My father owns the ‘Lady Annabelle’ and I’m his youngest son, Tim. Dad operates ferry trips and a mail run on the lovely Hawkesbury River. The Lady Annabelle is a beautiful old timber boat, almost historic really. Dad is ferry master and I take care of the maintenance and look after her diesel engine. When I look at the jobs of other blokes I realize what a good life I have, even though we work all hours, seven days a week. I love the river, with the changing seasons, the changing sky bringing changing colors to the water, the varying wind bringing different smells, the tide drifting endlessly in and out, the birds circling, the passengers coming aboard and saying g’day, and Annabelle always chugging quietly along.
We were walking past the shops recently when we saw Reg, the local real estate agent. Dad said, “G’day Reg, how’s business?” Reg looked round. “Oh, about average Ted, although I’ve just got a lease signed for the old boat yard over at Bob’s Point. Didn’t think I’d ever rent out that place.” Bob’s Point is where Fiddle Creek runs at an angle into the main river, ten kilometers upstream of the freeway bridge. It’s a rocky ridge sticking out a bit into the river, and the old boat yard fronts into a deep pool in the mouth of the creek. “ Jeez, it’s been abandoned for years. Who rented it?” “Two blokes, must be artists. They wanted somewhere quiet to paint.” “Quiet’s the word. They’ll be lucky to see anyone for weeks at a time at that place.” “Well you know Ted, one man’s hell is another man’s heaven.”
A couple of days later we saw a barge heading up-river carrying some big baulks of timber, and I noticed something odd. “I wonder what that timber’s for dad?” “Probably someone is building a house up the river.” “No, the timber’s too short and too thick for a house.” Barges are big flat-bottomed steel boats that carry heavy stuff like building materials and furniture out to the Island and other places along the river, and some of them have cranes to lift loads on and off. Most barges are owned and operated by men, but this one was owned by a very tough woman called Jessie. She’s got the big shoulders and the calf muscles of a wrestler, and she always wears a blue singlet, work shorts and boots. I don’t think too many blokes would want to tangle with her! When I saw Jessie again I asked her who the timber was for. “Well you’re a nosey little bugger aren’t you! As a matter of fact it was for the two guys that rented the old boatyard over at Bob’s Point. I suppose they want to repair the slipway." "Repair the slipway? Reg in the real estate office told us they were painters." "Search me, perhaps he got it a bit wrong, perhaps they’re going to paint boats, not pictures. They looked pretty sleazy to me. I insisted on cash up front.”
Next time we passed Bob’s Point I borrowed dad’s binoculars to see what was going on. “Jessie was right dad. They’re building a cradle for deep keel yachts.” Cradles are things that boat yards use on their slipways. The cradle runs down a sort of railway track into the water, then at high tide you can float a cruiser or a yacht into the cradle, and winch it up the rails into the boat yard for repairs. I took another look again later. “Hey dad, they’ve got the slipway working now. Look, they’ve winched up a small ketch.”
On that trip we had a clergyman aboard. He was a short man with a black suit and dog collar, curly white hair and a sunny smile. If he’d been Irish he could have been a character on TV. I saw that the toes of his shoes were badly rubbed, so he must have been doing a lot of praying on his knees.. As we passed Deepwater Inlet he saw the chapel on the little island in the middle of the inlet. “That seems a very odd place to have built a House of the Lord.” he said. I took him round to the wheelhouse to talk to dad. Dad knows all about the history of the river. “Dad” I said, “the Father is wondering why that chapel was built on such a little island?” Dad smiled. “It’s a tale of rivalry. At one time there were two congregations on opposite sides of the inlet and they each wanted the chapel built on their side. After a long argument they built it on that island, half way between. That way nobody was happy.” The clergyman chuckled “Well that must be a unique compromise." "Oh I don’t know” dad said, “in the days of setting up Australia as a nation, Sydney and Melbourne both wanted to be Capital of Australia. In the end they picked an empty valley half way between, and that’s where they built a brand new capital city, Canberra. It’s pretty much the same thing but on a bigger scale. I’ve heard a lot of people aren’t too happy with that compromise either.” “Bless you my friend”, said the clergyman, laughing, “You’ve certainly enlightened my day.” I like it when dad tells people things like that. It makes him seem important somehow.
