Many uncomplimentary things have been said about the Western Australian town of Meekatharra all I can say they were most likely true.
One fellow said the best feature about Meekatharra is, it appears in the rear view mirror often.
I worked near Meekathrra, in two open cut mines, 17km south.
When I started the mine was called Endeavor, before that it was known as Bluebird, then a drilling program discovered where the actual ore body was located and it became St Barbara Mine.
I started as an excavator operator, simply because I wanted a job, three months later I moved on to being a shift boss.
The Mine owner was a bloody difficult son of a bitch on his good days, on his bad you approached him with a whip and a chair.
Meekatharra is hot. on its good days, the rest is just bloody hot, during winter its bloody cold.
The wife of one of Australia's prim ministers commented as she stepped from the aircraft on a ministerial visit it looks like the end of the earth, she was close, it's not, but you can see it from there.
Ross the Boss, a self made mine owner brought the barely viable Blue Bird mine because it was cheap from a company called Bell Resources, Allen Bond the owner ended up in jail for various fraud related reasons despite winning the 12mtr America Cup after the rich snobby Yanks boasted ownership of it for 140 years, mainly though cheating, rule changes, and being generally rich sneaky shits.
Mr Bond simply out sneaky shitted the Yankey sneaky shits when he fitted a winged keel to his yacht, it didn't make the yacht go any faster but helped when tacking, so forcing the Yanks into a tacking race he comfortable beat them.
One Christmas Ross the boss approached me in the bar and asked me why I seemed to one of the few on site not afraid of him. I informed Ross there were only two things he could do to me. one was to hire me, which he had done, the other was to fire me which as I said, was a work in progress.
St Barbars mine for Ross was pay dirt, after owning a small struggling trucking company the drilling program he reluctantly agreed to had after four months of exploratory drilling failed to fine the actual limit of the ore body. Good drilling results was like money in the bank and investors were eager to hop on board, allowing Ross to build a new processing plant additional crushers larger trucks...then much larger trucks.
Ross loved helicopters, he owned and flew his own private Bell Jet Ranger he kept in a shed in his back yard and used the aircraft to fly himself to Perth, a ten hour drive by car.
The Deadman's Curve
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One habit he had when returning to site was to drop down low and perform what is commonly referred to as ‘worm burning’ where he would attempt to approach the mine unseen then pop up and suddenly appear over head checking all was as it should be in his large open cut mine. He had an eagle eye and any task or machine not engaged in productive mining would receive a please explain with in minutes of landing.
Late one very hot summers afternoon with the temperatures well up in the mid forties and hardly any breeze to talk of, I was on top of one of the waste dumps when I heard the unmistakable faint whap, whap, of a chopper somewhere way off in the distance, I scanned the horizon and caught a flash off the approaching aircraft flying just below the late afternoon sun at tree top level.
Here comes the hun in the sun I thought looking down on it from my elevated position.
At less than half a kilometer from my position the chopper pulled up flying noisily over the top of the dump with just a few meters to spare then continued on to fly over the large open pit to surprise everyone with his sudden unannounced appearance.
I watched as the helicopter rapidly lost speed as it banked right to begin a circle about one hundred feet above the rim of the pit. With the loss of forward speed and the super hot thin air the chopper began a gentle descent as it turned.
I heard the engine speed increase as the pilot attempted to gain more lift from the taxed rotor, the low altitude combined with the right turn now committed the pilot to completing the maneuver taking both him and his sinking machine below the rim of the pit. “SHIT”!! I thought as I raced to the edge of the dump to watch the helicopter slipping lower and lower into the deep pit.
The nose of the chopper lowered in an effort to gain the much needed speed, the pilot I knew was rapidly running out of options.
“Oh Shit he’s bought the farm this time, caught under the dead man’s curve” I thought knowing its a position a pilot finds himself in when he had nothing on the clock no ideas and no where to go.
The screaming chopper slowly continued descending deeper into the pit flying close to the wall still in a gentle right turn following the curvature of the pit wall. “Shit, shit, s h e e e it.” I thought unable to help while knowing full well his predicament.
Near the floor of the pit some 200 ft below ground level I watched and the chopper began to gain a little much needed forward speed, which was countered by the need to increase the turn rate of the aircraft in the confined space, the dust in the wake from the rotor was drawing air down the side of the pit creating a downward flow, something that was not going to help should he attempt a second lap of the pit.
Imperceptibly the forward speed crept up as the helicopter completed its first lap. More air and dust was being dragged into the pit as the helicopter continued round and round inching its way slowly upward. The pit rapidly filling with blinding choking dust, I picked up the radio and asked for all equipment to stop moving and park up where they were.
Around and around, two, three, four times it went gradually inching faster and faster the helicopter went, filling the pit with even more choking, blinding dust till it finally rose enough to clear the rim where it straightened up and head off across the flat climbing as it went. I watched as it finally turned and headed off in the direction of home.
The radio filled with whoops and calls as the workers commented on the amazing skill of the pilot and his ability to stir up both the dust and the work force.
Being an aviator I knew skill had played a very minor part in producing the successful outcome.
For the next three weeks the pilot avoided showing his face in the wet mess.
Finally seeing him in the bar one night he watched as I approached.
Before I could say a word he looked at me and said, “Your probably the only one on site who knew what was really going on, now don’t you say a bloody word, I feel bad enough as it is”, he said opening the conversation.
“Not many people make it back from behind the curve to talk about it”, I said.
“No one makes it back” He replied going quiet for a moment then added, “No one”.
I was asked to show a gentleman round who was visiting from Hong Kong, Joe Beer was in search of several forty tonne dump trucks for quarrying operations in Hong Kong.
St Barbara Mine had recently up sized the fleet and had a number of CAT 769 trucks parked up and available for sale.
During the inspection of these trucks Joe asked if I would be interested in working in Hong Kong, like any job offer you always say yes until you see the details.
Joe offered to send me an airline ticket and a week all expenses paid visit to Hong Kong.
Yeh, yeh, yeh. heard it all before I thought to myself.
About ten days later a ticket arrived and an invitation to spend a week over Christmas touring various company owned quarries in Hong Kong.
The Hong Kong trip was quickly followed by my resignation and departure from Meekatharra.
