This is a story about politics, corruption, a Vietnam Veteran and a beach.

I know writing this, there is a chance that someone will discredit what I say, choosing to challenge the legitimacy of the evidence provided, jealousy might prevail and someone might say there was never any entitlement… I am okay with both of those things because despite opposition, the damage done to property and to the lives of those a part of this story, can not be denied, anymore than the harm can be compensated, but regardless of the noted hardship, through positive mindset and strength to survive the odds, the outcome is we rebuild and we move forward.

Note that names will be de-identified to protect parties involved in this post.

I will start at the beginning telling only my story.

Over 30 years ago, my husband and myself often attended a beach hut in the location of Toolakeah north of Townsville.

Our friends held a 99 year lease on a piece of land which included a hut along the beach and we accessed the property via a gated road we called “Rocky Road” because although it was apparently a gazetted road, it was a dirt track, lumpy, rocky and often overgrown, appropriate for off road driving. Along with our friends, our children were partially raised on the beach, spending their week-ends, fishing, crabbing, riding motorcycles and cooking marshmallows and damper around the fire at night. It was a simple upbringing, one full of opportunity to learn life skills, develop lifelong friendships, enjoy the outdoors and everything that came with it - the fresh sea air, the long plains of soft, yellow sand and the ocean, while known to be home to stingrays, seasonal stingers, sharks and crocodiles, the kids grew up to be aware of the risks and their surroundings.

During these years there was also a fenced piece of private property which housed around 7 other huts. These huts were leased to a property landlord at $600/ mth and frequented by locals. One particular hut was occupied by a permanent resident. Everyone knew of each other, but kept to themselves. No one bothered anyone. It was a safe and relatively peaceful space.

On the other side of the fenced property the land was considered crown land. A group of Vietnam Veterans joined together and installed a tin shed on the land, which they and their families would share. My father was one of those veterans. While not within the freehold land space, they also engaged with the property landlord to pay the lease. This would become another space for my family to celebrate the beach and for my children to appreciate the outdoors and for many years it was.

Enter politics.

Our friends hut lease expired and the family sold the hut to an outsider so for my family anyway, our glamping trips to the beach were singled out to the veteran’s hut. Over the years, most of the veteran’s had stopped using the hut and only two families, one being my own, maintained the up-keeping of the space and continued to enjoy the lifestyle it provided to us.

Things started happening around us though that created challenges. We knew that Asians were seeking to buy the land and develop it. Firstly, the gazetted road which provided our access to the hut was restricted. This limited our opportunities because access to our hut was only accessible via the Toolakeah Beach front, which was tidal.

A person from the local Fire Brigade had also seemingly been employed to supervise (intimidate) hut owners and prevent them from using the road. I personally encountered this experience when my father used the Rocky Road to attempt to provide my two children and myself access through the gate. The Fire Brigade person refused us entry to the road. I urged my two boys, young teenagers at the time, to stay in my vehicle and I approached this person explaining to him that the road was gazetted and that he had no right to restrict the public access to a public beach. The person persisted to restrict us access and when I proceeded toward the gate, he grabbed the chain which had been padlocked to the gate and started to wave it in front of me, threatening to assault me if I continued to challenge him. I was concerned for my safety and also upset that my two boys were witnessing his behaviour.

My father remained on the opposite side of the gate and we called the police. Now this is where we were further alerted to the fact that something bigger than ourselves was happening. The police took our statements and we were all sent on our way. Needless to say, I did not gain access to our hut this day and my father was forced to return to the hut without me. I was further interviewed at a later date. Ironically, the person in question appeared to disappear after the event, but there was no follow up with me and the gate remained to be restricted.

After this incident, my father pursued an investigation, one which would end up in the High Courts. Between our two families, we started being mindful of things that were happening around us, which included recording visual evidence and dates of incidences. The hut owners, leasing the huts on the private property were all told by the landlord that they were to abandon their huts, which they did.

Following their departure, an earthwork machinery operator and small time glazier, was employed to demolish the huts. At the time our co-hut family was staying at the hut and the images of the destruction was recorded. The photos showed the demolished huts, the burial process and the completion of the burial site. Our co-hut family shared the photos with me online. My father was there during the final two days of demolition. He was also there when the Asians who we assumed were wanting the land to develop arrived at the site.

The next stages increased our awareness that corruption was occurring. The property landlord saw that my father was on site at his hut and panicked knowing that the demolition and burying of waste was illegal. He spent no time in trying to charge my father with trespassing in order to take the heat away from himself. The charge was thrown out of court in less than one minute based on the fact that my father was not trespassing at his hut. The landlord also denied the negotiated $600/mth lease. Fortunately, my father was in possession of original receipts totally nearly $40,000.

