Chapter 8

Chapter 8 -

Only one photo for this chapter - it is an album labelled blog chapter 8 on the Smugmug site at  www.lesnpat.smugmug.com

Chapter 8   - 1969 - Australia to Canada - again.

Once the decision had been made to return to Canada, the ‘to do’ list was long and the time-line was short. 

There was an orientation and hand-over at Bendigo High School to the teacher hired to replace Les. An ironic twist was that the young man who arrived for his first teaching assignment was an ex-student to whom Les had taught Form 6 [Grade 12] Maths at Oakleigh High School in 1964! 

On one of the weekends spent in Melbourne we visited the travel agent who had arranged our passage on Canberra and subsequent plan B switch to air travel in 1966 as outlined in Chapter 1. We presented the remainder of our round the world air ticket [from Melbourne to Vancouver] suggesting he make bookings for flights in late June or early July. He laughed, as travel gods smiled, reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a P & 0 brochure. Flipping through the pages to schedules, he showed us that the Canberra was leaving Melbourne on June 20th 1969, bound for Vancouver as a segment of its round the world itinerary. She was back on schedule three years later than our planned voyage.

Somehow he managed to cancel the balance of the open tickets for the air travel, apply the refund to make bookings on the Canberra and have a small amount of money left. Though this was wonderful news which we knew would make transporting our belongings to Nanaimo easier, it shortened the time-line for packing and settling affairs.

Sadly, Les contacted his partners, Daffey and Dawes [his ex-lecturers from Melbourne Teachers’ College]. This alliterative trio had just begun co-writing a Maths textbook for secondary schools. The series “Modern Mathematics” by Daffey, Dawes and Dickason was not to be. Farewell meals with various friends and relatives were scheduled around visits to collect the personal belongings we had left with them over the past two plus years.

A small pile of air mail letters was written and sent to friends in Nanaimo. Included was one letter to a friend, Murray, who had taken care of the VW, another to NDSS teacher Roger who had offered the use of his home for July and half of August as he and his family would be in Victoria BC, involved in repertory theatre for the summer. We informed such friends of our plans and the return date. 

Fortunately we had not accumulated furniture since our wedding in 1965, but there were wedding presents of fragile stemware to pack, along with bedding, cutlery, crockery, kitchen gadgets, clothing, books, sports equipment, LP records, reel to reel tapes, a tape-recorder and more. Appliances such as a toaster and fry-pan had to be given away because of the different voltages of the electricity supplied in the two countries.

The luggage allowance on Canberra was three suitcases and one crate to be assigned to her hold. Our ‘green box’ [a hinged wooden one from George’s army days] was a fit for the dimensions permitted in the hold, and we packed it with items we would need first in Nanaimo. A tea chest and our ‘grey box’ [a larger wooden one with hinged lid, handles and a padlock] were carefully packed with less urgent items, and these were consigned to an international shipping company and were scheduled to arrive in Nanaimo several weeks after the Canberra docked in Vancouver.

With assistance from friends and relatives, we arrived at the dock in Port Melbourne on embarkation day, checked the green box for the hold, and went to find our cabin - followed by the friends and relatives. In 1969, there were no security issues and hence no barriers to well-wishers boarding the Canberra. However, when we found our tiny cabin with its upper and lower bunk beds, small closet, chest of drawers, single chair, tiny handbasin [shared toilet and shower further along the companionway!], and our three suitcases too, we decided to arrange our visitors to the cabin in shifts, so that we could farewell them all in some semblance of comfort. Those scheduled to return to the cabin later in the afternoon explored the ship.

We met our farewelling guests on the teak promenade deck 10 minutes before the time for visitors to leave; hugs, kisses, handshakes and tears followed. For the first time we heard a very British accented officer on the P.A. system; “All ashore who are going ashore, Canberra sails in 30 minutes.”

In marked contrast to today’s sailings of cruise ships, passengers lined the railings and relatives and friends lined the dock for sail-away. Music was played [“Anchors aweigh”], and coloured streamers sold by vendors on the dock were thrown from the ship to those on the dock. After lines were dropped and reeled in and the tugs had nosed the ship away, no-one left the deck or dock until the last streamer had broken and Canberra steamed out into the bay.

During the crossing to the end of Port Phillip Bay and into Bass Strait, we unpacked, put our suitcases together like a Russian doll, affixed the labels provided, and left them in the companionway. That night the cases were taken to a storage locker, not to appear again until the day before arrival in Vancouver; there was nowhere in the wee cabin to have stored them.

Our cabin was just above the waterline and had a circular port-hole. Although anticipating viewing wave action through the very thick, dirty glass, after the first dinner in the dining room we discovered that a crew member had visited, turned down our beds, and the storm cover was latched into place over the glass. It was opened once during the voyage - in Honolulu where we had a view of pilings of the dock.

