Need a few good yarns

Talking about 3rd world country jails reminded me of this,

A victim of the 1990 England to Australia World Vintage Air Rally was a 1948 Beech Bonanza which was abandoned by its owner in Chittagong, Bangladesh after an electrical problem. I was offered the aircraft at a very decent price on an “as is where is” basis and decided to take a risk on getting it back to Australia on the assumption that if it flew in it should be able to fly out again.

Many dramas getting it going but finally left Chittagong with no generator. Prop pitch, flaps and undercarriage are all electric motors with screw jacks.

Over Rangoon I called for a precautionary landing (a mini-emergency in aviation language) as one fuel tank was not feeding. I didn’t enlarge that the reason was that I had used it already. Almost straight away we were given clearance to land and the uncharged battery made a brisk gear extension. While Alan refueled from drums with a hand pump I went to write a “Letter of Apology” for landing without a permit. As we were running out of light to get to Phuket in Thailand we decided not to change over batteries and our original gave us yet another start and gear retraction.

The visibility along the coast of Burma was atrocious with thick haze and embedded thunderstorms. A lot of ducking and weaving was required and the end of daylight was cutting into our Phuket arrival time. I was not looking forward to night flying among all those thunderstorms with only a well used battery for power, not to mention the hand extension of the undercarriage when the battery finally retired. Alan was already practising the best position to hold the torch so I could see the instruments!

As we went past Mergui, an old Japanese wartime airstrip ( just a narrow grass runway surrounded by coconut trees right in the middle of rebel territory) failing light and a wall of thunderstorms made the decision for us. Calling many times on the tower frequency indicated on our Jeppesen charts, it was just a small shack on bamboo poles, we got no reply so started to do an approach anyway (the battery put the wheels down yet again).

“Aircraft on final Mergui! This is a restricted area, do you have permission to land here?”

“Negative.”

“Roger. Clear land!”

By the time we had rolled to a stop the greatest ragtag bunch of soldiers I had ever seen were thrusting their rifles into the aircraft windows. The controller came down from the ancient wooden tower and acted as interpreter (he was the only one in Mergui who could speak English). A 100% search of the aircraft, our bags and ourselves ensued while the Army Captain who was absolute King of the district, discussed us with his minions. With rifles pointed at us they pulled the carpets from the stripped aircraft and made us strip to our underwear.

Alan who was now regretting accepting my invitation to come for a ride on his first flight outside Australia stood in his white boxers with red bull-ants on them, his overweight pink body causing some amusement to the troops. They even checked to see we had nothing in our underpants - my wife has been telling me that for years.

The air traffic controller grabbed our faithful battery and promised to have it charged by morning, adding ominously, “If you need it.”

Eventually we were bundled into the back of a tiny truck with a couple of guards while a platoon of troops in a World War 2 Blitz truck followed closely behind. We were taken to the old British government guest house which had been maintained amazingly through Japanese occupation and 40 years of independence exactly as it must have been in the 1920’s! Polished wood floors, 4 poster beds with mosquito nets and an open-motor fan flashed and sparked as it turned slowly above our heads. A young lieutenant and a squad of soldiers were assigned to guard us. Alan had a worrying time when his ample body became stuck in a water trough which he mistook for a bath instead of a reservoir and he returned to tell me the toilet had been stolen. “All they left was a hole in the floor.”

The young lieutenant took us under guard to the only restaurant in town, a corrugated tin shed with stained bare tables with unmatched, badly chipped crockery. The two soldiers at our table put their very rusty rifles across in front of their plates.

The beaming Maitre de looked like a bad guy out of a Jackie Chan movie, crew cut hair and a giant round head that sat on his shoulders without a neck. He wore a dirty white T-shirt with large yellow sweat stains under the arms. Alan’s unadventurous stomach took a turn when the Maitre’ de arrived with a huge cardboard box of red chopsticks. He moved around the diners, selecting a pair of the plastic chopsticks from the box, pulled them through under his sweaty armpit to clean them then set them on the table with the air of the head waiter of Maxim’s in Paris. The food was excellent, including the pig’s ears in black bean sauce, and they even produced a huge wooden box filled with ice and bottles of beer. The bill amazingly came to exactly 100 US dollars for the two of us plus our guards though I did notice the lieutenant gave the restaurant owner $9 and put the rest in his pocket. We spent the rest of the night with guards pacing up and down outside our room.

