WE MUST START ANOTHER PAGE, THIS IS AVALON SLSC 2. If your still there, every opportunity I have will see additions, Posts in WWW talk.  How about a change in direction and suddenly I have realized this story is directed to Avalon people only. In time my head will accept the fact we have other people, you guys and girls, looking at this site, scary what. For anybody out there, welcome and come and join me and my Surf Club Mates. We talked about "patrols", please be aware we are not military, our patrol is a small patch of sand. WE set our flags in an area considered to be a safe area for the bathing public, we are not the "Beach Police" we are on your side. If any member of the SLSC has stumbled onto my site, well, you will have many stories, some good, some tragic. My friends, you were just doing your duty in the latter, and you reacted accordingly, you used your skills. So lets be positive and have a little bit of fun. The I word is impossible to bypass. So one day on Avalon Beach, it was the morning Patrol, Farls is the Patrol Captain, he suggests to his team, "boys and girls, check the rips, give me a place safe for the flag location, make sure the board riders can be controlled. Set up your gear, erect the patrol enclosure and get the "Duckie" down the beach. We need the rescue board and the rescue tube, we need the surf reel, assemble the belt on the sand, test your whistles and act like "lifesavers". First thing, herd the swimmers into the flagged area, Montague?, go for walk on the bar and chat to the people and explain our actions, tell them the area we have selected is a safe area, just for you. You young guys and girls may do it different. But today is Sunday, a little miserable and over cast, we have the afternoon patrol and time will go slow, maybe a game of euchre, watch out for Club Captain. Not many people around and we are counting the time to finish our duties and have a cold one at the QY's, (Queens Yeoman's Club), really?. I was your barman once I should know.  "Well guys time to pack up", everybody pitches in and all that remains is to carry the IRB up, stow all the gear and clean up. Our plans and expectations are shattered when somebody from the verandah yells, "Farls there a red distress flare out there, must be boat in trouble", and sure enough a flare could seen coming from a small yacht, about 3 miles to sea, well you know the law of the sea, we about faced and launched the rubber boat and at a fast pace proceeded sea ward. I can't remember the bowman's name, must be a Sitrep somewhere. As we drew close to the stricken craft we indeed could see that it was a small catamaran, two on board and drifting helplessly. Great view of the beach from here, we can see all the way to Manly and up the coast past Lion Island. And yes, the crew did have problems. They had just purchased this boat from Sydney and were "motoring" to Pittwater to give her a refit. Questions were directed to the crew and quickly their dilemma unfolded. A small outboard motor attached to a very rusty bracket had broken away and dropped into the briny, more questions, you could have hoisted your sails and the light southerly could have taken you to safety. A very embarresed crewman explained, "no sails", not even a staysail, ever hear of a yacht without sails? The outboard was the only means to gain leeway. Any radio?, "no" We called home on our CB? And explained the situation and location requesting assistance from the Coast Guard and to contact the Water Police, Brian Friend? Well we had only come along side a matter of 10 mins ago, when a large fly bridge cruiser could be seen pushing towards us and another boat was approaching from the south. The cruiser was first on the scene, ascertained the problem and volunteered to tow the unfortunates to Pittwater, and of course the crew agreed. We got back to base on our very scratchy radio and a penny dropped, from the cruiser I could hear my voice, hence the quick response. They were on the same frequency. So having no more need for our services we headed back the beach, cleaned the "Duckie", flushed the motor, had a small amber liquid, all in a days work. True story. A full story of the RUBBER DUCKIE, it's history, it's "inventor", (WARREN MITCHELL OAM), it's co-inventor, Johnnie Fuller can be found at; GOOGLE: 'warren mitchell rubber duckie', or http://www.trevfuller.blogspot.com My paltry words would not do the story justice.  I must point out, if I have not already done so, that any perceived insults will be ignored, sorry, attended to, contact me at ( johnfarls@bigpond.com). THE ALMOST TRAGIC 'SKI MARATHON', LOST AND FOUND.  