"BLACKWATTLE COVE 201X"

This is a tale about a future which, with commitment
and hard work, may become a reality. It was written in 2006 to help
people visualise what the future could hold for the
Blackwattle Cove precinct. BCC is delighted that some of its dreams
have already been realised.

The scene is Blackwattle Cove – an area which was once a swamp and successively the home to noxious industries, a grand Victorian park, the centre of greyhound racing in NSW, and currently is a rather forgotten and forlorn area bordered by Ultimo, Glebe and Pyrmont.  While its most noticeable feature is Wentworth Park, Blackwattle Cove also includes the streets surrounding the park, the Blackwattle Bay wharves and foreshore, the Sydney Fish Market and the “Bank Street site”.

The time – a sunny Sunday afternoon about 10-15 years in the future.

The players – The Smith family, a young couple with small daughter who live in a new, high rise residential building in Ultimo; the Barakitis family, a retired couple who live in a modest house on Glebe Point that they bought before the real estate boom, and whose two grandsons have come to visit; and the Morellos, middle aged, well-to-do empty nesters who live in a Pyrmont flat with sweeping harbour views.

SCENE I

The Smiths have had a rotten night.  Their daughter has been sick and kept her parents awake most of the night, although she now seems to be on the mend.  The little girl is sick of being cooped up in the flat and so Mrs Smith persuades her husband that they should go out for some fresh air.

Their journey

The family’s route takes them along Jones Street to the new mini-park built on top of the former City Council depot that has been converted into an indoor recreation centre, then over Wattle Street via the pedestrian bridge that has been grafted onto the side of the light rail bridge.  At street level they turn left into the new avenue within the park where the footpath is shielded from traffic by an earth bank covered with low trees.  To their daughter’s delight a rainbow lorikeet flies overhead; “It’s probably nesting in the wildlife corridor along the light rail track,” Mrs Smith remarks. To their right they observe ducks dabbling in the pond which collects storm water to supply the park’s playing fields and gardens.  A group of not very talented teenagers is busking on the modern interpretation of a Victorian era bandstand.

Their daughter plays on the rides in the children’s playground under the clump of fig trees that has stood in the south central section of the park for years.  Dad wanders across to watch a football game on the oval that is surrounded by plantings redolent of the park’s Victorian heyday.  The “prison wall” that separated the southern end of the park from the oval has long since disappeared. 

One of the teams is from UTS, and many of the players are of Asian descent - probably quite a few are overseas students living nearby.  Ryan Smith calls out to a spectator who he knows from his own university days – a lecturer named Pham Dong whose grandparents came to Australia as boat people – and they agree to make a booking for a game of tennis on the all-weather tennis courts nearby.  

Crossing the playing fields in the northern part of the park, Mrs Smith remarks on the lovely views of Blackwattle Bay – although there are buildings along the waterfront they are screened by the avenue of fig trees along Bridge Road, and the wide spaces between make it possible to watch the rowers practicing on the bay.

Which way to go home?  Maybe the outdoor coffee shop under the railway viaduct arches?  But little Anne would like an ice-cream so they head back the way they came to the gelato bar on the ground floor of the former council depot.  “And since we’ve come this way should we make a booking for tomorrow for the squash court upstairs?” Rachael Smith asks her husband.

SCENE II

The Barakitises have promised their grandchildren a special treat.  Grandpa suggests that a game of boules on the piste at Glebe Point would be fun but the boys are not convinced, despite the promise of coke and cakes afterwards at the Bellevue cafe.  As an alternative Grandpa suggests a visit to the Heritage Fleet in Blackwattle Bay, including a ride on one the fleet’s vintage vessels.  Gran wants to pop in to the display of glass objects at the tiny Burley Griffin display space at the end of Forsyth Street, so suggests they walk the long way around along the edge of the bay.

Their journey

The Heritage Fleet occupies the old concrete batch plant site on Bridge Road.  The buildings have been adapted to house displays and administration, and some are used for teaching as the Fleet has developed a close relationship with the Secondary College next door, and together the two are providing specialist courses in matters maritime.

Several vessels are being restored – visitors can observe the work from a safe distance.  Large items of maritime machinery – e.g. old steam engines – are on display on the wharf.

While Grandpa and the boys go for a ride on a 100-year-old steam yacht, Gran says she wants to get a few things from the fruit shop at the Fish Market.  She walks along a pedestrian path that snakes through the maritime industries that occupy the Blackwattle Bay wharves.  Being Sunday it is fairly quiet as most of the tourist boats are out, but at one stage she is held up as a large piece of machinery is dragged out of a maintenance building and across the walkway towards a waiting vessel.

After their boat ride, the boys remind Grandpa that he also promised coke and cake, so they all head across Bridge Road to the shopping precinct near the Glebe light rail stop.  Grandpa remarks how easy it is to cross now that Bridge Road has been lowered, allowing people to walk directly from the foreshore to the park in several places. 

The debate about how best to get home is settled when a light rail car headed in the direction of Jubilee Park approaches.

SCENE III

The Morellos are going to meet friends at the Art Gallery to see the Archibald paintings.  Mr Morello, seeing the sun sparkling on Johnston’s Bay, feels it’s too good a day to eat at home.  “Let’s phone Miranda and Kevin and meet for lunch at that new restaurant at the Fish Market,” he says.  We can walk down then catch the light rail as far as King Street.  ”

Their journey

The Morellos live in the Jackson’s Landing complex, so they can walk along Bowman Street to the site of the new park and clubhouse for the dragon boaters in Bank Street.  Mr Morello remarks that is good that the private house next to the park was acquired by the Government, allowing the park to be substantially bigger than originally planned.

They join the boardwalk which is more pleasant now that most of the private buildings on the eastern side of Blackwattle Bay have been redeveloped.  The site of the concrete batch plant next to the Fish Market is still waiting for a tenant, although the plant was demolished several months ago – it was amalgamated with its sister plant in Glebe which moved to White Bay to allow the Heritage Fleet to set up in Blackwattle Bay.

The redeveloped Fish Market is thriving.  Even though the Morellos moved to Pyrmont relatively recently, Mr Morello’s family lived in the area for many years and he has taken a close interest in its development.  “It’s great to see they found a way to redevelop without lots of office space,” he remarks.  Hundreds of people are enjoying fish and chips sitting on the grass or under colourful market umbrellas on the boardwalk.

The Morello’s friends live in Glebe.  To get to the Fish Market they stroll down one of the several streets that form “ant trails” from the Glebe ridge to Wentworth Park, then past the football game and enter the Fish Market via an elevated walkway over Bridge Road. 

After lunch in the new, up-market restaurant with views over Blackwattle Bay the two couples check out the trendy shops in the recycled coal bunker opposite. One pauses to read the plaque that explains the history of the strange steel structure which sits atop the building.  As they have plenty of time they settled their lunch by taking a leisurely walk under the avenue of fig trees to the entrance to the Wentworth Park light rail stop. 

As they walk, Mr Morello remembers how his father fought to have the Wentworth Park grandstand and offices demolished.  “I guess it will happen one day.  Anyway it’s a great improvement after they demolished the concrete walls and the scruffy old buildings.”  However he goes on: “Dad couldn’t figure out why some people were so keen to knock the in-fill in the railway viaduct arches.  He reckoned they could have put shops there like the Viaduc des Arts in Paris.”