Next morning the air traffic controller arrived apologising that the radio interference was too much to contact Rangoon the previous night but with the news all would be well if I wrote another “Letter of Apology”. The only thing the boys wanted from us (apart from the $91 tip from last night's dinner) were a bunch of Vintage Air Rally stickers. After much milling around at the airstrip with the Army taking our passports and returning them several times and a false start and taxi –

“Return to the foot of the tower!”

“Oh, oh this is it” said Alan on the verge of a nervous breakdown,

“The Captain didn’t get any Air Rally stickers.”

Horses by sea and air freight.

Used to go to one of the South Wharves in Melbourne to pick up horses off ships.
They were craned down in solid stalls containing up to three at a time. Quite a high
lift but didn't seem to worry them.

About 1980 the " Flying Tigers " operated a world wide air freight for horses and
similar large animals. DC 9 or similar craft. Up to 54 stalls consisting of a side and
front partition which folded beside and in front of each horse. Herring bone style,
with rump to one wall and head towards an aisle along the other. Loading door
near the front with the last 5 up close to the cockpit. Attendants looked after their
welfare and could sedate any that became distressed.
Very steep ramp with large cleats for grip. Drove the trucks onto the loading area
in front of the freight terminal, unloaded each horse and led up the ramp. Had to
keep up a fair pace with care not to trip up and be over run.

Went in to unload horses from the UK one night. Up front they had 5 hereford
stud bulls to unload before we could access the horses. These were not going to
move! Luckily one of the nearby stable hands had come for the ride and had his
red cattle dog with him. Soon got them out and on their truck.

Another night a shipment of yearling trotters from NZ for various trainers here.
Due in at 9 pm, plane late and waited until 1 am. All helped get them off and
loaded onto the waiting trucks. Driver from Brisbane took his to Seymour and
stabled them, to continue the next day. Had 8 to go to Canowindra, so headed
off and delivered them the next day.

In the 1990's they had cargo units holding 3 horses each, loaded on the ground
at the freight terminal and then lifted up into the cargo holds. Could take 87.
One shipment to South Korea of 87 came from a consignor's paddocks south of
Pakenham to the Melbourne Showgrounds to be stabled, checked and given dry
feed over 3 days. Only 3 of them needed sedation for travel. All trucks available to
transfer them to Tullamarine when the plane was available.

The animals handled all this quite well. Always wondered about one escaping on
to a runway as no fences or barriers. Need not have worried!

Owe a few Taxi Drivers and others apologies.

Entering busy roads from side roads a pain, not ideal to take off quickly and turn at high speed
with horses on board. Used to pick out a Taxi and enter in front of it, reasoning that was their
living and wouldn't want a prang to be off the road not earning. Horn, high beams, whooshing
exhausts and most educative gestures as they went past.

Fun on the Tullamarine freeway when the airport exit was from the left at Calder Highway.
Often entered from Ormond Road after leaving from Flemington. Nicely up to speed and out
past Bell Street entry the traffic would slow, so into the right lane. Taxi drivers used to hog this
lane until just before the airport exit, then dive left to exit. Wouldn't mind if they kept an even
speed, but for some reason varied their speed. Annoying, so into the second lane and run up
on their left. When halfway past, right blinker on and squeeze their lane a bit. Well, high beam,
horn and either accelerator or brakes. Got a result. Either that or run beside them so they
couldn't get over to exit left.

Worst one was a Saturday, had returned from a trip and in the depot at Mordialloc washing
the truck out. Just about finished and ready to head home, the office bloke who worked out
the race loads comes out in a panic. Had left one horse off the list and asked me to pick it up
for the races at Moonee Valley. Horses had to be on track two hours before their race. Had
phoned for permission to be one hour late, leaving less than an hour to get there.
Horse and strapper on board, away we go. About 1 pm so traffic not too bad. Had a good run
up Nepean Highway, Queens Road and through North Melbourne onto Flemington Road.
Hit a fair speed at times without any problems. Mount Alexander Road was congested, so out
onto the tram tracks to get round the traffic. Taxi coming head on wanted the same piece
of road, but changed his mind and decided the left lane was good value.
There in under 45 minutes and apologised to the strapper for the rough trip. She said that it
was the best trip she'd had to the races.