I have an annual report that outlines the incredible number of firsts Avalon have, however I am alarmed at one omission, why wasn't the first Ski marathon, conducted by members from our club not mentioned. For those of you who are not aware 3 Avalon members were the first people in the world to paddle the entire distance of the Hawkesbury River in the early 60's. Well maybe not the first then, they were the first to paddle this river during a flood, not true someone said. They were the first to commence with 3 skis and finish with 2 only, may be contested. OK, top this, 10,000 cu secs of flood water were pouring over the Penrith Weir and Warrgamba Dam was 100% capacity, now you doubters, what do ya say, that is a first!! Forgotten the exact reason for the great paddle, I do remember we were raising money for some charity and we suggested we get some paddlers together and tackle the mighty river. John Towner, Rick? And one other, one other email me and I will set the record straight. Young Chris Millar and myself were the logistic support. I had "seconded" a 14 foot Savage with 40 horse motor. We obtained a large tent, cooking stuff, bedding and eskys and food, and a 8mm movie camera and spare fuel, remember Chris? I touched base with John Laws, we advertised the event and waited for sponsors to roll in. The method of fund raising was for people to pay by the mile, a 6 pence a mile times 80 miles etc. Promises of 350 pounds less expenses were our motivation. WE towed the boat to Penrith and the boys and their skis were taken by support members, the intrepid paddlers were launched into the river just down stream from the raging Penrith Weir. I mentioned 80 miles was the goal, seems a lot, check it out. The goal was to paddle down the river and out past Barrenjoey and finish at the beach, we subsequently changed these plans so as to finish at Careel Bay, well that's Avalon, yes? What happened to Chris? Oh yeah, we dropped him and the 8mm camera down stream to get some more footage, we would pick him up, launch the boat and the support crew take the trailer home. Sorry buddy, I have to relate this storey; several bridges were covered by flood waters or close to inundation, we had to launch down towards Windsor. And here is the clincher, its called the "Black Cap Syndrome". The most extraordinary footage was inadvertently missed. Chris became a Marine Biolologist; he will never touch a camera again although he would not see the epic. So I will try to describe what enfolded; the 3 boys would encounter a low level bridge, the clearance underneath was minimal, flood debris had built up on the up stream side of the bridge. The plan was for the boys to "dismount" and walk their skis around the obstacle. Johnnie somehow found himself very close, suddenly as he grasped the bridge the suction dragged him and his ski under the flooded crossing, he managed to clamber onto the bridge while his ski is dragged under, that ski never re-surfaced, not even pieces. They composed themselves and continued on their journey. Meantime. Chris and I have launched our support boat not knowing what has unfolded and find a suitable spot downstream to set up camp, incidentally we are talking about a 3 day trip, Friday afternoon, Sat and Sun. A flat stony area is our touch down, we pitch the tent and prepare a base camp and wait and wait. Some time elapses and dusk is fast approaching and we are beginning to worry, then around the corner comes our hero's, hang on, we COUNT 2 SKIS, ONE ON ONE AND 2 ON THE OTHER, WHAT HAS OCCURRED SINCE OUR LAST MEETING?. As the boys reach shore the almost tragic recount of the past couple of hours is described. WE give God suitable thanks and plan the rest of the journey. Fortunately one of the surviving skis is a double, John has retrieved his paddle, or did we have a spare? We gave the boys a hearty meal and discussed the days events, the following day at a suitable hour they begun Saturdays, hopefully, uneventful trip down the flooded Hawkesbury, and largely it was. The river was a spectacle, every wharf was inundated and the river was full of debris, trees and fence posts with the wire entangled. We would cruise with the paddlers and sometimes go ahead checking for re-fuelling points, we would stop for breaks and lunch. Fresh bread and stuff we would purchase from river side stores. And remember, there is no records to be broken. At a suitable hour we progressed far ahead and established base camp #2, is that logistics speak? The greatest thing was the scenery of the river, it meanders and flows, you don't realize how long it takes for the river to reach the ocean and all through this the bare foot water skiers. So base #2 comes and goes, our "survivors" will paddle Sunday showing great stamina, and we lose them! And its my fault, they were directed to paddle into Brooklyn behind the Island. My navigation and map reading skills had not been established at this time. We quickly understand that a "dead end" has entered the equation, no way through to the Hawksbury entrance and Pittwater. Never to be beaten the combatants simply picked up their skis and paddles, walked over the station, walked over the railway lines and launched the skis times 2 and set off. We have to go all the way back, obeying nav. signs and try to catch up with our charges. As we negotiate and reach the broad estuary of the river and see the Lion Island, they have disappeared. Frantic searching and we found our charges far ahead on the vast expanse of the Hawkesbury entrance, we completed the journey. Suiable occalades to the Boys, a healty sum was reaised but the question is; has anybody got that 8mm movie, please email to (johnfarls@bigpond.com).  