheese and a generous scoop of mushrooms in a mushroom sauce. It was so big, I really suffered eating the chips.

Rob was frightened by what I had ordered so she ordered a plate of wedges which was massive too. When next you are on Horn Island do yourself a favour and get a hamburger from the pub.

Rebel Tours. Fast Ferry between Horn and Thursday Islands

As we had previously arranged with Rod, he turned up in the bus at 1.00pm to take us to the ferry wharf where we boarded the TI fast ferry.

On arrival at TI, we were whisked onto another bus and taken straight to the hospital where Sue had just finished a meeting and was waiting for us.

It was about five years since we last saw Rod and Sue so we had much to catching up to do. This we did until well into the night. While we were doing so their good friends Wynand (vay-nund) Breytenbach and his wife Ellmarie popped in to say hello. Wynand is a doctor who also works in the hospital when he and Rod are not out fishing in the Haines Hunter runabout they jointly bought a half interest in.  The boat is powered by a 140hp motor so it gets along pretty well, something I found out about the next morning at an hour well before I have become accustomed to seeing.

Along the way to the boat ramp the three of us stopped to pick up another of their friends, Stan. Now Stan is an Islander who has spent much of his comparatively short life as a diver. He knows the waters of the Torres Strait very well so with the boat's GPS and Stan's great knowledge we were able to negotiate our way, I think, north west about 27 nautical miles to a favourite spanish mackerel fishing spot. I must say, I was surprised by the number of shoals, rocks and sand bars we negotiated along the way. However, with Wynand capably handling the driving and Stan providing the navigational support, I felt very safe.

Before going to bed the previous night, I must confess, I was a little concerned at the force of the Trade Winds that had been blowing since we arrived and which continued well into the night. Rod had not eased my concerns when he told me of a discussion he had with a local on the day he arrived on the island. He asked what time the winds abated and after some thought, the local said, “About November!”

How good was the feeling in the morning when I got up and could no longer hear the wind and could not see the whitecaps on the waters out the back of Rod and Sue's unit in the hospital grounds. Their view is of the waterways that separate Horn and Prince of Wales from TI, of the islands themselves, and between Horn and PoW, of the tip of Cape York Peninsular in the far distance. “Living the dream”, is how Rod describes living where they do.

Living the Dream.  Looking south east from the back yard of Rod & Sue's Unit.  Small section of Horn Island on the left, Prince of Wales on the right and in between, out of camera range, the tip of Cape York Peninsular.
Photo by Brian's brand new Smartphone

 Within minutes of arriving at the fishing spot, the spanish started biting and we started catching. There was only room for two rods trailing out the back of the boat, plus a hand line that Stan was holding so we took turns in pulling the fish in. In quick succession we pulled in five decent fish and as quickly as they started biting, they went off the boil. We continued trolling for another couple of hours without success so we headed back towards home.

At a spot along the way, quite close to the island, we stopped. Stan donned a wetsuit, head protection, diving mask and flippers and, without any breathing apparatus, popped overboard into waters which I believe are renown for sharks and crocs. I must admit, it did pass my mind, how remarkably like a succulent seal he would have looked to a passing shark; but then, I don't suppose sharks up that way would have seen too many seals. He did explain, however, that he is not crazy and was only prepared to go in since the water on the day was clear and there were no obvious signs of danger.

Stan was looking for crayfish and although he sighted a few, they were very skittish, a sign that someone else had been around earlier. Not surprising that as Rod had told me one of the divers had transported 1.9 tonnes of crays to Cairns the previous day for export to Japan; and that was only one of the exporters.

As the crays proved to be too elusive, Stan looked for alternatives and found a rock around which a large number of reef fish were swimming. Someone suggested he take a spear gun down, but he thought that not a good idea as the sound of thrashing fish and the smell of blood in the water would surely attract any sharks that may be within the vicinity.

We dropped anchor close to the rock and did a spot of line fishing. We caught seven or eight fish, my contribution to which was a smallish reef cod which Stan assured me was great eating.

When we eventually got back to shore we dropped Stan off. Rod and Wynand only wanted one spanish apiece so Stan happily took the rest of the catch to feed his extended family. Later on in the evening I had the pleasure of watching a craftsman at work as Rod set about filleting one of the fish for our consumption and slicing the other into steaks for Wynand. There was not a skerick of wasted flesh and in the fillets, not a bone to be seen or swallowed. The pile of fillets from the one fish filled a reasonably large lasagne dish.

Sunset on Thursday Island.  Photo by Rob

Before adjourning to one of the pubs for dinner in the evening we called over to Wynand and Ellmarie's unit for pre dinner drinks. While the girls sat on their patio watching a most magnificant TI sunset, we three fellows, together with a couple of young doctor mates of Wynand, sat in the lounge watching a Rugby Union game. Being South African by birth, Wynand is a rugby fanatic. He is trying to convert Rod to the game, as Rod is trying to convert him to Australian Rules. Neither has any chance of success!!

Rod and Wynand decided to go out again the following day and as I had had a pretty big one the day before, they suggested I might like to stay home. Though I had such a fantastic time out there, I was more than happy to comply. They left at the same ungodly hour as we had the previous day but, unlike on the previous day, the Trade Winds had returned.

