Redlands Coast - Naturally Wonderful

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  MY ENVIRONMENTAL GROWTH TOGETHER WITH THE BEAUTIFUL REDLANDS

  by barbarabradford, over 8 years ago

  As a young 7 yo child from a family of 8, we lived on a small property at Belmont and we would regularly travel to the Redlands for picnics and swimming at many places including Tingalpa Creek Capalaba (near the Greyhound grounds), Wellington Point and Thompsons Beach Victoria Point.

  The drives through the Redlands with all the farms growing vegetables from the rich soils were what I remembered the most from those early years of the Redlands at that time. 

  These areas included farms at Wellington Point, Ormiston, Cleveland, Victoria Point, Redland Bay, the strawberry farms were... Continue reading

  As a young 7 yo child from a family of 8, we lived on a small property at Belmont and we would regularly travel to the Redlands for picnics and swimming at many places including Tingalpa Creek Capalaba (near the Greyhound grounds), Wellington Point and Thompsons Beach Victoria Point.

  The drives through the Redlands with all the farms growing vegetables from the rich soils were what I remembered the most from those early years of the Redlands at that time. 

  These areas included farms at Wellington Point, Ormiston, Cleveland, Victoria Point, Redland Bay, the strawberry farms were the most favoured of course.

  Our Dad & Mum loved showing our extended family to these areas when they came down to visit from Toowoomba and Texas and then shout us a lemon squash at the Grand View Hotel if we were lucky or fish and chips at Cleveland Point looking out at the vast ocean.  Walks on the jetty next to Ye Olde Court House Restaurant and Wellington Point jetty out to King Island at low tide was always a must and most enjoyable.

  Mum, Dad and the visitors especially loved the Moreton Bay Figs, and Jacarandas that lined many streets.

  On many a Friday night we had fish and chips at Wellington Point, as it was the only take away meal I believe was on offer, to us anyway!! 

  At 17 I was a regular visitor to Coochiemudlo Island with my friend whose Parents had retired there, and since have been lucky enough to visit nearly all of the Islands, either by private boat, ferry/barge – then hiking, biking, snorkeling and rowing.

  In 1977 as a 19yo I came to live at Alexandra Hills with my Mum, her new Husband and my 2 brothers.  I have lived in the Redlands now for 40 years and only had 1 year living away and that was because as a young single female in my late 20’s I couldn’t afford to buy here, so went to the closest area I could afford, which happened to be in Logan.

  I then began to travel to different parts of Australia and met people from many other Countries and started bringing them to the Redlands to showcase many of it’s assets, including the fantastic Koala population and how you could find and view them so easily in their natural setting.

  In 1986 I met my Husband who also came to live at Alexandra Hills and after marrying we spent 2 more years there before moving to small acreage in Sheldon – 2 ½ acres which we were totally in awe of, both with the location and being able to afford it at the time.  We have been here 25 years and brought up 2 Sons who have a real affinity to this very beautiful bushland area with all of its wonderful natural inhabitants that they have learned so much from, along with us too, of course.

  I love the outdoors and the many activities land and water based I have been fortunate to participate in right here in the Redlands.  We introduced our children to all of these activities as well and have enjoyed many a picnic in our own back yard and hiking and biking in the many Conservation Reserves such as – Wallaby Creek Bushland, Scribbly Gums, Ford Road, Bayview etc.  I have been an avid bushwalker all my life and to know there is still so much more for me to explore on the Islands and the mainland is just so fabulous and exciting.

  While I have been extremely privileged to live on acreage most of my life and to witness the beauty of nature first hand I do believe it has been my duty to upkeep it and I have learned how to do this through great programs taught by passionate people who work in and for the Redlands. 

  Learning all about conservation of these wonderful assets of the Redlands along with my

  new activities since the 2000’s which have been jogging and birding has come to enhance my appreciation and determination to pass on the education I have been given.

  With a total 51 years of exploring this great area I really can’t picture myself living anywhere else, the fact that Redlands can be so peaceful, beautiful and diverse which brings with it an abundance of wildlife from the birds and animals of the bush to the wondrous creatures of the ocean and surrounds, it has been and still is an ongoing education on how to live and respect all the Redlands has to offer.

