Yallingup memories by Bev Fussell

Bev Fussell is the wife of the late Ray Fussell. Ray and his brother Ron Fussell (RIP) were members of the North Cottesloe Surf Club and used to train in surfboats at Yallingup beach in the late 1950s. After leaving the Surf Club, the brothers became regulars at Yallingup on weekends and holidays.

Bev Fussell – In 1988, when my husband Ray was age 55 and I was 51, we were set to take off on a long-planned world holiday. We were going to back-pack around while we were fit and able. All our plans were set. However, just a few weeks before we were due to leave, Ray was diagnosed with Stage 4 of a rare Lung Cancer. This shattered us, as he was super fit – and never had a cigarette in his life. He played golf weekly, surfed every week of the year, and went to the gym twice a week. 

I wanted to put our trip off, but Ray was determined that we must go on. He had faith that he could beat this thing. He had such ambitions like surfing Hawaii etc, but it was not to be. He deteriorated rapidly, and although we managed to tour both islands of New Zealand, and Honolulu, he was not able to surf. 

Ray was an artist, and well-known for his clowns. His idol was Red Skelton – who was famous for his painting of clowns and had a gallery in Honolulu. To Ray’s delight, albeit under great difficulty, he achieved that dream of visiting the gallery.

We then went on to Los Angeles, Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon, and on to San Francisco, where we were joined by two of our kids, daughter Kerry and Mitch and his wife and baby. Ray had seriously deteriorated and needed to be put on oxygen. We managed to get to Orlando, Florida via Tulsa. Doctor’s advice to us was get him home (via London) ASAP. We drove to Miami, and on September 22nd after much distress, boarded a British Airways flight to London. Sadly, Ray passed away on this flight. What followed was a nightmare. 

I started to write a book about this journey, but never finished it.

I’ve dug up some notes, I had written re our last visit together to Yallingup before we went away in August 1988. It describes a little of what Yallingup meant to us, and what it was like with our “Yalls clan.”

This is an excerpt from Bev’s unfinished story…

Editor – “Many of the people in these images have since passed away.”

Ray wanted to have one more surf at Yallingup before we set off on our travels. So, thirteen days before leaving for our overseas adventure, we spent the weekend at Yallingup with his brother and sister-in-law, Ron and Val, in their holiday home.  Ray’s sister Elsie also joined us.

Yallingup, situated on the coast 370 kilometers south of Perth, is renowned for its excellent surfing spots. It is a tradition for West Australian surfers to ‘go down south’ to catch big waves. Regardless of weather or wind conditions, there is always a good spot to be found around Yallingup. Driving down Caves Road to the small Yallingup beach settlement, we never failed to appreciate the breath-taking beauty of the bay before us. The view from the bend in the road at the top of the hill is spectacular. From the safe lagoon in the foreground; the glistening white sand; the turquoise-coloured water and white peaks of the rolling surf of the bay beyond; right through to Rabbit Hill, The Three Bears, and Sugar Loaf Rock, Yallingup is heaven on earth.

Yallingup was our holiday stamping ground.  From the time that Kerry, our first-born, was a baby in 1957 we spent every Christmas, Easter, and long weekend holiday there.  In the mid to late 50’s, Ron was boat captain of the North Cottesloe Surf Club and was sweep of the A-crew. Ray was also in that crew, along with his friends Ken Caporn, John Bell, Ernie De Marchi, and Ray (Splinter) Gillies. They were the pioneers of taking surf boats to Yallingup for training in challenging surf.

In the early days we stayed in the camping ground opposite the quaint general store which was alongside the picturesque and famous Caves House Hotel, itself a very popular honeymoon venue for decades before and since. Later we stayed at local surfer and builder Tony Harbison’s Hideaway Homes, and in later years at Jack Hammond’s cottages. Along with other surfing friends, we had a standard on-going booking at these places. Hideaway Homes opened out to a beautifully grassed central area dotted with coastal trees, and a communal brick barbeque area, where we would all gather regularly. As families expanded, our kids looked forward to seeing their holiday pals again. From this young set came future Australian surfing champions, Taj Burrows, Jake Paterson and Melanie Redmond to name just a few.  

