Sharing Memories - Mail deliveries in the Outback

My sister waiting for the mailman

For many, the daily visit from the postman, or trip to the post office to collect mail from the post box is of no significance.  However, for those who live in isolated area, the weekly (or sometimes less often) delivery of mail and supplies is an event of importance! For many this is the only link with the outside world for extended periods of time. Today I am Sharing my memories of our outback mailman.

I can still remember the excitement I used to feel, when we caught a glimpse of the cloud of dust advancing along the road to Nuntherungie Station (this could sometimes be seen for quite a few miles), that signaled the imminent arrival of the mail truck. Nuntherungie Station was between Broken Hill and White Cliffs and the mail truck would arrive at our homestead on Saturday mornings, dropping of mail and supplies on its way through to White Cliffs.

The first mailman that I can remember as a young girl was Mr Vincent, a short slightly rotund gentleman who was always dressed in overalls.  Every Friday he would load his truck with orders of bread, vegetables, fruit and other supplies, mail, newspapers and other supplies needed by the properties between Broken Hill and White Cliffs.  He would set out along the red dusty road, stopping at all the Stations along the way.

My sisters and I would await his arrival with great expectations, as he always had a small sweet treat for all the children along the way.  I remember relishing the "Cherry Ripes" that he would pass around when he arrived. As was the bush custom, my mother would brew a pot of tea and have a nice slice of sponge cake, or scones ready for Mr Vincent's morning tea. My mother would enjoy the chat over a cup of tea with our mail man.  Her life on a station was very isolated and it gave her a chance to catch up on news from Broken Hill, and the other properties along the road. 

Among the letters and newspapers there was our weekly subscription to comics for my sisters and I.  I would be on the edge of my seat waiting for the next installment of the school girl mysteries in "Girls Own" and my sisters would pour over their new copies of the "Jack and Jill" comic books.

Also included in our mail would be our next set of lessons from Blackfriar's Correspondence School. Our completed lessons from the previous week would be packaged up, ready for Mr Vincent to take back to Broken Hill, for posting to Blackfriar's head office in Sydney.

June 30 1950, Western Grazier

The truck arrival also meant we would have fresh bread for our sandwiches. The fresh bread that arrived from the Broken Hill Bakery would have to last the week.  So as you can imagine by the end of the week, toast was the best option.  Though I do remember my mother wrapping the loaves in a damp tea towel and heating it int he oven to freshen it up a bit.

Then there was the time when the rain came, and this quite often mean that the mailman would have difficulty getting through to make his deliveries, as the creeks would flood and roads would be cut.  On these occasions, my father would sometimes have to drive through with the tractor and pull the mail truck through a flooded creek or two (or three!).  Heavy downpours would mean that the mail sometimes didn't get through for a couple of days. 

Our outback mailman and his deliveries were very different to the mail delivery experienced by those living in town.  He was more than the person who brought letters and parcels.  His delivery of mail and supplies was also accompanied by news from the outside, a lolly shop experience for the kids and that little chat over a cup of tea for the isolated families along the dusty road between Broken Hill and White Cliffs.

Mr Vincent and his son, with their mail trucks at Nuntherungie Station

Wordless Wednesday - Sharing Memories

Smoko break - Nuntherungie Station

Today I would like to share a picture of my father having a "Smoko" break while working out in the paddocks of Nuntherungie Station. My post "Early Days in the Bush - Day out with Dad", describes this.  I have to confess that he posed for this picture with the left over lamb bone, as was his dry sense of humour.  However, the picture does ring true, with the reality of the small camp fire to boil his billy for the morning cup of tea and the harsh environment of life in the outback.  Smoko, is a term that is was used to refer to morning or afternoon tea break, which generally went along with time for a quick cigarette or as was the case for my father a "puff on his pipe".

