A yarn with Barry and Bill

By SUSAN BUCKLAND

People say Jervis Bay is the jewel of the southern New South Wales coast and that you should see some of it with Barry Moore.

So you telephone Barry to book into one of his Bush Tucker tours. He explains he has to go to a funeral but if you come over straight away he will talk over a cup of coffee about Jervis Bay, from his aboriginal perspective.

Address? 14 Bottom St, Wreck Bay. Look out for the red station wagon in the drive.

The sun is dancing over the clear, blue waters of Jervis Bay when I set off to its southern flank and Barry's place. Soon there is a sign to Booderee National Park, the name chosen by the Wreck Bay Aboriginal community for what used to be called Jervis Bay National Park. Booderee means "bay of plenty" or "plenty of fish".

By now the bush is thick and parted only by the road. But I find Bottom St and the red station wagon, and Barry emerges with a friend and they introduce themselves. Barry and Bill.

Bill is a New Zealander, "one of two whiteys around here", and says "everything is beaut about Jervis Bay" and he is "gonna die here, mate".

Barry says New Zealand is a beautiful place, too. He lived in Auckland for a while. But, yeah, this is truly home - the place where he has been a National Park ranger and where he takes people on bush walks and fishing and camping trips.

He tells them about Aboriginal folklore and history around the fire.

Bill is damned if he knows how Barry can keep so much information in his head but his friend, a member of the Wadi Wadi tribe, is highly regarded as a tour guide by university teachers and he gets letters from people around the world who have been on his tours. He shows them the bay through Aboriginal eyes.

Barry, a great-grandfather despite his youthful looks and strong frame, explains that Aboriginal children used to learn nature's lessons before they could talk.

In the bay, when summer approaches, schools of bream move along the shallows, the whiting swim north and the wattle bursts into bloom. You can tell if you are in for a drought. The frogs and yabbies bury themselves in preparation for lean times.

When winter finally breaks through, the kangaroos' coats grow thick, and mullet and blackfish travel out to sea, stirred up by the Guragama (the west wind). These are the rhythms of nature, says Barry.

On his bush trips you will try your hand at sharpening a stone axe, gather shellfish on the beach and make damper bread on the camp fire.

Barry will tell you about his people's feeling for the land, about bush medicine and stories of the Dreaming. You can see native animals in the bush, some by spotlight. Some you will never have heard of.

Barry has a dog called Zeus, a "best friend", but Zeus stays at home and sleeps under an old duvet when his master goes into the bush.

Bill's dog Sneaky goes most places with Bill. At 72, the crusty Kiwi can't figure out how people get by without mates like Sneaky.

But now it is time for Barry and his wife and Bill go to the funeral.

Bill thinks the people of Wreck Bay have everything. Nevertheless, his parting suggestion is that I look up his brother-in-law Johnny Cann, a live snake performer who lives in La Perouse, near where Captain Cook once landed.

Barry's farewell recommendation is Laddie and Jeff's Aboriginal Arts and Crafts shop north of Jervis Bay at Huskisson, where shields, spears, boomerangs, bark paintings and arts and crafts are made and sold on site. Good ones.