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Saturday, 14 July 2012

Panna Hill


So we started going all around town to source the best location for our BMX track. There were two problems we came across in getting a good site. One of them was the fact that due to Panna (the name we used to give to Pannawonica) was so small, there weren’t many spots to choose from. The next major problem was that the almost all the areas we found were rocky. The desert terrain around Panna was mostly rock – there was almost no sand or soil. This meant that it didn’t matter how hard we tried we couldn’t move large amounts of base for our track without a lot of effort. Ideally what we needed was lots of sand and gravel which we could then move by wheelbarrow to where we wanted it. To make a BMX track you need to build a start ramp with different sorts of jumps and every corner has to be a ‘berm’ so you can get around the corner at speed (as in the picture opposite). As we had no way of accessing enough dirt we had to find a place that had a natural start ramp.



We finally came across the spot near the entrance to the town behind an area called the ‘old single men’s quarters’. When the town was first built the initial group of workers came and lived in donger’s which are transportable housing that can be placed on the back of a semi-trailer. The donger’s had been long gone and what was left was a flat area of sand and rock which had been cleared out in the side of hill. There was a section from the top of the hill to the cleared flat area at the bottom that was about 3 meters high. Perfect. I can remember our joy when we found this spotJ



First we built up the start ramp as the way we found it was too steep to ride down. After a day of two working on it we had a really high start ramp that was great. We tried it on the bikes and we were satisfied that the ramp produced enough speed to power through the track. Then we started on the some jumps – knowing in the back of my mind that we were going to struggle to build the first left hand berm big enough to handle the speed that we were generating from the ramp. We built some awesome jumps but by the time we needed to build our first left hand berm we had used all the dirt around the area on our jumps. I remember thinking that it was really unfair that we weren’t able to finish the track and my disappointment was huge! I wanted to speak to someone from the mine and get them to use one of the big front end loaders to shift a whole pile of earth for us but as a kid I didn’t know how to make that happen – Andrew and Dion both thought that their dads wouldn’t help with that and my step dad was a welder so didn’t actually work on the mine. Our dream of a BMX track of our own was over; we knew this challenge was out of our league.


Experiences like these helped me identify the sort of Dad I wanted to be when I grew up. I made a promise to myself that when I was a Dad that I would help my kids with their adventures and try to make things possible for them that they couldn’t accomplish on their own.


By this time I can’t remember how but I scored another bike and this one was a BMX. Now that I was able to we started exploring the country around the town. Andrew and Dion wanted to take me to a place called Pannawonica Hill. They explained that it was an aboriginal sacred site and you could climb right to the top of the hill. It was by the robe river and was one of the few places that had water in a river most of the year round. It was about 5 kms away through the desert and the boys said that we could take some sausages and bread out and cook our lunch over the fire. This was so exciting for me!! I had never even been camping in a tent before let alone trek out over desert to a waterhole at a sacred aboriginal site and cook lunch over a fire!!
 

To get to Panna hill we had to ride down a gravel road for about 2kms. Then the we cut over a dried out mud pan. All the mud for hundreds of meters had cracked as it had dried. I can recall the feeling and sound of the dried mud crunching under the BMX tyres as we crossed the mud flat. Then we needed to cross the mine railway which we did through a massive stormwater pipe under the tracks. Once on the other side we stopped for a drink at a well which Andrew said had been there for 50 years - I couldn’t help imagining all the different people and animals that have drunk water at that well over the years.



After riding for another 2 kms and dodging a few nasty looking bulls who didn’t like that we were moving through their land, we finally came to the waterhole (all around the town there were cattle just roaming freely – the cattle stations in the Pilbara are too big for fences so they roam around in the wild). We were so hot at this stage we washed off in the water and then set about building a fire. Once the fire was lit we cooked our sausages by impaling a stick through them and grilling them over the open fire.



After lunch we started climbing Panna hill. As you can see from the picture the last part of the hill is almost like a cliff and the whole time I was thinking about how we were going to climb that part as the boys had said they had been to the top before. Once we got to the really steep section Andrew led me into a tunnel which led upwards. At the base of the tunnel were steps made of stone and this tunnel led us up the side of the cliff. Andrew explained that the aborigines in this area has built this tunnel so when were attacked by the neighbouring tribes they could run up the hill and then defend themselves at this tunnel. I can recall thinking how amazing it was that aborigines were doing this so many thousands ago and that I was now lucky enough to be standing in those same spots. This day was my most memorable whilst I lived in Pannawonica and I will be forever thankful to Andrew and Dion for taking me to Panna hill.