Another afternoon, north out of Sydney on the Pacific Highway to get on to the Newcastle
Expressway, traffic moving ok until I get behind a white station wagon in the right lane.
Same deal, slow then speed up a bit, then on the brakes. Must have been looking for a U
turn, but concrete strip up the road centre to stop that. Couldn't get round him and had
enough, so lights on and horn blast. Somehow he got over into the left lane and let the rest
of the traffic travel sensibly.

Couldn't and wouldn't drive like that now.

Paul, I reckon that idiot in the white station wagon is still using Pennant Hills Road to this day. Seem like I get stuck behind him every time I have to go up there.

Improved Roads.

Secondary and minor roads used to access horse properties, some very ordinary. If the owners and trainers
knew where their horses had been they'd have a pink fit. At times had to wash their nostrils after a trip on
gravel roads. The trucks were well ventilated so no hope of keeping the dust out. Roadworks often blamed!

One short stretch from Colingullie on the Sturt Highway, across a nice concrete bridge over the Murrumbidgee
to get onto the old Narrandera Road west of Wagga was rough corrugated and often wet. Now nicely sealed.
Can go to Coolamon, Ariah Park and district from there. The northern half of the Ariah Park to Barmedman Road
was rough gravel, now quite a good sealed road. From there can get to Wyalong or Grenfell on reasonable roads.

Sometimes went from Forbes to the Gulgong and Mudgee areas. Then from Ulan on a slippery dip of a dirt road
to pick up the Golden Highway near Cassilis. Deep gullies with rough bridges to prevent getting a run at the hills.
Murder after rain, and the truck filthy. Now quite a good sealed road.

Often entered the Scone area from Merriwa on the Golden Highway. First 20 or so Km. corrugated gravel but
ok to travel carefully. Haven't been that way for nearly 30 years so probably fixed now.

One of the worst in that area was the Bylong Valley Road. Turned south from Sandy Hollow on the Golden
Highway to access several stud properties. First few Km. single sealed road then really rough corrugated
gravel. Studs in the Widden Valley had a single sealed road for 25 Km. to the east off this road. Not too bad.
From there could return to Sandy Hollow, or continue south through Bylong. In 1979, part of this road went
through an unused rail tunnel. The Ulan Coal Mine railway was started in the 1930's but abandoned with a
change of State government, to be completed about 1980. Fun driving through there. Now the road climbs
over the range. From there to Gingi Gulch - what a name - quite flat country and the road surface mostly clay.
Had to be careful not to get bogged in the middle of the road. Not enough weight on the single drive with a
semi float. Lot of heavy loads of bagged cement brought out from the Rylestone - Kandos works.
Mentioned in the Cameron book, where they took two trips out south with half loads due to the steep hills.
Back loading from Sydney, reloaded the parked load and home to Melbourne. Good sealed road now.

So many more - Kidman Way south of Cobar in 1988 was rutted dirt, doubles loaded with copper ingots
traveled that one. Drove a lot in the table drain. Same with the Gulf Road east from Normanton.
Drove those with a caravan behind.

Pilliga road from Coonamble through Pilliga to Wee Waa a tyre buster. Rough, rocky and corrugated.
Even the Newell had terror stretches. During 1979 bridges built in the gullies north from Coonabarabran
so slippery dirt on the hills either side of those. Returning from Brisbane 1980, south of Forbes at night,
little warning, just a few dim blinky lights the whole road ripped up for several Km. Wet weather so very
lucky to get through. Hope these have been fixed by now.

February visited our farming district north of Warrnambool for a school reunion. Dad started there in 1952
and the gravel road was accepted. Big mob of us kids on the same road but the school bus route was not
extended until that road was sealed about 1960. Was a good single sealed road. Now with the larger farms
and double tankers the road is full width with a white line. Couldn't believe my eyes.

There must be thousands of other examples, progress is important. Great to have survived these experiences.

