The Way up to Grandmas

LIFE STORIES

Robert George Barnes

I don’t know exactly which year this was. It’s funny how months seem important when you are young but years - well they’re too remote. So I’m guessing it was about 1962. We were in a new Holden EK Special. I was about 12 years old.

My diary - handwritten in longhand cursive.

THE WAY UP TO GRANDMAS

We left at about seven o’clock and going strong. When we got up to near Newcastle we turned onto the new expressway. We went very fast on it but the new gravel made lots of noise. We were going well but Greg got sick three times. For quite a time there was nothing but bush and state forest but the further we went up it became grassier. We stopped at Bulahdelah to have lunch and Dad got some tablets for Greg.

We kept going until we came to Nambucca Heads where we hired a caravan overnight. We were lucky because 50 miles south at Kempsey where we were going to stay they had a damaging storm which ripped off the roofs of houses. We copped some heavy rain and wind which cleared up by the morning.

We got going fairly early but this time we travelled a bit slower. Up this far all but a few paddocks were frosted and very dry. Talking about dry, there were many bushfires and near all of the State Forests there were patches of burned out bush. Up near the Clarence River there was sugar cane being harvested and we saw a few cane trains. We were watching them while we were waiting for the ferry. When we were approaching Lismore we saw a huge car dump in the hills.

In Lismore we visited Aunty Glad’s and Uncle Les’s and had lunch there. We then did some shopping and got some things that Grandfather needed and then left. Some of the road was fairly good but some of it was awfully bumpy. We were approaching the road to the house and dad nearly took a fit when he saw a sign saying Barnes Road. which was erected by the council. We arrived about 4.30.

When we arrived it was fairly dark and we could not do much so Murray and I went for a walk in the bush and went through a lot of paddocks. The next morning we all, except Mum and Grandma, went rabbit shooting but we didn’t shoot any. On the way back we rounded up the cows that were to be milked. Dad, Grandfather and Greg milked them. Later we went for a swim. Later I was sliding down a hill on my pants and Dad went crook and so he got a board and we had turns going down the hill. Before this I went for a swim and I found a rope to swing from. I wasn’t game to have a swing and Dad pushed me from the bank. From then on I went by myself but I wasn’t game to drop in. We went out for a walk with Dad and Grandfather and we did some shooting. We saw a 4 ft 6 in black snake and Dad shot it. We also saw a wallaby but it ducked off too quickly to shoot it.

The next day we weren’t home all day because we went to Murwillumbah to see Uncle Vic and to Mullumbimby to see Aunt Lila and Uncle Mel. Denise and I went for a swim in the river and I wore Denise’s old painting pants. We went back and had afternoon tea with Uncle Vic. We left quite late and got home about 7 o’clock.

On Thursday we boys were sliding down the hill, This time I had a swing and I let go. It’s great fun.  In the afternoon we took Grandma to the doctor in Kyogle while we did some shopping. Grandfather bought our lunch. After lunch we went up the mountains where it was cold. Up there there were TV stations which were Channel 6 and Channel 8.

On Friday Murray broke the slide board so we got two small boards and went skiing down the slope. Twice, We went swimming twice, once in the morning and the other in the afternoon while daddy had gone fishing with Uncle Arthur. We played skiing all afternoon. I made a small raft which I floated down the creek. I wrote a letter today.  

The next day, Saturday Dad landed home with an 8 lb tailor, a smaller tailor and a flat head. So far we have ridden Willow the horse every day and helped round up and milk the cows. We had a swim twice. We went hunting with Dad and we saw about 20 rabbits. Since the grass was very dry we could not see the rabbits until they were running away when we could not shoot them. Some parrots went by and Dad shot two of them. We collected their feathers.

On Sunday we weren’t home all day because we went to Ballina for a picnic. There were about 30 of the Barnes relations. After lunch we went to Shelley Beach. We went for a swim in a small pool which was there. On the beach was a trawler which had been wrecked in heavy seas. Then we went back to the picnic ground and then after tea the Barnes convoy of seven cars left.

On Monday we didn’t do much except have a swim and go rabbit hunting. We saw only two rabbits. In the afternoon Aunty Gladys, Leonard and Narelle. After tea Uncle Arthur’s family arrived and we watched TV until its close. Aunty Glad stayed overnight and is going to stay until the weekend.

