Sunday, 19 August 2018

What it was like to grow up on your own tiny island — called Solitary

Posted yesterday at 6:00am


Imagine growing up on an island with no school, no shop, little to no technology, and only your siblings and a handful of other kids to spend your time with.
That is the unique childhood experience of siblings Peter Ross and Debra Masters, whose father was one of the last of the lighthouse keepers on South Solitary Island, 18 kilometres off the coast of Coffs Harbour.
The Ross family spent the early 1970s on the island before the lighthouse was automated and the island abandoned in 1975.
"It was fascinating, but we didn't really appreciate it for what it was until we grew up and met other people who had more boring lives," Mr Ross said.

"We just got on with it and did what kids do — we made billy-carts.
"There were no Playstations or anything like that around so we had to make our own entertainment."
His sister Debra agreed that their childhood was something that felt normal, until reflecting on it years later.
"We used to explore the island, we knew every inch of the island. It was just normal for us. There was five of us so we always had someone to play with," she said.

A unique childhood

South Solitary Island is just 23 acres, or 0.09 square kilometres, in size.
The rocky isle is cut in two by a deep passage of water around nine metres wide.
In fact, it was over this passage that an early lighthouse keeper erected a flying fox.

Mr Ross admits growing up on the island gave him a respect for safety.
"I think we learned a lot about being responsible for yourself because we used to play around some pretty dangerous rock ledges and things like that. So if we messed that up we'd be really seriously hurt," he said.
"We really had to make sure we were careful in what we were doing and I think we brought that into adulthood."
The Ross family was one of three on the island. The lighthouse needed a keeper 24 hours a day, so the shifts were split between three men.
It meant there were other children to play with, but schooling was done as a family, with their mother as the teacher.
"She was good, very patient, and we'd try to get the lessons done early so we could go and play," Ms Masters said.
The correspondence school packages came once a fortnight on the supply boat.
"We'd get two packages a fortnight and if we got behind we really had to rush to make the mail bag. But if we got it done we had the rest of the week off," Mr Ross said.

"Mum was fantastic. She was a cook, she was a host, she was a nurse, she was a school teacher, a baker. She had so many hats that she wore and wore them very well, I might add."
The supply boat's arrival was a big event on the island and was quite a novelty for Mr Ross' siblings.
"My sisters all dressed up when the boat came. It was a bit of an event for us, watching the basket being loaded and unloaded, it was all quite amazing," he said.

Ms Masters remembers those visits well.
"It's a bit embarrassing now, looking at the photos, walking down all dressed up and hair done and good dresses on," she said.
"But we did do it one time for a very specific reason — because the naval cadets were coming. That was a really good treat."
And while waiting a fortnight between supplies may seem daunting, Ms Masters said they had it better than most.
"We had electricity, we had running water, we had toilets, and we got our food fortnightly — where I believe in the early days they had to wait three months," she said.
"We had telephones so if there was an emergency or something we had contact with the mainland, whereas in the early days you were out there and you were isolated."
Every year, the Ross family was granted six weeks leave, and they went places where there was no reminder of their regular life.
"We went west. We went to Cobar, Bourke, Brewarrina, the Snowy, wherever there wasn't any coastline, we'd go out there," Mr Ross said.
"We'd just about had enough of oceans. But in saying that, we couldn't wait to get back to it."

The journey back

Mr Ross and Ms Masters left South Solitary Island in 1975 when the old kerosene lighthouse lamp was replaced with an electric system, meaning it no longer required three lighthouse keepers to operate around the clock.
Recently, and more than 40 years later, they made their first trip back.
They shared their memories as part of tours of the island and its buildings, run just only once a year from Coffs Harbour by the National Parks and Wildlife Service and Precision Helicopters.
"It was like I'd never been away," Ms Masters said.
"I was standing there on the veranda and looking out to sea and it was like it was yesterday."

The circa-1880 keepers cottages were left to the elements when the last lighthouse families left.
More than 30 years later, they were handed over to National Parks and Wildlife.
In the years since, restoration works have brought the buildings back to life and volunteers spend time on the island before the tours each year to carry out maintenance.
"The buildings look completely different. The fences were gone, the buildings were grey not white, they were a gleaming white when dad and the other lighthouse keepers were there," Ms Masters said.
The pair shared stories of their billycart races, days spent fishing, exploring, and playing soldiers.
Mr Ross recalled a time the families were evacuated to the lighthouse, during a severe storm, when it was thought waves would come over the middle of the island.
"We lost three feet of guttering and seven chickens because they just got blown away out of the chicken pen," he said.

Both Peter and Debra are already talking about their next trip to their childhood home, and Ms Masters said it has highlighted for her how important her story is.
"People should appreciate how it was for people living on islands, and we were pretty luxurious compared with someone in 1880 when they first went out there," she said.
"The experience and that history should be shared."

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