As you'll know from the last page,
we intended to visit Paraburdoo after Tom Price but Paraburdoo has no
caravan park so we drove the 475 kilometres to Onslow. Your loss, Paraburdoo.
The journey was uneventful other than it rained. Yes, rain!
'Old Onslow' was gazetted in 1885 and named after Sir Alexander Onslow,
the Chief Justice of Western Australia. It was then situated at the mouth
of the Ashburton River. All the land bordering the river had been taken
up by sheep farmers but there was no road or rail connecting the town
to anywhere else at that time. It would be another 100 years before the
'blacktop' was to reach Onslow. Until then the town was serviced from
the sea. All the wool from the Ashburton sheep stations was taken to Onslow
where it was collected by Stateship or Blue Funnel Line. The ships called
in as they plied between Fremantle and Singapore.
Onslow, like Broome, had a pearling industry. Good pearls were rarely
found, the mainstay of the industry being mother-of-pearl which was used
extensively for making buttons. The later advent of plastic buttons put
paid to that; today mother-of-pearl is used to give paint a metallic finish.
Problems arose when the mouth of the Ashburton River began silting up
making ship access difficult. Recurring cyclone damage to the town finally
tipped the balance and in 1925 the old river mouth site was abandoned
and the town re-established nineteen kilometres to the north-east in its
present location at Beadon Point. A 750 metre long concrete jetty was
built out into deep water to accommodate the ships. It was a grand structure
with a railway which ran from the Goods Shed in the centre of town, down
to the coast, along the foreshore and then out to the end of the jetty.
Unfortunately, in 1934 a cyclone destroyed the outer section of the jetty.
It was rebuilt in wood.
Things livened up considerably during WWII when the town became a refueling
base bringing naval ships to Beadon Bay. The Japanese took exception and
on 15th September 1943 a single aircraft dropped three bombs on the airfield,
fortunately without doing any damage or hurting anybody. But how rude!
If the seven hundred residents of Onslow thought things
had been lively during WWII, it was as nothing compared to what followed
in 1952. After consultation between the British P.M., Clement Attlee,
and the Australian P.M., Robert Menzies, it was agreed that Britain should
carry out testing of its new atomic bomb on the Monte Bello group of islands,
a mere 130 kilometres north west of Onslow. Menzies undoubtedly looked
in his school atlas and worked out how far the bang would be from Canberra.
Arriving at 3,750 kilometres he decided his backside would be safe. He
briefly wondered if he could work a knighthood into the deal, remembered
he already had one, and agreed.
Recall the devastation wrought on the Japanese cities of Nagasaki and
Hiroshima just a few years earlier, the number of instant deaths and the
terrible burns. Remember the slow lingering deaths of the many affected
by the radiation. Yet the Australian Prime Minister gave the green light
to the Brits to explode an even more powerful bomb a mere 130 kilometres
from an Australian town.
Today there would be mass protests. Greenpeace would be there in force,
there would be riots in the streets and the unions would shut down the
country. Germaine Greer would have something to say, too. And should the
tests still have gone ahead, the compensation claims from Onslow residents
after the blast would break the Reserve Bank.
However, in 1952 it was a very different world, a comparatively naive
and innocent world, especially in towns like Onslow. And in so many ways,
a preferable world, don't you think, dear reader? Remember, the town still
wasn't connected to the rest of Australia by a bitumen road so the country
remained blissfully ignorant of what was happening 'up north'.
The government and the military kept everything top secret. Only the Yanks
and the Russians had 'The Bomb' at that time. To the good people
of Onslow, however, Operation Hurricane soon became common knowledge
when British warships anchored in Beadon Bay, multitudes of aircraft descended
on their airfield, a large flying boat landed daily in the bay and the
army arrived, setting up camp on the sports ground. Mysterious scientists,
technicians and hordes of journalists turned up too. Soon there were sports
events and dances being organised. A great carnival atmosphere prevailed
and everyone had a ball, especially the publican of the Beadon Bay Hotel.
The actual date and time of the first test were known only to a select
few and that secret never leaked. This added to the anticipation in the
town and to the frustration of the journalists.
The Australians had been meticulously recording wind and weather statistics
around the Monte Bello Islands during the preceding year. The islands,
usually deserted, were occasionally visited by pearlers or fishing boats,
but now the military placed the whole area out of bounds to both boats
and aircraft.
