12/05/23 Part 1: The Gaol

Camped as we were at the very foot of a ruined convict gaol, we postponed cycling for the morning and went exploring ruins instead.  This wasn't as adventurous as it sounded: the ruins were well fenced and we had to pay $11 each for the privilege of exploring them.

The rock was quarried from directly below the building site, which could have been interesting had they needed more rock than originally thought.

 

Back in 1883 the busy east coast shipping trade meant that ships wrecked themselves on the coast between Sydney and Brisbane with distressing regularity. Sitting half way along the coast was Trial Bay (so named because the brig "Trial" was shipwrecked there in 1816), offering a sheltered harbour from the north, and not so much shelter from the south. 

Sunrise from the gaol.

 

"Let's build a rock wall to make the bay safer for ships seeking refuge," said the Government of the day. Being Government, they then hemmed and hawed and had a few committees and did everything really slowly for the next 13 years.  By then prison reform was sweeping through the British Empire, so Trial Bay was a public works prison where almost-reformed prisoners could learn trades in the course of building the break-wall, with the expectation that they would go on to seek gainful employment once released from prison.

Prison views.

 

The break wall proceeded at snails pace: by 1908 only 20% of the wall had been completed, weather kept ruining what was built, and the bay was silting up due to the break wall which suggested that in 13 years of hemming and hawing no one had thought it all the way through. Along came Management who decided to change the way the wall was being built, because... well, nobody really knows but we'll take a guess that it was to reduce costs, management being management after all. 

Waves breaking on the remnants of the break wall.

 

The engineers* objected the change strenuously, backed up by the convict labourers, some of whom had learned their trades quite well by this time. Nobody listened to them and the wall-building went ahead according to management principles until the next big storm wrecked the whole thing and management threw up their hands in disgust, blamed the engineers, and canned the whole project. While this was going on ship builders had started building more robust ships with better navigation, lighthouses were popping fungi-like up on the headlands, and the bay was no longer needed as a refuge.  Which was good, because it was silted up anyway.

Foundations of the hospital, with the main cell block behind.

 

Trial Bay Gaol came back into use in 1915 as an internment camp for German born intelligentsia who were deemed, by way of cultural heritage, to be a threat to national security. The internees, making the best of a raw deal, went swimming and fishing, built recreation halls and tennis courts, organised theatre groups and bands, and ran businesses and medical surgeries from the gaol. That all came to an abrupt end when a rumour started that a German wolf ship was skulking about out to sea, intent on liberating every internee. Paranoia and panic reigned supreme and the internees were summarily removed and everything that they had built was burned. The gaol was stripped of anything useful and ignored, although the local indigenous folk appreciated it as a place to camp.

Main ruins.

 

Roll on today and the gaol was a hive of tourist activity, almost as many people wandering the grounds as there were kangaroos lounging in them (the grounds, that is).  

Fast asleep and attracting a horde of tourists.

We eventually had to stop our exploring because a) it was morning coffee time and b) if we were ever going to ride bicycles back up the river to Gladstone we had to start soon, sunset not being something that would wait for us to finish, and c) morning coffee waits for no man (or woman). 

But that's a story for another post.

*I almost didn't tell my personal engineer about the changes in design.  He doesn't need any encouragement to think that engineers are always right.  Although this story suggests that convict labourers can be as right as engineers, so that should level the ego playing field a bit.

One last gaol picture: window letting in luxurious light and air as per prison reforms.