Weather still has not permitted a proper visit. I took a few shots from the New Farm cliff tops the other night in the rain, so I will post those later.
For now, some memories of the Howard Smith Wharf.
Fixture: I grew up in Brisbane and the Story Bridge is one
of the easiest landmarks for me to remember. But how much did I ever know about
what that bridge was fixed to? What was it anchored to? My parents immigrated
to Australia and stayed at the Yungaba Centre at Kangaroo Point. We would
return to that point under the bridge once a year for a picnic, so I have early
memories of the south side of the river. Oddly I have no memory of ever looking
across and wondering what those pale blue buildings were.
I don’t have much memory of the cliffs when driving over the
Story Bridge. One always drove over the Story Bridge; it is quintessentially
Queensland in that regard, and a symbol of Brisbane’s early compact with the
car. When you drive north over the bridge, the view is of the CBD and the
lights. When travelling south the view is of Kangaroo Point. It is easy to
drive over that bridge over the course of a lifetime and never notice the
Howard Smith Wharfs.
More recently I started walking and riding over it more often
than driving. When driving, it is hard to see anything past the steel of the
bridge, but walking is a different experience. The eye is drawn to the river,
to the cliffs, to the houses on top of the cliffs and, of course, down to the wharfs.
Historical Footnote: I am aware of the history of the Howard
Smith Wharfs, but this is a recent phenomenon. Until the last few years, Brisbane
as a port is only an abstract concept and historical footnote for me. I know of
the wharfs, the sheds, the old air raid shelters, the Aboriginal rings. More recently,
there are the proposals for development, the heritage fights, as the Water
Police HQ and lately the river walk debacle.
Access-way: It is as an access-way that the Wharfs actually
became real for me. I became familiar with the wharfs when I started riding
through them on my way to New Farm. However, the wharf’s themselves were
chained away and an object of curiosity while the River Walk beckoned. Still, I
would occasionally stop and look around and look up. It was here that I
discovered the Howard Smith Wharfs... and learned their name.
The Present: Now, with the River Walk gone, my reason for visiting the wharfs is gone. The place is now an appendix, more than it ever was. A new role can save it.
