Paddling Peter’s Canoe

May 18, 2015 at 12:00 am | Posted in 1950s, 1960s, Australia, Discipline, Family History | 14 Comments
Tags: , , , , ,

monday-memoir-badge

I wrote this story a few years ago about one aspect of my childhood – a combination of where I lived; what I wanted to do; what I wasn’t allowed to do; what I did do; and what I was punished for doing.

We lived right beside Lake Illawarra when I was growing up in the 1950s and 1960s. We played cricket on the shore outside the back yard (into the water was six and out), explored its shoreline and adventured in its casuarina forest. Several fishermen plied their trade in the deeper waters, catching mainly bream and mullet, and prawns in season. At night, the lights of the prawn boats and waders looked entrancing from our bedroom window. The lake wasn’t very deep in our bay, but we didn’t play in it because you sank to your ankles in sticky black mud when you walked in it.

ErnThompson &boat Dapto Abt1956 001

Dad with one of his boats. About 1955

In his spare time, Dad made boats for sale out of plywood. My older brother Peter wanted a canoe, so Dad made him one. It was flat-bottomed and had both ends enclosed on top. There was a seat at the centre, so Peter could put his legs into the front section for a foothold. For safety, because none of the family could swim, there was a small outrigger to prevent it tipping over. The craft was painted black and so was the paddle Dad made for it. Peter could now paddle off across or around the lake on his own adventures.

I was three years younger than Peter, about nine years old. A tomboy, I was jealous that, because he was a boy, he could have a canoe and go off on his own, whereas I, being a girl, couldn’t. One day, I decided to take Peter’s canoe out on the lake for a short paddle. It was just to see what it was like. I didn’t see why I shouldn’t: I would be careful; it was easy to paddle; and I didn’t even think about the possibility of capsize – Peter never had so it wasn’t an issue.

I carefully and quietly pulled the canoe down to the water’s edge, then pushed it out and climbed in. I began to paddle away quickly, so that I wouldn’t be seen from the house. I followed the shoreline to the south and, as I got into the swing of it, my confidence grew.  Deciding I didn’t have to go back straight away, I set about enjoying myself – just for a little while. I was sure nobody would miss me. So I paddled on, imagining myself as an intrepid explorer searching out new lands. Then decided it was more exciting to be Hiawatha, paddling down a raging river in his Indian canoe. I had a wonderful time, but eventually knew I must paddle back home.

canoe_outrigger

An outrigger canoe

I had not realised I’d been out a couple of hours. My absence and that of the canoe had been noticed. Mum was waiting for me and she was in no mood to be understanding. I had been disobedient and, in spite of the canoe having an outrigger, she, fearful of water herself, had been afraid I would capsize it and drown. As soon as I’d put the canoe and paddle away, I got the sharp end of her tongue and a thorough hiding with her green leather belt. Then I was sent to the room I shared with my two sisters.

As I’d been approaching home in the canoe, I’d noticed that I was developing a headache. After I went to my room, it got worse and worse. Soon I was throwing up violently and feeling terribly weak. It had been a warm sunny day and I had been out on the water for some time. We only wore a hat to church – we had no others. As a result, I had developed sunstroke. This was a natural consequence of a few hours in the sun, but, to my young Catholic mind, it was really God’s punishment on me for disobeying my parents. The illness I suffered, and my own guilty conscience, were much more effective than any hiding Mum might give me, and I was never again tempted to take Peter’s canoe out on the lake.

Linda Visman

Advertisements

14 Comments »

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URI

  1. The things we do when we’re young! I did something similiar when I was young Linda and also suffered the wrath of my parents. What I did was a bit stupid, but you know what? I’m glad I did it. 🙂

    • I’m glad now that I paddled Peter’s canoe as well! Sometimes, we need to experience the forbidden. 🙂

  2. I can remember my mother saying never to ride my bike on the Hume Highway. I always thought it looked so much easier the the stony dirt roads in our village so tried it once. I was nearly blown off the road by the big semi trailers whooshing past. Needless to say I never told my mum. Nor did I ride on the highway again. It’s funny how boys were allowed to do anything. My husband rode from Wollongong to Bateman’s Bay on his bike when he was 14.

    • The Hume highway wouldn’t have been very wide either in those days! Having done it, you knew why – but sometimes we need to find out why for ourselves. I am glad you survived the experience, Linda! 🙂

    • I can recall riding in the countryside and those big trucks were like a typhoon when they went past, pretty scary.

  3. I’ve always thought it would be so cool to make your own canoe.

  4. I lost my shoes in that thick black mud! Pity that g’dad’s house wasn’t on the coast then you could have enjoyed the beach and become great swimmers. However, the canoe would have been impractical.

    • It was still great being a kid by the lake then, Paul, even if we couldn’t take advantage of the water. 🙂

  5. Different times. When I think of what we were allowed to do and how protected our children are today I am pleased of my freedom in childhood, despite the consequences of not listening or figuring I knew better.

    • I am too, Linda. And I am pleased my kids had that same freedom when they were kids. 🙂

      • Me too. The world seems very sterile and the threat of kidnapping and for kids seems to loom greater than ever. I wonder if it is the press which makes us feel threatened and hence more conservative or if the world is really more dangerous. I remember when us two older ones took our tricycles and rode some kilometers down the road before we were found. Guess the itchy feel thing runs in the blood.

  6. Ohhhh, I once climbed a tree over water and got my own hiding. I’m sorry that your sunstroke, in addition to being as horrible as sunstrokes are, carried mental stress, as well.

  7. Oh dear, I knew it wasn’t going to end well, but so wished it would. I hope you have since taken a boat out on a lake for hours with a hat on your head, a picnic lunch, and returned home with smiles.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.
Entries and comments feeds.

The Curry Apple Orchard

A blog designed to remember the past and celebrate the present.

barsetshirediaries

A site for the Barsetshire Diaries Books and others

Cee's Photography

Learning and teaching the art of composition.

Leigh Warren :: Country Music Outlaw

The ramblings of Leigh Warren about himself, country music and maybe... well who knows

Diane Tibert

~ writer - editor - publisher ~

Looking Back

With Mick Roberts. Est. Online 2000

Explore China

Four weeks of flying, cycling, hiking, cruising, eating and exploring

Repurposed Genealogy

Explore What's Possible

Appalachian Ink ~ Home of Anna Wess (and Granny)

Home of Anna Wess, Writer & Ghost Chaser

Myths of the Mirror

Life is make believe, fantasy given form

Writing on the Pages of Life

Exploring, creating and celebrating the writing life

ME and the Boss

Motivation and life......lived and loved one day at a time.

QP and Eye

Easy Going Introvert Blogs Here

Our Rumbling Ocean

Every day brings new adventures

Victoria Norton

Short stories, poems, and comments on life.

Eatable

Making food intolerances tolerable

%d bloggers like this: