Errol White Featured
"Flynn has gone a bushwalkin' and we don't know where he are".
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Errol White, the second son of Gordon and Hazel White, was never short of looking for excitement, tackling hard work and displaying dedication in any task he took on. These traits followed him throughout his full, but short life when struck down by bowel cancer at the age of 65 in 2008. This story is a dedication to 'Flynn' for his wonderful recordings of nature and heritage, and love for his family and friends who returned that love and respect for him.
Errol left school at the age of 17 and worked on a dairy farm within the Khancoona valley 15 miles away from home. Soon he was drawn to the big smoke in Melbourne, where he worked in a aluminum factory in Abbotsford, then settled in with the railways at Richmond. His restlessness then moved him on to Bell Bay in Tasmania in the steel industry and soon left to work as a chain-man on the Snowy Mountains Scheme. Adventure beckoned again and he moved across the Tasman, working in a shirt factory. Here in New Zealand, he met Helen Brocklehurst, the daughter of his landlord. In 1966 they married, had their first son and soon thereafter moved back to Australia where a job with the SEC as an adult trainee linesman was secured in Mt Beauty, his home town. Errol was a very restless and mischievous boy growing up. He acknowledged later in life that he was always in trouble, giving teachers and his parents continual stress. Outside of authority was his love of the bush, snakes, spiders, lizards, fishing and hunting and all this was a feature of his youth. He carried this love into his adult life and these experiences matured him to become a dedicated family man with many talents and the urge to keep reading and learning about the wonders of life and the bush. Errol and Helen had two more boys and had settled into family life, buying Errol's grandparents original home in Simmonds Creek Road, Tawonga South.
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Errol's most treasured past time was that of photography. Throughout his later life and on many of his bush walking treks, he amassed a wonderful collection of unseen landscapes, high plains huts and wildflowers. Links to these photos will soon be added and Flynn will then take you to some of these unique places.
Maps and Tales
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Significant Stories
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EULOGY OF ERROL ‘FLYNN’ WHITE
(10 November 1942 - 18 March 2008)
Written by and read, on behalf of the family, by Ian White, elder brother of Errol at his funeral, on Wednesday, 26 March, 2008, at the Uniting Church, Maddison St, Mt Beauty.
"Somehow, I have a feeling that I will not be the most popular person here today, when I tell you that I used to beat Flynn up as a kid. It didn’t do him any good though as he still used to cheek me back. He was a fair dinkum little bugger in his early years but I guess he did improve with time. So I wish now, to tell of the life and times of my dear younger brother, Flynn, or as he was named at birth, Errol Bernard White, born at Yackandandah on 10 November 1942.
(10 November 1942 - 18 March 2008)
Written by and read, on behalf of the family, by Ian White, elder brother of Errol at his funeral, on Wednesday, 26 March, 2008, at the Uniting Church, Maddison St, Mt Beauty.
"Somehow, I have a feeling that I will not be the most popular person here today, when I tell you that I used to beat Flynn up as a kid. It didn’t do him any good though as he still used to cheek me back. He was a fair dinkum little bugger in his early years but I guess he did improve with time. So I wish now, to tell of the life and times of my dear younger brother, Flynn, or as he was named at birth, Errol Bernard White, born at Yackandandah on 10 November 1942.
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Being as the second son to Hazel and Gordon, Flynn spent his first seven years in the spot now called “the Arboretum” once the home of about 12 families in a lovely little worker’s village named “Lower Bogong” up the road from “Crankie Charlie”, past “Lyrebird Creek”, near “Clover Flat”, and where the sun peeped in over the Bogong mountains during winter at about 10.30 and disappeared by about 3.30. It is here that Flynn adapted to the mountain bushland and was never to be ever, far away from it, on his seventh birthday, Flynn, along with his mum, dad, myself and Kim (who had just been born at “Yack” in May 1948), made the move to what appeared to him as a metropolis being “Mt Beauty”. The new home, just within a stone’s throw of this church, is where his fascination with nature took off. Beetles, frogs, tortoises, lizards, spiders and snakes were his collectables, much to the wonderment of our mum, who took the lid off one bottle, once, and never again, after realizing the little tiger snakes were still alive.
His schooling was the countryside, and at the age of 17, he took on a job as a farmhand down the valley near Khancoona, for a year or two, and then gravitated to Melbourne where he worked as a station attendant at Richmond railway station. The need to be back in the bush, found him as “surveyor’s assistant” at the headwaters of the Murray River, working on the Snowy Mountains Scheme, where I joined him for a couple of months, and together we fished and camped and even experienced the frustrations of fighting a bush fire during that summer. Flynn then went on to an aluminum smelter works at Bell Bay in Tasmania, and then across to New Zealand, where he took up board and lodgings with a landlord, whose pretty little daughter, Helen made sure his wandering ways were nicely curtailed.
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Married there in New Zealand, the first of three boys, Dean, soon arrived, and the other two, Vaughan and Aaron, were born in Tawonga South. This is where he and Helen settled into a modest little house that was built by his grandparents, up “Petticoat Lane“, with a magnificent view, of what was to become his dream mountain, “Bogong“.
Flynn was now back in the hills where he was brought up, and began working for the State Electricity Commission as a “Linesman“, where he enjoyed the outdoor lifestyle, and trained very hard over many years for advancement and the development of his electrical skills. His fondest memories of these times were of his dedication to his electrical work, and along with his special band of workmates, attended to all electrical faults (callouts) at any time of the day or night, and in any weather, all throughout the Kiewa Valley and the Northeastern District.
Flynn was now back in the hills where he was brought up, and began working for the State Electricity Commission as a “Linesman“, where he enjoyed the outdoor lifestyle, and trained very hard over many years for advancement and the development of his electrical skills. His fondest memories of these times were of his dedication to his electrical work, and along with his special band of workmates, attended to all electrical faults (callouts) at any time of the day or night, and in any weather, all throughout the Kiewa Valley and the Northeastern District.
