Coober Pedy: Pearls of the Eromanga Sea

By MIKE GILLAMPart 1 of 2 Sitting in a wheelchair, his left leg in plaster, I met 31 year old miner Jay Fitzgerald at the Kangaroo rescue service in Coober Pedy’s main-street. At 9 pm on June 29, 2024 Jay was black lighting on the opal field, when he fell down an old shaft. Miraculously Jay survived and is expected to rise from his chair in due course. The shattered left leg, caught up on the way down, probably helped to break his fall. A shattered right shoulder and broken ribs took much of the final impact although his back was also broken in two places at L2 & L4, fortuitously not severing the spinal cord. One of Jay’s companions remained at the pit, the other drove to town for help. The injured man was very lucky not to bleed out while emergency services tried to find and rescue him, a five hour ordeal. Apparently he now holds the Coober Pedy distance record for surviving a mine shaft fall at 96 feet (29.26 metres). According to a local rescue service responder Jay found one of the deepest shafts, located on a hill, to fall down. Popular reality television series: Outback Opal Hunters is credited with a rising interest in opal mining and with it, escalation in the odds of misadventure. Disconcerting potentials for vanishing into the void are often quoted by locals, made tongue in cheek but not without some malice.

Underground Pottery

Such commentary channels Coober Pedy’s chequered history of disappearances and misadventure. Stories abound of recklessness; a newspaper office dynamited by some-one with a grievance and a screen message at the Drive-In Theatre asks patrons not to bring explosives to the venue. Mining partners can be firm friends in poverty and bitter rivals once "colour" starts to show. I’ve heard many variations of opal fever and partnership disputes. Opals are incredibly hard to find, but it’s much more difficult to find an honest partner, they say. Typically the aggrieved mining partner discovers his "friend" has been clandestinely working night shift at their promising opal seam. Confronted with this duplicity, the partner flippantly replies “better I do it to you than some-one else”. Without solid proof and any hope of justice, sentencing is passed in a flurry of fists. While Coober Pedy has a reputation centred on macho stereotypes, the town’s women, less overt, are formidable investors in community and social capital. Their education and passion was on full display at a public meeting I attended and wisely, the Government appointed bureaucrats fell silent, in the face of their advocacy on matters of community planning and history. Gay feminist, Faye Naylor, worked first as a cook, before opening the Windlass Café, a popular destination for locals and tourists. She commenced building an underground home in 1962 and established a hard working all female enclave in the process. Faye understood the importance of social cohesion and her home, replete with swimming pool, became a popular venue for parties and events. Following the destruction of the Windlass café by a tornado, Faye and partner Ettie Hall moved underground and created the Opal Cave. The 1980 booklet “Coober Pedy 65 Years Young”, elaborates:"For the next eight years … the Opal Cave boomed and today it is Coober Pedy’s tourist mecca with over 760 coaches each year.” The publication's wonderfully atmospheric front cover was taken by photographer Peter Caust. The sheer volume of dust plumes hanging in the sky above the "working" opal field reminds us of major changes in the mining fortunes of the town where the air is now so good it’s surely a positive attraction for refugees seeking respite from city pollution. Faye Naylor's pivotal role within the local community is highlighted in a 1975 Australian Women’s Weekly story: “At one Christmas party last year there were 65 nationalities represented.” Recently, Aboriginal involvement in opal mining has attracted conjecture and speculation from the ABC. “The very, very untold history of Coober Pedy’s Aboriginal opal miners” (August 2024). Aboriginal familiarity with these exquisite gemstones, aeons before European colonisation, is beyond doubt but ochre, needed for painting and ceremony was much more valuable to Australia’s First Peoples. Arrernte and Luritja people, engaged in ochre mining and trading at an important cultural site in the southern Northern Territory, attracted the attention of the Australasian United Paint Company. In1935 the Rumbalara Ochre Mine also known as Yellow King and Yellow Queen mines was established with demand for camouflage paint peaking during the war years of 1943-44 with “1345 and 1439 tons” extracted. Heritage Assessment Report by Kay Bailey (1996). Worker death and injuries at the ochre mines motivated legal changes “made in 1948 prohibiting the employment of Aboriginal people underground” (ibid) with ramifications for the opal industry. The Sydney Morning Herald dated 16 March 1935 records: "Lubra Killed In Ochre Mine … Diana was killed while mining in a tunnel …This is the third accident to blacks employed underground in this district.” I’ve read several creation stories featuring opal. My favourite from Andamooka is described by Michael Harding in his 2016 PhD thesis: “A mythical ancestor came to Earth on a great rainbow to instruct Aboriginal people on law and practices, before returning to the sky …where the rainbow had rested was a large area of rocks and pebbles of all colours. “Plenty of Opal Back Then: Opal Pulkah: A History of Aboriginal Engagement In the Northern South Australian Opal Industry c.1940-1980” (p.147). “Aboriginal cultural life of extensive duration in and around the Coober Pedy region was still evident in the 1970s with annual ceremonies relating to men’s initiations generally taking place between October and March” (p.138).

