Contact Person: btur@tpgi.com.au
    
                MY PIONEERING DAYS AT APOLLO BAY
                        by Charles F. Fricke (1869 - 1964)

                Plus a Newspaper Report on an inquest into a death in
                a bushfire at Apollo Bay in 1898.
                        
                        Contact: btur@tpgi.com.au
 
 I, Charles F. Fricke was born at Park Farm, Carisbrook in the year
1869, was educated at the State School, Carisbrook and left school in the
year 1882. I worked on my Father's farm for a number of years, then I
migrated to Apollo Bay where I selected land in 1890.  When travelling
to Apollo Bay by waggonette, we had many rough experiences,
especially when we reached the forest country south of Colac, where the
roads were bad and the hills were steep.  On one occasion on the first
journey down to the Bay when we were about five miles on the south
side of Barrumunga on the Porcupine road, we had the following
experience.  It was dinner time and raining very heavily and was too wet
to light a fire.  We happened to stop opposite a Settler's house, so while
Father fed the horses I went over to get some boiling water to make our
tea for dinner, the following conversation took place while waiting for
the water.  The man of the house said "where are you going?"  I replied
"To Apollo Bay", to which he said "You are mad, go back, go back, you
will never get there, the roads are too bad".  I answered "We've come
100 miles and we are going to see what is at the other end of the
journey".  The man said " If you insist on going, tie a rail across you." 
I innocently asked "What for?".  He said "To keep you from going out
of sight in the mud".  The hot water then came and I went back to the
Waggon and told Father the bad news, and Father, the good Cockie he
was, thought a lot about that. However I thanked him for the information
and that man was Dave McCarthy (Pioneers will know him).

     However we pressed on to Barramunga that night, and put our
horses in the stable as it was still raining.  We had one good bed on the
journey as we slept in the Hotel that night.  In the morning it was still
raining.  I fed the horses and we had breakfast (still raining) and about
nine o'clock we made the road again.  The first big hill or mountain was
a brute, steep and full of ruts.  I followed the waggonette with a big lump
of wood to put behind the wheels to give the horses a spell.  It was then
that a thought came into my mind of Napoleon the French General.  As
history relates, as he was trying to cross the Alps with his Army he said
to his men "Press on".  First the Mountains, then the snow, then the
Plains, and then the Enemy, well we had no snow or plains but we had
the Mountains and Mud, and the Mud was our Enemy.  Where Napoleon
failed, we pressed on and got to our journey's end.  However after two
days leaving our friend McCarthy I thought of his words and imagined
they were going to come true.

     After climbing several mountains, up hill and down dale, it was
still raining when we came to a level piece of ground where the water
was pouring down the sides of the surrounding mountains making the flat
a complete quagmire.  We were struggling through the mud when the
leader in the Waggonette almost disappeared in a bog hole where the
poor brute lay.  It seemed as though the heavens had opened and let out
all it's rain.  The hole had been made by Bullock-Waggons, and the rain
had filled it with mud and slush. So my father and I took the other two
horses out and put a chain around the leaders neck and pulled it out of
the bog-hole.  Then we cleaned the horse as best we could, yoked up and
travelled on.

     As it was often raining and too wet to light a fire, we made a
practice of getting hot water when possible from the Settlers, and on
another occasion on a later trip to the Bay, we pulled up in front of
Settler's Home and I went to get some water for tea.  While waiting for
the water, a young lady came out of the house.  I had met her before at
the Bay, in fact I had a soft spot for her, she was staying here on a
holiday.  Se exclaimed "Oh, you are dirty, covered in mud".  I replied
"Anyone would be if they had gone through what I have", and I jokingly
said "If you won't have me when I'm dirty, you can't have me when I'm
clean".  The hot water then came along   and the conversation ended. 
(Just as well).

     We always travel to the Bay in the winter time when the horses
were idle after putting in the crops at Carisbrook, consequently the roads
were at their worst, no more than quagmires and deep ruts, in places
there were logs laid across the roads like corrugation to keep the vehicles
out of the mud.  In some places it was half a mile long, where we
bumped endlessly along.