  I love Redlands!! XX <3
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  Island Living

  by Natalie S, over 8 years ago
  
  

  
  
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  Beautiful Like An Animal

  by Natalie S, over 8 years ago

  The house was on the corner. A dead motorbike bike swung on a cable from the tree out the front. There was a six foot high timber fence that ran around the property. A rope thick as an anaconda hung in loops across the top.

  When I walked past, links of chain clanked and a dog crashed towards me. It barked like it was insane. Its face slathered, all teeth and red gums, in the gaps between the fence posts. A pit-bull.

  I would stand on the block that might become my block and touch the rough trunk of the... Continue reading

  The house was on the corner. A dead motorbike bike swung on a cable from the tree out the front. There was a six foot high timber fence that ran around the property. A rope thick as an anaconda hung in loops across the top.

  When I walked past, links of chain clanked and a dog crashed towards me. It barked like it was insane. Its face slathered, all teeth and red gums, in the gaps between the fence posts. A pit-bull.

  I would stand on the block that might become my block and touch the rough trunk of the ironbark at the centre and wonder what I was doing.

  I thought about my child walking past that house on her way to school. I thought about that dog lunging at her. What kind of person owns a dog like that? Hangs a bike in a tree like a warning.

  “A dealer,” said Isabel who gave us lifts to the ferry and back.

  “What does he deal?”

  “Ice,” she said, glancing across at me. “My sister got caught up in it for a while.”

  I’d met her sister. She worked at the club. She was blond and smiley. She leant towards you when you spoke.

  “Did you notice her skin?” said Isabel and I tried to remember. “The scars on her face.”

  “Oh,” I said. “I thought that was acne.”

  “No,” said Isabel. “It’s ice. It ages people. Screws up their skin. Rots their teeth.”

  A picture of Evie with scars on her forehead rose. I pushed it away hard. Not that. Not my child.

  “You Natly?” A cigarette voice called and I turned. A woman on the balcony of the house opposite was watching me. “You thinking of buying that land?”

  “Thinking about it.”

  “You betta come up,” she said.

  I went up and stood her balcony. I could see the whole block. It was a good block. Level, waterfront, but high set.

  “I’m Audrey,” she said. She brought me tea in a flowered cup. A can of lemonade for Evie.

  “How’d you know my name?” I asked her.

  “I know everything,” she said and laughed, showed me strong teeth.

  I asked her about the house on the corner. “Don’t worry about him,” she said, lighting up a Longbeach. “He won’t bother you. They only hurt each other. Stay out of their circle and you’ll be fine.”

  We drank our tea. “What’s the island like? As a place to live?”

  “Quiet.”

  “Even him?” I nodded towards the motorbike.

  “Especially him. Never hear a peep. Except for the occasional car at three am. But they only stay for five minutes.”
  

  *
  

  In the afternoon, Evie and I collected flowers. The island was wild with them. Jonquils in the grass and fences drenched with jasmine. Bougainvillea that covered a tall tree so it stood like a skyscraper of hot pink blossoms.

  We lifted the hems of our skirts to make bowls for all that bright petal softness. At the house, Evie filled jars and vases and round white bowls with colour. Outside the ocean sparkled and rolled. I sat in an armchair on the balcony and let the space and light soak into me.

  When the darkness came in, Evie and I cooked tuna pasta together. As we ate, Evie said, “If we lived here, we could have a garden.”

  “Yeah, we could.” I thought of our tiny flat in Darwin. How my daughter was growing up without trees. Or even grass. Just a concrete balcony one metre by three. I thought about how much money it cost to live in that tiny flat. How hard I had to work and how the work took me away from Evie, who was growing up with heart-breaking speed.

  After dinner, we turned the music up loud and danced in the kitchen with our hands in the air.

  And all night, I kept thinking, I want this. I want more of this.
  

  *
  

  The agent’s name was John. I was on the block when he rang.

  “He’ll take $52,000.”

  The block was flat and grassy like a lawn, with one large tree in the centre and a three-metre drop off at the front down to the mangroves. When I stood on the grass, I could only see the mangroves. But when I stood on the back of John’s ute, I could see the sea. It was everywhere, it was a grey and smooth. The headlands on either side were wild with trees.