Sunday, 8 July 2012

Pannawonica


Upon arriving in Pannawonica I can remember the redness of the terrain and the parching dry heat which felt like placing your hand in an oven. A lady from the mining company showed us around the town in her vehicle, the tour lasted about 10mins. And then it was time to see what would become our new home in the desert.

The Town of Pannawonica

One of my favourite pastimes during the summer in Perth was to spend hours catching grasshoppers on the back lawn. I used to keep them in ice cream containers filled with grass, dirt and sticks for a few days and try and figure out what I could feed them to keep them alive. I remember the first time I went out the back of the house in Pannawonica to look for grasshoppers. It didn’t take long to find them but I noticed that they were unexpectedly large and scary looking. They weren’t the light brown colour like the ones in Perth but rather dark red/brown and very angry looking. They were also much bigger than any grasshopper I had seen before, as big as my hands were! Given that they were bigger they could hop further which meant they were harder to catch, formerly you would have as many chances to catch the small grasshoppers as you needed, with the big ones you would only get one chance because if you missed them the first time they would hop too far and quickly to have any chance of getting them a second time.


I was pretty scared of these monsters, their legs were spiky and the risk of injury from their flicking legs was a possibility. I sourced a container and readied it with foliage and red dirt and went after my first giant grasshopper. I tried in vain all afternoon to get anywhere near one but as the sun began to go down they seemed to slow their pace somewhat. I crept up on one unsuspecting grasshopper, jumped and grabbed him in cupped hands. Within a split second he started kicking his spiky legs into my palms and his escape was assured. I dropped the grasshopper and looked at my palms – the grasshopper had drawn blood and at that point I determined that my grasshopper catching days were over. There were to be  many other lessons that life in the desert is far more treacherous than the city in the coming months.


The Dreaded Spinifex
The next day our bikes had been unpacked and being pestering children whilst our parents were unpacking Ken told us to get on our bikes and go for a ride. Joel and I jumped on our bikes and off we went. What an adventure – so much to see! We rode for about 10 mins then realised that it was really hot (Pannawonica would still be routinely 42-44° in March) and that we were really thirsty and starting to get sunburnt. I said to Joel that we should turn around and head back. He was pretty upset due to the heat and decided to get off his bike instead of turning around. As soon as he stepped off the bike onto the road he started screaming. We didn’t have any shoes on and his feet were blistering due to the heat of the road. I can remember him dancing around on the road like a mad man and as any big brother would do I had a laugh...for a about 2 seconds before I clicked that this might be serious. I didn’t have shoes on either so didn’t know what to do. I had a thought that he needed to get off the road and jump on some nearby shrubs. I screamed at Joel to listen to me and said jump on that bush! He duly obeyed and jumped on the bush only to start screaming even louder than before. I shouted what’s wrong now and through his tears and desperation he screams, “this bush is spiky!!” I had unknowingly told him to jump on a Spinifex bush which is full of spikes that snap off and stay in your skin! It was at this stage that I realised the situation was no longer comical so I jumped off my bike onto the burning asphalt and put my brother on his bike and told him to ride with words of encouragement. We arrived at home to my mother’s dismay with blistered feet and Joel’s feet were full of spikes that needed to be removed! I would never go out in bare feet again.



The same model as Andrew's Supergoose
Within a couple of weeks of moving to Pannawonica I had found a mate in a guy called Andrew Maitland. Andrew was a kid who had grown up in Pannawonica and his dad had worked for the Robe River mining company for years. He was right into BMX when most of the other kids in town had motorbikes. He had a chrome Mongoose with blue mag wheels (as pictured). It was the coolest bike I had ever seen! He had a mate called Dion Bond and Andrew used to spend time with Dion building BMX jumps and cruising around town on their BMXs. I started cruising around with them on my 10 speed racer looking like a real city kid! I had a black 10 speed Malvern Star so couldn’t really join in the action.  Andrew came up with the idea that I should be the team ‘manager’ given my choice of ride. This meant I had to research and think of new tricks for Andrew and Dion to try and I had to locate the best spots around town to build and set up our jumps. I set all my energy into this new role – it was nice to feel like I was wanted and that I belonged in such a strange, new environment. We had some awesome times together making jumps and pulling off some awesome tricks. Our favourite film was BMX Bandits http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vwPbdYE9tZY and we felt like we were the BMX Bandits in our little town!