On a 6 week safari from Nairobbery to Jo-burg the fans would have 4 full days at Victoria Falls after getting the overnight train from Bulawayo- there are[was] plenty of options for them to spend their fun tickets on including on this visit step through scooters to hire. The scooters had not long been put into service when we got there- some only had 10km or so on the clock and a heap decided to hire 4 or 5 and they came back on them to the campsite to get ready for their day- they wanted to cross into Zambia for a bo-peep but they needed insurance for the scooters so I gave them my truck insurance paper to take over to a secretarial service to photocopy then tippex then photocopy again, type in scooter rego etc and photocopy again on yellow paper [recognized color for insurance paper]. Advice given from learned experience. Whist that was getting sorted the lads from the NZ Mullers &Packers were cutting circle work by the truck, checking for wheel-stand capabilities and checking the clutch on their scooters by putting the front wheel against a drive tyre and revving the ring out of the scooter until you couldn't see them for smoke. Of the mongrel mob on the scooters 2 were girls but they hired one between them. Now these girls had that over active greedy gland when it came to fodder so there wasn't much give on the back shocker with the 2 of them on the scooter. So, insurance sorted, passports etc and off they go flat stick to the border post with the girls struggling to keep pace with the lads. At that time the roads in Zimbabwe were well maintained but once you cross into Zambia the road has its fair share of pot-holes- big enough to see and avoid if you can but the girl in charge of the throttle didn't and the poor scooter took a direct hit and with little give on the back shocker the rear wheel rim took a bit a strain instantly developing a noticeable flat spot. It would seem the load rating was on its limits but the girls carried on albeit at a slower pace. They eventually all got back to the campsite safely and then returned the scooters and luckily for the girls the defective rim was not noticed by the hire mob. On each visit to Victoria Falls after that there was less ans less scooters until there was none.

PaulFH wrote: I

Often entered the Scone area from Merriwa on the Golden Highway. First 20 or so Km. corrugated gravel but
ok to travel carefully. Haven't been that way for nearly 30 years so probably fixed now.
.

It's all Sealed now, Paul. about 15 yrs ago from Memory..
That F Big Hill Up out of Bunnan is no Flatter though......:S

"A trip and a bit"