     My Father and brother Alfred and a man went to the Bay a year
before me and with the help of a neighbour cut about 70 acres of scrub
and left it for the neighbour to burn for us in the summer time.  And then
my father and I went down to the Bay to pick up what the fire did not
burn and sow the grass seed.  When I arrived at the Bay after that awful
trip, I found a small Hamlet of six houses which did not look very
inviting at the time as it was windswept with sand everywhere.  We
arrived about midday, had dinner and then set out for the selection.  We
travelled as far as the foothills and left the Waggonette there as it was
impossible to take it to the selection which was 700 feet above sea level. 
Then came the task of getting all out things to the Selection.  Imagine me
sitting on one of the horses, carrying the tucker box (a gin case) in front
of me, especially as I was born and bred on level country, and father on
another horse, leading the third with a big pack of blankets etc.

     When we reached the selection it was a black as your hat, just
like Hell with the fire put out.  We hired a room from the neighbour until
we built a hut.  Father was a carpenter by trade but I was quite a novice. 
My experience at paling splitting was unique as I had never seen a paling
split in my life before.  Father said, "Charlie, you and George, that was
the man's name, fall the stringy bark tree.  I thing it will split palings". 
However it took us all our time to split posts out of it, let along split
palings.  I lost my two thumb nails when I got them jammed in the wood. 
However, the attempt was abandoned, and we had to look for another
tree with much more success, from which we split some very heavy ones,
more like slabs than palings.  In due course we built our homestead
which consisted on one room, and then we moved in.  And then we were
masters of all we could survey.

     Next came the job of picking up the burnt timber.  We looked
more like black-fellows than white ones while doing the job.  I heard one
man remark that he was so black after picking up that it worked right
through to the inside of him and he needed a does of Epsom Salts
occasionally to get it out.  However the job got done and the heaps
burnt, and the grass seed sown, cocksfoot and clover.  With the ground
being warm together with the ashes and rain, the grass grew amazingly,
in many instances as high as myself.  Then came harvest time and I went
home to help gather in the harvest.  This ended my first year's experience
at Apollo Bay.

     After harvest was completed, I trekked back to Apollo Bay,
bringing with me a mob of cattle, to put on the beautiful green grass.  At
home everything was as dry as tinder.  The two of us, the man and I,
arrived safely with the cattle.  After having a spell and a look around the
grasslands, we set to work cutting light scrub to burn before the winter. 


     The years rolled by - just the ordinary pioneer work on the
selection.  I built two more rooms onto the present building, making it a
three roomed dwelling.  The first misfortune struck me.  One evening I
went to the township for some stores.  A boat had just come in.  It was
almost a rarity to see a boat and the shops were running short of
supplies.  I, with others went out to see if there was a parcel for me, but
I was disappointed.  The jetty was stacked with timber and as I was
returning along the jetty by myself in the pitch dark, about half past nine,
I met a truck load of goods coming out to the boat.  I was walking
between the rails and stepped out to the edge of the jetty, but tripped on
some timber and fell head first into the sea.  It was low tide and I fell
about 15 feet before I struck the water.  I was dressed heavily in an
overcoat and leggings, also a boxer hat.  I haven't seen the hat since, I
suppose the mermaids got it.  When I hit the water, I struck out to sea,
but a big wave brought me back and I clung to a centre pile, then I called
"Man Overboard" and men came running with boat slings.  One man
yelled "Put this on", meaning the boat sling, around my body.  How
could I when I was using both hands hanging on for dear  life?  However,
I grabbed it with one hand and then the other, then sank again. 
Eventually they got me onto the pier, and at Costin's Hotel I was given
a good hot whiskey and a change of clothes.  During my immersion I
shipped a good supply of sea water, but went home that night and got up
next morning feeling none the worse of it all.  After milking my cows I
went to the township again to collect my clothes and let my friends know
that I was alright.

     There was no road to my selection after my neighbour's block,
and we used to go through his property.  So I made an application to the
shire of Colac for assistance to make the road.  I only needed two side
cutting, and I offered to do one free if the council would do the other. 
I received notice from them telling me that if I did both cuttings I would
be paid 5 pounds.  I needed that road to the selection so I did the work myself. 
It seemed to me that the people in the bush all belonged to the Help
thyself society, to do as much as one can for oneself.  When the overseer
inspected the work he valued it at 20 pounds but I only got 5 pounds.  The
cutting had to be 9 feet wide and from one side I removed a log 4 feet thick.  
It was a contract of its own, especially for a new chum.

