Times since
I departed Woomera in 1976 and joined the Navy where I had a good 25 years, resigning in 2001 and moving to Hobart Tasmania to start a new life. My parents departed the Village shortly thereafter and moved to Adelaide with Dad sadly passing away in August 1989. Mum still resides in Adelaide and is always keen to hear the gossip and catch up with old Woomerites (dvspehr@chariot.net.au).
I am fortunate enough to have access to my own living encyclopaedias of Woomera in the 60s and 70s. My mother still astounds me with her memory of names, etc, while my lovely wife Valerie (nee Barker) also spent 13 years in the community. We smile at the often ‘what the hell are they talking about’ looks our two teenage children give us. Is it any wonder? When they see and hear the media description of the place as it is today, they can only wonder what we saw in the place.
Another time and place - Loose ends
There are so many things one could cover most of them totally unique to the Woomera experience - getting up a the crack of dawn to watch the ELDO launches only to be thwarted at the penultimate second by that “STOP STOP STOP” blaring out over the tannoy. Oh well! turn around and come back next day and perhaps the one after, or the one after that until the thing finally left the ground.
Sitting in the schoolyard at lunchtime watching the vapour trail of Black Knight, Skylark or Black Arrow streak across the sky. On Range open day, watching the helicopter lift an old car to 800 feet and dropping it to the ground. Watching with fascination as Jindiviks zoomed overhead knowing that the pilot was sitting only a few yards from where you were standing. Or even better, sliding down the escape slide down the side of the Range E pad on scorching hot metal, but it was worth it.
Getting bogged in the black goo that was hidden beneath the pristine white of Lakes Hart, Gardiner and Island Lagoon. On other days swimming in the same lakes now filled with water, sensing the amazing buoyancy of the salty water. Picking up fossils that were hundreds of millions of years old out by the old Cobb and Co Homestead beyond Nurrungar. Getting on bits of corrugated iron and sliding down the tall red dunes or the White Hills behind the Pistol Club. Carrying the bundles of advertisers across the Causeway when it flooded and the water came up to your waist. Crawling into the cockpit of the then world's largest aircraft C5A when it dropped in from the sky.
Then there were the Discos at the youth centre for us kids, the open air cinema at Woomera West, 4th of July celebration at the Arbo. We were privileged to see live plays such as Authur Miller’s All My Sons and A View from the Bridge at the Daily Theatre.
There were those days when a red wall of sand rolled in from the north and west and seemed to consume the whole of our world where you felt the sand would rip the skin from your body. We watched as a “whirly” (twister) would appear from nowhere and do its dance, only to disappear again as quickly as it had come.
The call of “Bingo” sounding out at the sports clubs and RSL where it seemed there was no minimum age limit to this form of gambling. Remember only having to remember 3 or 4 digit phone number or just a name because the operators knew everyone and more than likely their business. Chasing the prettiest girls around the swimming pool trying to steal a kiss under a towel when you caught them. Learning how to ride a motor cycle, shoot and skin and gut a rabbit, all by the age of 10. Selling rabbit cuts to the Americans for pet food so you could buy bullets, fuel and more traps. Helping the local constabulary search for missing Americans on Motor Cycles 'cause us kids new better than anyone the surrounding gibber desert.
Paradise Lost?
Unlike some others, I can’t recall the politics, the specific technical details of houses, ranges, roads and swimming pools. I recall the houses as friendly havens, the ranges as just the place where our dads worked and were sometimes fun places to visit. The roads and footpaths so hot you could fry an egg and the swimming pools were cool respite and a place to meet girls.
So there you are, I can’t profess to have arrived or departed in any great style, or in fact impacted on the fortunes of the community to any great extent, but I was part of it, and it was and remains part of me. I agree with Dick Z - it is a combination of people, environment and function which makes Woomera a uniquely special place. Just as those early pioneers have a claim to being Woomerites, so will those enduring now under very different circumstances and indeed everyone in between.
While much is written on the technical and ‘official’ social history of the village, I fear that a lot of the actual fabric that made Woomera what it is and was, and what living there actually meant to us will one day be lost. So it is important that those anecdotes are recorded and I urge readers to contribute the “non official” as well as the official history. Thanks to Mark this site is a perfect medium.
Thanks for the opportunity to ramble - it has been a pleasant journey backwards for me, and I hope for you also.
Phil Spehr
Ex 4 Karnang St / Ex Flat 346 Dewrang Avenue
ymee@dodo.com.au
E-mail: ymee@dodo.com.au
(22 August 2003)
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Memories of Woomera |
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