After a month or two of me being the manager of our bandit ‘gang’ I came up with the idea of making a BMX track. So I set about designing one and thinking about the best place to build one. We got a whole pile of papers from an old mining equipment manual and I started working on designs in pencil on the back of these pages. Andrew and Dion started doing the same; it took us about 2 weeks to settle on a design. Meanwhile I worked on getting a good location and trying to get enough tools like shovels and mattocks. The location needed to have a steep ramp to start and then we would build up berms by hand. In the next blog I will tell the story about the place we found and how our track building went.



Saturday, 7 July 2012

Feeling Settled



Ali and his older sister were going to do to year seven and then high school at Guildford Grammar and Perth College (three generations of the Bright boys had been educated at Guildford, Ali was to be the 4th). Guildford Grammar’s Current fees are around $25K per year. My parents didn’t even talk to me about high school despite me being in year 6 at the time. Whilst Ali’s parents were very busy with the newsagency they were ‘there’ for him in so many ways. His dad used to teach him how to drive and take him on the 4am paper runs to teach him how to throw the paper from the car properly. He used to show him how to run the business and even gave him to the job to be like a ‘foreman’ to the team of teenagers with milk grates on their BMX’s who used to do paper rounds for Mr Bright. We used to go around and drop accounts off for him. I never once recall Ali feeling like he was neglected by his folks. 


In comparison was my parents total non-involvement in my schooling to the extent that in year 4 when I had my class turn of taking the class mice home for the weekend that I had to walk the 1.5kms home carrying the glass aquarium all the way. I remember the looks that I received from the kids as I was walking home and the feeling of the sharp edges of the aquarium digging into my hands. They were the sorts of experiences that thankfully Ali did not have to have but in hindsight I am thankful for.

My other passion around this time was Lego – and I will give mum credit, I was the only kid at school that 1986/1987 Christmas that got an electric Lego train set. It joined my huge collection of Lego and I had soon built a city with Lego roads, buildings, and railway. I built my own level crossing and station. I can remember losing myself for hours with my Lego as a trusty companion. This was one of my many methods of escapism from a domestic situation I was not happy in. I can see upon retrospect the childlike, adolescent and adulthood forms of escapism that I have encountered in others and engaged in myself both adaptive and maladaptive. This one served me well at the time.


When Ali was busy with family or other things I would spend time by myself. I had a couple of goes at growing a vegetable patch. I sought permission from my step-father to dig up a little patch in the backyard to plant carrots. Permission granted I was then able to plan the garden (which I did with pencil and paper:). I dug out a section the middle of the area for the path and laid some spare pavers down. I then turned the soil and planted my carrot seeds in little mounds. I went out and watered them every day and the joy I experienced when they sprouted was unbelievable! I couldn’t wait to eat them – and I didn’t wait! In fact they were all eaten before they were longer than 5-6cms and not one of them made it to the kitchen like I had promised my mum when she bought the seeds for me! It was amazing to me that I could grow my own food and it embedded a passion for cultivation that still is part of me to this day.


My other pastime which I used to get into trouble for (so I just became really good at doing it without being caught) was climbing on the roof of the house and looking at the world from up there. I could see the city skyline from the roof and used to watch the planes flying over head. The sun would set over the city and I would lose myself in my imagination. I can still remember the feeling of sitting on the burning hot clay tiles and having to wait through the pain for a minute or so until they cooled off. Of feeling the cooling hints of a far way sea breeze. The feeling that I was above the world somehow, maybe immune from its effects was exhilarating. This stays with me to this day. When I feel overwhelmed I have always been drawn to high places.