  About that time - 1896 - 1897 - I did not go home to Carisbrook
for the harvest as I was milking some cows, making butter and sending
it to Melbourne whenever a boat came into Port, which was not at
regular intervals as Apollo Bay was an open Port, making it dangerous
for small boats.  With the butter returns and a few head of cattle I used
to sell, the place was beginning to pay dividends.

  And then came that fateful year of 1898.  On February 9th
everybody in the district was burning off - of course there were no
restriction in those days against burning off in the middle of summer. 
There was a fire to the East of me and one to the south, which cut off all
my escape.  There was an easterly wind blowing in the morning which
was bringing the fire towards me, so I just had to stay and watch the fires
burning.  But about 12 o'clock the wind chopped to the North and blew
a hot northerly gale.  Then came the fire from the North.  The beech
Forrest settlers were also burning off and their fire got away from them
with the north wind.  I could see it coming but could not escape as all the
routes were blocked by fire.  Then about one o'clock it struck.  My
house went like tinder, including all its contents.  I got a small table on
its edge, grabbed my bucket with some dirty water in it, and when the full
force of the fire struck properly I lay down behind the table, tore the
back out of my waistcoat, wet it in the water, and put it over my mouth,
and got as close to the ground as possible to get what air was travelling.

  Quite often I got a mouthful of hot air from the fire.  As it went
directly over the property I could see the flames about 20 feet above my
head.  It was awful.  The table was too small to get my two feet behind
it and the heat drew the nails out of the soles of my boots.  The heat was
so intense the ground was actually burning all around me.  I had cattle
dying alongside of me, and my poor horse had its rump behind a tall
stump about 60 feet high, sheltering from the fire and hot wind.  The
stump was on fire and red coals were dropping all over him.  He got his
mane completely burnt off.  But he survived, thank God. He was the only
animal I had left.  I lost all my cattle and everything I possessed and I
was left with what I stood up in.  My neighbour, Mr. Methven, perished
in the fire.  He went down a gully to get some water, we presume, and
died there.  About four o'clock the wind changed to the S.W. and blew
the fire in another direction, and about five o'clock I made it to the
township, still carrying my bucket of dirty water, which was my
salvation.  I had to travel through burning country to reach the Bay.  The
late Mrs. Costin put me to bed.  I was blind for nearly a week from the
heat.  The people were very good to me, bringing me all sorts of dainties
to eat, but I did not feel like eating for some time.  It was an awful fire
to go through, one which I will never forget.  I have just turner 83, and
still have the memories of that experience fresh in my mind.

  It took several days to get word to my parents, as all telegraph
lines were burnt down.  Immediately he got word, my Father left with the
Waggonette and some more iron to rebuild.  My father had great faith in
the country.  However, when he arrived he was shocked to see the state
of things.  But we had the urge to conquer and started to build a humpy
out of the burnt iron from the other place and the new iron for the roof. 
He had also bought a stove.  I have a photo of the humpy, which I
treasure.  

  Then came the job of sewing the burnt country with grass seed
again.  There was no Victorian cocksfoot grass seed as it had been
bought by the Gippsland settlers.  So the government had to import grass
seed from a neighbouring Colony, and with it came the Ragwort seed,
and next year came the pretty yellow flowers of the greatest curse that
was ever imported.  That was 1899 and the Ragwort is still here.  Then
my father came to my assistance again.  He brought the timber and iron
for a six roomed house and I had the great job carting it up to the
selection 700 feet above sea level.  The next year my father took ill
suddenly.  I was sent for to come at once.  And my poor Dad died four
days after I got home.  His death was a great blow.  He was coming
down that year to build my new house.  Then I was on my own, almost
a stranger in a strange land.

  I set to work with a will, fenced the block in again, and got some
more cattle, and after a while started dairying again.  I got the late Arthur
Costin to build my new house and help me line it.  I got four rooms
finished.  And then came the happiest thing that ever happened to me. 
I met my present wife, Miss Julia Telford, and when we were married it
was the happiest day of my life.  The ceremony was performed by the
Rev. Mr. Lowe from Birregurra in the Hall at Apollo Bay, and then we
followed it with a dance for the people of the Bay, while we went on our
honeymoon.  We travelled to Melbourne by Steamer. When we returned
we set to work and finished the other rooms.  

