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There are often two sides to every story, and it is interesting to put both together.
My name is Steve Ward, in the 1970's I ran a very small Air charter company in Broome Western Australia. Two or three times a year I would pack my wife and 2 small children in our trusty Cessna 206 and fly across the Australian Continent to visit our parents in the Newcastle NSW district. Tibooburra was often a refuelling stop on the eastern side of the desert country.
I got aquatinted with a gruff old bush character who carried 44 gal drums of avgas out from town in his utility truck to refuel aircraft.
Then in 1978 I shifted back to the east coast, met up with Outback Patrol, and became one of the volunteer pilots, Tibooburra was once again on the list of places to go. Blake refuelled me when ever I needed fuel. I remember him asking me if I "was one of them Christian mob" once.
I always told people who wanted to know where to get fuel "make sure you can take a full drum, and give Blake a call"
Word got back to me that he was telling people "No Fuel here, I have retired," but when I arrived he would say, come and load it yourself, I am to old to wheel these drums," so I asked him "Why do you give me fuel, and send the others away?"
"Ask that Nixon fellow about the flat tire," he said. So I did. Les, remembered instantly. Here’s what he said:
First Patrol
A Wasp, a Flat Tire, and We Got Lost, Too!
If navigating outback for the first time in blazing summer heat ain't bad enuf, the Auster we were in goes and finds a way to aggravate the whole exercise even more. Take off after RFL at Bourke on the way west we picked up a wasp in the air-speed tube disabling that handy instrument completely, and then, a sharp rock penetrated a tire after we'd landed near a mob of shearers at Mt. King to ask the way! We could see the ASI was crook, but the flat tire kept it's secret till landing!
Borrowed Wal's Auster
It was our first 'outback-patrol', but it wasn't called that in 1961. We simply answered "The-Macedonian-Call' from the workers at the Tibooburra Hostel to help them in their work, borrowed Wal Job's shining Auster, loaded up Jo Ann (musician) and Graham (Doctor-singer), and spare avgas in cans on the back seat—and headed west. For Tibooburra.
Tibooburra? Where is the world is Tibooburra?
Planes Are for Flying to Remote Places!
It's far enough west to discourage most plucky aviators, but this bunch of novices hadn't heard the bad news. They just said planes are for flying and Australia's the right place to do it. Even if it took all day to find Tibooburra.
A Bit too Far to Go!
Took three or four WAC charts to cover the territory before we found ourselves over the rough dirt strip at Tibooburra—grave yard for misbegotten wheelless wagons, sulkies and shaftless traps that'd seen better days. It's 1100 Kilometres N/W of Sydney (630 miles) half way to Alice Springs, and on the edge of Sturts Stoney Desert. It's 205 miles north of Broken Hill (two-days drive) and the final township in the state of NSW before you head into the far-north of South Australia, or north into Queensland on the way to Birdsville. A bit far to go.
It's a forgotten frontier outpost. Too small for a Church, but too big to overlook.
Spot in History:
But it's the place Burke and Wills traversed on their 1864 push north, from Melbourne to Julia Creek - and near their camp at Mt. Brown. Must have had water in those years. It has a place in OZ history. Settlers followed and by 1870, the Thompsons from Adelaide set up a primitive camp there, and built a huge spread for sheep and cattle. Old Ken Thompson is still there at Mt. Stuart to this day, but the use of the term Mount is a misnomer or oxymoron. There ain't none for 400 miles in any direction ... just wild hopes.
Welcome Committee:
Looking down, there's the ladies in their Sunday go-to-meeting best dresses, topped with fancy hats and beaming sweaty smiles of welcome as we approached. But there was Blake Whitehair too, the roughest man in the west.
Matron Mills and Mrs. Ager and some children looked inordinately out of place in their best clobber. Blake stood apart. And watched. He'd just scrambled from under a greasy road tractor fixing gears and big ends. Planes only came to Tibooburra to carry urgent patients to hospital or for lost pilots to ask for directions. But we were on loftier businesses. We were there to save the town from itself. We had the message of salvation, and they were supposed to be ready for it. We were John the Baptist with wings ...
Shocking Lesson:
Ah, misguided youth. Ah, zealous commitment. What a shocking lesson was in store for these innocent flyers in more ways that one. Landing roll, it's pulling right, shedding rubber, bouncing on the wheel rim, yank left, no braking, hold straight, right and left slews, slow down, lower tail … all the time fighting with the stick and kicking the daylights out of the rudder—and all that stuff that tail draggers demand even on good days.
Hapless Passengers:
What in the heck we've done? What's this? The audience watched in wonder as the plane stopped mid-strip, aiming sideways, and the hapless passengers emerged through the dust with white faces and grinning smiles. We almost ground looped, but something greater than us saved us.
Ladies came to Jo Ann's rescue and accompanied her out of the blazing sun to a waiting van. Les inspected the situation, realised what'd happened, and looked around for someone to offer assistance. Blake was there. On the sideline. Dead pan, dragging on a smoke. No emotion at all. He'd watched the circus with no more than a casual interest.
Helpful Suggestion:
But he was a witness to the flat-tire landing, and surely would be in a position to make a helpful suggestion or two.
"Go to hell," it was. Yup, Blake Whitehair, who was in later years to become the mayor, told Les, in clear language, where to go. At other times, the two exchanged pleasant greetings, flew the others planes, fuelled together, he hooked up his generator for the films, etc., but not this time. It was their first meeting.
