My Grandfather, Gottlob Otto built his first house on top of what became known as Otto's Pinch. During those first years of settlement getting up and down the rough range track was often a treacherous ordeal. At best it was a hazardous journey for timbermen and settlers alike. In all, three different roads on both sides of the Pinch were constructed. My father, Ernest Otto, took over his parents' farm in 1912 when they retired to Brisbane. As a very young child I remember the house had a large verandah almost all round with a top rail only. My sister Pearl had fallen from this verandah and as toddlers we were well trained to keep clear of the edges. I would stay close to the inner wall of the house and from this position could sit and watch the passing traffic. The turning of the wheels fascinated me. The German wagons heavy with goods needed a team of horses to pull them up the pinch. The sight of the bullock wagons loaded with logs for Beerwah Mill negotiating the descent stays with me. The whip cracking and the noise as their drivers ran from the back wheels to the front ones, screwing handles quickly against wooden brake blocks that rested on iron wheel treads. Buggies and sulkies with drivers often walking beside the horses to lighten the load on the uphill grade or dragging a branch on the downhill run was a common sight. Buckboards and four wheel buggies drawn by two or more horses used for the mail, passenger and cream runs. I saw them all. Travellers would often stay at our place. Although I was only four years old I have clear memories of a man on a motorbike sleeping over one night The next day he took his motorbike to pieces in front of my wondering eyes. I believe it was this experience that stirred up in me a lifetime liking for the engines that drove the machines that were so much a part of my childhood. As a little fellow I spent a lot of time with Grandma Rogers at the Post Office down by the old Mill settlement. The mailmen had a difficult time driving up and down the slippery red mud Peach Tree Hill in the wet. And so a much easier track was formed around the top of the Office house. (Refer story of The Peachester Post Mistress on the Stories page) While William Vieritz and Bill Emblidge had been our first cream and mail carriers I remember Harry Cocks, a relative of ours, calling in often. He carried for the Crohamhurst area working for Harry Jackson. Lionel Collins drove the last buggy and then a Chev. one-ton Renault to Bill Goeldner who introduced a Dodge truck of slightly larger capacity as cream cartage was increasing. He handed over to his brother-in-law Jim Ferguson. Jim took some time to drive correctly and we kids used to giggle at his early attempts, seeing his jumpy take offs and faulty gear changes. In later years Bernie Haack took over from Jim Ferguson and then Charlie Jackson was the last I remember as the Second World War took me away. In those early days Ken Hendren collected the River Road cream taking it to Woodford Butter Factory. Walter (Wock) Grigor carried on this service carrying the cream to Beerwah rail for the Caboolture Factory. We sent cream with Wock and as a child I remember him having tea and scones frequently at our house. I was in awe of the first ton timber trucks coming up the steep pinch road to our place and pausing to take off the chains used on the rear wheels in wet weather. The Dance Brothers were the first to appear with a long bodied truck and trailer with solid rubber tyres. Bill Edwards had an International or Dodge truck and I still remember Walde Breton with his timber truck, an International and extended trailer. It was the first of its kind. Archie O'Brien and Ken Grigor followed later. The new range road was formed about 1926. I was nine years old and we had moved to a five acre block near where the road went through. One ton Chev and Ford trucks were used to cart filling and metal for the road surfacing. No tip trucks in those days, just a hand winch to slide the body back until the end dropped to the ground to unload the fill, as the truck moved slowly away. The road camp was just below our place and many of the men who lived in tents at the camp had their meals at our house. I had to get up early to light the fire in our wood stove. Of course I also had to feed some horses housed in our paddock by the Blair Brothers, Jim and Bill. The horses were used for pulling scoops and ploughs on the new road. I was paid five shillings per week and thought I was made for life. The first car I remember was a T Model Ford belonging to Charles Winkle. Charlie was Father's friend and used to pick him up and drive down to Coochin Creek to fish. Herb Atthow had a car named Chandler. Later he sold it to Walter Probert, a mate of mine, and bought a Hudson. I remember the day he brought it home. The engine failed to get the car up the pinch at our place; so two horses were called for to pull it to the top. I started school in Peachester in 1923 before I was six years old. Fred Hodgens consulted with my parents to give me a try out. His mother Mrs. Tom Hodgens was my first teacher. She helped Mr. Hodgens with the younger classes. I believe that being tutored by my sisters and starting Sunday School where I learned short scripture pieces from pretty cards with texts on them, helped me. When I first started school we had an aborigine who used to jump out of the bushes he was hiding in, swinging his Nulla-nulla, a fighting stick with a knob on the end of it. My sisters would just laugh seeing it was only in fun, but it took time for me to get used to his actions. I was always second in racing, beaten by a neck each time by Roy Shuttlewood. In choosing teams for football Roy always had first pick. As the next fastest runner I became the opposing leader. We all looked forward to the end of year break-up picnic with games and sports races while the men played cricket. But the best part was the giving out of prizes. Boys Annuals were the books longed for and I received many for being top of my class. As all these memories of my childhood flash past my eyes, it seems like yesterday. Putting them to paper makes it even more difficult to comprehend the multitude of changes we experience in a lifetime. It doesn't seem so long ago.