  “Okay,” I said, “Fifty-two.”

  I hung up and shook with what I had just done.

  The dealer’s name was Loopy. His wife was Lippy. This made it hard to be afraid of them. Loopy and Lippy. I imagined small painted dolls made out of timber with bases that rocked.

  “They’re leaving anyway,” John said

  “Oh that’s good.” I felt washed by relief.

  “Yeah, somebody took to them with an axe.”

  “An axe?” My voice went squeaky, the relief abruptly gone.

  “A deal gone wrong. The axe was meant for Loopy, but Lippy stepped in front and copped it instead.” He lifted one arm. “Cut right through the tendons.”

  I felt chilled.

  But it was done by then. I’d already bought the block.

  Never mind, I thought. I don’t have to build on it. I’ll can always just sell it.

  I packed up my things and took my daughter back to Darwin. Away from the sparkling water and the blossoms and the ice-dealer with the pit-bull on the corner.
  

  *
  

  The lump was in my left breast. Hard as a frozen pea, it sat at two o’clock from the nipple.

  What I remember most is the waiting. Days spent sitting in grey painted hospital rooms on a chair bolted to the floor. The television always on with the sound turned up loud.

  The nurse who gave me the mammogram had long, slim feet. The room was beige without windows. The mammogram machine took up most of the room.

  The nurse was narrow in the shoulders and hips, dark-skinned and young. She had a long straight nose and serious eyes. She lay my breast on a cold plate and brought another plate down on top. My flesh squashed strange and flat as play dough.

  She ran to the other side of the room and pressed a button on the wall. Then she ran back to me and released my breast.

  “Why do you run?” I asked the third time she did this.

  “It is not comfortable for you to have your breast like this.” She waved at the plate, which was once again descending onto my flesh. “I don’t want you hurting any longer than you have to.”

  She ran back to the button. She wore white volleys and the sound of them slapping the floor was the largest sound in the room.

  The day I found out that I did not have cancer, I walked out of the hospital into sunshine. I sat in my car but didn’t leave the car park. I closed my eyes. I felt the warmth coming through the glass and onto my arm. Whatever you might believe happens after death, there is no sensation of sunlight warming skin. This is a thing purely for the body. I fell in love with my own life then.

  I picked Evie up from school and drove to the pool. I remember standing breast deep in light-spangled water holding her in my arms. I could feel the line where the water ended and the air began. I could feel the slippery warmth of my daughter’s body against my breathing chest. I felt my own intimate aliveness and I understood how cavalier I had been with my moments. And that I couldn’t do that anymore. I needed to live closer to my own truth. I wasn’t sure what this meant yet. I could only see the next step. A home. I needed to make a home for me and Evie.

  I grew up on an island. From the age of two until eight, I lived with my family on Scotland Island in Pittwater. The house was a fibro shack on the side of a hill. You could see the water from the kitchen.

  I don’t remember winter. Only blue days full of light. The sparkle of summer on the water. My parents still in love. They held parties where they danced with the neighbours but mostly with each other.

  When their marriage had started to crack, they tried to outrun the damage. I was eight years old when we moved to Tasmania. There was a new house every year and new schools too. The rain came down in hard sharp lines. The wind blew straight in from Antarctica.

  I’d missed my friends. I’d missed my dog. But underneath all this was a heartsick longing for water and sunlight. For the island.

  *
  

  We rented a disheveled Queenslander on the edge of the sea.

  There were no police on the island. Or doctors or shops. Not really. There was a room in the front of an old house near the jetty, where you could buy bait or milk. The walls were lined with dark timber shelving. At regular intervals sat small piles of dry goods. Three cans of baked beans. A pyramid of individually wrapped toilet rolls. Neat stacks of mosquito coils. The bread came every morning on the ferry, except Sunday, and all of it was white.

  The builder’s name was Ben. He was a tall solid man, with wide shoulders, leathered by sun. He wore a blue singlet and small blue shorts. On his big feet were scuffed boots with thick socks pushed down.

  He looked at the ironbark in the centre of my block. “You’ll need to get rid of that, before you do anything.”

  We walked around the block, pacing out the house. Ken said there’d always been drugs on the island. They used to send dinghies out to meet the big boats coming in from Asia. Slabs of hash dropped into the floor of a tinny on a moonless night.