I used to see my Dad once a fortnight. I would look forward to seeing him as I really felt loved and wanted by him. I had been saying for years to mum that I wanted to live with dad and that in my opinion there wasn’t much difference between me being a latchkey kid and living with dad (as he would still have to work) than living in a household that I spent all my time trying to avoid. Mum would continue however to fight Dad for custody and he would continue spending every cent he had on legal bills in an attempt to see more of us. I used to love being hugged and kissed by dad and feeling that he loved me. I had never experienced that from any other adult and feeling it made me realise how important it was and how bleak life can be when you don’t have that.


My other overarching feeling was that I was starting to feel settled at school. This was a sensation I was not familiar with after having three that school changes from Kinder to year 3. It was as if I was starting to have the geographic stability to start making decisions about the future. This was spurred on by the fact that Ali was going to be leaving Kewdale primary at the end of year 6 and I knew that I would not be able to compete with the elitism of the Guildford Grammar kids. Not only would I be without a best mate but I would be about to commence high school without one. I had it in my mind that if I kept on playing up for Mum and Ken that they would give up and let me go and live with dad. That was my plan and then I could live in south Perth and start a new school there. It seems strange now that I had this detailed plan but didn’t try and sit down with Mum/Dad and explain these things – perhaps things would have turned out different if I had thought to do that??


Monday, 2 July 2012

Rich Kid, Poor Kid

The year was 1987. The location Perth, Western Australia. I was 10 years old and in the midst of the excitement of America’s Cup which was to be staged outside of America for the first time in 132 years in Fremantle, WA. The city of Perth then was a backwater compared to its powerhouse status of today. With a population of just over 1,000,000 it was considered an isolated and insignificant city on the national arena. Hence an international event such as the Americas Cup being held in Perth/Fremantle was a period of great excitement for the city. I recall my parents and other adults frequently talking about it. 

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Perth 1987
For me however matters were much more simple and straight forward. I used to spend a lot of time with my best mate, Alistair Bright (who I called Ali). I used any excuse I could to be away from home so after school each day I would walk home, eat and go straight to Ali’s place. He was kind of rich from my perspective – he had a pool, a commodore 64 AND a VHS Video player with a remote control! The summers needless to say were spent in his pool. Winters were spent playing spy hunter on the computer and watching movies like Top Gun, which was also our favourite soundtrack, Police Academy and Ferris Bueler’s Day Off.

I was jealous of his life, his parents owned the local newsagency and via well to do parents, who lived on a river front property in Bassendean with their own jetty, and a lot of hard work, ran a very successful business. They owned a yacht which was moored at East Fremantle and used to have yacht club big parties on the weekends. In hindsight they were the epitomy of the hard working upper middle class of the time. 

School holidays were the best and we used to spend all day in the pool. Our favourite pastime in the pool was maiming wasps. The wasps would be attracted to the chlorine and the water in the summer and would fly around trying to sting us. Then we would go into sniper mode and wait until the wasps would get close to the water and then double team them with splashing until they couldn’t fly then we would kill them – they were public enemy number one!

A common ethical concern for Ali and I during summer were the other kids in our grade at Kewdale Primary who would want o be our ‘friends’ when it was 40° and their parents wouldn’t pay for them to go to the Belmont Aquatic Centre. All of a sudden whilst we were in the pool we would hear these guys calling out to us from the front of Ali’s house. We’d go out and have a chat and of course they would be so chummy – Ali had learnt the hard way in previous summers that as soon as the days started getting shorter and cooler all of a sudden you would be on the outer. I remember the feeling of seeing them looking at me so enviously and liking it. I felt so loyal in that sense to Ali in that he knew I was a good mate to him at any time. It was also one of the few times I can remember feeling a sense of prestige and entitlement and I liked it.

The differences between Ali’s background and mine could not be more different. His house was like a mansion to me – big and spacious with modern appliances – an office, a sunroom. My house on the other hand was old, rented and did not even have hot water on demand. My step dad, Ken, would have to light the woodchip heater each night to heat up the water and all hot water demands needed to be met for the hour or two after the heater was lit. My step dad was a welder and my dad a storeman. My family drove around in a 1981 Mitsubishi Express Van with seats fitted for me and my brother in the back (very dorky) and Ali’s family a 1986 VL Commodore ‘Americas Cup’ limited edition. I suppose it was my first real experience of class division and gave me something to aspire for.