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Our History :
Chiton Sponsors Original
Chiton Rocks Bodyboard |
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Original Chiton Rocks Bodyboard Circa
1930’s It was presented to our club by Lloyd and serves as a reminder of our strong past links with his old and now defunct club, Victor Harbor LSC. At the time of its use Lloyd was a patrolling member of Victor Harbor and used to hire out similar boards (see photo top left of Lloyd Tugwell and Tim Overall on sandhills at Chiton Beach 1930’s) to raise much needed funds for his club. Victor Harbor LSC folded in the early 1950’s, and the task of patrolling Chiton Rocks fell to our club on its formation on 16 August 1957. |
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The Night Chiton Burned Rumours abounded as to the cause of the inferno. Had Peter Byrne in his capacity as Building Rep, turned arsonist to keep himself busy during the winter months? Had the club committee set the blaze to force out the lazy caretaker. Was it an ’act of god’ that seems so relevant in insurance policies? None of these theories proved true. It turned out, that a group who had hired the club for the weekend fired up the potbelly stove downstairs on the Sunday afternoon as the weather turned nasty. luckily the group departed at 5.00pm to return to Adelaide. The wind continued to intensify and eventually blew the top section of the chimney askew. Sparks from the fire were now being drawn into the roof space above the bunkhouse coming to rest in the ceiling. Eventually the smoldering mass ignited with the ceiling and roofing beams collapsing into the bunkhouse. Fortunately for the slumbering caretaker, Jim Miller was staying in a caravan next to the clubhouse. Around 9.00pm Jim casually glanced at a reflection in the car window and believed he was witnessing the meteor shower of the century. Emerging from the van Jim could see flames leaping into the night sky accompanied by showers of sparks whipped up by the gale. Jim woke the caretaker and then rang the CFS who turned up quickly and soon had the fire extinguished. This was not before the bunkhouse and showers were completely gutted. The roof and ceiling over the dance floor were damaged and the downstairs section of the club was severely water damaged by all the water poured in by the CFS. It’s at moments like these where your insurance company is really tested. Ours was magnificent. Builders were swung into action and within 9 short weeks the whole charred ruin was replaced to a far higher standard than the members had endured before the fire. The quadruple level bunks were gone, the old mattresses salvaged from charity bins were gone and the infested matting purloined from the Salvos that passed for carpet was gone. A few burns charred into the dance floor were the only evidence of the fire left after the builders completed their handywork. Some members who had not attended the club during the winter months marvelled at their ’new’ bunkhouse that had ’magnificently’ appeared over the winter months. While many theories and fables arise from the 1983 fire that sanitised the worst section of our clubhouse to be rebuilt as the best section by the insurance company, it is simply another chapter of the Chiton Story. |
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The last days of the ‘Misfit’. As told by Graham Smith. When I first arrived at Chiton Rocks in late 1979. I found to my delight the old Port Noarlunga SLSC surf boat ‘Frieda Corpe’ now renamed appropriately ‘Misfit’ after the bunch of misfits who patrolled Chiton Beach. Port Elliot SLSC members and other clubs called Chiton members ‘Misfits’ because of their excentric behaviour and totally different ways of going about things, as compared to other more ‘genteel’ clubs. Well cobbers, thats us and we like it that way. Anyway back to the story. I had rowed ‘Frieda’ at Port Noarlunga and so she held fond memories for a much younger and carefree lifesaver by the name of Graham Smith. The boat was named after Mrs Frieda Corpe, the wife of a wealthy Port Noarlunga builder, and a benefactor of the original Port Noarlunga LSC and later SLSC. She resided in a huge white house still standing just south of the present Port Noarlunga SLSC. It was common practice in the early 80’s, pre IRB days at Chiton, to have a row whilst on patrol. Jim or Hocko would usually sweep. The crews were scratch crews made up of green rowers such as Jack, Beetle, Doctor Death, JJ etc. A sprinkling of experience was added by using Frank Drenth, myself or some of the Henley boys who were always on hand. Easter 1980 rolled in and with it huge surf across southern Australia, from Margaret River, WA to Cape Patterson, Vic. The Bells Easter Classic was held that weekend and on TV it looked huge. Radio reports had most ocean surf beaches peaking around 15 feet or more. Older surf and marine types said it was the biggest surf in memory. No one could get out at Chiton, either swimming or on craft. Our best two swimmers, Frank Drenth and Bob Lindsay were defeated each time they tried. The bar was suicidal. A much younger Dwayne Thuys and Greg Juniper (State Champion from Chrities Beach SLSC) had a crack at it. Greg didn’t make it but Dwayne did, but he broke his racing mali coming in. Chiton was going right off and out of control at the reef - a long way out. It was genuine 13-15 foot. There