  “But it’s different now,” he said, with a nod to the motorbike hanging from the tree on the corner. “The drugs are different.”

  *
  

  Dave was about as handsome as a man can be. Olive skinned and square jawed with a movie-star cleft in the middle of his chin.

  I didn’t notice he was handsome. Not at first, anyway. I saw only the curve in his spine. He stood like a man who’d been hit about the shoulders with a metal pole.

  He was here to look at my tree. When I picked him up from the jetty, he sat in the passenger seat with his head skimming the roof of the car, his big kneecaps close to his chin. He didn’t talk.

  I have spent my life working in the arts, mostly with women. The few men I have worked with were all fine boned and soft bellied. And chatty. Nothing like this. Dave was a different animal altogether, something closer to a horse or a lion.

  At my block, he rubbed his jaw and studied the tree. His body was hard with muscle. The muscle pushed against his clothes.

  I wanted to touch him. To see what his skin felt like. Skin stretched taut over so much muscle. He smelt of soap. He was shaved. And yet there was something very raw about him.

  He talked about angles and ropes and climbing, how to safely bring the tree down. We talked money for a bit and then I drove him back to the Queenslander and made him coffee. We sat at the kitchen table and looked at the water.

  Dave drank my coffee and his story fell out. There was a problem with his sons. “The 23 year old is just a bit young in his ways. He doesn’t think. But the older one. He’s gone, I reckon.” He put down his cup.

  “Ice?” I felt self-conscious. The word felt fake in my mouth.

  But Dave just nodded. “They took my credit cards. I always left my wallet on the table. It never occurred to me not to trust my boys.” He looked at his hands and was quiet for a while, then he said, “I kicked them out of the house, but only for a couple of days. They’re back now. They didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  I told him the little I know about addiction, how sometimes people have to hit rock bottom before they can change.

  He lifted his huge hands from the table and then dropped them again. “They’re my boys.”

  I looked at him, saw the parent. Saw myself. And Evie. I would give anything, of course. I would give everything.

  After he left, Evie and I walked back to the block. She dug a hole at the base of the tree and put a note inside, then she put her arms around the trunk. Her skin was pale against the bark. She could only reach a third of the way around. She put her face sideways and closed her eyes.

  I waited, not wanting to disturb whatever she was feeling. But then the mosquitoes came out. Swarms of them. Biting.

  Evie stayed against the tree, not moving.

  It was getting dark. There were lights on in the houses either side of us and the sound of a television coming from further up the hill, but through all this, I could feel the quiet of the earth and the way it ran up my legs and cooled my heart.

  A mosquito whined close to my face. I flapped my hand. There was a bite on my arm and two on my ankle. I wanted to say to Evie, “Come on, honey. Time to go.” But I didn’t. I waited and finally, she released the tree and turned to face me.

  “Ready?”

  “Yep.” She put her hand in mine and we started walking back.

  “I’m getting bitten.”

  “Me too.”

  She didn’t have any shoes on, and her tread on the gravel road was careful. She looked at me. “I asked the tree what its name was.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Robert,” she said.

  I felt laughter bubble up in me but I swallowed it down. She was so earnest. She said, “As soon as I asked, the name came. I think that must be the tree’s name. I asked if I could take some bark, too, and he said yes.” She paused in the middle of the road under the street light, and from her pocket pulled a small chunk of thick black bark.

  “What was on the note?”

  “I said we were sorry. And I drew a picture of you and me. I said we needed a home. I said we were sad he was going to be cut down.”

  There was a tenant in the house on the corner now, an addict. The motorbike was gone, but the dog was still there, or a similar one.

  I saw him once, a man in his thirties with his hair cut prison short. He had the grey skin of a smoker. He kept his eyes on the ground.

  I raised my hand in greeting, but he didn’t look up. There was such hopelessness about him. He turned and went back through the huge grey fence, past the barking dog and into the broken house.

  I stood there for a moment. The dog stopped barked. The street settled into quiet. A tiny bird flew overhead, opening and closing its wings, a tiny silhouette against the massive blue sky.

  In the morning, Evie went for a walk and came back with a bird’s nest as big as a hat. “I found it on the road.” She said holding it up, “Did a person make it?”