He Was Up a Tree:
In the 70's he fixed Keith Thompson's sketches of Zachaius up a tree to his shop wall and brag that he was that person. Because Les said so. He was reminded that when a man stops believing in God he doesn't start believing in nothing. If he doesn't stand for something, he'll fall for anything! He came to anticipate the singers and puppets for the school, and always provided power and assistance. He was always good for a cool drink and a mud map, but this time, it was different. He didn't know us ... yet!
A Test:
"Fix the ... thing yourself," was his parting comment as he headed into town. It was a test.
These Christians know it all. Let them get out of this one by themselves. Of course, planes carry no spares, no jacks, no heavy tools. No tubes. All that stuff should be obtained in town. "Fix it your … self," was all he offered. And he meant it!
This'll show you how hard and resilient we are out here, and what a soft underbelly you city slickers have.
"Fix it, or perish!"
Scounged Around Town:
That was his final commentary. He was holding up the verandah an hour later when Les and Graham went to him for the implements to undertake a repair. So, armed with that wisdom, they scrounged around town till they found the makings for a repair, and spent the next morning fitting a new tire and tube borrowed from a local.
"There you go," Buster smiled at Blake when they met. "We're ready to go, and thanks for nothing!"
"OK mate. Anytime you want anything," Blake replied, "just ask!" It was like a token insult.
True as it is. That's what he said.
But it took years till we felt we could trust him and accept his offer. But for years, he was offended that we didn't. We said, "There are two freedoms. The false where one is free to do what he likes and the true, where he is free to do what he ought!"
The Way It Is:
That's the way things are out here. If you're independent, you'll make it! But Blake eavesdropped through the Hostel windows that night as Graham sang his heart out, "It took a miracle," and "How Great Thou Art!" "That bloke can really sing", he told the locals. "Hear him before he leaves town!"
And the Dove Singers years later; and Graham MacDonald, and Ian Jones and Brett Cardwell and Richie Gunston. He liked Richie's yodels. And testimony. Explorers Magazine is always in his shop.
"But be ye doers of the Word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves" (James 1:22).
I am just a nobody telling everybody about a somebody who can save anybody!
Unexpected Miracle:
Years later, Les landed at Tibooburra. Wal Staples was in the schools with his huge toothbrush and massive chomping teach, teaching kids dental hygiene—and opening their hearts to the Gospel of Jesus. It was late, so they walked into Blake's place just on dusk. He was fighting with his scraper in the bottom of his dry dam bed. Cleaning it ready for rain. The diesel motor roared as Blake forced it into conflict against the sludge.
He saw Les and a mate in the shadows and cut the motor. Looking on them, with the most awful pained expression he admitted he was not the best, but had to get this done before the wet.
"What's up," Les innocently asked.
"Flew back from Adelaide today with new teeth. Took 'em all out this morning, fitted plates and flew home." That was a six-hundred mile, five hour trip with swollen gums and an ill fitting plate, and a temp. "If only I could get relief from this agony," he complained. His face told it all.
Secret's Out:
Would we tell him what we had—or had not?
Les invited Blake down, and offered to kneel with him in the mud as Blake was urged again to ask God to save him from his willful ways, promise to live for God from now on—like he'd counseled many times before—and pray for a dentist!
"Give God the same place in your heart that he holds in the universe! Give Him what's right, not left.”
"Gawd," Blake slobbered. "In your dreams."
Jesus Christ, we said, is not a problem to be solved, but is a Saviour to be followed.
He did come down, and he did lead Wal back to his garage. His flabber was never so gasted.
Last Three Minutes:
They doused an old steel file in petrol as an antiseptic, and Wal went to work on the plate with a deft touch and had that thing fitting snug in no time. Swelling reduced and Wal checked on the way out of town, and heard a suitably humbled Blake wish him a good trip. Wal's been back once to talk to him, but Blake is still defiant—but amicable—even when he was reminded that the first three minutes in life are extremely dangerous, but the last three minutes are pretty dodgy, too!
Say Hello:
When you're in Broken Hill (where Blake's retired), look him up and say hello from Les Nixon. He'll smile knowingly and even spin a few more yarns from the bush!
Back to Steve:
You would have to meet Blake to appreciate him. While I knew him he was the Mayor, Service station proprietor, motor mechanic, general store owner, the towns trucking service and heavy machinery contactor. One day he looked me in the eye and said,"You know all these new fangled electronic cars they have now? You have to have special equipment to fix each brand!"
"Well I got a way to fix the lot of them. Want to see it?" I was intrigued so willingly consented. He led me into a shed, all I could see was a truck?
"Yep" he said, "I book ‘em into the Town Pub, put the thing on me truck and take it in to Adelaide, 4 days I'm back with it fixed!"
"My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline and do not resent his rebuke, because the Lord disciples those he loves, as a father the son he delights in" (Proverbs. 3:11-12).
Sometimes a man abolishes God; fortunately, God is more tolerant!
"Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and He will come near to you" (James 4:7-8).
“I would rather fail in a cause that will some day triumph than to win a cause that will someday fail.”
Remember:
'Don't back out on the outback!'
 Opportunity down under Go to our opportunity down under page.
 Home Page Back to Outback Patrol's Home Page.
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