Many moons ago when I was a 18, I used to pilot this old Atkinson between melbourne, Brisbane, Sydney, and various places in between. The Atkinson, being a mongrel pommy truck (albeit with the Australian "Reinforced Plastics" cab) was a non sleeper, gutless, freezing cold in winter, (no heater of course) stinking hot in summer (bugger all vents of course) ex Nestles Dennington truck. Powered (powered?) by the ridiculously reliable and UNDERpowered 180 Gardner, would only do 80 k's flat out, and that took a fair bit of downhill or tail wind to accomplish. Until the next slight rise of course, then back through the gears you'd go...
So my old man, being of the "old school don't spend money" variety, decided to fit a three speed joey box in the chassis, with a air ram to switch it between high and direct. The blood thing was a hopeless waste of time, the truck wouldn't pull the extra "gear", and because all it did was try to spin the tailshaft faster, I was forever tightening the pinion nut on the kirkstall diff, or trying to make one uni out of two on the side of the road before the vibration got too bad.
Anyway heading to Brisbane one morning about 7am, had the brother with me for some reason, and we were north of Finley, we came across the local school bus on its side. A southbound truck had hit it hard up the rear, the bus had done a complete 180, kids had sprayed out of the bus's rear window making a bloody mess, kids everywhere all over the road. All we could do was grab all our blankets etc, and try to keep the various kids warm and talking until the ambulance came. I don't believe anyone was killed, but it must have been a horrible experience for a bunch of young kids on their way to school..
We headed off after all the emergency services came, a bit chastened and hoping all the kids were going to be ok.
So we get past West Wyalong, going up a hill near that parking bay- the bloody truck starts going "bang" like it was trying to jump out of gear.
We assumed the gearbox, it was easier to get to than the joey box too. So under the cars we climbed, ripped the top off the gearbox, couldn't see a thing wrong... After I managed to spray gear oil all over the brother by letting the clutch out whilst he was looking into the gearbox, we then decided that it had to be the joey box.. It was under the tray, under a Nissan Bluebird. Anyway, on the tray under the car was an inspection plate, so we pulled that off, got the top off the joey box, and sure enough, by the light of the Eveready dolphin, we could see that the dogs on the gear were stuffed, and the air ram that held it into gear just couldn't do the job any longer. Of course, it's dark by now.
Andrew (the brother) being a fitter was pretty smart, so we scrounged an exhaust clamp from out of the toolbox, pushed the joey box gear back in to direct, clamped it there with the exhaust clamp, tipped all the engine oil that we had in to keep it happy, then re assembled the whole shooting match, using all of our large and ever increasing vocabulary of swear words..
It was daylight again by the time we got going again, and as you can imagine we were bloody filthy, but all seemd OK, so we just kept going.
At the next truck stop we met a young lady with a very new baby, she asked if we were going to Brisbane, not thinking, we replied " oh yeah, I guess we'll get there in a few days?" to which she replied "Can you give me a lift?"... So up in the cab mum and bubs went- that made four of us in the old day cab, with mum and the baby perched up on the engine cowling.
We used to go through Beaudesert as it was "quieter"...ie no weighbridge. but on this occasion the Queensland scalies or whatever they are called were there- we of course get waved in, Andrew is driving, but he doesn't have a license.. No dramas, he hands them my license, which is all good until they ask him his date of birth- of course he can't bloody well remember my date of birth can he? We must have looked a bit obvious with me saying brightly "oh, Richard, it's the nineteenth isnt it? June? 1966? And Andrew acting all "oh yeah, I forgot..." Anyway I / Andrew got a bloody log book fine! Some sort of record to get a log book fine when you aren't even the driver!!! They never worried about four people in a two seater truck, apart from saying "gee, a bit squishy in there"?
Our load of NIssan's finally got delivered to Ira Berk's in Brisbane, and we headed off down the Pacific highway. Dad, who was well ahead of us in his Mack, had bought a Mack Flintsone with a stuffed engine at Wauchope, we were to load that on the back of the Atkinson.
We met Dad at halfway Creek at about midnight, and as were empty, I slept on the tray of the truck, Andrew made up a bed in the Atkinson day cab (the worlds most uncomfortable truck ever to try to sleep in) and of course Dad had a bunk on his Mack. (A bunk- luxury!!)
Next morning bright and early, I'm in the shower so Andrew takes the Atkinson and gets going earlier than Dad and I- Dad suggests I jump in to the sleeper if I was still tired, I gratefully agree, so Dad and I bugger off, thinking we'll catch Andrew soon. The Mack with the 711 engine (itself pretty bloody slow) still goes better than the bloody Atkinson...! So we spend next few hours going as fast as we could, no sign of Andrew- Dad is calling every on coming truck with " copy northbound? Haven't seen an Atkinson car carrier anywhere have you?"
As it turns out, Andrew has turned right instead of left out of Halfway Creek, it's not until he gets to Grafton, and thinks "Grafton? GRAFTON?? Weren't we here yesterday? until he turns around to finally head the right direction...
Thats all OK- Andrew catches us late in the day at Wauchhope, and we load the old Flintsone on the back- Dad heads off to Sydney, and Andrew and I head over the mountains.. The Flintsone is bloody heavy and the hills are steep over that way, it certainly makes the Atkinson work hard, but we just keep at it, swapping drivers between Andrew and me as you do.
About midnight I wake up (freezing) in the worlds most uncomfortable passenger seat halfway down the Moonbi Range- Andrew is stopped in the middle of the road trying to get air up....
Obviously he'd gone down in too high a gear, and too much use of the brakes equals no air, and the warning light had come on.. Luckily we still had brakes left and he could stop!
Anyway we made it home to Geelong with no further dramas... We forgot about the joey box until I drove the truck in to the bit beside the shed where we used to wash the trucks. After giving the Atkinson a tubit I reversed her out, the joey box went "BANG" and exploded all over the dirt...
And that was the end of the joey box experiment! The local tailshaft bloke reckoned the truck only needed one centre bearing instead of the joey box, so we got the new very long tailshaft made up. That lasted until homeward bound out of Brisbane next trip, when on the fast bit of road between Cunninghams gap and Warwick, down a hill in angel gear (like every down hill was) the new tailshaft exploded itself all over the road..... So Andrew and I bought an old XC Ford in Warwick, Leo Ryan kindly let us use his yard and crane.. We ripped the tray off, got some tailshafts sent up to Brisbane on Meadows Transport, had them shortened to suit (TWO centre bearings this time!) reassembled the whole mess, loaded the XC on the back, and toddled off home to Geelong again....
Lucky Andrew was with me, he'd find a way to do most things..
Gee we used to work hard...Every trip seemed like an adventure, I'm sure there were some boring ones, but looking back it seems like there was always something going on...
Cheers
Rich




That's the Atkinson AND the Mack all together!