There were other differences from the cruise ships on which we have sailed recently. Canberra was more a people transport vessel than a luxury liner. There were two classes; first was forward, and tourist was aft with barriers between the 

classes on the promenade and recreation decks and we assume on decks in between. Two small swimming pools were aft, one large one midships for first class passengers. Dining rooms were provided separately for each class, though some junior officers were assigned to some tables in the tourist dining room in the evening. Those at our table were fortunate to have the company of an Assistant Purser, Joyce, who provided many amusing stories of life on board ships, and gave us the lowdown on other officers and crew. 

Tourist Class had a small reading room, a card room, several small bars and the large Peacock lounge where we spent considerable time during the day and evening as the cruise progressed.

Few events of the voyage are worthy of mention here. We reached Sydney, docked near the Harbour Bridge, and during time ashore, went to see the recently released award-winning movie “Lawrence of Arabia.” Les, with a return of his 1960s nemesis of gastric problems in large cities, spent time in the toilet or seated on the floor by an exit door watching the movie, but ready to return to the toilet when required.

The two day crossing of the Tasman Sea proved to be one of the roughest crossings of any of our sea-going experiences, but, although almost everyone on board was ill, we found that we were good sailors and continued to the almost empty dining room for all meals.The seas were kinder as we reached the east coast of New Zealand and the numbers at meals and in bars and lounges returned to normal. Our shore excursion bus trip to Rotorua was marred by cold winds and rain, though at the thermal park we did see the bubbling mud pools, exhibitions of Maori history and rubbed noses with costumed natives.

As we sailed from Auckland more passengers became aware of a wonderful tradition of on-board life in that era - duty-free pricing in bars. As the Canberra passed the 12 mile limit after visiting a port, the prices plummeted so bars became very popular even for those with limited resources in tourist class, and wine consumption in the dining room rose. From New Zealand to Tonga, the word spread that the Dickasons were teachers who had spent two years in Canada. 1969 was a record one for numbers of Australian teachers arriving as landed immigrants to Canada. We estimated that tourist class on that sailing included more than 300 teachers - and they all wanted to talk to us.

We spent many hours at sea in the Peacock Lounge with an informal system of teacher-passengers reading or playing cards in nearby chairs waiting their turn to sit with us and ask questions or hear advice. It may be immodest, but we know we prevented some problems by correcting pre-conceptions of the school district system, weather, geography, language [idioms especially] and we think we provided sound advice to those about to arrive as immigrants. We had Canadian currency and coins to “show and tell” - few Australians knew what a dime, two bits or a quarter were - and it was not written on the coins.

Tonga was next. The weather became more tropical on the sea days as we approached, and time on the decks was enjoyed by many. Docking for a day in Tonga provided an opportunity to walk in shorts and T-shirts in the sun, to swim in the Pacific, to see the King in the distance, to check the vendors for island souvenirs, and to mail ‘wish you were here’ postcards to Australia.

“Crossing the Line” followed, with a trident-toting King Neptune appearing at an aft pool at the precise time of our equatorial crossing, along with his attendant mermaids [male staff in corny costumes]. One passenger was selected for the lathering and shaving tradition, and was ceremoniously dunked in the pool. Rum drinks were prevalent! To commemorate our history making experience that day, certificates appeared on our bunks that night. 

Unlike cruise ships today, there were no hired entertainers on board to perform in lounges or to stage Broadway style musicals. However, among the passengers were talented [and some not so talented] musicians, some with guitars, banjos, and wind instruments. Others were pianists and singers and jam sessions and impromptu concerts occurred. 

These happened after the nightly “frog races” organized by P&O staff in the Peacock Lounge - an un-automated gambling game involving six cardboard cut-out horses on stands with different passengers as ‘jockeys’ for each race on a carpet track rolled out each night. A staff member rolled two dice to determine which horse moved forward and by how many spaces, and the lucky jockey moved this horse. First horse to cross the finish line was declared the winner and passengers who had bet on that horse collected winnings and the jockey won a prize. Bets were then placed on the next race and six new jockeys were selected. 

Although this voyage was pre-Trivial Pursuits, passengers were invited to form teams and answer general knowledge questions read by staff - there were prizes and surprises. Who would have thought that the ‘know it all’ Brit travelling with his Canadian wife sitting at dinner with us each night would not be able to name the Cinque Ports? His wife never let him forget that two ex-Aussie/Canadians knew the five ports and were on a team which won that evening. 

There was also a daily ‘flutter’ or sweep for passengers who paid a small fee and submitted guesses on the number of miles travelled from noon to noon - the closest guess each day won a prize of credit at the bars and lounges.