I proceeded to send the photos to the environmental department and the property owner was ordered to dig up the waste and remove it. My father continued to protect the beach and his hut pursuing the need for council intervention. A show cause notice was issued, but a higher authority within council ignored the concerns despite evidence that was shared in the photos that not only was demolition material buried on beachfront, but waste contaminated with asbestos, was also dumped on a saltpan that drained directly into One Mile Creek and an adjoining rural lot. I can only draw on my own assumption that money was the evil underpinning the council’s decision to neglect their duty of care to the environment on this occasion. While the materials were somewhat removed and relocated, much of it still remains and poses a risk to the natural habitat in the area, particularly during the wet seasons. No further supervision regarding safety considered.

From the voice of my father through the many years he investigated the falling out of the area:

Area of concern: John Brewer Drive - known as “Blue Pines”.

Names of property owners are protected in this blog so will not be documented in this space but they are trading as “Landmark Projects Pty Ltd.” (No affiliation to Landmark Australia).

“Blue Pines has existed as an identity of its own for over 40 years. It is freehold and residue of a failed project. It is currently registered as ‘Tourist Development.’ The huts were built by a family group who acquired the land prior to ‘Landmark.’ It has no facilities as far as housing is concerned. The set up included a central diesel powered generator. Each had a separate septic system and water was from rain or a central water base. There was an operating telephone line prior to demolition. The family eventually sold and the land was resold before ‘Landmark’ acquiring it. Other people moved into the huts during the intervening period when the landlord was employed. Over the period of the leased agreement conducted by the landlord, three ABN numbers were stated on receipts and is it believed that the property owners did not see any of the windfall.”

The landlord is now deceased and for a time there was calm at the beach hut. Nothing changed regarding the locked gazetted road (despite it being illegal), but we adapted to using the beach access on a low tide when we were able. While our children were grown up, we all still enjoyed camping trips over holiday breaks and memories continued to be created. Nevertheless, we all had a sense that despite the landlord’s passing, we were on borrowed time. We could never really know if or when the Asians were going to pursue their “Tourist Development” and we had learned over the many years my father had been trying to protect the beach and our hut, that the council was not on our side.

Easter 2024

We had been planning a family break and two week-ends before heading up to the hut my husband and I took a trip to check on the condition of the beach and the property as we had experienced two cyclones since anyone had visited. We were pleased that it appeared to be in good shape and just a little overgrown. We did notice that another hut further down from us looked like it had suffered some damage as the beach side front door looked to have come away from its hinges.

Sadly, come Easter week-end, on our arrival to the hut, we were met with disaster. Our hut had been set on fire. Everything was destroyed. Vandals had broken into it in the past, that we were able to bare as we didn’t leave valuables there and mostly damage was able to be repaired without too much inconvenience. This time however, whoever did this, they made sure that our family adventures were over. Searching through the destruction, the evidence showed that two gas bottles had been set inside the hut and the hut set alight. The result was an explosion that would take out the entire inside of the hut, burning all of the furniture, blowing out the tin walls and causing the glass windows to explode over the pavers outside.

For a moment we wavered, processing what we saw before us and what that meant for all of us. There was the silence, the tears, the not knowing how to support my father as years of fighting for one simple pleasure had finally come to an end. Why? Because choice was taken away from him. Over all of the years he had fought to protect something he valued, something we all valued, he had chosen to do that. He chose to challenge the council, he chose to fight charges against him - even at a cost and he would have kept choosing to do whatever he could, if he could.

But, my blogs are about choice and luck. And in this moment, there was nothing we could do about our loss. We had been lucky to have enjoyed a little piece of paradise for as long as we had. It was unlucky that bad people had crossed our pathway, but what we needed to decide was what we were going to do moving forward. I noted that the hut down from us might still be okay. It was on crown land also and so like my father’s was not demolished. We knew the owners of it very well and it was nothing more than a phone call to confirm the use of it. We were all fully equipt with camping gear and didn’t need much to make ourselves comfortable.

So we picked ourselves up and relocated. Given the battle over the years, it was easy to mentally target the Asians or the landlord’s family as the perpetrators as they are potentially still invested in forcing us away from the beach so they can progress with their plan of development, but this hut was also damaged. Holes had been punched into the walls and furniture turned over… it was possible that vandals had committed the offence. It was filthy from dirt and sand, but it was otherwise okay for at least a short stay. In no time, we gathered together to make the space hospitable. The floor was swept out, the kitchen wiped over, the beds made up and rubbish burned.

Conversations were kept positive. While our hut could never really be the same, the concrete slab had sustained no damage and if nothing else, we could remove the rubble and use the slab as a stable for our vehicles, awnings and swags. Alternatively, we still had the beach and enjoying that was essentially the whole reason we had the hut in the first place. It was still a doable place for family week-ends, we just needed to improvise.

The reality is there are bad people in the world and there is nothing we can do to change that so there is no point in dwelling on them or allowing them the capacity to negatively impact on our lives. Our beach hut haven is lost, but we are all still here and all still together with many more memories to create.

refusing to grieve, Tracy