Amanuensis Monday - Sharing Memories - Disastrous Floods destroy Nuntherungie Station Homestead

Red earth of Nuntherungie- Homestead in Background

Last week I wrote about the importance of rain in the outback, and some of my childhood memories of the celebration and excitement when rain did finally eventuate in Sharing Memories - Here comes the Rain!.  In this story I mentioned Miss Tapp, the sister of the owner of Nuntherungie Station who was brought up on the station as a young child.  Miss Tapp, who lived in Broken Hill, had quite an influence on my knowledge of the bush as a young child.  

When she was visiting her brother (from Broken Hill) she would take me on walks in the bush, and dry creek beds, pointing out the different types of bushes, plants and animals. She showed me how to dig down into the dry creek bed, to find water, and pointed out some of the native plants that were edible. I can also clearly remember her showing me the different foot prints in the sand that were made by kangaroos, birds and goannas by drawing the shapes of their hoof prints in the sand.   

 

North West Corner of  NSW - showing location of Nuntherungie

The Homestead of Nuntherungie was built on a hill, looking down on the extensive system of creeks that flowed in between the homestead and the Woolshed.  However, this homestead was not the original building.  The first homestead build on Nuntherungie was erected closer to the creeks in the 1880's.  On one of the outings with Miss Tapp we visited the spot where the first homestead stood.  All that was remaining was a couple of brick chimneys, overgrown by bush. Miss Tapp described her childhood in a beautiful stone homestead. She then told me the homestead had been destroyed in a huge flood that the family had to leave and rebuild their home on higher ground. 

As we scrambled out way through the long grass and trees, Miss Tapp pointed out a small overgrown garden bed where a couple of bulbs were popping out of the ground.  She explained that this was all that remained of her mothers garden and every year in spring these bulbs would pop their heads out to remind her of times gone.

 

I had almost forgotten this story until recently troving through TROVE and came across this article, which gives a more substantial description of the events on the day that the Nuntherungie homestead was washed away in the huge floods of 1931.  It was one of those light bulb moments!  I remember being told about this! and as the story follows on nicely from my previous article about celebrating the arrival of rain in this district, it is fitting to share this story as it highlights  how the people of these isolated areas were at the mercy of the elements.

 

 

Barrier Miner (Broken Hill, NSW, - Tuesday 14 April 1931, page 3*

THE FLOOD AT NUNTHERUNGIE

WATER CAUSED COLLAPSE OF WALLS OF HOMESTEAD

About 6000 pounds damage.

The stately old homestead at Nuntherungie Station, 120 miles from Broken Hill on the White Cliffs road, is now a scene of desolation, and so severe is the damage wrought by the recent floods that the building will have to be demolished and a new homestead built.  About 6000 pounds damage was done.

Nuntherungie is one of the oldest homesteads in the district, and was once owned by the Kennedy family.  The homestead was erected 50 years ago.  Mr Nigel Kennedy, who died in Broken some years ago, being a son of the owner.  Then Mr B. A. Williamson of Abbotsford near Ivanhoe had the place, Mr E.P. Tapp, the present owner, taking over after he returned from service with the A.I.F. during the Great War.  Thus Mr Tapp, who took the place in 1920 or 1921 has during his life not only been exposed to the dangers of war, but has experienced some of the bitter reverses of civil life.

Nuntherungie homestead is built on the east side of a creek and was constructed of stone and pise and when it was built it was never thought that the district would experience such as a flood as was the case about a fortnight ago.  In years gone by the flood waters came down the creek proper but during the past few heavy rains the creek has overflowed some distance above the station and flowed down both sides but the rush of water had never previously reached the house.  When on previous occasions water threatened the station large banks were built to keep it back, and up till this flood the move was successful.  On this occasion the raging torrent was too much for the embankments and they were swept away.  The water had been banked so far back that when it was suddenly released it came like the rapids of a surging river.  Right through the homestead, outhouses and woolshed the water rushed carrying everything before it.  At the height of the flood the water in the homestead and some other houses was 4ft 6 inches deep.  Everything was soaked, the most valuable article, a piano, being saved from destruction by the foresight of some of the people there.  The mattresses from a couple of beds were placed on the dining room table and the piano was lifted on to this.  Thus it escaped the water.  While the piano rested majestically on the table, chairs, other tables and furniture floated about the buildings like miniature yachts.