There were to be three atomic tests:-
3rd October 1952:
16th May 1956: 19th June 1956: |
At 8:04 a.m. Britain's first atomic bomb
was exploded below the water line in the bow of H.M.S. Plym,
a retired frigate which was anchored in a lagoon off Trimouille
Island. This bomb was, at twenty five kilotonnes, the largest nuclear
weapon ever detonated. The second bomb was exploded on the northern tip of Trimouille Island. A third bomb was detonated on nearby Alpha Island. |
In Onslow, journalists and photographers were camped out
at every possible vantage point and excitement ran high. Large aircraft
flew over the town, ships littered the bay. Finally the moment came. A
brilliant flash lit the sky followed by a dense cloud of smoke that billowed
thousands of feet into the atmosphere, spreading out into a mushroom.
Then came the sound and a pressure wave that made observers feel like
they had been hugged by a wrestler. This was followed by shock waves that
rattles every piece of corrugated iron in Onslow. Everybody watched as
the cloud rose higher and was caught by an air current, blowing it sideways
as it rose. Higher still another air current caught it, bending it back
again, leaving a 'Z' shape in the sky.
The bomb in the hull of H.M.S. Plym totally vapourised the ship.
A large steel frigate was turned to gas in an instant, leaving no sign
that it had ever existed. Rocks in the vicinity melted, giant girders
some distance away were twisted and the sea was said to be boiling. Before
long dead fish began washing up on the beach in Onslow. The first British
test was over.
Onslow, and in particular Cliff Ross, the licensee of the Beadon Bay Hotel,
was not in the mood to settle back to routine life. Next morning a large
WWII mine appeared outside the pub. On it was painted, "A"
Bomb - Do Not Disturb, and similar warnings. An army officer took
a dim view of this and nearly had a fit when one of Cliff's mates gave
the mine a resounding wallop with a hammer. The residents of Onslow knew
it had been made perfectly safe . . . but the officer didn't. Later came
a bulletin on the local radio purporting to come from the Navy. Due to
unpredicted wind changes, the radioactive cloud had altered course and
was blowing back over Onslow - all residents should gather outside the
Goods Shed for immediate evacuation. It is reported that the rich and
influential were the first to arrive, only to find that Cliff Ross's wicked
sense of humour had been at play again.
In 2002 the Federal Government returned the Monte Bello Islands to Western
Australia's control. Once again the public was free to visit the islands,
though warned that low level residual radiation still existed. A prolonged
stay was definitely not a good idea. A story I heard in the Beadon Bay
Hotel however, claims that university students checked the islands for
radiation and found the levels lower than those in the centre of Perth!
As in all such events, myths abound and versions vary. That being the
case, I have written this story based on the best information I could
obtain from the documents in the museum and first hand accounts of the
locals (who were children at the time).
Today the islands have been dedicated as a conservation park. Somewhat
ironical, wouldn't you say?
Thus the Mount Potter Post Office was created beneath the telegraph line at the foot of the hill. Equipment was set up in the Post Office (on the back of a six ton truck with a tarp over it) and technicians connected it to the telegraph line. A land line was run from there up to the observation post on the summit of Mount Potter. Expert telegraphers were sent to man the Post Office.
Not knowing when the test was to take place, photographers and reporters lived and slept by their equipment at the observation post, as did the telegraphers in the Post Office. Remember, folks, we're talking Morse Code telegraphy here - this was not a telephone voice line.
After the 'bang' the journalists on the mountain rapidly prepared their stories and relayed them down the land line to the new Post Office. There the telegraphers tapped the stories out over the wire to Perth. One signal was routed south to Perth, the other north via a number of repeater stations and then down to Perth via a different line. Thus both operators could transmit simultaneously to get the stories to press as fast as possible. All normal telegraph traffic was suspended while this took place. It was a far cry from broadband communication as we know it today but within minutes of the explosion the stories were being received by the newspapers.
The Mount Potter Post Office never sold a stamp or mailed a letter. Five weeks after it opened in 1952, it closed for ever.
Onslow really is a tiny town with a population of 790. Situated as it is on a spur jutting north into the Indian Ocean, it is one of the few towns where the sun can be watched both rising and setting over water. A new war memorial has recently been erected on a rise overlooking Beadon Bay (see picture above). What a marvellous location for the Dawn Service on ANZAC Day . . .
