The Cowes Jetty Triangle is a “she’ll be right triangle” for good reason.
By Tim Shannon
IT IS a long time since I first heard the name The Jetty Triangle and tried to see how it described the rather odd place that joins the Cowes foreshore to its tired jetty. I recall a sloping patch of unkempt bitumen which was a mixture of road, car park, foot path, and the spot for the occasional open-air market with stalls that leaned this way and that. It had no regular shape, but perhaps the space bordered by an assortment of walls, bollards, and a War Memorial was more like a triangle than anything else, a sort of a “she’ll be right mate” triangle.
IT IS a long time since I first heard the name The Jetty Triangle and tried to see how it described the rather odd place that joins the Cowes foreshore to its tired jetty. I recall a sloping patch of unkempt bitumen which was a mixture of road, car park, foot path, and the spot for the occasional open-air market with stalls that leaned this way and that. It had no regular shape, but perhaps the space bordered by an assortment of walls, bollards, and a War Memorial was more like a triangle than anything else, a sort of a “she’ll be right mate” triangle.
I have a fondness for triangles, not an obsession just a respectful admiration for something that does the most with the least. A single “point” is one step ahead having nothing at all, and is not of much use apart from suggesting a location. Two “points” make a line which can be useful for measuring things. However, three “points” can make space, and there seems to be no limit to what we can do with space, when triangles join they can curve and roll and warp for eternity. When Pythagoras the ancient Greek philosopher discovered the mathematical harmony of right-angle triangles it was a special moment in the human search for meaning; the “three four five” triangle is a friend for life if you need a right angle in a hurry or comforting reassurance that the square root of the sum of three squared and four squared will always be five.
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After one holiday season I took the time to wander down and look over the freshly completed Cowes Jetty Triangle Renewal Project, having in mind what a treasure trove of rich memories this place is. Before Phillip Island was connected to Melbourne by a bridge the cluster of red rocks at Cowes’ foreshore was the arrival and departing point for goods, animals, friends, family, and holiday makers from all walks of life. Today it remains the only way ordinary folk can get on and off the Island by sea, quietly it speaks of the reason why the township is at this happy spot.
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This is an extract from 'An Architect's Story', by Tim Shannon, based on a series of essays that first appeared in the Bass Coast Post. |
When I arrived, my interest was in finding the three essential points of the refreshed Triangle. Approaching from the grand Golden Cypress lined Thompson Avenue, it seemed reasonable enough that its termination point on the foreshore should be one of the three, as it has always been by the fortune of its location.
"I have a fondness for triangles, not an obsession just a respectful admiration for something that does the most with the least." |
I have always thought it odd to place a public toilet at this spot; I can see that it offers great convenience, its roof top makes for a fine lookout, and the engineers made sure that the drainage was most efficient and reliable. But there you go, unchanged after the refresh, it stands proudly at the top of the triangle. Moving down towards the jetty it was impossible not to notice that the War Memorial has increased its prominence, now thoughtfully enshrined by more terraced steps are large areas of grassy tufts that suggest they are not for playing among. Its obelisk, engraved with the names of those Islanders lost to the two World Wars clearly claims to be one of the three points I was in search of.
At the place where the jetty meets land there is a modest shed, which I have been told is one of the oldest remaining buildings on the Island. When I saw it first, long ago I thought it looked rather modern with its curved roof that it might have arrived during the 1970s or 1980s. However, in its favour it is the only object of significance in the place where I hoped to find my third point. There it was, this old shed now offering tapas and paellas.
When I joined these three points to describe my perfect Jetty Triangle, I found what everybody knows. There is a reason why suitcases and paper bags are not triangles, they make very awkward containers, particularly around the corners. It is not easy to pack things into a triangle, they have a knack for making you think carefully about what is most important to fit in. I was very happy to see that the Jetty Triangle had used its precious space to look after public enjoyment and amenity first. Phillip Island and its people have a way of doing things, their community has found ways to survive and succeed and to celebrate; the Cowes Jetty Triangle is a “she’ll be right triangle” for good reason, it has survived where Pythagoras might have failed, its generous harmony is quite different from the mathematical mysticism he was in search of.
At the place where the jetty meets land there is a modest shed, which I have been told is one of the oldest remaining buildings on the Island. When I saw it first, long ago I thought it looked rather modern with its curved roof that it might have arrived during the 1970s or 1980s. However, in its favour it is the only object of significance in the place where I hoped to find my third point. There it was, this old shed now offering tapas and paellas.
When I joined these three points to describe my perfect Jetty Triangle, I found what everybody knows. There is a reason why suitcases and paper bags are not triangles, they make very awkward containers, particularly around the corners. It is not easy to pack things into a triangle, they have a knack for making you think carefully about what is most important to fit in. I was very happy to see that the Jetty Triangle had used its precious space to look after public enjoyment and amenity first. Phillip Island and its people have a way of doing things, their community has found ways to survive and succeed and to celebrate; the Cowes Jetty Triangle is a “she’ll be right triangle” for good reason, it has survived where Pythagoras might have failed, its generous harmony is quite different from the mathematical mysticism he was in search of.