The miracle was that no persons on the station were drowned.  After the flood had subsided silt was found on the floors of the homestead inches deep.  The foundations of the house sank as a result of the rush of water and in some walls of the buildings cracks appeared from one inch to almost a foot wide.  Other walls collapsed, that is interior walls and two of the walls near the front of the house.  There were nine rooms in the building and all that supports the roof now are a few walls and the door and window frames.  It is estimated that between 5000 pounds and 6000 pounds damage was done to the house, contents and outbuildings on the property.

In the outbuildings a two-roomed structure over a cellar has a tilt because of the foundations having subsided.  Several of the buildings have feet of silt in them.

The flood was the largest in the memory of white men in the district.  One man has been on the station for 35 years and he says that he has never seen such a flood before.  The exact rainfall on the station is not known.  About five inches of rain was registered and then the rain gauge was useless.

It is believed that the extra-large flood was caused by heavy falls at Wertago, where seven inches of rain was registered.  This is between Nuntherungie and Gnalta, and all this water came down the Nuntherungie Creek, later finding its way to Bancannia Lake, about 50 miles away.  Following the water came floods from the Kayrunnera area.

Mr Edward Tapp**

There are five in the Tapp family and all were at home.  Fortunately shearing was in progress and the shearers were able to give Mr Tapp valuable help in cleaning up a lot of the debris.  The shearing of Nuntherungie sheep had finished, but Wertago sheep were being attended to and of course since the flood and the damage the shearing has had to be postponed for the time.

The water came through the shearing shed feet deep, but did not cause the building to collapse.  The silt damaged the interior of the building and much repair work will have to be carried out.  Forty bales of wool were saturated, but the shearers as soon as the rain eased off opened these and spread the wool out to dry.  It is still marketable, although it will be slightly discoloured.  The shearers stood by Mr Tapp to a man and although they were told they could not be paid they never faltered in their cleaning up of the debris and stayed at the station as long as they could.  They worked like men on contract and Constable Smith, who was held up by the floods and reached Nuntherungie gave help till he was able to push on to his station at White Cliffs.  At times it was feared that there would be a shortage of food, but this was rationed and the determination of neighbours at Kayrunnera and Wertago saved the position, Light vehicles were taken out over the flooded areas and provisions were carried over the flooded creek.  Constable Smith left Nuntherungie on Easter Monday and the shearers who had put through 6000 sheep went on to White Cliffs, being held up there owing to the roads to Tonga, where they had to start shearing, being boggy.

According to a resident who was through Nuntherungie during the weekend, the roads between here and Gnalta are passable, but for a man to take the rest of the road to Nuntherungie he must be a careful driver and have a light car.  All the creeks between Gnalta and Nuntherungie are silted up, there being piles of debris and silt 7 ft high in some creeks.  The creek known as 10 mile, some distance from Nuntherungie, had a wire netting crossing, but this has been carried away, and a pile of silt has taken its place.  As far as can be ascertained no sheep were drowned, but a muster cannot be made on account of the conditions of the country.  Some may have been carried away in the torrent, and if not caught in trees washed into Bancannia Lake.  To add to the discomfort of the Nuntherungie people, telephone communication was cut off, the lines being washed away.  Communication has now been restored through Wonnaminta, but the direct line to White Cliffs is still out of order.

Travellers say that much fending on all the stations in the flood area was washed away, and the banks of tanks suffered extensively.  Most of the surface water from the floods has gone, but there is still a little about the clay pans.

Station people in the Nuntherungie area say they will long remember the disastrous flood, and there is much sympathy in the district for Mr Tapp and family, for their loss is severe and the disaster coming at a time when the industry is just recovering makes the blow suffered doubly heavy.