Great to know Hayseed. Used to joke with the kids that if I ever won lotto would buy
the biggest dozer possible and put the rippers into NSW roads.
Dropped horses at Young one arvo and headed towards Yass to pick up next day.
Out of the cab for half hour to clean the trailer out, got back in and still bouncing.
Think it was Bowning, head north out of town, deristriction sign 100 k's just as you
come into a dead right angle corner.
South of Goulburn to a stud property near Tarago. Beautiful place, but the road!!!
Narrow, rough, broken edges and typically white line up the middle. Told the manager
to get all the property owners together and refuse to vote for ANY politician until the
roads were fixed. Think of all the wealth and taxes generated from the district with
wool, livestock, road and other taxes. He laughed.

Prodrive, you have had some adventures. Long way to Brisbane at 80 k's.
Sounds like your Dad was a goer. Good on you all.

Horses Across the Queensland Border.

Entering QLD from NSW required a permit from the Department of Agriculture Office. Had to fill out details of
each animal, breed, colour, sex and brands mainly. When loading it paid to make note of these on the load sheet.
When I started in 1979, office guy used to plan the load and pick ups so you would arrive at Boggabilla for
example about 7 am, have breakfast and get to the border office by 8 am opening time. Fill the permit out then
last leg into Brisbane. In later years we made our own calls to arrange pick up times. Found it better to cross the
border at 1 or 2 am then into Brisbane early. Got on well with the border office guys so arranged to ring them the
day before. They would leave the book out to be filled in, take the copy and continue.

Stock coming out of QLD and proclaimed tick areas had to be sprayed 2 weeks prior to travel, then again at the
NSW border. The Ag guys worked 8 am to 4-30 pm from memory, so important to leave Brisbane with time to
be there by 3-30 at the latest. Usually 11 am for Goondiwindi or 12 noon for Wallangarra.
Had a company rep in Brisbane by 1991, so made it clear to him about these departure times.
Sure enough, held me back one trip to pick up an extra horse, not available until 12-30 at Doomben. Picked up the
horse and a bloke with it and rush to get out to Wallangarra. Told the bloke to hang on, don't like driving like
this, under pressure. Made good time and there just after 3-30. Bloke gave a hand to get the horses off, sprayed
and into the yards to dry before reloading.

Another trip, get out to Goondiwindi and had to wait for two women trying to reload two dairy cows and a calf on
to a two horse trailer float backed into the spray bails. Shed with concrete floor, two bails made from gal pipe with
access all round for the spray operator. Cows not interested, turned away from the vehicle and round the bails with
one of the women walking backwards away from them. Offered to help, grabbed a bit of poly pipe and when the
cows tried to turn away walked towards them, yell and little whack with the pipe so straight up into the trailer.
Dad was a dairy farmer and taught us never to let them beat you! Away they went and on with the job.

One load up to Brisbane with horses for the winter carnival 1980 in that Scania bus 9 horse float, way over weight
with saddles, gear, feed, luggage and strappers. Two up with a good mate, quite a slow trip. Found our way around
Gailes then dropped all except one horse around Doomben. Last one to a trainer with a home and stables near the
Gold Coast track. Stayed the night there, into town for a feed and few refreshers.
One horse to take out next day, then down to the Upper Hunter for the home load. Decided to use the spray station
then at Kirra, and go via the Bruxner Highway to the New England at Tenterfield. Heading down the road to the
spray station just on 8 am to see a woman jogging towards us TOTALLY NAKED! Looked at each other, had a few
beers last night but..... Ag bloke told us that she was a regular and nobody took much notice.

There were other Ag Department check stations on the Bruxner, Pacific and Summerland way to cover the border
crossings up in the ranges. Heard of stock being taken out through Texas without being sprayed. Penalties if caught!

Like all jobs in the transport industry quite a lot of extra work left to the drivers.