There was an early morning ritual with the men and some of their sons. Most of the men were aged in their 50’s and beyond and considered the veterans of the surf. They would rise early – about 6am – and meet on Yallingup Beach for a quick dip in the lagoon. Here they would discuss the weather conditions of the day…which way the wind was blowing; the state of the waves; and where they thought the best surfing for the day would be found. Would it be “Bears” (the Three Bears)’ the Guillotine or Gallows; the Lighthouse; Other Side of the Moon:  South Point; Cowaramup Bay (Gracetown), Smiths Beach or Margaret’s main break.

Once a destination was chosen, they would rush back to the cottages, gather their wetsuits, booties, flippers, towels, hats, sunscreen or zinc cream, hand boards, body boards and boogie boards. They would then head towards whosoever’s ute, car, or in later years, 4-wheel drive was designated for the day, and all pile in. The belly boarder boys usually travelled in Doug James’ vehicle to the day’s selected surfing spot.

Off they would go, not to be seen again back at camp until they were ready for a late lunch, a few beers, a postmortem of every wave, a great deal of friendly banter, a few jokes thrown in, all followed by an afternoon snooze.  

Wives, partners, older daughters and young children usually spent the morning sunbathing, swimming, socialising at the lagoon, and some, like Lea D’Almeida, surfed. Or maybe we would drive into near-by Dunsborough for shopping; visit local galleries; markets; wineries; Yallingup caves; Banamah Wildlife Park; go fishing, or some of the area’s other local attractions. If the wind was blowing heavily on the Yallingup side of the Cape, we could drive to the calmer Dunsborough side, where we had a choice of beautiful beaches such as Meelup, Castle Rock and Eagle Bay, all popular safe swimming areas for families. Another ‘must’ before heading back to our digs in Yallingup, would be to call into the iconic Dunsborough Bakery, where customers were often three deep awaiting the delicious offerings. It was hard to pass the tempting smells of the “Dunsy” bakery’s fresh hot pies, pasties, sausage rolls and sticky jam buns. 

On warm summer evenings, surfers and their families would gravitate to sundowners at Caves House Hotel for the ritual wave-by-wave commentary of the days surfing.  Each had a different story to tell. The waves seem to get bigger with each telling, and the friendly insults about who ‘dropped in’ on who, abounded. Camaraderie with a smattering of larrikinism at its best. Younger surfers would criticise the ‘oldies’ and the vets would be critical of the youngsters – especially those ‘idiots’ on surf boards. Children played happily on the rolling manicured lawns of Caves House, while adults enjoyed a sip or three of their favourite lager or vino.

The children delighted in the evening walk up the track leading from Yallingup beach through to Caves House, known as the “Ghost Track.” The tall bamboos on each side of the track, covered with creeping morning glory plants growing wild amidst the arum lilies was a perfect setting for youthful shenanigans and practical jokes. Walking home in the eerie darkness was much more fun that walking the track in daylight. 

Afterwards those of us in the cottages often enjoyed impromptu happenings of party-like gatherings in one or another’s cottage, spilling out on to the lawns where the children played happily until their bedtime. It didn’t take long for Neil Diamond’s “Crunchy Granola Suite” and the like blasting from Doc Minty’s stereo to get us up stomping and singing merrily. 

So here we were, less than two weeks before leaving Australia for our adventures overseas. I was very apprehensive about the wisdom of Ray’s surfing desire, concerned about his lung capacity in the unpredictable ocean. But nothing could deter him, and I was assured by his surfing mates that they would look after him. 

Some of our surfing friends were at Yallingup that weekend, giving them an opportunity to say, ‘Au Revoir.” Amongst those were Kay and Harry Kimber; Pat and Alan Rich; Jenny and Brian Felton; Wim, Pat and Laurie Roach, and Ron and Val’s son Michael. Ray did manage a surf, under the quietly watchful eyes of his mates. It was exhausting for him, but he was happy. Despite my foreboding of the occasion, Ray seemed to enjoy himself. To me, it all seemed too ‘normal’. This crowd is a happy lot, whose friendly insults were considered terms of endearment. 

In 1989 Ray’s ashes were scattered in the surf out the back of Yallingup Lagoon. Several of his surfing mates gathered to pay tribute. Our sons, Mitch and Graham put the ashes containers in the back of their wet-suits and paddled out with others who formed a circle as the ashes were scattered. Family and friends watched on from the beach.

RIP Ray.

Thanks Bev and the Fussell family for sharing your Yallingup memories.

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