Just a little anecdote Woomera
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Join Date: Sep 2001
Location: NT
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Just a little anecdote Woomera
G’day Woomera and Ppruners,
You brought a few memories back there Woomera with your quote of old A.B.
Yep. Back in the good old days.
I was having a chat with Johnno the other day, as we rode back to the stockyards at the Isa, and recalled something we saw, gosh, nearly thirty years ago. Early 70’s it was anyway.
Johnno had a mate who was in ATC in the Isa, and we had been over at the stockyards doing a few bits and pieces, feeding and watering the horses after a day out in the saddle. It was in the latter part of the afternoon, and Johhno had a standing invitation to pop to the control tower to visit.
So up we went, and had a coffee with Johnno’s mate, when the redtail 727 arrived.
We watched the passengers get off, and the next lot getting on, the jet fire up and taxy out to the runway. He was taking off to the North, and as we watched, I heard Johhno exclaim “sh-t!” It didn’t occur to me until then, as Johnno later explained to me, that the jet was still nailed to the ground at the 1000 foot markers. It started to lift the nose at that point, and we watched as the main wheels lifted off the ground shortly before what Johhno told me were the piano keys.
Soon after that, there was a massive cloud of bulldust billowing into the air, as the jet exhaust crossed the dirt as the aeroplane climbed away.
Quick as a flash, Johnno’s mate called up the pilot and offered to have the runway extended by the time he got back on his next trip.
Quite a few years later, I was reminded of that take off when watching Top Gun, and the tower controller who was interminably spilling his coffee with the fly bys Maverick liked to make.
That hat my wife bought for the Cup has been duly put away, never to see the light of day again. You would think they would buy something practical – you know – that they could wear around the property for goodness sake.
I know a lot of the Ppruners will be bored with these little anecdotes, but it’s nice to be able to partake a little with you professionals there Woomera.
Johnno, his wife, mine, and I are off to Mission Beach for Christmas. Hope to get a note off to you before then and meanwhile all the best to all.
Cheers mate.
You brought a few memories back there Woomera with your quote of old A.B.
Yep. Back in the good old days.
I was having a chat with Johnno the other day, as we rode back to the stockyards at the Isa, and recalled something we saw, gosh, nearly thirty years ago. Early 70’s it was anyway.
Johnno had a mate who was in ATC in the Isa, and we had been over at the stockyards doing a few bits and pieces, feeding and watering the horses after a day out in the saddle. It was in the latter part of the afternoon, and Johhno had a standing invitation to pop to the control tower to visit.
So up we went, and had a coffee with Johnno’s mate, when the redtail 727 arrived.
We watched the passengers get off, and the next lot getting on, the jet fire up and taxy out to the runway. He was taking off to the North, and as we watched, I heard Johhno exclaim “sh-t!” It didn’t occur to me until then, as Johnno later explained to me, that the jet was still nailed to the ground at the 1000 foot markers. It started to lift the nose at that point, and we watched as the main wheels lifted off the ground shortly before what Johhno told me were the piano keys.
Soon after that, there was a massive cloud of bulldust billowing into the air, as the jet exhaust crossed the dirt as the aeroplane climbed away.
Quick as a flash, Johnno’s mate called up the pilot and offered to have the runway extended by the time he got back on his next trip.
Quite a few years later, I was reminded of that take off when watching Top Gun, and the tower controller who was interminably spilling his coffee with the fly bys Maverick liked to make.
That hat my wife bought for the Cup has been duly put away, never to see the light of day again. You would think they would buy something practical – you know – that they could wear around the property for goodness sake.
I know a lot of the Ppruners will be bored with these little anecdotes, but it’s nice to be able to partake a little with you professionals there Woomera.
Johnno, his wife, mine, and I are off to Mission Beach for Christmas. Hope to get a note off to you before then and meanwhile all the best to all.
Cheers mate.
Join Date: Nov 2001
Location: The Mulga
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G’day Jumbuck, Woomera; and to you, Ppruners, I hope you’ve all been well…..
Might I say that in your previous pennage,
I found for want of more.
A certain kind of longing,
That I’m sure was made in lore.
It struck me as would a waler in gallop,
That it is much of these times,
That the people of today
find no cause for mere “time”.
It is sad, but alas
There is no real sense
Of the country, or it’s nature
Has been learned over time.
I found this rime below,
Of fella I once did know,
Rather well, for it was as a young fella
That I was made to speak of his mind:
Australian Ways
The London lights are far abeam
Behind a bank of cloud,
Along the shore the gaslights gleam,
The gale is piping loud;
And down the Channel, groping blind,
We drive her through the haze
Towards the land we left behind --
The good old land of `never mind',
And old Australian ways.
The narrow ways of English folk
Are not for such as we;
They bear the long-accustomed yoke
Of staid conservancy:
But all our roads are new and strange,
And through our blood there runs
The vagabonding love of change
That drove us westward of the range
And westward of the suns.
The city folk go to and fro
Behind a prison's bars,
They never feel the breezes blow
And never see the stars;
They never hear in blossomed trees
The music low and sweet
Of wild birds making melodies,
Nor catch the little laughing breeze
That whispers in the wheat.
Our fathers came of roving stock
That could not fixed abide:
And we have followed field and flock
Since e'er we learnt to ride;
By miner's camp and shearing shed,
In land of heat and drought,
We followed where our fortunes led,
With fortune always on ahead
And always further out.