  “A bird. It must have blown out of the tree in the wind.”

  The wind was strong and coming from the north straight off the sea, it tasted wild and salty and blew my hair around.

  Evie held it lightly in both hands. “I thought it must be a bird, it’s too lovely to be made by a person.”

  She put it down by the back door and we went together out into the wind. Evie rode her bike. I watched her in her bright red dress. There were trees all around her. She was singing. The sound of it came rushing at me, carried on that wild wind.

  When we got to the top of the hill the wind was electric. It was the kind of wind that makes you want to laugh or whoop. A crazy joy inside it.

  Evie did loops on her bike, riding ahead and then circling back to keep me always in view. Her red dress a flag in the wind.

  I walked and walked and Evie rode her bike and neither of us got tired. We went all over the island and ended up at the block. We climbed the low branches of the tree until we could see the sea. The tide was high. Air rushed at us. There was nothing to see but trees and ocean. The water was grey and wind-whipped and beautiful like an animal is beautiful. Savage and full of grace. The beauty rose up and over me, it pushed right through me, carried on that ferocious wind. It made me know, somewhere deep inside myself, that we would be okay.

  That night I could feel the deep quiet of the island. There were the curlews and lapping waves, but under this, I had a sense of the earth breathing. It restored me to myself in some profound way. A stillness crept into my muscles. Thank you, I thought, all through my sleep. And then again, when I woke. Thank you.

  
  
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  Avian Paradise

  by jodicksondesigns, over 8 years ago
  

  As the barge ploughed through the dark waters of Moreton Bay I noticed a great deal of avian activity.  A flock of opportunistic seagulls scanned the turbulent froth of the boat's wake for prey.  The sun was horizon-bound and underlit their wings with gold.  A white-bellied sea eagle soared effortlessly on improbably large wings, clearly master of its domain. The beacons in that part of the route known as The W's were resting posts for cormorants, done with drying their sodden wings.  Soon the islands began to lose detail, turning to silhouette as we approached our destination. What a perfect... Continue reading

  As the barge ploughed through the dark waters of Moreton Bay I noticed a great deal of avian activity.  A flock of opportunistic seagulls scanned the turbulent froth of the boat's wake for prey.  The sun was horizon-bound and underlit their wings with gold.  A white-bellied sea eagle soared effortlessly on improbably large wings, clearly master of its domain. The beacons in that part of the route known as The W's were resting posts for cormorants, done with drying their sodden wings.  Soon the islands began to lose detail, turning to silhouette as we approached our destination. What a perfect time of day to be on Moreton Bay.  I caught a last glimpse of the unmistakeable profile of a tern, like us, homeward bound, before my reverie was interrupted by the engine rumble that signalled the time to start our engines, as the ramp was lowered and we were ushered ashore. Home.
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  Can You Believe We Live Here??

  by arthurechlin, over 8 years ago

  We have only lived in the Redlands for almost three years, after stumbling across it when looking for options when moving from a capital city. 

  Every time we go for a walk to peaceful Thompson's Beach we still find ourselves saying, "Can you believe we live here??"

  Every time we ride our bikes with our three kids along picturesque Pt O'Halloran we still find ourselves saying, "Can you believe we live here??"

  Every time we take our boat out from Cleveland and have a picnic at Raby Bay foreshore we still find ourselves saying, "Can you believe we live here??"

  ... Continue reading

  We have only lived in the Redlands for almost three years, after stumbling across it when looking for options when moving from a capital city. 

  Every time we go for a walk to peaceful Thompson's Beach we still find ourselves saying, "Can you believe we live here??"

  Every time we ride our bikes with our three kids along picturesque Pt O'Halloran we still find ourselves saying, "Can you believe we live here??"

  Every time we take our boat out from Cleveland and have a picnic at Raby Bay foreshore we still find ourselves saying, "Can you believe we live here??"

  Every time we come home from work in the city we STILL find ourselves saying, "Can you believe we get to live here??" 
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  Dear Kate...

  by elizashepherd, over 8 years ago

  Dear Kate,

  In your last letter you asked about where I live now and what it’s like to live in Victoria Point in the beautiful sunshine state of Queensland. In this letter I’ll tell you all about it. It has been 3 months since we moved here from Melbourne, so we are still adjusting and it seriously feels like we live in a different country sometimes. It’s always sunny with blue skies and summer felt extremely hot for me - I couldn't seem to stop sweating.