  About two years lapsed when adversities came our way again -
another fire came sweeping down from Beech Forrest.  I sent my wife to
the Bay to her mother's while a neighbour and I watched our homes. 
The house caught fire three times but we managed to put it out.  A big
hole was burnt in the ceiling and we had a great job to save it.  All the
outbuildings were destroyed.  However, after a while, things went on
smoothly again and we always managed to come up smiling after a
knock, which reminds me of an experience I had with some pigs.

  A Mr. Johnson of Apollo Bay had some fat baconers and he made
it known that if anyone had some pigs he would take them to Colac for
them.  I had two baconers and Mick and Danny Riordan had 14 nice
slips, so Mr. Johnson drove them to market in Colac.  I don't know what
he was offered for his, but he brought them home again. He said "When
your pigs were offered someone bid two shillings and six pence each.  I
could not see them sold for that so I brought them home again".  And
when Mick Riordan's slips were offered a man said he would take one
for ten pence.  They were sold for 1/6 each.  Today the same pigs would
be worth five or six pounds each.  Mine would bring at least fourteen
pounds.  A boat came in some time later and Johnson and I sent our pigs
to Melbourne and got three pounds each for them which was the ruling
price then.

  At this time I was milking about 35 cows and we installed milking
machines.   We were one of the first farms to use machines in the district
- they were a great help.  Our position was improving although prices
were very low at the time.  Fortunately work was always a pleasure to
me, but there is an old saying that all work and no play makes Jack a dull
boy.  All our family, especially my sisters, was fond of music and before
I came to Apollo Bay I was a member of the Glee Club and church
choirs.  So after arriving at Apollo Bay I continued with my music and
sang at several concerts in the Bay.  And on one occasion the folk in a
small Hamlet called Skenes Creek, about four miles north of Apollo Bay,
decided to hold a concert and I was asked to give a few items.  So a few
days before the concert I sent my music book to a lady at the Creek to
practice the songs.  So when the evening came a crowd of us rode
around anticipating a good time, which we certainly had.  On meeting the
lady with my music I was greeted with "Oh, I am so sorry, we haven't
got a piano or an organ in the district". However all songs were sung
without musical accompaniment and the concert was proclaimed a huge
success.  Then came a lovely supper and the floor was cleared and a
dance followed to the music of the old time Concertina.  This kept up till
the small hours of the morning and all went home happy.

  The only means of transport then was horseback or per boot.
Many the time I left my horse home and walked four or five miles with
my suitcase on my back with my Sunday Best in it to change when I got
to the town.  Of course I had the company of a nice young lady for the
most of the way and it is then that distance lends enchantment to the
journey.  After the dance we would all walk home again.

  After a while, when I got my house more comfortable, my sister
Matilda came down to keep house for me.  After a year or two my
bachelor days ended and I bought my wife a piano with which we had
many a pleasant evening.  And still the transport was horseback and
sleigh.  And when our firstborn arrived I carried him on a basket on my
arm resting it on my thigh like the butcher-boy.  This same boy is a man
now of about 48 years of age with a wife and family of his own, so the
mode of transport of those days did not hurt him in the least.  My wife
used to ride one horse and I the other.  When we improved the mountain
road I bought a light spring cart and altered it so I could drive two horses
abreast.  I also had knave-brakes on the wheels to heavy the outfit.  We
used to jog down the mountain roads quite happily, my wife and I in the
front seat with the babe in the basket under the seat, sound asleep. 
Sometimes we would have two 10 gallons cans of cream at the back as
things were improving fast in the district and there was a butter factory
in the town which was a great boon to farmers.

