11 May 1933

A WATER DIFFICULTY

£100 For 20 tons

Among the difficulties experienced in the early days of the settlement of South Australia was the problem of supplying fresh water to shipping, at Glenelg and Port Adelaide.

Supplying Water To Adelaide's Shipping.

— In the very early days of the State considerable difficulty was experienced in supplying Adelaide's shipping with sufficient quantities of fresh water. The Surveyor-General, William Light, suggested that water could be carried to the vessels from Adelaide by waggons which could return laden with merchandise.

This plan, however, proved a failure owing to the expense of returning the empty water butts to Adelaide. In the year 1837 it cost H.M.S. Buffalo more than £100 for 20 tons of water sent from Adelaide to Glenelg, and practically one-half of the expense incurred was due to the cost of returning the empty water casks.

Conveying water from Adelaide by means of pipes was suggested, but considered to be impracticable, because of the intervening distance.

At that time a controversy was raging as to which site was most suitable, as the principal harbor for Adelaide's shipping. Many contended that Glenelg had more to commend it than Port Adelaide, and much verbal warfare was involved. The supporters of Glenelg pointed out that excellent water was procurable from several lagoons near Glenelg during nine months of the year. It was proposed that these should be cleaned out and banked, after which it was considered that they would supply sufficient water all the year round.

In defence, the supporters of Port Adelaide argued that the chain of fresh water pools, which formed the Torrens, at times became a mighty torrent which discharged its waters through a morass into a creek which emptied into the harbor at Port Adelaide. Unfortunately, during the summer months when the supply was most required it was not available, but it was thought possible that a means might be devised for storing up sufficient of this water to last through the months when the creek was not flowing.

As is frequently the case, the method that was considered to be impracticable eventually solved the difficulty. Today the water supply is conveyed per medium of pipes to both Port Adelaide and Glenelg, which in those distant days were rivals for the distinction of being Adelaide's chief shipping centre.

Exploring The Murray.

— The upper reaches of the Murray were discovered, named, and crossed by the explorers Andrew Hamilton Hume and Captain W. H. Hovell on November 20, 1824, when making their way from Lake George, N.S.W., to Port Phillip, Victoria. The stream they labelled the Hume, though nowadays better known as the Murray, was forded where the town of Albury has grown into existence.

The lower reaches of the river were first sighted in 1830, when Captain Sturt and his whaleboat crew were whirled out of the Murrumbidgee, to a noble stream he called the Murray, thence to Lake Alexandrina.

Unknown to the explorers, sealers from Kangaroo Island had discovered, though not named, the lake the previous year. Between the discovery, and the advent of steam, navigation by the Mary Ann, and contemporaneously by the Lady Augusta in 1853, there have been several boat excursions which, though of minor importance, are interesting.

In whaleboats rowed by aborigines Governor Young, his wife, babe and several friends with an idea of judging the feasibility of exploiting the Murray for water traffic, made the journey from Wellington to the confluence of the Darling, and the return to Goolwa, a matter of nearly 1,400 miles, during September or October, 1850.

The next adventurer to brave the Murray was a German traveller (P. Gerstacker), who in April, 1851, fashioned himself a canoe from a felled gum tree, and with a companion started from Albury. They had paddled 80 miles down stream when their ship sank beneath them, and perforce the rest of the journey to Adelaide was made on foot.

The following winter Captain Francis Cadell launched a canvas boat at Swan Hill, and with four gold diggers aboard sailed to Goolwa, calling en route at the stations, soliciting freight for the steamer he proposed launching in 1853. — 'Yacko.'

The Woolwash.

— About half a mile from the township of Port MacDonnell there is a favorite camping place known as 'The Woolwash.' A large creek, known as Cress Creek, meanders slowly through an area of land which is always covered with green buffalo grass.

Each year hundreds of visitors visit this place, and it is also a favorite picnic ground. As late as thirty years ago 'The Woolwash,' as the name implies, was the place where the wool from the lower South-East and surrounding districts was scoured before being sent to market.

Along the banks of Cress Creek there were several scouring plants, employing sometimes up to 30 men. The wool was stored in large sheds, where, in most cases, it had to be sorted before being treated.

The water was pumped from the creek into a large square tank, where it was boiled. The boiling water was reticulated from the tank to the scouring bin, where soap was added. The wool was then thrown in, one man being constantly in attendance, seeing that the wool was stirred and thoroughly cleansed.

The wool was then forked into cisterns, which were let down into the creek itself. On the staging above other workmen stirred and washed the wool until it became purified in the clear spring water.

Afterwards it was thrown on to a wooden staging to drain. From there it was conveyed to the drying ground and placed on hessian sheets of a convenient size, so that, in the event of rain or wind, the wool could be easily transported to the sheds.

It was necessary every few hours to turn the wool in order to get it thoroughly dry— a process which at times took several days to accomplish. After being pressed into bales and branded it was taken to French's store in Port MacDonnell, where it awaited shipment.

Port MacDonnell now has ceased to be a shipping port, but this same port at one time was second only to Port Adelaide in the shipping history of South Australia. — 'Interested,' Allandale East.