  We get to spend most of our day in the pool or down at... Continue reading

  Dear Kate,

  In your last letter you asked about where I live now and what it’s like to live in Victoria Point in the beautiful sunshine state of Queensland. In this letter I’ll tell you all about it. It has been 3 months since we moved here from Melbourne, so we are still adjusting and it seriously feels like we live in a different country sometimes. It’s always sunny with blue skies and summer felt extremely hot for me - I couldn't seem to stop sweating.

  We get to spend most of our day in the pool or down at the beach. Dad has bought a boat and it’s awesome! It’s so much fun to go out on, and we have even taken it over to Coochiemudlo Island (one of the nearby islands) and had a picnic. It felt like our own private island. You HAVE to come up and go for a ride on it.

  Our house is literally a five minute walk to the bay at Thompson’s Beach, or if you walk in the other direction it’s a five minute walk to Point O’Halloran, or if you walk in the other direction it’s a five minute walk to the boat ramp. These are three of my favourite places to go for walks, bike rides or picnics. I absolutely love going for big long walks to Point O’Halloran and back. All along the walking path there are huge palm trees and it just feels like paradise. At sunset it is unbelievably pretty – all the colours go through their different stages of whimsical pastels through to bright pinks and reds above the calm water ripples, with all the little boats anchored all over the water. It is stunning.

  The boat ramp is also one of my favourite places. I love just going for a walk or bike ride down there and on the corner there is a ridiculously good fish & chips shop that also do really good ice creams. It’s the best going down there and getting an ice cream and then sitting by the water while eating it.

  Thompson’s Beach is the main swimming area that we go to for picnics and walks. When it is high tide it is stunning, with crystal-clear sparkling water and trees and soft, calm ripples through the water. It’s perfect for me to swim in because it doesn’t get too deep until a fair way out and it’s quite clear at high tide so you can see the bottom. The photo below shows a perfect day we had at Thompson's Beach - the water was crystal clear, blue, sparkling and the sun was out but that beautiful tree provided shade for us. Perfect for swimming. The other photo shows a crazy sunset at Thompson’s.

  One of my other absolute favourite places ever – probably even on this planet – is the Cleveland Lighthouse. It’s a café out on the point at Cleveland, so it sits out on the water and you can see the islands and beautiful water all around you. It is especially stunning at high tide with water splashing up on the walls of the café. I feel like I am living the Queensland dream when I go there. Sometimes I sit there for hours reading a book and drinking a milkshake. It’s our family's favourite place to go and relax when we all have a day off together. It’s so cute because there’s actually a small lighthouse on the other side of the café. It’s so cool!

  So, as you have probably already been able to gather from everything I’ve raved to you about, I LOVE living here. I would even go so far as to say I ADORE this place. It has given me the best lifestyle, we are able to be outdoors most of the time and as a result we are so much more active and healthy. If you hadn’t noticed already I am obsessed with the beautiful water around us and the unbelievable sunsets we get every day! It’s amazing. Moving here has been the best decision we made. I can’t wait until you can come up and I can show you all around and you can experience it all for yourself! It is seriously like living in paradise all the time and sometimes feels like I’m on a movie because of how fun and beautiful it is, and everything is just a short walk from us. It doesn’t get any better.

  I look forward to hearing from you – or you could come up and see it for yourself!

  Yours truly,

  Elli.
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  My Home The Redlands

  by Cathy, over 8 years ago

  I have lived in the Redlands since day dot, before traffic lights and round-a-bouts. Where it was Redland Bay Road to where, as you couldn't find a street sign and there were no street lights and so at night it was pitch black. I would wake up to kangaroo's under the hills hoist clothes line, and we could pat the koala on the chook pen fence. When friends and family came to visit us we were known as living out in the sticks miles from nowhere. 