  Although we had many ups and downs, in fact more downs than
ups, we still pressed on with the same urge to win which we finally did. 
The next summer another fire threatened us.  We seemed to be in the line
of fires from Beech Forrest.  But it did no damage.  By this time we were
getting tired of watching out for fires and as we were getting a young
family around us we decided to look out for another farm.  We loved the
Bay and district and couldn't leave it, so I purchased the farm we are on
now which is on level ground and near the township.  Although only two
and a half mile from the town, the road to it was in a shocking state.  It
would almost bog a duck in the winter time.  Then came the job of
shifting all our belongings to the new farm from Glen Mona, our first
home.  I hired a bullock team and waggon for the job and in due course
the waggon arrived about ten in the morning and we packed everything
we possessed onto it, including the piano.  And it was a very heavy and
high load for the mountain tracks.  When all was well tied on the waggon
we started down the hill, the waggon squeaking and crawling down the
track which in many places was only 9 to 10 feet wide.  All went well
until we were rounding a bend with a very steep gorge on one side.  The
driver kept a little bit too high up and the off hind wheel struck a root
and the wheel rose about a foot and almost capsized down the gorge. 
However, the waggon righted itself and we went creaking along until we
came to a steeper part of the road.  The driver would not venture down
that hill with such a high load so he pulled the fence down and went
through private property which was a better grade.  We got down safely
at last and arrived at the drivers home about 7 o'clock that night.  We left
the load of furniture on the road until morning and my wife and I went
along to the new farm which is called Glen Avon.  After having a cup of
tea I went to the shed and milked 30 cows to complete the day.  That
night we slept on the floor as all the furniture was on the waggon down
the road.  In due course the waggon arrived next morning and we finally
got everything put in its right place which was a great relief to us.

  Although we had left Glen Mona we still retained it for five or six
years as a grazing property, where I put my dry cows in the winter time. 
Unfortunately another fire swept over it, this time burning our six
roomed house to the ground.  So the last straw breaks the donkey's back
and I decided to sell it.  In the meantime work was progressing on Glen
Avon.  The farm was a neglected one when we bought it so there was
plenty of work to do.  Two men and myself grubbed rushes for about
eight months.  Some of them were three feet across the butt and six or
seven feet across the top.  I finally had the place like a hay field with
stooks of hay, but in this case stooks of rushes instead.  I was waiting for
an opportunity to burn them in the late autumn, but I was denied that
opportunity.  One evening two boys were seen crossing the farm, and
when they put up a rabbit, which was then a very rare thing to see, it ran
into a log.  The boys set fire to the log hoping to smoke the rabbit out,
but the fire ran along the inside of the log and lit a heap of rushes which
lit a tall stump and then the whole place was afire in a few minutes.  This
completely burnt out 90 acres out of 133.  The fire never stopped until
it reached the sea.  The farm was heavily timbered before this but now
there was scarcely a tree standing.  This fire made me very short of grass
for the winter and I was milking 40 cows at the time.  So my season was
finished.  I was at my wits end to know what to do with the cows.  I was
advised to put them to grass on land known as the Elliott River Scrub
and wiregrass paddock.  But my cows were not used to eating scrub and
some of them got the "Cripples" and lost the use of their hind quarters. 
I lost 12 out of 24.  Next year I was able to milk only 30 cows instead of
40.  However we gradually built up the herd again.  That was the last big
setback we had, and after that out luck seemed to turn for the better.

  We had a family of five children by now and two of them were
going to school.  They had to walk two miles there so we bought them
a Shetland pony, but the little beggar wouldn't carry the two children and
he used to buck them off every time they got on.  So I built them a little
sleigh and he used to pull them to school each day - when he felt like ti. 
The pony was very cunning and full of tricks.  Some time after this when
the road was improved we had a little gig made for them.  I may state
here that the River Road as it was known was in a fearful state ,
containing many large holes made from Bullock Waggons and sleighs, so
the settlers along the road as far as Hordern Vale made several requests
to the Colac shire Council to get something done to the roads.  The shire
council put forward the suggestion to the settlers along the road that if
they contributed Two pounds each towards forming the road the Council
would do the rest.  So the settlers willingly did their part and in due
course a gang of men arrived with plough, scoups, grader and a team of
horses and formed the road as promised.  When this was done the
children had a good road on which to drive to school.  When our children
finished with the State School at Apollo Bay they each in turn went to
the Colac high School and passed with credit, while my wife and I carried
on dairying at Glen Avon with hired labour.

