This beautiful, once strategic, island group is struggling to find its place.
At the end of the nineteenth century Britain laid the first telegraph cable to Australia. The technology was there (just), the money was there (and it must have cost many millions in today's money) - all it needed was the right management (easy to find in those empire-building days) and a few relay stations in the right places. Half the world's map was pink in those days (why pink?), so the selection of most places was a doddle. Getting the cable across the Indian Ocean was another matter, but someone spotted a little speck on a chart, and soon the last relay station before the Cable's landfall in Perth was up and running. It is difficult to assess whether the Clunies-Ross family, the self-proclaimed dynastic kings of Cocos who had been granted ownership of these islands in perpetuity by Queen Victoria herself in 1886, were happy about this arrangement. No doubt they were paid well (not that they needed to be), but the Relay Station's staff were the first official presence on the island and the seeds may well have been sown for the Clunies-Ross eventual deprivation of their kingdom.
The Relay Station survived until 1969, by which time more modern systems had made it obsolete. Direction island is now uninhabited. Several of the buildings were removed to West Island, and most of the rest of the infrastructure was bulldozed into the sea. You can find the overgrown ruins of one of the huts in the centre of the island, but now it is home to the visiting yachties, who barbecue and swim in the clear waters amongst the corals, sharks and other reef fish. The inhabited part of Cocos is a peculiar paradox. The four hundred and fifty Cocos Malys live a strick Muslim life on Home Island, where the Clunies-Ross family built and frequently altered what probably was a comfortable home in their island paradise, and which may have been a handsome one at some point. Sixty percent of this population are unemployed, the rest work for the government (known as the Shire) or for the local cooperative, which essentially owns all of the businesses apart from one or two "hotels" which provide accommodation for the tourists. The Home Islanders live in practical prefabricated houses, with Mosques and a Museum, internet access, telephones, television and all the other modern trappings. Everyone has a mobile phone, and they run around the island on quad bikes. The traverser in the dilapidated boat yard does not work any more, but they can still slip a boat and work on it if and when the occasion arises. The Clunies-Ross family made a lot of money out of Copra, but they did not allow the plantations to intrude on their living space. Home Island still contains many magnificent trees, a beautiful but neglected cricket ground and the remains of their twelve acres of walled garden. The garden itself is barely tended, the massive red-brick walls that surrounded and protected it are leaning precariously and the house is now a self-made disgrace. Originally built in red brick "Scottish Baronial style", a later alteration included the brilliant idea of cladding the two-storey house in white glazed bricks, made by Gilmour & Co of Kilmarnock. Gilmour & Co must have rubbed their hands in glee at this order, although they may have had difficulty programming it as they were undoubtedly churning out millions of similar bricks for the many public lavatories being built in Britain at about the same time. But the Clunies-Rosses must have liked them, as they even used these bricks for one or two of the family graves in the mixed denominational cemetry at the northern end of the island.
Everywhere else on Home Islands there are signs of the generous subsidies poured in by the Australian Government. No copra is produced any more because the Australian-level wages makes it completely uneconomic. There are a couple of failing banana plantations, but no other agriculture. Large sign-boards indicate the distribution of other largesse. There are several unused but modern concrete ramps running into the lagoon, and several stunningly beautiful, neglected sites for the mainly non-existant tourists. These are all marked with large sign-boards naming the sponsors and the dates of construction. There are very few cars but many quad-bikes. The Cocos Police, 2-man division of the Australian Federal Police, are targetting non-registration of vehicles at the moment (and drink-drivers on West Island). And these vehicles are guided around the few paved roads in the town and the other sandy tracks of the island by modern big-city level signs. Speed limits, stop signs, street names and directional arrows are everywhere, even in the remote jungly corners of the island. Towers for four wind turbines were installed in 2004 - the constant trade winds make it an ideal location for them. Two of these have not turned whilst we have been here, the installation of the other two seems never to have been completed. So they burn diesel in the very modern power station instead of taking advantage of the free energy. And everywhere else there are signs of projects that started with enthusiasm and the injections of lots of cash, but which then ran out of energy a year or so later.
West Island, where the self proclaimed Westies live is a contrast. The population of a hundred or so are mainly ex-patriate government employees, although there are one or two private enterprises and the only living relict of the Clunies-Ross family. They live around the very long runway, originally constructed during World War II, during which it was a busy air-base. The control tower and one of the runways have gone, two flights a week come in from Perth and the Royal Australian Air Force use the runway for training sorties every so often. A hundred percent of the Westies have work. They are the professionals who make the island work - the administrators, teachers, doctors, a couple of RAAF families, communications and the airport staff and so on. Their government salaries are supplemented by generous overseas allowances, and Home Islanders commute daily to work under their supervision.
Reading between the lines (and it's made pretty clear) one of the reasons that Australia bought the Cocos from the Clunies-Ross family was because of the feudal way they ran the place. Their workers living in Clunies-Ross properties and were paid in tokens, redeemable at the family-owned stores. The Cocos lost its own Administrator several years ago, and in theory, they now share an Administrator with Christmas Island. But there has been an inter-regnum of several months. Although a part of Australia since 1984, the Islanders seem to be disenfranchised (not that they were ever franchised) - the Administrator reports to Perth, and policy is made by Canberra, but they have no member of parliament and the Shire Council appears to be appointed not elected. The laws are those of the Northern Terriitories, but the children go to school in Perth after Year 12.. Quite what Australia's' future objectives are for the Cocos is very unclear. Our charming guide (the senior civil servant's wife) was vague, except that the development of Tourism is a priority. There was a hint of possible strategic developments, presumably based on the airfield. They developed an animal quarantine centre here not twenty years ago, and that too is now closed or "mothballed", though it has been used a couple of times (Australia now confines her refugees in Christmas Island).
For Cleone's crew, this was another peaceful but busy stop-over in an unforgetable place. The anchorage was just off the now deserted Direction Island. A path from the little jetty led to a shelter with a large brick-built barbecue pit. World Cruising arranged for a ferry to take us to and from West Island on the day after arrival, so we were able to collect our pre-ordered groceries and go on a tour of the island. Everything had been arranged for our convenience - all our orders were boxed and named. We barbecued every night except one, and partied with our friends from the other Rally boats. We swam and snorkelled and explored the islands. Alex and the skipper spent much of Saturday fetching water from Home Island (there is none on Direction), the three round trips taking an hour and a half each. Norfy went off to West Island, where he stayed for a night and to enjoy the football. World Cruising arranged a barbecue on Direction Island, and an enforced delay to the start allowed us (thanks to Robert from Into the Blue) to enjoy a memorable day on Sunday at the annual food and arts festival. It's quite restful being back at sea!
All well with us, and best wishes to everyone.
James, Chris and Alex
Yacht Cleone
Direction Island
Cocos