  The Redlands was known as the Salad Bowl back then as we had lots... Continue reading

  I have lived in the Redlands since day dot, before traffic lights and round-a-bouts. Where it was Redland Bay Road to where, as you couldn't find a street sign and there were no street lights and so at night it was pitch black. I would wake up to kangaroo's under the hills hoist clothes line, and we could pat the koala on the chook pen fence. When friends and family came to visit us we were known as living out in the sticks miles from nowhere. 

  The Redlands was known as the Salad Bowl back then as we had lots of farms and we could all buy fresh produce and flowers straight from the farm. The beautiful rich red soil is where we get our name from "The Redlands". For my brothers and sister our part time jobs were working on the farms in our school holidays, and on some weekends. When i would pick strawberries i would smell like strawberries from head to toe, and it would depend on how hard i worked as to how much i earned. If i sat in the patch daydreaming and eating the strawberries i didn't earn too much money on those days. It kept us out from under Mums feet when we were out working and earning ourselves some pocket money.

  There was only one High School back then, Cleveland High School and later  they built Capalaba High. There we no private schools either, you had to go  outside  the Redlands to attend those schools. We caught the bus to school on Redlands Transport and wherever the bus went that was the school you went to.

  Some of the Redlands famous land marks were the Capalaba Drive-in-Theatre, which is now Capalaba Park. The round shop where we stopped to pick up bits and pieces and even petrol was for sale  on the corner of Boundary Road and Panaroma Drive now Wellington Street Thornlands. The dump was at the now soccer field at  Capalaba.  Despots in Middle Street Cleveland was the Myers of the Redlands. Bloomfield  Street was a picture of beauty as you came into Cleveland with the streets lined with Poinsettia's on each side of the road. The caravan park at Victoria Point with a public swimming pool was situated  on the corner of Colburn Avenue and Cleveland Redland Bay Road. Our family would purchase a season pass and go swimming most afternoons in the warmer weather.

  The Strawberry Festival was a busy event each year starting with the street parade at 12pm in  Cleveland finishing at the showgrounds, entry was free for everyone. It attracted a large crowd of people and still does today, the highlight being the strawberry eating competition. Back then we had the Strawberry Queen's as well.

  We have nicknames we still use Wello Point, Vicky Point, Reddie Bay and Straddie. We had many holiday's at Straddie back when the roads were sand at Point Lookout and the Brumby horses ran wild, We have enjoyed many visits to Coochie Mudlo and even had Sunday School picnics there as well. Enjoyed many a walk out to King Island at Wellington Point. We have seen the making of Raby Bay which was a good fishing spot at the time. Our children have enjoyed many a picnic at all the points in the Redlands over the years. Now our  Grandchildren starting to enjoy the same, the next generation.

  We are now what i call the round-a-bout capital of the world, and we have crazy traffic congestion at peak time, Our farms are  disappearing for housing estates, the home i grew up in is replaced by a two lane road. The Redlands has come a long way from the place that was called, out in the sticks. It is more of a city now, Redlands City as everyone wants to the enjoy the beauty we have by living by the bay. 

  I have seen the Redlands grow in what seems like a short time, but it is still the place i love to come home to with it's beautiful outlook and bay breezes. Redlands will always be my home.

  By Cathy Hollibone 
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  Our Redlands Adventure

  by Jademichele, over 8 years ago

  11 years ago we came to Redland City to visit family. They have lived here now for 37 years.

  For us as a family, it was time to think outside the box and have a change.

  We decided to sell everything and become full-time housesitters for the residents of Redlands.

  It has been the most amazing experience and while not without it's challenges, we have met the most wonderful people and taken care of so many fur family members.

  Having lived in Redland Bay, Mount Cotton, Thorneside, Thornlands, Wellington Point and Alexandra Hills, it has given us the opportunity to... Continue reading

  11 years ago we came to Redland City to visit family. They have lived here now for 37 years.

  For us as a family, it was time to think outside the box and have a change.

  We decided to sell everything and become full-time housesitters for the residents of Redlands.

  It has been the most amazing experience and while not without it's challenges, we have met the most wonderful people and taken care of so many fur family members.

  Having lived in Redland Bay, Mount Cotton, Thorneside, Thornlands, Wellington Point and Alexandra Hills, it has given us the opportunity to explore beautiful parks, local businesses, so many libraries, amazing views and gain a real feel for each suburb.

  All of this, while still allowing for our son to attend school.