  Now another experience with fat pigs.  In those days as now, all
pigs went to Colac market via Beech Forrest, some driven and some
were carted.  I had four prime baconers which I put in a light spring dray
and set off for Beech Forrest.  I had been warned of a bad patch of road
so I started an hour earlier in case of a mishap.  I arrived at the bog hole
about eight in the morning and it did look very ugly.  However I put the
horses to it.  They got three parts through when the wheel of the dray
struck a big tree fern put there, evidently by someone earlier, and when
the wheel came against it, snap went the outrigger and one horse made
for the bank.  I jumped off the dray, caught the horse and tied him up
then surveyed the scene.  The dray had settled almost to the axle and the
other horse almost to his breast.  So I let the pigs out, took the other
horse out and tied him up too.  Then I cut a young sapling from the bush
to use as a lever and with a forked stick set to work to get the dray out. 
I put the lever in between the spokes of the wheel and the forked stick
under the lever and gradually lifted the wheel out of the mud.  I put the
tailboard under it then to stop it sinking in the mud again, then I did
likewise with the other wheel, and put the front board under that one.  
It took me nearly six hours to do that.  Then I hitched the horses to the
ends of the shafts and pulled the dray onto firm ground.

  Meanwhile the pigs were running about in the bush.  It was about
3.30 by now and I put the horses into the dray and made for Beech
Forrest minus the pigs.  Just as I was leaving a young man came along on
horseback, going to the Bay, so he took the message to my wife that I
had been stuck in the bog-hole and would not be home that night.  I had
to continue on to Beech Forrest as I was expecting some goods by the
train.  When I arrived I fed my horses and then met Mr. George Baird,
Manager of the Beech Forrest butter factory.  He exclaimed, 'Good God,
Charlie, what has happened to you?'   I was covered in mud.  I told him
what had happened and how I had to leave my pigs behind.  I had a wash
at the factory, returned to the Boarding House for tea, and then went
over to the station to see about my goods.  The Station Master said a big
box had arrived but he believed it had gone on to Lavers Hill.  He
telephoned through and sure enough it was there.  So I had to wait all
day Sunday and until three o'clock on Monday afternoon before the train
arrived back with my goods.

  Meanwhile word was sent to the now late Mr. A.H.McKenzie,
president of the new Otway shire, which had just been formed.  He called
around to see me and after relating my experience he sent word at once
to the Apollo Bay road man to proceed on Monday morning and
corduroy the bog hole.  I left for home in the middle of the afternoon and
when I reached the boghole the men had almost repaired it and my pigs
were still in the bush.  I had to leave them there until the next day when
I took my man and dray.  We had quite a job getting them as they had
went berserk and we had to chase them out onto the road and drove
them about two miles to a neighbour where we were able to load them.

  The following Saturday week was pig day again, so I set off with
two of those pigs in a crate in the spring cart with the same two horses. 
All went well until I got to the River Barham.  All traffic used a ford,
there being no bridge and a box cutting down into the river.  Going down
the cutting the offside wheel struck a root and capsized the cart, pigs and
all, with the cart wheels in the air.  I was thrown clear onto a bank of
gravel and was dazed for a while.  The men working on the bridge heard
the crash and came to my rescue.  When everything was righted the only
thing broken was some harness, so I headed for home again and mended
the harness with some copper rivets.  Meanwhile the men cleared the
root away, then I made for Beech Forrest again, and arrived just as the
train pulled in, and had time to catch the pig truck.  Then I fed my horses
and visited the doctor as my back was giving me some trouble.  He said
I was lucky not to be killed but came out of it with only a very nasty
bruise in the small of my back.  In the afternoon I harnessed up the
horses and came home, a bit stiff but none the worse for the fall. They
were the last pigs I took to Beech Forrest.  After that all pigs went by
transport straight to Colac.

  Meanwhile the farm clearing went on, grubbing rushes etc.  After
a while there was a vacancy in the shire Council, through influction of
time, and the rate payers of the East Riding including Apollo Bay signed
a petition asking me to stand.  So after giving it some deep thought I
consented.  When the retiring member heard that I was offering myself
he retired, and I was duly elected to the vacant seat.  In those days it was
no small task.  There were no roads that could be called roads in the
winter time and one used to splosh, splosh through the mud for miles. 
I remember on one occasion my colleague, the late Leonard Martin, was
going to a meeting by the short cut out of the Aire River (only the
pioneers will know what that means) - it was like climbing a wall to save
going four or five miles going around the road, and when we reached the
top we met a blizzard of wind, rain, hail and snow, so severe that the
horses would not face it.  So we turned their tails toward it and waited
half an hour for it to abate.  The ground was inches deep with snow and
hail and I was fortunate to have a change of clothing with me for when
we reached Beech Forrest.