Kestrel

“Coober Pedy lies almost directly midway between Port Augusta and Alice Springs, a route along which the trading of … ceremonial objects was … well established.” (p.145-6 ibid.) Coober Pedy 65 Years Young provides further insights: Tom Ryan came to Coober Pedy in July 1930. “Upon arrival … camped about ¾ of a mile north of the Post Office. A few weeks later … joined by about 400 aboriginals who camped only 400 yards away and were good neighbours. Following a death in the camp, they moved to another spot … and gradually drifted away. There were no permanent aboriginals in Coober Pedy, only occasional visitors.” (p.12). Aboriginal involvement in pastoralism was key from the earliest times. At nearby Strangeways Springs “between 1864 and 1866 was stocked with 7,300 sheep” and dingoes were a constant threat. A place of mound springs and high cultural significance it seems certain that Aboriginal people were employed in the labour intensive roles of shepherding and stock work. Employment enabled traditional people to maintain connections with sacred sites and provide income support for their families. Aboriginal involvement in commercial opal mining came much later. Compared with pastoralism the opal industry was typically more sedentary however it did offer greater autonomy. Intuitively I expect that women and children finding opal "floaters" and picking through potch rubble were among the earliest indigenous opal workers but enterprising individuals soon turned their hand to everything from mining, operating bulldozers, opal buying, cutting and polishing. Barney and Dorothy Lennon came to Coober Pedy to search for opal around 1938. “When we arrived there was only twelve white people and about 200 Aborigines.” (p.15, ibid)

Michael Harding’s thesis, explores his subject in great detail: “Aboriginal people began moving into the opal industry by the 1940s and their engagement remained significant until the mid to late 1970s” (p.187). Quartz carving of Saint James In March 1957 Aboriginal Protection Board Deputy Chair commented on the “gamble and excitement of searching for opal. (p.165). Women were highly regarded for their noodling abilities ... in an industry that was very family-friendly. (p.188). People were attracted from … more distant locations as the industry began to expand. (p.188). One major point of difference … Aboriginal miners had more workplace autonomy than pastoral workers … their own bosses.” (p.189). As fuel prices increased in the 1970s, underground miners began installing noodling machines and this displaced fossickers. While history records a significant opal fossicking uptake from the 1940s by Aboriginal people I suspect many were reluctant to become fully fledged underground miners, in part because they were concerned about inadvertently causing damage to sacred sites. The risks of punishment were very real and the earth shattering use of explosives by miners must have been disconcerting. Conversely, noodling / fossicking offered flexibility and seasonal mobility. From the 1940s eagle eyed Aboriginal women were among the most dedicated and proficient noodlers working on the opal fields. In 1945 Aboriginal woman Tottie Kendall’s find of rich surface opal triggered a rush to the 8 Mile field and a resulting boom. Before long Aboriginal fossickers from the APY Lands came to Coober Pedy to sell opal they’d sourced from Mintabie, 270 km to the north. Finally in the 1970s the Mintabie boom gathered momentum and according to Wikipedia: “During the 1970s and 1980s, it had a population of over 500 people. Located within the APY Lands, the South Australian Government leased the opal field until 2018 when the residential community was shut down at the behest of traditional owners. Confident in the strength of their pick arm, many of the miners I’ve known are fiercely independent and deeply suspicious of bureaucrats and politicians. Opal mining in the early days involved a wheelbarrow, pick, shovel, windlass, carbide lamp and hand drill for placing dynamite charges. Over time mining methods have changed and costs continue to escalate. From dozers, blowers and tunnelling machines to blasting, drilling, tunnelling, noodling or simply using a pick and black light there are many options for those feeling lucky. I fear it’s nearing the end of an era. Old timers, men and women in their seventies and eighties are a dwindling cohort that occupy an expanding place in my heart. One octogenarian laughs at my concern and confirms that he takes no medication and never goes to the doctor. Never? Surely not! I prevail on another to please take the mobile phone when she goes walking in the bush alone. For reasons unclear to me, I find this reckless abandon troubling yet admirable. With tidal ebb and flow, the fortunes of Coober Pedy have oscillated over time. An ageing population of miners is a fact of life and yet renewal is occurring. The incoming tide is bringing a younger generation of miners attracted by the popular TV series “opal hunters” and an improving opal price. At the time of writing the near worthless potch has sky-rocketed in value and this helps to offset rises in operating costs. Potch is the base stone that must be endlessly worked in the search for elusive opal colour. Innovative designers and technicians, led by Indian buyers are now polishing potch with its infinite variety of swirling white, yellow, grey, and black tones and creating affordable jewellery that glows on darker skin. It’s also rumoured that larger pieces of quality potch are a viable alternative for ivory carvers who must abandon the traditions of a murderous and illegal market. Great news for elephants, rhinos, and the mining towns of Coober Pedy and Andamooka if it’s true! The murmur of wind passing over the dugout’s light wells and air shafts, the ricochet and pitter patter of rain striking the courtyard pavement, the hum of vibrating windows, now the sharp ping of rain on the iron air shafts, and in the far distance, the rush and roar of storm cells sweeping across the landscape. There’s a faint metallic tapping and I resolve it’s a wisp of moving twig in a zebra finch nest at the top of the air shaft in my bedroom. All these sounds, separated and multi-layered, create the muted symphony of a Coober Pedy storm cell tamed by metres of insulating rock. Soulful and comforting, as hard as I try to stay awake, immersed in this grand soundscape, I am lulled to sleep earlier than usual. I’m awakened by the endearing sounds of baby zebra finches expecting to be fed, a gentle way to confront the challenges of a new day. What the hell, I’m still in bed listening to baby finches! My phone provides shocking confirmation that it’s a few minutes to eight. I’ve learned that you really must set the alarm when sleeping underground.