Two days later we passed Bob’s Point and the old boatyard again. “Hey look dad, they’ve painted that ketch white and emerald green. Remember it was ocean blue before? Go in closer, I want to take a good look.” “Don’t be so nosey.” “Well think about it dad, other boat yards on the river are scratching around for work, and these two guys fix up an old yard and straight away they get a nice paint job. How did they get the work so fast?" "Maybe they’ve got good connections.”
Two days later the ketch was gone. “They must be doing a really lousy paint job,” I said to Jack, “You have to go flat out to put on just one coat of paint a day, and that’s with no scraping back and patching. A decent paint job with patching and undercoats and top coats takes almost two weeks” So that was that, except that soon a sloop was up on the slips being painted. Since the old boat yard seemed to be so busy I wondered if I might get a job over there as a break from working on Annabelle. Dad and Jack could easily manage on their own for a bit. I spoke to dad about it. “Sure”, he said,” you could do with a change, and it’ll be good for your experience.”
Next day I borrowed Lizzie, dad’s runabout, and went up to Bob’s Point. As soon as I tied up two men came over and shouted at me to push off, in a very aggressive way. They looked pretty rough types. “Hold on,” I said, “I noticed you had a few paint jobs coming in and I wondered if you needed a painter. ”They looked me up and down in silence, then they moved away and talked quietly together so I couldn’t hear. “What’s your name?” “Tim Farley” “Where you from?” “Over in town. My dad’s skipper of the riverboat, the Lady Annabelle. I’m crewing for him at present. You’ve probably seen us going past.” “Had any experience?” “Sure, I’ve worked casual in the boatyard in town on and off ever since I was a kid. I’ve done boat painting before, and I’m pretty good with mechanical repairs.” They moved away and talked together again. ‘We’ll give you a trial, fifteen dollars an hour. Start tomorrow at eight. Bring your own tools and overalls." “Thanks very much. See you tomorrow at eight then.” They didn’t reply, so I headed off in Lizzie.
I had most of the day left with nothing to do. Luckily I had my fishing gear in the boat and the tide was about right, so I headed over to one of my favorite fishing spots up Moon Creek, baited my hook, and dropped the line into the water. The day was hot and humid, but I found a cool spot under an overhanging tree, and here I could see right down through the water to the stones on the bottom. I don’t often get the chance to do a little quiet fishing, so this was real luxury for me. I love sitting in the boat, watching the blue-green water drifting past and looking at the riverbank. You might think a spot like that would be quiet, but far from it, the trees and bushes are full of bird life, honeyeaters, kookaburras, magpies, butcher birds, currawongs and finches, and along the water’s edge you might see cormorants, darters, gulls or pelicans fishing. I watched a big pelican come gliding in. Pelicans always make me laugh, they’re graceful in the air, but they look like learner flyers when they land, with wings arched back and feet stretched forward, crashing down on the water and skidding to a halt, and they’re even more awkward when they take off. When they spot someone fishing they come round to see if any fish scraps are being thrown away and often a cormorant will turn up too, but I don’t mind, they’re gentle friendly birds.
The middle of the day isn’t the best time to fish, but after a few hours I’d reeled in a nice catch of bream, which are pretty good eating. I
threw the fish heads and guts to the pelican and headed for home. Dad was very pleased; he phoned mum and told her we were bringing home fresh fish for dinner. Jack looked at my catch. “I might take up fishing,” he said. “I could buy a big fiberglass rod, yes, and one of those fisherman’s jackets with all the pockets for hooks and weights and stuff, and how about a floppy hat with all the lures and badges on it!” Jack’s always having these crazes to do something new, but they never last long. Several times he’s decided he’s not very fit and should do something about it. One time he decided he was going to ride everywhere by bike instead of going in the truck. He bought himself a posh twenty-one-speed bike, rode it for three days, and ever since it’s been rusting away in the shed. Another time he thought he’d go jogging. He bought himself an expensive pair of running shoes, plus fancy togs and a sweatband; he really fancied himself with the girls. That time he only lasted two days. Still he might last longer with fishing, as most of the time you’re just sitting in the boat doing nothing, and that would suit Jack. We knocked off at seven and went home to a nice dinner of fresh bream fried in lemon butter with peas and chips, followed by mum’s homemade apple and blackberry pie with custard. Yum!