____________

* 1931 'THE FLOOD AT NUNTHERUNGIE.', Barrier Miner(Broken Hill, NSW : 1888 - 1954), 14 April, p. 3, viewed 7 July, 2014, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article46604249

 **Obituaries Australia, http://oa.anu.edu.au/obituary/tapp-edward-peter-958, viewed on 1 July 2014.

Thankful Thursday - Sharing Memories - Here comes the rain!!!

Sheep lined up at water trough 

Last night as I browsed through some of my father’s old slides I reflected on the importance of rain and the impact it had on our lives when we lived on Nuntherungie Station (between Broken Hill and White Cliffs)  as small children.  The average rain fall for this area, in north western NSW, is around 235 mm (9 inches) annually!! Not a lot of rain when you consider the average annual rainfall for Sydney is 1,213 mm (47.59 inches). 

So as you can imagine when the rains did come it was a time for celebration.  I  remember my father turning on the two-way radio the morning after there had been a big storm, everyone from the district calling and reporting how many inches of rain they had, that their dams were full, or that there had been flood waters through their sheds! It was like flock of galahs squawking at a grain spill on the side of the road.  The whole district would be tuned in, hopes refreshed for a better year now that there was water in the dam.

Generally the creeks, line with shaggy old gums were dry except for a few waterholes.  However, when the rain came they would flood. Brown bubbling water would rush down the sandy creek beds, filling all the water holes and flowing into the large dams that were an essential life force for the stock and people living on the property.  Each property, would have a system of huge water dams excavated by earth moving plants, these dams would provide water to the homesteads and would be pumped to the water troughs to provide water to all the stock on the property. In times of drought the level of these damps would be watched closely, often in despair.  The down side of these rain falls would be that they often came on one big rush, washing away fences and cutting through roads and blocking supplies to isolated areas.

Enjoying the novelty of water in the creek

Following a heavy downfall of rain, one of my father’s first tasks was to check on the livestock (mainly sheep) and mend any of the fences that had been washed away. As I mentioned in a previous blog, "Days out with Dad",  I loved to accompany him on these trips, there was nothing like being in a jeep, and having mud and water (instead of dust) splash up on you as went through the water holes and creeks on the property.  The more mud the better it felt!  The flowing creeks and water holes also meant it was time for the children to have some water play!! Something that we didn’t have the opportunity do very often.

One of my favourite memories was of Miss Tapp (the sister of the owner of the property) coming down to our house,  gathering my sisters and myself up to go exploring after the rain. We would head off, bare feet and with our dresses tucked into our bloomers (Yep!! ) to the creek to play in the mud and water.  On one particular time, our mother had just finished making us new white cotton bloomers, and was very dismayed when we returned all muddy brown and dripping in boomers that would for ever remain a light shade of reddy brown.

Water Play in the claypan water hole 

Another paddling adventure was after my dad returned home from one of his post rain tours of the property, he reported that he had found a nice water hole on one of the claypans for the “kids” to play in.  It was decided we should go for family picnic. Lunch packed, we all climbed into the jeep in our swimmers, and headed to the spot where Dad had found the water hole the day before.

However, when we arrived the water had evaporated or drained away, and Dad’s water hole had been reduced to a sheet of water , which was about 2 inches deep!  Not to despair, in we hopped, and splashed and slid around on the muddy clay while Mum organise our lunch.

Of course there are also the stories of isolation and being cut off from supplies, loss of stock and damaged fences and buildings, however, the assurance that the dams were full and there would be water for a few more months far outweighed  the downside!

Those Places Thursday - Sharing Memories - Childhood Christmas in the Outback of NSW

Our Aussie Christmas Tree

Recently I received an email from a friend in England in which she commented. "I  guess you are going to have one of those funny Australian Christmases”.  This made me smile, as Australians love to celebrate Christmas.  It is one of the most important family events of the year and our traditions are a carry-over from our ancestry.  