Honolulu was the last port of call and we spent time ashore at the Aloha Tower, walking to Chinatown, and mailing postcards to Australia. We also enjoyed fresh Dole pineapple and Kona coffee before returning to the ship. On shore we phoned Murray, the friend in Nanaimo in whose double garage our VW had spent the year and arranged for him to bring the VW to Vancouver to meet us outside the Customs shed at 1pm on the 9th of July. He informed us that our other friend, Roger, had confirmed the use of their house for five weeks for the homeless Dickasons. That was a relief to know we had a bed, kitchen, and space to put our green box and suitcases for five weeks while we searched for a house or apartment to rent. 

The sunshine there on Oahu was the last seen for five days.... low marine clouds sat over the Pacific as Canberra steamed on to Vancouver with no sun at all.

Two events on the last night do remain in the memory. Our cases were placed in our cabin sometime during the last afternoon, so decisions were made and packing was completed before the crammed cases were labelled and placed back in the companionway for disembarkation the following day. Dressed in the clothes for the 9th, we continued to dinner then the Peacock Lounge for the farewell concert, much shaking of hands, hugging and kissing, and final rounds of drinks.

Les had met a few days earlier with two musicians - piano and guitar - who asked him to help write and perform a parody of life on board Canberra. Using two Gilbert and Sullivan tunes, they wrote lyrics which poked fun at officers, meal times, horse racing, selected passengers, classes on the ship, and “All ashore who are going ashore.” The performance brought down the house....

The travel gods initially smiled on the 9th of July. Pat and Les had been boasting for days about how beautiful Vancouver would be. We described it as ‘Sydney but with snow-capped mountains as a back drop’ and had foolishly promised that it was always sunny in early July. With the days and days of cloudy weather since Hawaii, we were looking a little sheepish, until on deck, we found Vancouver looking its absolute best in the sunshine. We did have to correct passengers who were exclaiming over the view they had of “The Rockies;” we think they were disappointed to find they were merely the Coastal Mountains.

Disembarkation was slow but easy, and then the travel gods began to frown. By mid-morning all passengers had left the ship, with the majority processed by Customs and Immigration officials at four or five desks in the tourist class area, and they had left the hall. By noon, we had our suitcases, but no sign of the green box. At this time there were approximately 100 passengers remaining in the vast hall, and conversations revealed that we were all waiting for ‘cargo’ from the hold.

A small but polite stampede of passengers greeted irregularly timed openings of a large roll-up door as a trolley containing cargo was wheeled into the hall and unloaded....the trolley was taken back out and the door closed again. The pieces 

were claimed within minutes, and lucky ones waved farewell and headed to the one remaining Customs and Immigration official. Resuming their seats, others glared at the door, willing it to open.

Soon after 1pm, we approached the official and explained that we had a friend waiting outside and asked if one of us could be allowed to go out and explain the delay to him. After a quick glance at our passports with the green landed-immigrant slips inside, he suggested Pat go, meet the friend and have lunch before returning. Forty-five minutes later Pat returned to guard the suitcases while Les went to lunch with Murray. After eating, Les plugged the meter for the VW and returned to wait again. 

The tired official and the wearier Dickasons were the only three people left at 4pm. Every other passenger had left with luggage and cargo. Our return to Canada was not what we had expected, and worse was to come. The door finally opened, the trolley emerged with one piece upon it - the green box. We trundled it and the cases to the official who was smiling as the end of his shift loomed. He only smiled for a few minutes.

As he asked his routine questions, we were glad we had evidence of a bank account, a car and an address for July [good advice from 15 months ago], but he frowned and pointed out stamps in our passports which showed we had left Canada on July 9th, 1968, and as we were returning on July 9th, 1969, we had been absent for a year and a day. The legally-permitted limit for the absence of landed- immigrants, he explained, was 365 days. 

A year ago we had known that, but in the excitement of being able to book passage on the Canberra had overlooked the detail of the arrival date. He further explained that we would have to fill out another form to list all purchases made whilst away from Canada, their value, and whether they were with us or coming later. His task would then be to check this list, decide which items were liable for duty, and to tally the amounts of duty owing and ask for cash or a cheque before we could re-enter the country.

He saw our shoulders slump, our eyes rolling - and then smiled and said something to the effect that he was late already, his son had a birthday party that afternoon, we were the sort of really nice people that Canada needed and we had had a tough enough day already. He put the form back in his briefcase, stamped our passports and helped us carry our luggage outside to a relieved Murray at the VW!

With the rear compartment of the VW full of cases, green box and carry-on luggage, Murray drove, Les in the front passenger seat with Pat on his lap.... the travel gods had had a final laugh on July 9th and the short drive to the ferry terminal was a relaxing one with perhaps a tear or two as we realized we were nearly home.