On Tuesday we went out and got some wood for Grandma's fire. I went for a walk an old deserted farm about ¾ of a mile away. About 1 o'clock it started raining and clouds covered the nearby mountains. Although it was raining I went for a swim.

We went to sleep early and woke up at 5.45am. We left at 7.30. On the way home we stayed at Tamworth along the Gwydir and New England highways. Most interesting was when we crossed the mountains at Glen Innes. We all put our names on a fence up there. We couldn’t stay in any motels as they were all full. We saw many sheep and cattle on the way. We arrived home at about 4 o’clock PM. In all the way home was much more interesting that the way up.

End of diary entry.

Grandma (Bertha May Barnes) with Robert, Greg and Murray holding Dad’s fishing catch. The photo shows Dad's new Holden EK Special.

Visits to the farm several times as I was growing up were adventures. There was a creek to swim in, horses to ride, bush to walk in, wood to chop, snakes, birds cows and all sorts of farm things to do.

Some memories came back to me as a short story about swimming in the deep dark pool in the creek down from the homestead.

The Deep End

By Robert G Barnes

February 2015

Beneath the dense canopy with flecking sparkles, the stream tumbled over pebbles and boulders, dark, round, slippery, and in a final surge flowed into the pool, wide and long. Between the spreading edges leaves drifted in patterns and swirls atop the mysterious water. Through the canopy, now divided, blinding sunlight beamed into this cathedral with its watery sky ceiling and walls of bowing timber. Rays struck, but barely penetrated the redolent translucent tea.

The path to the pool led down the slippery hill from Grandpa’s house, sentinel on the lonely ridge below the volcanic rim. Running brothers and cousins gambolled and tumbled down the grassy slopes hoping to avoid the dank cow pats and slithery things in the cream-inducing grass.

We pushed aside the thickets near the towering river oak, where the rope with repairs and knots, hung temptingly over the dark waters. The noisy confusion scattered the locals. Water dragons perched on pointed rocks splashed away, while kingfishers streaked across the water and disappeared. In the pool, plopping sounds centred on expanding rings as tortoises dived into the unseen. Dragon flies danced through the reeds as the March flies buzzed and gathered to feast on itchy abundance.

With experience disguised as bravado, the first bold leap into the tannin, with great splashing and gurgling, brought the rope to the skaty bank. In turn the queue led from brave to timid, as the rope swung with increasing exuberance launching lithe bodies into the cooling water.

Some way off, at the end where the water continued its long seaward journey, the pool remained deep and calm. Not a great distance but as remote as a distant mountain rarely climbed.

Til one day... A first deep, anxious breath and then steady strokes soon brought me to the black, perpendicular rocks, hot to the touch. Back in the dappled shadow, arcs, and squeals and splashes continued. I turned, legs dangling and then, an opaque slimy brushing of legs and toes. With frantic terror arms reached forward and with grasping strokes and heart racing I fled cutting through the waters now many times longer, arriving back at the rope and scrambling up the tangled roots to the bank and the curious, waiting throng.

Heart beats slowed and gasping trailed to steady breathing. Soon tales were told of large eels with razor teeth in open mouths to tussled hair, peeling noses and ragged towels over shoulders.

At the deep end of the pool, the water dragons resumed their sunning, while the long water grasses swayed unseen in the gentle current waiting for more toes. The deep end had been visited, but that mountain was never again climbed that summer.

(Memories of summer bush days, Barkers Vale, NSW.)

Character is built in the time and place of your upbringing. Finding several old photographs of my father, at the farm when he was a young man, and later, prompted this poem:

Dad, dear Dad

I found my father
Standing tall with his faded hat slouched
rabbit rifle on the farm
and a cheeky grin,
in the box, under the others.

And smiling by the sepia fence
near the bountiful orange tree
where the garden grew the beans for the kids
and I mixed mash for the chooks.

And in the shop, with the curled edges,
where chairs were reborn
with flock and tacks,
masterful movements,
and a fabric of care.

I found my Dad today
in my box
under the others,
under the stairs.

Robert G Barnes 9 November 2013

For George Henry Barnes 1924-1978