Australia’s koala has become more than just a marsupial. It’s now a symbol, a fundraising tool and a political icon. Smile for photos, showcase their faces on postcards and talk about imminent extinction, and suddenly, money starts flowing. Politicians, environmentalists and the media all love it. Yet, like all great myths, the story of the koala’s supposed doom is more a crafted tale than a real ecological threat.
I have previously written about satinay. In an earlier essay, ‘The aristocratic satinay,’ I explored the history of this remarkable Fraser Island timber, from its initial neglect to its eventual recognition as one of Australia’s finest hardwoods. That story emerged from years spent in and around Fraser Island’s forests and from a fascination with how a timber once considered unworkable came to be highly valued for flooring, furniture and demanding marine applications.
Two years ago, I wrote about Lark Force at Rabaul and how a small Australian garrison, sent forward on a strategic idea that no longer made sense, was quickly overwhelmed when the Japanese attacked. That story didn’t end on the battlefield but at sea, with the sinking of the Montevideo Maru and the loss of over a thousand Australian prisoners of war and civilians, whose fates went almost unnoticed at the time.
The bushfires that swept across Victoria in 1926, a hundred years ago, are not as ingrained in Australian folklore as Black Friday in 1939 or Black Saturday in 2009. There are no monuments, no school references and no shorthand name etched into the national psyche. One reason is that there was no royal commission or formal inquiry to investigate what went wrong and how to prevent it from happening again.
Many Australians see tropical cyclones as a northern phenomenon — storms that belong to Cairns, Townsville, or the Kimberley. Yet, the Fraser Coast, stretching from Fraser Island through Hervey Bay to Maryborough, has long been within their path. Cyclones are not uncommon visitors here. In fact, they have shaped our coast, forests and local stories.
The story of Australian sand mining spans over more than a century, beginning not with industry, but with the pursuit of gold. In the late 1800s, small groups of miners panned the black beach sands along Australia’s east coast, from Bermagui in New South Wales to Fraser Island in Queensland, searching for a few shimmering specks.
This is a story about how sugar transformed a riverside settlement into one of Queensland’s most prosperous regional centres.
Pioneering the Burnett
When surveyor John Charlton Thompson first mapped out Bundaberg in the early 1870s, few could have imagined that the small settlement on the Burnett River would eventually become the beating heart of one of Queensland’s most renowned agricultural industries.
How many disasters must we have, and how much public and private money needs to be spent, before we stop accepting a situation that can and should be avoided?
Professor Mark Adams, landowner at Separation Creek
Introduction
Christmas should be a time of family, rest, and renewal. For the small coastal communities of Wye River and Separation Creek on Victoria’s Great Ocean Road, Christmas Day 2015 brought devastation instead.
Sir Reginald Barnewall was a man of the air long before he ever set eyes on Fraser Island. He was born into a wealthy Victorian grazing family whose history went back to the Norman conquest. A baronet, he carried himself with the confidence of privilege but also with the restless ambition of a man who wanted more than land and cattle.