Cockatoo Island

As I am unsure of how many weekend days I have left in this beautiful city before I embark on my Melbourne adventures (after a brief holiday in Canada), I have entered a phase I like to call "Extreme touristing," where I am cramming as many activities into each day as my energy will allow. 

This morning I planned to explore Sydney Harbour's largest island, the empty-land-turned-prison-turned-girls'-school-turned-shipyard-turned-tourist-area called Cockatoo Island. Hearing about the island as a popular venue for events such as church retreats, paired with Lonely Island's review stating it is "One of the world's most spectacularly located campsites," I eagerly packed my sunscreen and hat, excited to purchase an informational audio walking tour and learn about the intriguing lives of the convicts as I explored the island. 

(Picture from www.sydney.com) 

Viewing advertisement pictures such as the one above, I imagined I would find an exotic island covered in trees, humming with the sounds of birds (perhaps Cockatoos?) and overall experiencing a beautiful, magical place, as I find most of Sydney's destinations to be. I was surprised, however, to step off the boat and onto bland, militant/ prison-esque grounds. It felt as though I was entering the real-life version of Shutter Island, the Leonardo DiCaprio movie. (Fun fact: the film was actually shot in Massachusetts.) 

I was then hit with the second setback of the day by discovering the audio tours, which detail the lives of individual prisoners, had sold out by a large group reservation. Bummer!

I took a moment to ponder taking the ferry back into the city and embarking on another activity, saving the island for another day, but I figured Google could tell me sufficient information about the island's history. As I have limited weekend time left in Sydney, I decided to trek on. 

Cockatoo Island is certainly a fascinating place. Discovered by Europeans (one of the few sites they can take credit for, as they did not poach this particular piece of land from Aboriginals), it opened as a Convict Penal Establishment in 1839 which lasted until 1869. The prison hosted criminals labeled as the worst-of-the-worst, often second- or third-time offenders. Pictures displayed inmates to appear savage and possessed, hardly recognisable as human beings. The prisoners are said to have lived in terrible conditions: the 300-capacity stone rooms were packed with 500 offenders, and the meat they were shipped was often so old it would have to be thrown out. They were supplied two meagre meals a day, and had to pay for a third portion out-of-pocket, with money earned through hard labor, if they were extra hungry. Prisoners were not taught by positive reinforcement, either. In 2009, an archeological dig on the island uncovered convict-era punishment cells under the kitchen. Woah. 

While most prisoners did not have the ability to swim, thus making escape from the island impossible, there is one success story backed by no substantial physical evidence, but is spoken of as truth. In 1856 Frederick Ward was sentenced to seven years in the Cockatoo Island prison for stealing horses. In 1863, it is said that his wife, Mary, swam to the island and delivered tools he could use to escape. Two days later, Frederick and his mate, Fred Britton, used the tools to break free and make it to the ocean. While Fred drowned, Frederick successfully swam across, where Mary is said to have been waiting for him with a fast white steed. Living under the alias "Captain Thunderbolt," Frederick wreaked havoc on New South Wales until he was shot dead by police in 1870. (I have to wonder, why would Frederick choose to partake in a risky escape the very year he was set to be released? Perhaps pride? Perhaps some elements of the story were lost in translation? Perhaps it is just that, a mythical ghost story told in children's camps while roasting s'mores, the storyteller shining a flashlight under their chin? Either way, I find the tale fascinating.) 

In 1869 the prison was shut down, and a few years later in 1871 a girls' school opened called Biloela. The school was comprised of two sub-divisions; the Biloela Public Industrial School was for girls who had been orphaned or neglected, and the Biloela Reformation School was for girls who had broken the law. There was one major flaw in the organisational system: the two schools were bunked together! Severely abused children and impressionable orphans would be living amongst petty criminals. The girls were treated like animals; they were locked in dark stone cellars for 12 hours each night, forced to lap water out of communal troughs, and we're not given silverware to eat with. Punishment was also severe. Often girls would have their beds removed, forcing them to sleep on cold, hard, dirty stone. One story detailed a teacher unlocking the girls one morning and noticed they had carved pictures in the walls. (what else were they supposed to do with 12 hours to kill?) He beat them and smashed their faces and hair against the stone to rub off the artwork. I reminisced on my childhood, remembering when my third grade teacher tore up my quiz for doodling in the margins, and thinking that punishment was cruel and unusual. A little perspective goes a long ways.

Additional havoc was wreaked on the iand when a young men's school for shipbuilding moved in across the island, and as you might imagine, all Hell broke loose.

The schools were re-located in 1888, and the island once again became a prison that accepted overflow from other jails, once again providing in-humane conditions. Finally, in 1908 the prison was permanently shut down. 

In 1913, the island was morphed into one of Australia's biggest shipyards, which was maintained until 1991, serving a stint as the Naval Dockyard of the Royal Australian Navy. The first of its two dry docks was built by convicts, as most infrastructure on the island was. The shipbuilding portion of its history is what caused the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organisation, UNESCO, to list Cockatoo Island as a World Heritage Site, meaning a place with cultural/ physical significance. 

Now, Cockatoo Island is a thriving tourist location. It hosts frequent venues, and is littered with tents for people to enjoy a few days camping. While I found walking through the island eery, kids seem to love the vast openness, allowing them to scooter, bike, and run free while their parents enjoy a glass of wine overlooking the ocean. There is even a preserved tennis court that was made for the Governor of the prison that people are allowed to use, boasting some of the best views in Sydney. 

 

A historical day ended with an afternoon in the Sydney Museum learning about the faces behind the names of the city's various streets and buildings, a thankful prayer that I was born in the 20th century, and a good night's sleep on my queen-size, cozy bed.