Onslow now relies upon the tourist trade, fishing, prawning and Onslow Salt Pty Ltd which recovers salt from sea water using the same solar evaporation process that we saw in Port Hedland. The company employs up to 65 workers.
On the left is one of five gas rigs off the Onslow coast. There are plans to build more, larger ones and pipe the gas ashore at a new plant to be built near Onslow.
On the right are three oil tanks situated on Thevenard Island, one of the Mackerel Islands. Oil from one of the gas rigs is stored there. When the tanks are full a tanker comes and collects the oil.
It would be untrue to say there was no activity at the wharf because there was a boat tied up and what sounded like drilling and hammering taking place. Apart from whoever was making all the noise, there was not a soul to be seen. Not a boat moved, not a person fished . . . nothing.
A coffee in a café? What café? There was a public toilet block but the doors were locked. Apparently they always are.
One day we came across two very heavy steel fabrications at the roadside, one painted red and the other yellow. We puzzled over what they could be for some time - there was no plaque. My best guess was that they were upside down, and were drill heads for boring into the earth or seabed. But what were they doing there? Another question for the tourist information lady who fielded our daily queries with good humour.
position by a local character called Back Street Pete. They are now 'sculptures'. On the right are . . .
no, not Back Street Pete's impression of the pyramids, but salt stock piles.
The longer we stayed in Onslow the more we liked the little
town. This was fortunate because we had to stay there until . . . something
. . . arrived from Sydney.
Having told you that there were only three shops in the town we discovered
that most things could be purchased in one or another of them.
• Want to buy a pair of knickers in Onslow? The hardware shop has
a small range.
• Need a new bra? Check the post office.
• Want a nice cup of coffee? Try the Shell Garage.
You think I'm kidding, don't you? Onslow is one of a kind. We call it
On Slow.
Recently I needed to have some welding done. I went to
a firm which specialised in welding. One of the men dropped what he was
doing to attend to my fiddly bit of a job. It didn't go right and he spent
some time re-doing it. When he'd finished he dunked it in cold water to
cool it and gave it back to me.
"Take it away and see if it's okay. If not, bring it back.
If it is okay, pop round with ten bucks some time."
He didn't know me from Adam but was happy to trust me. The job was good.
He got his $10.
A few days later I was really stuck for a 1½" socket spanner.
That is a BIG socket, believe me. The local hardware shop couldn't help,
nor could the garage. The manager of the caravan park didn't have one
either. Pam suggested Onslow Mechanical, a firm she'd noticed down near
the wharf. I drove over and asked the question. Morgs, one of the mechanics,
said he was sure he could fix me up and in no time he handed me the correct
socket, an extension and a ratchet wrench. (My tools are ½"
drive, his socket was ¾" drive.)
"Can I leave a deposit?" I asked. "Say $100?"
"No need", he said. "Just bring it back A.S.A.P."
The tools he lent me were quality items, and as I mentioned earlier, large.
They would cost an arm and a leg to replace yet he let me just walk away
with them. Again, he didn't know me from Adam. I had them back in two
hours with a carton of beer - his kindness had got me out of a tight spot.
Then, it being late on a Friday afternoon, I was invited to sit down with
Morgs and a good few others and help drink it. Great people.
The Department of Primary Industry (formerly Marine and Harbours) has inspected the carcass and because it is not a hazard to shipping, has declined to intervene.
The Department of the Environment and Conservation has also visited Onslow to view the carcass and because the animal is not in distress, has also declined to intervene.
The Shire of Ashburton acknowledges that the enormous carcass is not the ideal thing to have on Onslow's front beach. As it currently sits, it is not accessible to Shire equipment to be able to dispose of it. Should it move onto the sandy section of the beach, the Shire will bury it.
So there you have it. The responsibility rests with the dead whale to move to a more convenient spot. Failing that, the Shire expects it to disintegrate within four to six weeks. So get on with it, you unconscionable whale.
Where is Exmouth? If you look at a map of Australia you'll see that the west coast runs more or less north, then half way up it bends round to run north-east. Right where the coastline bends there is peninsula sticking out like an upturned finger. That's the North West Cape and Exmouth is on its east coast, up near the tip. (Or click on Map where you'll see number 81 sitting on Exmouth, then click on 80 to return to this page.)
By air it's only 107 kilometres from Onslow but by road the Gulf of Exmouth gets in the way so we have to drive 404 kilometres. See you there.