Max is a great ski paddler, his best friend was Timmy Bristoe. And Bob the Head? You were Timmy's other friend, how come when we left Newport Arms one night I was the one that broke the glass, Tim came out of the night. "Who broke the glass" went the booming voice, him. "Smack". Its ok and I really had a good time at the 75th, thanks to your perseverance. Newport Arms can wait. There was a girl called "Camp Fire Connie", she was a writer and was researching all things Surf Club.  BEACH FOOTIE AND SORE HEADS. The winter months were a time for reflection, we commenced a football competition, 10 a side played on the beach in an area 100 yards by 50 yards. In line abreast the two teams would walk the field and search for stick objects and things, satisfied we commence our game. Who were the original team members? WHO WERE THE ORIGANAL TEAMS, Avalon had a team, there was Collaroy, Nth. Palm Beach, Freshwater, Nth. Narrabean, for Gods sake who else, Maroubra, Bondi?, email me. I played for several years and never had to worry about my back, we had our wins. We enjoyed the friend ship. Initially the competition was open only to "Clubbies with a Bronze", we were very competitive. Maroubra was a great team, they would consume 9 gallons of the amber liquid prior to the game, the scrums were laced with brewery aromas, and we are going down the path of macho things. For the first time footie boots were superfluous, high tide presented the main problem. The game was fast and furious, a bunney scrum satisfied penalties, can that be right? When I think back, somewhere your writer remembers a 5 person scrum, a front row and a 2nd row, no lock. Leaving a scrum half  and four centres and wingers for attack and defense. Two of our best front rowers were Big Brian and Dougie, they had played for McMahons Point in the North Sydney Comp. Doug was 5 foot tall and 5 foot wide, Brian was 10 foot tall and 10 foot wide and if you "hung" off these guys your job as hooker was a breeze. You pack into the scrum and await the ball, no crap about the 2nd row you won the ball by racking first. Sometimes, what can be called an "infringement" occurred, like hands over the hookers eyes, a smack from the 2nd row, packing in first and raising the head, only footballers will understand this action. Doug was mostly blind side prop leaving his left arm free, when not engaged with his opposite number that is. A typical scrum went like this; The ref calls pack down, 6 heads like rutting Moose pack into the scrum and await the ball, many legs attempt to trap the ball and escort it to the second row and out for an attacking run to score a try, but hang on, some very unsportsman's like person has his hands over my eyes, "Dougie, he's doing it again". A bluring left hook from my compatriot settles this argument. Other bad things would happen, like the dingo from the second row belting the hooker in the now flat nose, Doug settled that also. Him and Brian were my hero's. History must reveal that Dougie Wells, (KEGS) rest his soul, was a notable identity in the "Pillow Fight Competition". Because of his height to weight ratio he had a distinct advantage, also, he had a very hard head. Doug was not a pretty man, forgive me, but he was a great bloke and an adversary of "The Bear". He had a fighting technique based infuriatingly on his 'left hook'. Doug would mount the pillow fight pole and commence to intimidate his opponent by wrapping his little left hand in the pillow. He made a point of addressing the opponent with his pillow at a low angle, the upward first blow contained his left hook, the pillow would follow. Rules were changed because of Dougie. A final footie story concerns our eating habits, Maroubra on the south side was a great venue, a game, some drinks and down to Liverpool Street for a Chinese meal, most of us lived on the south side and we would find our way home from here. When we meet I will conclude this storey. I still see Rossco up here at Brunswick Heads, he was very fast, he can't play golf. I HAVE MEANDERED AND WILL MEANDER ALSO. Some time back then we built the new clubhouse, and you guys and girls enjoy the amenities to this day, perhaps you will do something for the next generation. As an aside and this is directed to you girls, you were a controlled species. Did you know you were known as the "Women's Auxiliary", you cooked stuff and had babies, most of you had partners in the surf club. Your room, the singular, was on the downstairs corner, west by north. Eventually we accepted you and welcomed you to the fold. My point of view was; why did it take so bloody long? My mum was a country girl, she worked long and hard, see BORN IN THE BUSH. Am I confused, did Avalon produce the first female Bronze Team. I distinctly remember some of the boys saying, "If I have a daughter, no way will she marry a Surfie". Maybe we can drop this subject, but never drop it because the next little item concerns; THE AVALON STOMP and the MOTHER OF MY CHILDREN. History will probably suggest that Peter the Timber Man returned from Honolulu full of good things, he suggested that sliced bread had been replaced by a dance craze known as the "Stomp". Many of our members had held onto our "Streamer" on route to exotic places, they returned with tales of wonder and great stuff, the IRB comes to mind. Peter concluded a fast buck could be made from this art form. I need some