  I also remember at one Council meeting the secretary made it
known that there was a 1000 pound allotment made to the Council to be
spent on the Wild Dog road.  When it became known that it was to be spent
on a road in the East Riding there was quite a heated discussion by the other
two Riding members, as they thought it should have been spent there. 
However, after a lot of hot air the atmosphere gradually calmed down
and the business proceeded although a lot of bickering continued. 
However, it wasn't long after that the Board started in earnest and more
money came into the Otway for roads and roads were started everywhere
The Otway had a reputation for bad roads and it was difficult to get
contractors to tender for the work as in those days there was no
mechanical machinery and the contractors could not depend on getting
feed for their horses on account of the bad roads.  However, after re-
advertising a certain road several times, a contractor tendered and got the
job.  He came in with four drays and horses and other equipment and
after doing the first section he said he had finished it.  I told him to
inform the Board and he got two more sections done.  This was the
contractor who presented me with a truck load of crushed rock before
he left.

  The work on the Council in the early days entailed a lot of riding
through bad roads and weather and oft times the meetings did not finish
till midnight which meant arriving home after two in the morning to be
here for the milking as I was milking 45 cows at the times.  Mr. L.
Martin and I were also deputed to inspect holdings in the East Riding for
Soldier Settlement.  This gave us a lot of hard riding through the forest
over bad roads and took a lot of our time.  However, after three years in
the Council, during which time I went on deputation to Melbourne and
Warrnambool and other places, I was compelled to resign from the
council as I was unable to look after my dairying satisfactorily.  I still
remained Inspector for Soldier Settlement in the district and was an
active member in the town and district in social work.  I was
superintendent of the Church of England Sunday School for eleven years,
Secretary of the Dariymans for ten years, and President of the State
School Committee for a number of years.  I was on other committees and
also took an interest in all sports meetings, being at time President,
Secretary, Judge and Starter.  Being fond of singing and music I was
connected with two Minstrel Troupes in the district.  I was Interlocutor
and we gave some good concerts during World War 1.  We later formed
a Minstrel Band and during the first Anzac March through the town I led
the band as Drum Major.  We caused great fun and amusement,
especially when the late Jack Thomson Snr beat the big drum with such
force that he frightened the Coach horses grazing in the street and they
weren't found for several days.  Later the band played selections at the
sports meeting on Anzac Day.  The Band caused such interest that it was
the forerunner of the Brass Band in Apollo Bay, which was in existence
for a number of years.  It was a great acquisition to the town but with
several members leaving, also the Conductor, the Band gradually faded
out, which was a great pity.  I was also President of the Otway Noxious
Weeds Committee but was compelled to resign from all these activities
on account of my hearing which was getting poor, and I devoted my time
to dairying which I carried on for a number of years.  Four years ago I
sold my dairy herd and retired from Dairying and let my property for
grazing.  And now, after 63 years of active life in Apollo Bay and in the
Evening of my life, we have sold Glen Avon and my wife and I are going
to live a quiet life.  Such has been my life and pioneering days in Apollo
Bay.
                        --------------------------------------------------------

The Colac Herald reported the inquest into the death of Mr.
Methven on 
Friday, Feb 18, 1898.  It states "that Mr. Chas. Fricke deposed that he
last saw Mr. Methven on the morning of the fire about 11.30. He was
assisting Mr. Methven to move some the deceased's property when they
saw the fire making for their houses on the top of the ridge, and hurrying
up Mr. Fricke out-paced the old man, and having a drink of milk at
Methven's house hurried to his own to try and save, if possible,
something from the flames.  The old man on seeing his home perish
evidently was making for a creek for refuge when he was overcome and
suffocated by the hot fumes.  A verdict was brought in in accordance
with this evidence. The deceased, who was about 69 or 70 years of age,
has lived by himself for some years.  The heat about the old man must
have been terrible.  The fire was raging along an immense gully from the
Barrum River to the top of the ridge where stood the houses, and the
heat and flames were gathering volume at every yard as they approached
the unfortunate man.  Mr Fricke crouched behind an upturned table for
five hours with a bucket of water in that awful furnace. And giving up all
hope of getting out alive he groped his way as a blind man with a stick,
thinking he would rather die on the road to the township where his body
would be found. "
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