Quite often  families embrace the customs of their grandparents with the traditional meal of roast meats, baked vegetables, gravy and of course the Christmas pudding with steaming hot custard. We do however give the meal an Australian flavour by including lots of seafood, salads, tropical fruits such as mangoes, lychee's and of course a bowl of cherries.  Christmas is the traditional start to our cherry season and is often equated as the “Christmas fruit”.  There is nothing better than  seeing the littlies  with big red stains around their mouths from munching on the cherries in the Christmas fruit bowl!

However, mainly as a result of our climate,  an Australian Christmas is quite different to that experienced by my friend in England, so I thought I would share as part of my Sharing Memories Posts a couple of Christmas stories from my childhood.

As mentioned in previous blogs, my early childhood was spent in the far west of New South Wales, where we lived on the sheep station, Nuntherungie. As with most families, Christmas meant time spend sharing food, drink and adventures with our extended family. This time with family often meant a lot of travel, as my father’s family lived on the South Coast of New South Wales, over 800 miles (about 1,200  kms) away. My mother’s family were much closer, only 120 miles (190 kms) away in Broken Hill.

When I was quite young my father’s family, decided they would make the venture from the seaside village of Milton on the South Coast of NSW to Nuntherungie to celebrate Christmas in our home.  Unfortunately, the hot weather came early that year, with temperatures reaching the high 30’s.  Quite a shock to all the family members who were used to living in the lush coastal region, close to the beach!

House and  with Sleep- out (RH corner)

Our home had glass louvered windows all the way around to allow as much breeze through the house as possible and  away from the main house was a” sleep out” which my parents would sleep in in the summer months.  This was a separate room built away from the house with windows all the way around to help keep the room cooler in the summer.  However, not everyone could fit into the sleep-out, so all and sundry elected to sleep outdoors under the stars, in the hope of catching the smallest of breeze.  The large square of buffalo grass, that made up our “lawn” was covered in a conglomeration of pillows, mattresses, sheets and sleeping bodies. 

On one corner of the lawn was our version of a Christmas tree.  There are no neat symmetrical pine trees to be found in the outback, so our Christmas tree consisted of a branch of a dead gum tree, sawn off and painted with silver paint and then decorated with home-made streamers and balloons.  Yes, a different Christmas tree!! However, Santa always managed to find our tree, and leave a collection of large lumpy parcels wrapped in bright Christmas paper.

Christmas Day soon arrived, and the sleepy visitors stirred, cups of sweet black tea were passed around as everyone stretched and yawned, finding a spot on the grass amongst the scattered bed clothing from the previous night.  The children, pushing for a spot closest to the tree, waiting for my Dad, as elected Santa’s helper, to pick up each parcel from under out tree, read the tag and passed on to the excited recipients.

Ohhs! And Aah!s came from all corners of the grass, as everyone opened their parcels, squeals of delight from the children at new toys, and sweets, and the tangled mess of bedding was now joined by discarded Christmas paper and ribbon.  What a Christmas morning, and I love the slides that my father took of this day, about fifty five years ago.

The mess cleaned up, the children acquainted themselves with their new toys, while the adults moved into the kitchen to being the preparation for the big family Christmas meal.

Wordless Wednesday- Sharing Memories

Shearing time

In on of my recent posts, Sharing Memories - Early days in the Bush - Day out with Dad, I wrote about my memories of spending a day out with my father when we lived on, Nuntherungie, a sheep station in the far north west of New South Wales.  I am taking the opportunity of Wordless Wednesday to share with you an old slide of my father and I, outside the shearing shed getting the sheep ready for shearing.  You will have to excuse the quality of the photo.

Sharing Memories - Early days in the Bush - Day out with Dad



Map  Showing Nuntherungie Station



Here is my second post for Sharing Memories.  Thank you to  Olive Tree Genealogy’s Blog’s for providing me with the idea and motivation to write a little about my family history as I remember it. 