assistance here. Did we or did we not pay the bulk of our new clubs debt from the subsequent proceeds? I will assume the affirmative and Maroubra, eat your heart, with respect, out. So here is my recollections and memories. Suitable apologies to Peter, if needed, maybe I am wrong, then again? One performed the classic actions of the dance by standing with feet spread awaiting the commencing of suitable music from the assembled musical group, the actions basically were, as always in "step" with the music. Are you right or left orientated? With your preferred foot, Stomp twice, with your secondary foot Stomp twice, not at the same time stupid and continue moving to and frow and around until the music stops, feels good and its so ridiculously easy, but its tribal and throbbing. Was Brian Henderson a patron of the Club? you bet. Did he provide guest artists from "Bandstand", my Sister in Law will tell me. Did we provide bouncers; remember we had a no alcohol rule? The car boots were opening and closing like a barn door in a hurricane. I believe a vast sum of money was gained from the Avalon "Stomp". Our Club could have had a short life expectancy, "the Stomp" was an unexpected bonus, but, from the boat shed during any dance night you could see monumental movements of the floor bearers as suddenly everybody "Stomped" in unison, the Sydney Harbour Bridge was designed from the "Stomp" and the psychics therein. Not sure, possibly 1 year, 2 years the craze lasted. Now for the side effects, many liaisons were formed and cemented in long friendships from the "Avalon Stomp". Rowena and Dawn and Shirley made an appearance one night, all sisters, they accosted me on the verandah during a break and proceeded to win me over, Shirley won the contest and became my friend and lover, we married and she gave birth to two great blokes, Davo's Fishen Adventures and Little Buddy Michael, now there is Belinda, (Binnie), Zack and Kye on the way. The Avalon Stomp, thanks. Shirley was my partner for many years, she has a special place in my life, personal things will be found elsewhere. THE FIRST AUSTRALIAN SURF BOARD TITLES. And this will be contested. Why I was selected to convene a committee to organize these Champs is not important, the facts remain; Surf boards and the young people who played were recognized as being an integral part of ocean activities, we had many problems. They were just as entitled to use the beach as we were, somewhere people in surf clubs understood a need to appease and welcome these guys and girls. Everyone knows the problems; you set your patrol area in a spot that is good for the public and suddenly it is evident; that's the place where good waves break. Who became President. Sorry Bobbie, sorry Don, a president was selected from the initial meeting and the committee swung into motion. Sponsors were contacted, the wave riders were invited and all of the preliminaries attended to. A patron was selected, could this have been Colin Jacobson?, you bet, the person who presented the trophies was certainly that great entertainer!. We had some resistance at first, slowly they came to join us, there were no hidden agendas, many board riders arrived and a great day of competition was had. We had trophies in all sections, girls and boys, seniors etc. Is this another first for Avalon? is this the time when the Avalon Board Riders Club was formed?  Col Joye is a monumental icon of Australian entertainment, he was a friend of Avalon, and he had some friends called "The Joye Boys". Colin Jacobson most certainly presented the trophies, but if you think that is the end of the story, including John the past President of the NSW POLICE Association, you would be wrong. What transpired was; Col had mentioned to his sister the great time he had at Avalon. I assume she was suitably impressed and asked him could she meet a "Clubbie". Col has somehow made contact with me? And suggested a meeting with his sister Carol. The meeting has to be a blind date, we are sworn to secrecy. She is a friend of Col's and not his sister and she has a girl friend. John and I conspire and arrange to meet at the famous "Bebafalds?" on the corner of Park and George. "how will we recognize you", Carol has suggested; "I will be wearing a red scarf", this is possibly the first under cover job that John will do. We arrived at the "Corner" and I hop out and look for a girl with a red scarf, so help me every second girl fits this description, my luck is in, I approach a fairly tall pretty girl in company with smaller pretty girl and enquire, "are you Carol I'm John", can you believe our luck. The girls are ushered into the car, first stop THE CANBERRA REX at KINGS CROSS. We introduced our selves formally, no surnames. WE sorted out the partners, John and Carol were more suited because of their height, forgive me, the smaller pretty girl was my date, what I do remember was, you were an Adagio or an Apache artist, and good at it. We proceeded to order a meal and enjoy the evening. All progresses in a harmonious manner, that is until Carol has to, that's personal. It was you John who brought up the subject. You told the little preety girl we knew Carol's identity and would she play a little game. It was a naughty game, when Carol returned, you John suggested many Aussie artists were horrendous and Col Joye was at the forefront of horrendous. This the bitter end for the sister of this great man. She storms out of the Hotel and rightly so, we make chase, it takes many minutes undoing what you have done wrong John, and I finally convince her that your humor is crap. Carol saw the funny side, we really admired Col's music and we progressed down the path of a great night. Maybe we both conncocted the plan.  