*****
The walk along the beach at low tide from Red Rocks to Grossard Point is as pleasurable as any I can recall; rocky points linked by sandy coves and reefs, a backdrop of various cliffs and dunes covered in coastal shrubs and trees, and the ever-changing waters of the Western Arm stretching to Mornington Peninsula. All enjoyed with sunsets under a big sky being reflected in the waters of Western Port. Arriving at Grossard Point is always different thanks to the seasons, weather, tides, wind, sky, sun, and the moon. There is the moment when the view beyond the Point opens up to the west across to Bass Strait.
And there are times when intimate mysteries are revealed as the receding tide leaves fine patterns in the sand and the sun sparkles on pools among the basalt rocks. On a still summer evening with just a few people remaining on the beach, a new moon rises in the east as the sun falls in the west, and the motionless tidal pools reflect their images in silver and gold.
It was at Port Willunga south of Adelaide where I first experienced the comfort of the shore. The old round hills of Willunga roll smoothly down to McLaren Vale’s plains before meeting the shore. In summer they are golden yellow and in winter they become a green baize. Along the shore there is a cove eroded into the clay and limestone cliff, where a small creek meets the sea. The weathered remains of a few jetty piles and a handful of small boat sized caves cut into the ochre cliff tell of the times when a storm wrecked the Star of Greece at Port Willunga.
Sparkling blue waves and white foam in salt water. The touch of the wind, and the heat of the sun. Fine white squeaky sand, cockle shells, smooth blond pebbles. The early morning fisherman casting a net from his dinghy, silver fish jumping. Red and gold sunsets, walks in the shallows, lazy swims out to the old piles. The ripple of the sea touching the horizon, white seagulls in the blue sky.
And there are times when intimate mysteries are revealed as the receding tide leaves fine patterns in the sand and the sun sparkles on pools among the basalt rocks. On a still summer evening with just a few people remaining on the beach, a new moon rises in the east as the sun falls in the west, and the motionless tidal pools reflect their images in silver and gold.
It was at Port Willunga south of Adelaide where I first experienced the comfort of the shore. The old round hills of Willunga roll smoothly down to McLaren Vale’s plains before meeting the shore. In summer they are golden yellow and in winter they become a green baize. Along the shore there is a cove eroded into the clay and limestone cliff, where a small creek meets the sea. The weathered remains of a few jetty piles and a handful of small boat sized caves cut into the ochre cliff tell of the times when a storm wrecked the Star of Greece at Port Willunga.
Sparkling blue waves and white foam in salt water. The touch of the wind, and the heat of the sun. Fine white squeaky sand, cockle shells, smooth blond pebbles. The early morning fisherman casting a net from his dinghy, silver fish jumping. Red and gold sunsets, walks in the shallows, lazy swims out to the old piles. The ripple of the sea touching the horizon, white seagulls in the blue sky.
"Time slowly coming to rest and inviting pure contemplation ... the sustenance of a creative mind" |
The road to Grossard Point can take you past the Bass hills from the north or the Kilcunda hills from the south; either way it reminds me of approaching Port Willunga from Adelaide. It leads to the single bridge that crosses Western Port Bay at San Remo and lands on Phillip Island, then it wanders through rolling farmland and with a right turn you will find Grossard Point, that gentle headland that surveys the shoreline of Ventnor and looks north across the water to Mornington Peninsula not far away.
This place has drawn people for thousands of years and offered them comfort. With the everchanging tide Western Port fills and empties, moving sand, revealing secrets, erasing footprints; the shoreline moves forever up and down at the calling of the moon, breathing slowly in and out. When the tide fades to its lowest it is a time of peace, the water is exhausted, and all the shoreline’s secrets are revealed as the last trickles find their way through the corrugations of the sand and the cracks in the rocks. You can imagine this moment travelling forever around every shoreline at every ocean’s edge; time slowly coming to rest and inviting pure contemplation, the sustenance of a creative mind.
This place has drawn people for thousands of years and offered them comfort. With the everchanging tide Western Port fills and empties, moving sand, revealing secrets, erasing footprints; the shoreline moves forever up and down at the calling of the moon, breathing slowly in and out. When the tide fades to its lowest it is a time of peace, the water is exhausted, and all the shoreline’s secrets are revealed as the last trickles find their way through the corrugations of the sand and the cracks in the rocks. You can imagine this moment travelling forever around every shoreline at every ocean’s edge; time slowly coming to rest and inviting pure contemplation, the sustenance of a creative mind.
Grossard Point at low tide in the evening: Phillip Island. Photo: Roger Wallis 2024