They went to a different spot to fish which was about 30 nautical miles out; they rocked and rolled for about four hour; they comforted a fourth member they took in my place who was seasick the whole of the time; and they returned at midday without a fish. Perhaps they should have asked me to calm the seas just as I did the day before !!

I spent most of the morning sitting in the back yard watching the developing winds whip up the waterways and thinking how lucky I was not living the dream with Rod. In the afternoon, Sue, Rob and I went to one of the local pubs (Torres Hotel – the most northerly pub in Oz) where, every Sunday (as it was) a local identity, Seaman Dan, sits in the bar, strumming his guitar and singing a vast array of songs, his own compositions about the Torres Strait islands and other cover songs. “Not unusual”, you say. Well this is a copy of the first paragraph in Wikipedia on him.

“Henry Gibson "Seaman" Dan (born 1929), known universally as Seaman Dan, is a Torres Strait Islander (Australian) singer songwriter with a national and international reputation whose first recording was released in 2000. His album Perfect Pearl won him an ARIA Award for Best World Music Album in 2004 and in 2009 won again with Sailing Home “

That, right, he is 84 years old and he won his first ARIA at 75 - and he is good! The place gradually filled during the afternoon as the locals (mainly hospital and other itinerant support industry personnel) all came down for a drink and to be entertained. That included Rod and Wynand after their premature return from fishing.

It all reminded me very much of my early days as a relieving officer in the bank when on a Saturday afternoon (for the pubs didn't open on a Sunday) many of the bankers, teachers, police, etc., would gather at the pub for a social meet.

By mid afternoon the place actually filled to overflowing as a couple of buses filled with fly/sail-in tourists arrived on the island for a brief look around (Bloody tourists!!). The tours were conducted by Rebel Tours for whom Rod works (but definitely not on a weekend). When on duty, he proudly wears the Rebel tee shirt for it describes his character perfectly!!

After our fill of entertainment we walked home where Sue, with support from Rod, set about cooking dinner for the four of us plus Wynand (Ellmarie had flown out during the afternoon as she had to go to Brisbane). However, before dinner was ready, Rod and Sue had a further treat for us - feeding the sharks.

Rod had saved the fish carcases from our fishing expedition the day before.  He borrowed a car from a friend (R & S have no need for one the island being so small and besides, diesel is $2.11 a litre) and we drove a few kms to a small groyne.  

Some of Rod's friends after a free feed.  Photo by Rob

 

 

 

 

We clambered out along the rocks and when Rod had made himself comfortable right on the water's edge, he dropped the fish pieces straight in front of him.  It only took a few minutes for the sharks to get the smell and one by one they came up for a feed.  At one point we counted six of them.  

Rod was a little careful for, he said, the last time he had been down to feed them he actually patted them (he believes, they are a harmless variety) until suddenly amongst them appeared a rather large Tiger Shar -, not so harmless.  He quickly made an exit from his perch at the water's edge.

Back home again, a neighbour, Andrew, popped in to say hello. His wife Jane was in Brisbane so he was cooking his own dinner - chilli crayfish pasta. Sue invited him to eat with us which he accepted so, for entrée, we had chilli crayfish pasta. For main course we had fresh pan fried spanish mackerel and a mixture of sea scallops and prawns cooked in a beautiful sauce. I think there may have also been a salad. I'm sure it too would have been beautiful!!

My mouth waters as I think of dinner that night, just as it does when I (often) think of the fish, chips and koonac (fresh water yabbies) feasts that Rod would cook up for us in the back yard of their home in Narrogin Pastoral College (WA) where he was, at the time, the butcher, slaughtering teacher as well as being the farm manager.

Come Monday morning, both Rod and Sue had to go to work so Rob and I spent the morning wandering down to the town and having a look around at the place as well as visiting the relatively new Cultural Centre which was most interesting. There were none of the macabre exhibits that we saw on Horn but a couple of things stood out.

Each of the many Torres Strait islands was featured in the centre together with examples of traditional apparel. What fascinated me was that in more than a couple of instances, traditional islander headdresses included model war planes. It brought home to me the effect that the war obviously had on the peoples of the Strait.

Another thing that I was not aware of until this visit was that most of the islands are a part of Queensland and the most northerly of them is only four kilometres from PNG.

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Come midday, it was, sadly for us, time to leave but before we were picked up by the owner of Rebel Tours, Sue took us both for a tour over the hospital. We did not get to see the recently opened, super modern, section but what we did see was most impressive. Many of the wards have views to die for and the helipad, which is in frequent use by the Queensland Air Ambulance helicopter stationed on Horn Island ferrying the sick to the hospital from the islands and back home again, is on the foreshore a hundred metres from the Emergency entrance.

All health services are free of cost to Torres Strait Island residents. The transport costs alone to the Queensland Government in transporting patients as well as staff, visiting and permanent is, I believe, astounding.

After sad goodbyes to Sue, we were taken by bus to the Rebel jetty where we were ferried back to Horn. Rod was there to meet us but was not driving that day. After sad goodbyes to him at the jetty we boarded the bus for the trip to the airport and back to Cairns, again on a Dash 8. This time it was my turn to have the window seat out of which my eyes were glued for the whole journey. The scenery was breathtaking.

Thanks Rod and Sue. We owe you big time when you come down to Port Stephens.