  Our adventure continues well into next year and we are so grateful to live in this wonderful city!

  This is a snippet of our housesitting experience!

  Our Redland Adventure

  
  
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  Humpback Dreaming!

  by barefoot dave, over 8 years ago

  At the turn of the millennium, I made a life changing decision to retire from a career in the mining industry and start a business introducing visitors to the wonders of North Stradbroke Island.

  North Stradbroke Island has been my home since the mid-1980s. My wife’s family had been raised here, as had their ancestors. Throughout the ages, we have all felt a deep affinity to this uniquely beautiful island.

  In the 17 years since, I have shown thousands of people around most corners of Stradbroke; from whale watchers, to fishermen and kayakers, sand... Continue reading

  At the turn of the millennium, I made a life changing decision to retire from a career in the mining industry and start a business introducing visitors to the wonders of North Stradbroke Island.

  North Stradbroke Island has been my home since the mid-1980s. My wife’s family had been raised here, as had their ancestors. Throughout the ages, we have all felt a deep affinity to this uniquely beautiful island.

  In the 17 years since, I have shown thousands of people around most corners of Stradbroke; from whale watchers, to fishermen and kayakers, sand boarders to budding ecologists - even beach wormers. Every one of my clients has arrived with their own expectations and I have tried to meet them all.

  There have been many memories along the way, but one stands out among them. Around three years ago, an elderly lady joined an afternoon whale watching tour. It was late in the winter, and the by now familiar spouts of the migrating humpbacks were peppering the horizon around Point Lookout. From the beginning of the Gorge walk, the backs of these beautiful mammals would regularly roll through the azure. Sometimes they'd get so close we could see their barnacles sparkle against the sunlight. The whites of their flippers and tails would contrast with the sea, drawing gasps from people sitting on the grass, or leaning against the rails.

  But my client that day wanted a little bit more. She had never seen a whale breach. And when she asked me with plaintive eyes whether I could change that, I was determined to make it happen.

  We started the tour at Point Lookout, where there was no shortage of whales frolicking half way to the horizon. None, however, wanted to dance. Not satisfied with blow spouts, we piled into the troop carrier and drove on to Main Beach. Flippers and tails taunted us over the breakers, but still nothing more.

  We drove along the beach, eyes peeled on the horizon, tensions rising and the sun setting. Another flipper, another tail. Kangaroos were standing sentry all along the beach to our right. They too seemed to be looking for something. But not as hard as us.

  It was now late in the afternoon, and the mid winter sun was dipping fast. A cool wind was scuffing the sand and I could almost see my client deflate as her dream for a glimpse of a humpback in flight ebbed away. She had a barge to catch, and I needed to get her there across the Causeway, which runs from Main Beach through the centre of the island to Dunwich.

  The elderly lady wasn't the only one disappointed as the sun hit the horizon. No amount of good will, was going to make it happen for her, it seemed. Her dream would surely have to wait.

  We approached the Causeway, and I leaned over to console her, with words that weren't going to make her feel any better. As I did, our eyes jointly fixed on the waves for one last time, to catch a magnificent whale leap from the sea just behind the waves, its enormous frame in full breach. Time almost stood still, before it returned to the ocean with an enormous splash.

  The lady let out a gasp of delight. And I think I may have too!. With tears in her eyes, she looked at me and said: “Dave my life is now complete”.

  We turned right on to the Causeway, then up and over the spine of Stradbroke, and made it to the barge on time. I still get emotional thinking about that moment. To me, it is what the past 17 years have been all about. I'd like to think that the whale answered her prayers that day. One thing I have learned in the years that I've been running Straddie Kingfisher Tours, is that this island often surpasses expectations. The harmony between history and present day, people and nature, works better than any other place I know.

  It is my privilege to introduce people to what this island has to offer. I know there are many more dreams to be fulfilled down a track somewhere.
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  Redlands...Nature's Playground. By Zara Shepherd (11 yo).

  by zarashepherd, over 8 years ago
  
  

  Filmed, scripted, narrated, edited, and produced by:

  Zara Shepherd, Victoria Point, 11 years old.

  
  

  Filmed, scripted, narrated, edited, and produced by:

  Zara Shepherd, Victoria Point, 11 years old.