Nobody will know your real name John, Carol and the little preety girl, I (and John) en JOYED your company.  SAILING THE PITTWATER, FISHEN AND CHICKEN GIBBLET SOUP. Adrian was a member of Avalon and he had two Cats, dare I say not the ones that purr. He moored his 25 footer at Clareville Beach near the Torpedo Base, we would row out to her and go sailing when the surf was not so good, if there was no surf and very little breeze, no matter, he had mounted a small outboard on one of the sponsons, about 2 ½ horse something. We would grab some lines and suitable refreshment and go fishing around the "targets". However, when conditions were conducive for sailing, well, anybody sailed a Cat. Hanging of the trapeze was the greatest sensation. Adrian was a very skillful sailor and a good tradesman, he built an 18 foot Cat from scratch. The hulls were purchased together with all rigging and shrouds and chandlery, the mast and the sails and the boom and he set about building this great looking boat. Him and I and were pals, the great day for the launching came. On thing I forgot to mention was the 18 footer was the fore runner to the Tornado class (A class), while the larger boat was known as the B class, please email me if this is wrong. Initially, the A class only had provision for the helmsman, Adrian sailed in competition near Palm Beach. Scared himself one day falling over the side and being dragged for some distance. Eventually he fitted a trapeze, and now baby we can fly!!. The acceleration was unreal, we would sail for ever. Back then you dragged the boat up onto Clareville beach and could rest easy that it would be not be vandalized. Now the details regards vandalism are not strictly true. If your property is damaged by a person or persons that's bad, so what do you call damage caused by bloody great 25 foot Torpedo. You older people remember the Navy Torpedo Testing Range and the "targets", the Crash Boats racing around Pittwater when a test was about to begin. This day, and it was in my day, (maybe Aubby built it), the sirens began to sound and they blew the "Fish" out of the Tube, every thing is ok at this stage, about 100yards out and then she does a hard turn to starboard and heads for Clareville Beach. Back then there was just as many boats hanging off moorings as there is today, including this cruiser owned by Mr. S&M Fox one of my customers' on the Milk Run, see AVALON JOBS. Some how the untervasser missile is lose and heads at great speed for the beach, unbelievably its misses every thing, that's is except the for beach where it comes to a grinding halt some 20 meters inland with its prop spinning wildly. Clareville was isolated while the Commonwealth Police and The Sailors investigated and retrieved the runaway. The base would eventually close. I said your property was safe on the beach, that's true, no damage was caused when on occasion a small rowing boat was borrowed to row out to the targets to fish for John Dory. Max is a gentleman, nobody can dispute that. On occasion we would hire a fishing boat form Palm Beach, generally a converted trawler, probably 6 / 8 members and Max. Sea sickness never worried me, well only once, regrettably some of the other guys and girls were not so lucky, although their condition may have been compounded by Max and his eating habits. If you ever go outside fishing, have plenty of food and water this was what Max had. Unfortunately, part of his diet consisted of an ETA peanut jar containing Cold chicken giblet soup eaten by the handful. The strongest belly will revolt at the sight of this feasting man, the liquid would be running down his jowls and the smell was a little off putting, the soup would run through his fingers onto the deck. But I told you he is a gentleman, he would apologize and explain that he has a certain method to cure the malady, "what you do is lay on the deck and look up at mast, just roll with the boat, you'll be ok", I' am sick just seeing some unfortunate attempting this cure, you bugger Max. While you "digest" that story, yes I was sick once. Every body got a go in the Duty boat, we had an open carnival one particular time. We set out early to lay the cans for all of the events, several trips were needed and on completion we returned to shore for a prepared lunch before returning for the events, one knew all of the colors, all I can see is a blue and white one. It was a nice meal, but a piece of pineapple was my undoing. The can must have been open for some time, it was warm and in all probability, just "turning". Off we go and already I feel off, we reach the cans and that it, over the side I jump and all I taste is Pineapple, have a clean up, have a great day in the boat. Sorry to digress but I told you, "warts and all'.