Mango's Bilinga
Index Up Ron Ayre Mango's Bilinga Short Stories of the 60's

21st at Bilinga
N WRIGHT, R MEWETT, B BAKER,
MANGO, STOPLIGHT, WITHABE

Nathan “Mango” Wright
Member:   1985 - 1995

What the HELL is that noise?

Stop ringing that F@#&ing bell., Warner - (Mal Warner - Club Captain)

It’s 6am “GEAR ON THE BEACH”

A handful of half asleep young life savers; still dragging their feet from the events of the previous night; start carrying the gear to the beach.
In a heart beat the sleep is blasted from the eyes by the brisk sea breeze and the chorus of voices shouting “Surfs Up”.

With a solid, glassy six foot swell the compulsory

Surf Swim degenerates into a no holds barred Body Bash (surf). The dreaded sound of someone shouting “ No Pikers “ meant the biggest wave of the morning was on the horizon and if you pulled out you were a girl. Percy (Chris Walker) wins yet again because without his glasses he is as blind as a bat and can’t see that the wave has surged up from the gates of Hell and to take the drop would mean instant death and as usual everyone pulls out and starts laughing hysterically as Percy disappears in a flurry of arms and legs and the bone breaking sound of the wave (and Percy) smashing into the sand bank. The signal comes from the Club; funs over and its time for the morning duties.

Editors Note: Even I could see waves that big, I just didn’t care.

“Bloody hell, Warner I cleaned the Locker Room last time”, “No I don’t want to do the lunch duty as well”.

Warner: - “Stoplight (Robert Mewitt) put your pants back on and do your duty.”

Duties finished it’s time for the first Patrol; which usually turned into the afternoon patrol and the whole weekend.

In my second season I did more than 240 hours between the flags, due to the fact that the most members we had for the season was about ten. We used to laugh when the Branch would say make sure you have done at least 25 hours on Patrol or you won’t be allowed to compete in the Branch Championships.

The days Patrol is over. Now for the hard part, trying to pull that F@#&ing Rubber Duck up the beach, up the ramp and back to the club. No car or tractor for us; so after three or four breaks and a lot of swearing the Duck would reach its destination.

LRB Training

Speaking of the Duck; Stoplight and I must hold the record for the most embarrassing “flip” It’s X-Mass day, a good crowd, Stoppies family and the Club President Phil “Gomer” Mitchell looking on. Not much swell, Stoppie is crewman I’m at the helm, outboard starts straight away (we’re looking good) I’m standing to the left of the Duck, Stoppie to the right. We steady the craft waiting for a small set to pass. First wave O.K., second wave a bit bigger but no problems, third wave starts off at about two foot hits the bank and jacks up to about five feet in the blink of an eye. I’m looking straight up and can see the soles of Stoppie’s feet as the wave violently catapults the bow of the Duck into the air and to my amazement the bow just keeps on coming and I end up underneath the entire mess. I come up gasping for air with the ever concerned Gomer shouting, “ Turn the F@#&ing motor off”.  It’s the first and only time I’ve heard of the Duck being flipped before anyone has even got into it. Still all considered who could want more than to be on Bilinga beach for Christmas on a perfect day.

It’s 4pm, time to relax, time to have fun, time to PARTY. A quick surf if Hughie was being generous and sent us some swell.

5:30pm, a couple of quiet drinks (and a lot of loud ones), something to eat and then into our best clothes and off to the night clubs.

2:30am after a long walk home; into bed for a couple of hours sleep before Warner starts ringing that F@#&in g BELL.

Now a 31 yr old, 6’4”, 95 Kilo Police Officer sits in front of a Computer; tears rolling down his face as he remembers boys that became men and friends that didn’t make it.

I pray to Hughie, the God of Surf, asking that one day I may have the privilege and honour of waking up at 6 am and heading “out the back” for a round of “No Pikers” with the old gang at Bilinga Beach.

I laugh to myself as in my minds eye I can still hear that F@#&ing Bell.

Regards
Mango. 10/1/2001

Converted From 85-95.pdf (1.03Mb)


From the Work of Chris Walker, adapted for the Internet by David Bray