It was in 2002 that whilst on one of his many walking trecks, in the wilderness of Tasmania with a merry band of stalwarts who became so very dear to him on numerous happy bushwalking occasions, he returned home to be made aware of the unkindest diagnosis a person can receive. Called in for a report by his doctor, his life expectancy was at worst months, and at best a few years. From that moment he took up the challenge to survive. By surviving the six years as he did (and I can tell you, that in this time, he underwent heartbreaking moments and tortuous discomfort, and clearly made some very courageous decisions against some very sad odds for major surgical undertakings.
During the six years, he quietly and particularly, set about adventuring into places that few people go, nor are even aware of, camping and trecking for days on end. To assist his ventures, he secured camping mobility in the form of “Roxanne” the “Hi-Ace” campervan. This van became part of his soul. Along with Flynn, it has now breathed the dust of the Nullabor Plain through to Perth, stood alongside Uluru looking up at him coming down ‘the Rock’, parked nervously beside Alligator River through Kakadu, has waited patiently for him to re-appear from the underground mines of Mt Isa, choked at coal dust in Central Queensland, waited anxiously for his helicopter to return from a tour of the Whitsundays. I have to tell you that this helicopter flight was his first. He gallantly resisted my efforts to entice him up in one of his biggest fears. He was so scared of a rotor cutout, and plummeting headlong into shark infested waters. In final desperation I blurted out “well, with what you’ve been through lately, a fiery death can’t be all that worse. He agreed and I am so pleased to say he thought that the helicopter ride was one of his big thrills in life. So much so, he willingly accepted another helicopter buzz along the Katherine Gorges with Jude and I not long after. I suspect he was seeing and enjoying his wildernesses from a different perspective. Next I learn he has gone up in a seaplane around the southern wildernesses of Tasmania, and lately, “Roxanne” was seen patiently biding her time waiting for Flynn to make the many kayaking discoveries down mountain gorges and through coastal backwaters along the eastern coastal fringe.
Throughout these past few difficult years, Flynn told me of the dedication and support of Helen (who he affectionately called “Polly”) labeling her effort “Trojan”. To me that meant Helen had a mindset for ensuring Flynn received the best care, whatever and whenever needed. The devotion and care Helen gave to ensure Flynn came through his more difficult moments, I feel sure, gave Flynn the best chance to extend his time with us.
Each of his three boys spent quality time with their dad. Dean and Flynn often went out fossicking with a metal detector for old coins, panning for gold around the mountain streams and digging for semi-precious stones, each thrilled by the prospect of an exciting discovery. Vaughan enjoyed the many outings of camping and bushwalking and Aaron learned to fish expertly from a dad who grew up with a love of fishing.
During the six years, he quietly and particularly, set about adventuring into places that few people go, nor are even aware of, camping and trecking for days on end. To assist his ventures, he secured camping mobility in the form of “Roxanne” the “Hi-Ace” campervan. This van became part of his soul. Along with Flynn, it has now breathed the dust of the Nullabor Plain through to Perth, stood alongside Uluru looking up at him coming down ‘the Rock’, parked nervously beside Alligator River through Kakadu, has waited patiently for him to re-appear from the underground mines of Mt Isa, choked at coal dust in Central Queensland, waited anxiously for his helicopter to return from a tour of the Whitsundays. I have to tell you that this helicopter flight was his first. He gallantly resisted my efforts to entice him up in one of his biggest fears. He was so scared of a rotor cutout, and plummeting headlong into shark infested waters. In final desperation I blurted out “well, with what you’ve been through lately, a fiery death can’t be all that worse. He agreed and I am so pleased to say he thought that the helicopter ride was one of his big thrills in life. So much so, he willingly accepted another helicopter buzz along the Katherine Gorges with Jude and I not long after. I suspect he was seeing and enjoying his wildernesses from a different perspective. Next I learn he has gone up in a seaplane around the southern wildernesses of Tasmania, and lately, “Roxanne” was seen patiently biding her time waiting for Flynn to make the many kayaking discoveries down mountain gorges and through coastal backwaters along the eastern coastal fringe.
Throughout these past few difficult years, Flynn told me of the dedication and support of Helen (who he affectionately called “Polly”) labeling her effort “Trojan”. To me that meant Helen had a mindset for ensuring Flynn received the best care, whatever and whenever needed. The devotion and care Helen gave to ensure Flynn came through his more difficult moments, I feel sure, gave Flynn the best chance to extend his time with us.
Each of his three boys spent quality time with their dad. Dean and Flynn often went out fossicking with a metal detector for old coins, panning for gold around the mountain streams and digging for semi-precious stones, each thrilled by the prospect of an exciting discovery. Vaughan enjoyed the many outings of camping and bushwalking and Aaron learned to fish expertly from a dad who grew up with a love of fishing.
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Their grandchildren, Christine, of Dean and Oxana, and Mitchell and Cameron, of Vaughan and Susanne, were surely the source of his greatest moments of joy. This most certainly helped extend his time with us. His niece, Lisa, in fondly perpetuating the name “Errol“ in their son, and nephews Brad with daughters, Scarlet and Shelbie, nieces Adria and Nina with daughter Gemma, have collectively added to the reason why Flynn could always be noticed with a wistful boyish contentedness beaming across his face beneath that much traveled companion, his Aussie gum nut hat.
Flynn is sadly missed but his great Australian outlook, his dry and boyish humour, his bush wisdom and his love and joyous outlook on life will stay with us all. That is to all those who have had the pleasure of his company." The ashes of Flynn, will be settling peacefully within the peaks of “Mt Bogong”. |
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