The wind is in the barley-grass,
The wattles are in bloom;
The breezes greet us as they pass
With honey-sweet perfume;
The parakeets go screaming by
With flash of golden wing,
And from the swamp the wild-ducks cry
Their long-drawn note of revelry,
Rejoicing at the Spring.
So throw the weary pen aside
And let the papers rest,
For we must saddle up and ride
Towards the blue hill's breast;
And we must travel far and fast
Across their rugged maze,
To find the Spring of Youth at last,
And call back from the buried past
The old Australian ways.
When Clancy took the drover's track
In years of long ago,
He drifted to the outer back
Beyond the Overflow;
By rolling plain and rocky shelf,
With stockwhip in his hand,
He reached at last, oh lucky elf,
The Town of Come-and-help-yourself
In Rough-and-ready Land.
And if it be that you would know
The tracks he used to ride,
Then you must saddle up and go
Beyond the Queensland side --
Beyond the reach of rule or law,
To ride the long day through,
In Nature's homestead -- filled with awe
You then might see what Clancy saw
And know what Clancy knew.
I reckon HE said it better than any of us ever could,
And yet he wrote it Far Ago.
But yet it holds a message,
That many never see….
Warmest regards to you and Jonno.
Said.
Might I say that in your previous pennage,
I found for want of more.
A certain kind of longing,
That I’m sure was made in lore.
It struck me as would a waler in gallop,
That it is much of these times,
That the people of today
find no cause for mere “time”.
It is sad, but alas
There is no real sense
Of the country, or it’s nature
Has been learned over time.
I found this rime below,
Of fella I once did know,
Rather well, for it was as a young fella
That I was made to speak of his mind:
Australian Ways
The London lights are far abeam
Behind a bank of cloud,
Along the shore the gaslights gleam,
The gale is piping loud;
And down the Channel, groping blind,
We drive her through the haze
Towards the land we left behind --
The good old land of `never mind',
And old Australian ways.
The narrow ways of English folk
Are not for such as we;
They bear the long-accustomed yoke
Of staid conservancy:
But all our roads are new and strange,
And through our blood there runs
The vagabonding love of change
That drove us westward of the range
And westward of the suns.
The city folk go to and fro
Behind a prison's bars,
They never feel the breezes blow
And never see the stars;
They never hear in blossomed trees
The music low and sweet
Of wild birds making melodies,
Nor catch the little laughing breeze
That whispers in the wheat.
Our fathers came of roving stock
That could not fixed abide:
And we have followed field and flock
Since e'er we learnt to ride;
By miner's camp and shearing shed,
In land of heat and drought,
We followed where our fortunes led,
With fortune always on ahead
And always further out.
The wind is in the barley-grass,
The wattles are in bloom;
The breezes greet us as they pass
With honey-sweet perfume;
The parakeets go screaming by
With flash of golden wing,
And from the swamp the wild-ducks cry
Their long-drawn note of revelry,
Rejoicing at the Spring.
So throw the weary pen aside
And let the papers rest,
For we must saddle up and ride
Towards the blue hill's breast;
And we must travel far and fast
Across their rugged maze,
To find the Spring of Youth at last,
And call back from the buried past
The old Australian ways.
When Clancy took the drover's track
In years of long ago,
He drifted to the outer back
Beyond the Overflow;
By rolling plain and rocky shelf,
With stockwhip in his hand,
He reached at last, oh lucky elf,
The Town of Come-and-help-yourself
In Rough-and-ready Land.
And if it be that you would know
The tracks he used to ride,
Then you must saddle up and go
Beyond the Queensland side --
Beyond the reach of rule or law,
To ride the long day through,
In Nature's homestead -- filled with awe
You then might see what Clancy saw
And know what Clancy knew.
I reckon HE said it better than any of us ever could,
And yet he wrote it Far Ago.
But yet it holds a message,
That many never see….
Warmest regards to you and Jonno.
Said.
Join Date: Nov 2001
Location: mars
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T'was in the dawn of the new millennium - world peace was coppin some flack, when I first encountered a man who could tell a tale - his name was Jumbuck Jack.
He tells a yarn or four about this place and that, east - west - past the black stump and way outback.
He never forgets to mention his mate Johnno and sometimes Johnno's missus, by chrikey he sounds like a mans man and ten bob says she can do some dishes.
Make no mistake - I've never met the bloke, not by sight nor sound, but I reckon he's true blue and strike me dead if he don't get around.
Now some may say he's full of it and could talk the bark off a paper tree, but I reckon he's alright number 42103.
So here's to Jumbuck Jack and his occasional yarns from yesteryear, and should we ever meet - I reckon we'll share a beer.
He tells a yarn or four about this place and that, east - west - past the black stump and way outback.
He never forgets to mention his mate Johnno and sometimes Johnno's missus, by chrikey he sounds like a mans man and ten bob says she can do some dishes.
Make no mistake - I've never met the bloke, not by sight nor sound, but I reckon he's true blue and strike me dead if he don't get around.
Now some may say he's full of it and could talk the bark off a paper tree, but I reckon he's alright number 42103.
So here's to Jumbuck Jack and his occasional yarns from yesteryear, and should we ever meet - I reckon we'll share a beer.