is a photo in surf house to prove it, taken by Bob Sparrow of Moana SLSC. Scary Stuff!!! It was then that Hocko had an idea. Get a crew and crack one from out the back. “Shit”, I thought, “This is madness”. We all stood there, “Gutless wimps”, Hocko cried. “I'm in”, I said. Other fools were Frank, Fitzy from Henley and Mark ‘Big Wipeout’ Siebert. We took off shaking. Scared shitless we all were, apart I suspect Hocko who was young and bloody fearless. Hocko held us in the westerly rip between shore and the bar. We drifted along holding water with the oars awaiting our moment of doom or glory. In his command we pulled hard and startout through ‘Sneaky Right’ with the rip. We lead charmed lives. We got out the back in a relative lull in waves only 6-8 foot dry and clean. God has mercy after all. We waited. “Shit, I’m too young to die”, thought the younger and more gung-ho Smithy. Hocko spied a monster on the horizon. We begged for forgiveness from the great surf god, Huey. Hocko’s college - like vocabulary called to us in a quiet and gentle urging. “Row you fuckers. Row!” Unfortunately it was a total stuff up. A late take off. We screamed down the face of a 100 foot wave or was it 15 foot? Doesn’t matter really. It was big. Things started to go terribly, terribly wrong. Hocko was tossed out taking the sweep oar with him. Fitzy was, I think thrown out. Mark cried, “Stuff this”. And like a rat on a sinking ship, he leapt out to the mercy of the ocean. Well that left Frank and I alone in an out of control surf boat going ballistic with oars flapping and a huge angry sea. Not a cool place to be when one has ones life ahead all planned out. Marry cathy, get house, get good job etc etc. All was lost I thought. But no. “Pack the high side Graham”, cried fearless Frank. We were going sideways and totally out of control. BANG. We hit the mainland of Southern Australia. The old ‘Misfit’ popped stringers all across the beach. She was fucked. So were we. Next morning my girlfriend, now Mrs Smith and I collected many pieces of the boat wood from Chiton Beach. Her days had come to and end. The boat that is, not Cathy. A few months later we burnt ‘Frieda/Misfit’ and that in itself is a very funny story as Jimmy will agree. It involves a woman, her young daughter, a recently separated President Frank Drenth and Jim. I
have a small Stringer from ‘Misfit’ with the date and
names of the crew on it. It will be mounted in the bar area with
a copy of the surf house photo (see photo at start of story)
to state this little bit of our unique history can be preserved
for always. |
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The South Coast Surf
Chasers |
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What’s in ting?
Everyting!
As told by Richard Wilkins. At the time it was Chiton’s main drinking hole and members invaded the pub each Saturday after patrol and stayed on until they were kicked out. Coopers ale by the pint was the norm. Back at the club Bleasdale Muscat was also popular as you could pick it up for eight bob (80 cents). The bulldozing of the old pub commenced in early 61. Before this however everything of value was removed from the building. Amongst the relics found in the old cellars were a motley collection of wine and spirits which had not been sold over the years. Mostly because they could not be identified as they had no labels. It was any bodies guess what they contained. The publican of the day, Ralph Parsons, decided to divide the spoils and distribute it amongst the sporting and social clubs that had supported the pub over the years in and around Victor. Chiton ended up with 12-14 bottles of ‘we did not know what’. In our wisdom we decided to raffle our conglomeration to the gullible public, for urgently needed club funds. Not surprisingly – no tickets were sold. Nobody seemed interested in the first prize. Being Easter Friday and feeling despondent with our results, we decided to dispatch the grog in the only way we knew best. After locking all the car keys in the first aid cabinet, we proceeded to decant, with due reverence, ‘everything’ into a babies bath. After a quick stir the first of the tastings took place. Rancid rat shit mixed with turpentine would have tasted better. After a while we convinced ourselves that nothing could taste that bad and got back into it again. Eight brave soles drank into the night until all was consumed. In the process creating several spectacular technicolour yawns, achieving the inability to feel ones lips and euthanasing several billion brain cells. As luck would have it – nobody went blind. Ting was born. History was in the making. Our masochistic drinking session became such a talking point that we had no trouble recruiting fellow connoisseurs to join us in a repeat performance the following Easter. A mixture of wine and spirits were procured and on the night were blended into a 10 gallon milk churn. A couple of French letters were tossed in for luck and stirred to perfection with a broken surf boat oar. The procedure was carried out to an enthusiastic, cheering thirsty audience. Mayhem usually followed. |
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Greg Juniper 1981
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LIVE Surfcam 
This original softwood
board was owned and used by Mr. Lloyd Tugwell, first President
and a Life Member of Chiton Rocks SLSC, in the 1930’s at
Chiton Rocks Beach.