'Fires Of Fate.'

— A farmer in the Jamestown district once burnt some rubbish. When the fire had died down he loaded the remaining old tins pieces of wire, and ashes into a dray to cart away.

After disposing of the load he tied the horse, still in the dray, to a fence and retired for lunch. Returning in about forty minutes, the horse and dray were missing. He tracked them through a gate into and across a fallow paddock.

The horse had evidently bolted and followed a track used by stock coming to water. This ran past the corner of a hay stack which was fenced. When the farmer reached the haystack he found it blazing merrily.

The dray, which had evidently been ignited by the hot ashes in the dray, which had struck the corner post and overturned. Luckily the bolting horse had become free and galloped well away. The whole stack of beautiful hay was destroyed. — 'The Kangaroo.'

The Christening.

— This is not, of course, typical of country baptisms. Nevertheless, it is a true tale, and happened in a little country centre which boasted no church, but a public hall which, during the week, was the schoolhouse and, of course, the scene of all the midnight frolics.

It so happened, that on the Saturday night preceding the christening there was a dance held in the hall, and thereby hangs a tale of a cat.

The officiating clergyman was an archdeacon, their former rector, and beloved by the people, who turned out en masse for his visit and the christening. Firstly, the principals were a little late and delayed matters. Then, as the service got under way, it was discovered that there was no font. The supper room was raided, however, and a saucer procured which had to do duty, and once again things proceeded peacefully till the infant lifted up its small, sweet voice and wept, and the mother, feeling flustered, took it out and remained out till father rushed out, all hot and bothered, to say that archdeacon was waiting for them.

Things then proceeded in a proper manner. The child was named, and fell asleep, and the service proceeded on its course till suddenly, very faintly, came the mewing of a cat. Nearer and nearer came the plaintive call.

Now, on Saturday night, this cat had followed its bachelor owner to the dance. He had bundled it into his car, and having 'other fish to fry,' had tossed it out as he passed his door, and when returning home at a later hour did not notice that puss was missing. Next morning it was still absent, so when the call was heard from the bush there were those who guessed at once that puss was searching for his lost owner; "You had better go out and silence your cat," suggested somebody in a stage whisper, and so the mewing ceased, and a grinning young man resumed his seat and the congregation settled down to hear a good sermon.

But, alas, again came the mewing. This time louder and more insistent, and in at the door come a big yellow cat, straight up the aisle. He went uttering his pitiful wail. The preacher, his rapt gaze fixed above, went on serenely, while the congregation strove valiantly to keep their attention centred on the sermon.

A little girl was then sent out to secure the cat, but, disturbed from his position at the preacher's feet, puss dodged in and out amongst the seats, whilst a little red faced girl chased. Eventually someone grabbed poor puss and handed him over. He was passed back to his owner, and, with great satisfaction, purred his relief for the rest of the service. — 'Whirlwind.' Strathalbyn

Tale.

— Mention of the 'Gol-Col-Hoop' bridge in Strathalbyn reminds me of a yarn I have heard my father tell. It may have been in the time of the old bridge or when the present one was very new that someone with a pride in the town painted it white.

Now, there lived some way farther along the road a gentleman extremely fond of his glass, and moreover a man who believed in preparing for his own lapses. He, therefore, regularly white-washed the post and rail fence in front of his house. When, after leaving the hotel at 11 o'clock, he wended his way home, he knew that the first white fence was the end of the journey, and accordingly crawled under.

One night he was extra heavily loaded when he set out, and, after wandering round for some time, he came to the 'Gol-Col-Hoop.' Well, here was a white fence, and so it must be his home; he was tired, he was glad, and under he rolled! The next thing he knew he was falling, falling— and then splash! into the good old Angas he went.

The pool below the bridge was deep— had it been otherwise, he would surely have been killed— and as he came to the surface a couple of rather scared youths hauled him ashore.

Luckily for him the publican was possessed of a kind heart, and had told his sons to see his customer home. The boys had been watching his antics on the bridge, never dreaming he would go over until it was too late to stop him.

For many years it was not safe to mention white paint to that citizen, and I have been told he was always against "too many of them damn improvements, which ain't improvements at all". — 'Auntie Bee.'

'A Snake Yarn.'

— Towards the end of the last haycarting season, a farmer near Streaky Bay district, being short of labor, took his 12 year old son to help him cart some sheaved hay.

The boy was on the load stacking it with his hands, while the father pitched it up from below. A sheaf came flying up and the lad almost grasped it when he saw a snake writhing and twisting in it. He screamed and jumped back in alarm.

His spring took him clear to the ground, and there he lay. His father rushed to him, and was overjoyed to find that injuries only consisted of a jarred thumb and shock.

Later the snake crawled out of the load and was killed. The boy, in his own account of the incident when writing to a friend, said:— 'It frightened me a lot, and I felt bad for the rest of the day," and concluded with 'I'm not too keen on snakes.' — 'Auntie Bee.'

Real Life Stories Of South Australia. (1933, May 11). Chronicle (Adelaide, SA : 1895 - 1954), p. 16. http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article90884989