If we weren’t swimming in the creeks, we often headed into Centenary Pool on Gregory Terrace. This was probably around 1973, when I was 12, and then over the teenage years. You needed a bit of cash for it because there was an admission charge, the bus fare, and to buy something to eat.
We would usually have a bit of money from our golf ball fossicking at the Ashgrove Golf Club, or the search at home for empty bottles to take to the shop for cash. Bus fare into town from The Gap was thirty cents back then, and we would get off the bus at the Normanby Hotel, then walk from there, past the Brisbane Grammar School on Gregory Terrace, down that road about a mile.
The Pool Complex had a 50 metre 8 lane swimming pool, a kiddies pool, and a diving pool with 1m and 3m springboards, a 5m platform and a 10m platform. There was also a restaurant upstairs, but that held no interest for us back then. The diving pool was the highlight of the place, with a process in place to have either the 5m or the 10m open for use, and to alternate that throughout the day. There was music playing too, although I can’t remember whether there was a jukebox or something like that. I have a memory of “School’s Out” by Alice Cooper playing there.
Trying out the 1m and 3m springboards was always a bit of fun and mostly used for bomb-diving rather than any elaborate aerial manoeuvres. It was the plunge from the higher platforms that was most popular, with a crowd of people, mostly children, at the 5m platform during its opening time. On a busy day, it seemed like you were elbow to elbow with about 20 kids, all progressively moving forward and leaping off. Necessarily avoiding the preceding person below! Most were jumping, or bomb-diving, and a few brave souls managing to go diving head-first into the water.
When it came time for the 10m platform to open, there was a significant reduction in the number who would take the chance. No doubt it was an initiation, or a rite of passage, to brave the 10m platform. Standing there, watching others go forward and leap, while you clutched onto the railing, and gazed down from the lofty heights, made you pause and consider your mortality. Managing to stand on the ledge, for the first time, determined not to take the coward’s walk back down the stairs, was scary. It was a long way down, and you had left your grip on the rail. The little kid next to you, half your size, just jumped off. Splash, then swimming to the ladder. Okay, what the hell! The drop goes quickly of course, and all you need to do is keep your body and arms and legs straight, as you hit the surface. If you kept straight, you could go down very deep – the diving pool has a 16ftdepth. It was satisfying to make the jump and swim from a great depth back to the ladder. Once the first jump had been made, then it became a matter of how many jumps you could do in the day!
I guess that makes you complacent to the danger involved, and one time I hit the water at an angle, and shockingly winded myself like never before. I rose to the surface, completely unable to draw breath, and after some time clutching the ladder at the side of the pool, I was, with avery loud guttural roar, able to draw ragged breath. I was hurt and staggered from the pool in some pain. It subsided eventually. For the next few months, it was a constant presence, and found that if I tried to run, I was unable to draw breath. I never sought medical attention. I doubt I even told my parents and imagine I must have severely bruised the diaphragm from the impact of the fall.
When we were a little older, like about 15 or 16, we started using a facemask. We would slip into the side of the diving pool, away from the jumping area and avoiding the gaze of the lifeguard. Swimming down to the bottom of the pool, squeezing your nose and equalising the air pressure, was along way, and what was lying there in wait? Money, always coins and coins. We often found enough to buy some lunch, or at least a snack. This wasn’t limited to the diving pool because there was also money to find in the 50m pool too. One time I carefully followed some fellow for half the length of the pool before that two dollar note hanging out of his pocket finally floated free.
Sometimes on leaving we would go down to the Museum. It used to be on the corner of Gregory Terrace and Bowen Bridge Road, before relocating the collection to South Brisbane. The key attraction was Mephisto, the old German WWI tank, which in those days, was accessible to the public.
My brother assures me we rode our bikes from The Gap, all the way to the Centenary Pool, and I guess we did in consideration of our other adventures, but I have no recollection. Although I did certainly ride my bike to QIT and to work at RBH in later years. Coming home on the bus was the usual mode of transport, and another thirty-cent fare out to The Gap. One time unfortunately, my mate had only enough for a ten-cent ticket. This only entitled you to get to Ashgrove, and I remember him sweating and ducking the driver’s gaze as we rode into The Gap. He got off somewhere near Corinda Street, much to his relief.
When my Dermatologist finds another lesion to remove, she asks whether I spent a lot of time in the sun. I reply, yeah, when I was a kid.