Opal inlay plate by Jim Theodorou of the Big Miner

Beneath the petrified tides of the Eromanga Sea, these are the deepest and most restful sleeps of my life. The zebra finch chatter sparks early childhood memories of my paternal grandfather. Percy would have loved Coober Pedy and been in agreeable company with the returned ANZACs who settled here. WW1 veterans, pioneers of trench warfare, are credited with building early Coober Pedy dugouts to escape the heat. As a small child I recall one-sided conversations with my grandfather who sat inside a bird aviary surrounded by zebra finches, lost in a book and shutting out everyone. Hanging from the aviary ceiling, reconstructed coconut shells with an entry hole, were his nesting box innovation that soon caused a population explosion of finches. Evacuated from that WW1 hell on earth, the Somme, they removed most but not all the shrapnel from Percy’s legs. He was the lucky one, his friends on either side were blasted to oblivion by the artillery shell. The faces of gruff miners crumple, my questions about their past in war ravaged Europe unanswered. Catastrophe propelled them here and I’m reminded of my fortunate life. I never heard my grandfather speak a single word but the finches speak for him and all the war impacted survivors that find a measure of peace in such places. “The stars blazed in thousands, more and more of them as the darkness grew intense, till the Milky Way was like a bracelet of diamonds a million miles long … If we could see the stars only once in a hundred years from one particular spot, people would come crowding from all over the world to see the miracle … We never appreciate what we’ve got.” From Thiele’s “The Fire in the Stone”. (p.61) My friend Slavco-Steve, 84, was born in Montenegro. We sit on the verandah overlooking a stunning view, a night sky that merges with the twinkling lights of distant neighbours. Our companion, Les Hoad, aged 83, worked as water supply manager for more than a decade and was elected the last Mayor of Coober Pedy. I ask Les why he sought election in 2018 when the record of the previous Town Council looked so dire, a scathing report from the State Ombudsman making findings of financial maladministration? “I thought I could help” he replied gruffly. Pausing for a moment, Les continued: “I’ve lived here 33 years, I have two children who still live here, five grandchildren and four great grandchildren, what else could I do?” Unbeknown to Coober Pedy voters, the state Government of South Australia had an alternative plan. The election process played out and the incoming Town Council was suspended after nine weeks. Thereafter the first Administrator was appointed in a process that has expanded with an additional two part time "Administrators" and six years later, no end in sight.

Stone masonry

Peter Rowe’s wonderful pottery kiln was last fired in 2008 but I sense the visual arts and film industries of Coober Pedy are sleeping giants that will rise in the future. Perhaps the Opal festival will broaden its scope in time to include an equal billing for the fossils of the Eromanga Sea. The town might declare Coober Pedy a dark sky destination, a place of solace for weary millions taking a break from their shuttered lives? Of course those looking north from the ivory towers of Adelaide may have different ideas. As a resident of Alice Springs I do understand the disconnect, injustice and inefficiency of life in remote regions controlled by distant overlords. If Coober Pedy is going to thrive in the future, city decentralisation in favour of regional autonomy is critical. Historically the Federal and South Australian Governments have viewed the remote north as a suitable place for a missile and atomic testing range, a toxic waste dump perhaps, a region where corporate miners are more than celebrated and small miners too often treated with disdain. NOTE: In the text above we changed "the incoming Town Council was summarily sacked" to "the incoming Town Council was suspended". We regret the error. PHOTO AT TOP: Big Miner. All text and images © MIKE GILLAM