I was pleasantly pleased with the interest shown in my first  Sharing Memories blog , Early School Days in the Bush - School of the Air so I thought for today’s post I would relate another tale from my life in the far west of New South Wales and write a little about everyday life in the outback.

At the time life on a sheep station in the far north west of NSW seemed to be very normal, but when I look back on it I guess we did enjoy quite a different environment to families who lived a little closer to larger communities.  There was no pressure to fit in with timetables and set hours.  Life on  Nuntherungie Station fitted around shearing, lamb marking, drenching sheep and the weather. If I was able to complete the weekly school work sent to me from Blackfriars Correspondence School in 3 or 4 days it would leave me with the freedom to spend a day with my father while he worked on the property.  I relished these outings, and I am sure my mother enjoyed the freedom of having one less child to watch over. 

Sheep on Nuntherungie Station

Mum always packed my father a large lunch of sandwiches, biscuits and fruit for the day and if I was joining him, there would be a couple of sandwiches for me as well. We would always leave early before the heat of the day set in.  I would clamber into the passenger seat of my dad’s Jeep. The two working dogs, Mac and Spot (such original names) would jump in the back, dodging from side with eager anticipation and excitement of going out for the day.  Off we would go, leaving a cloud of dust behind us as we traversed the tracks through the property.  It would be my job to jump out and open the large gates between paddocks while Dad drove through and then close them after us.  A rule that was drummed into my from an early age, you NEVER went through a gate without closing it.

The work for the day could be varied anything from checking sheep with young lambs, checking for flyblown sheep (a serious problem for sheep in outback Australia), mending fences that had been knocked down by stock or recent rains, assessing water supplies and checking windmills that pumped underground water (from the artesian basin) into water troughs for the sheep.

Spot and Mac - Dad's working dogs.

Then at about 10.00am it would be “smoko time” or as we would call it “morning tea” time.  We would find a nice shady spot; Dad would light a small fire. After giving both the dogs a drink of water from the hessian water bag that hung on the side of the jeep, he would fill his billy with water and put it on the fire to boil.  As soon as the water had boiled he would put a handful of tea leaves into the billy, a quick stir with a stick or small twig of the gum tree and the tea would be made.  I would sit with Dad on a nearby log with my pannikin of steaming hot sweet tea, and dunk the homemade Anzac biscuits that Mum had packed, until they became soft and gooey and melted in my mouth!!  Mac and Spot would rest in the shade with one eye open to see if I was going to drop some crumps or share one of my biscuits with them.

Smoko finished, we would cover the fire with sand and tip the remaining tea on top, making sure it was completely out. Off we would go again to check the next problem.  It would be even more exciting if Dad’s work meant we had to go off road!!  I loved it when we had to drive in and out of creeks, over bumps and around logs.

 Dad always took the time to point out the different types of plants and animals as we went and if he had seen come across an interesting plant or rock formation, he would take the time to show me if it was nearby. He would point out the quondong trees and we would check if they had any fruit on them and he would show me the clay pans where you could find lots of quartz and on the odd occasion small artifacts from the indigenous tribes who had lived in this area.

Dad's Jeep

These excursions were even more exciting if it had been after rain.  Rain was a very big event in this district, as the average annual rainfall was only 224 mm (or about 9 inches in old measurements). The Jeep would splash through the mud and puddles, spraying it all over us.  Of course there was always the risk of getting bogged, personally, I thought this added to the drama of the day.  I am not sure if my father was of the same frame of mind.

Around Midday, it was time to repeat the Smoko ritual of boiling the billy, giving the dogs water, and munching on our sandwiches and fruit as we sipped that sweet black tea.  As the weather was often quite hot in the afternoon, it was time to head back to the homestead to wash of the dust.  I am sure there was a number of occasions when Dad had to lift a sleepy girl out of the jeep when we arrived home.

Hope you have enjoyed this tale.