Once upon a time, on Australia's far north coast, there was a rainforest so vast they just called it the Big Scrub. It sprawled across 75,000 hectares, a vibrant tapestry of figs, vines, palms, and the kind of fruit doves you rarely see anymore. Then came the farming, the clearing, and the grim realization that only about one percent of this natural marvel was left. Scattered scraps, clinging to roadsides and farm edges, battling weeds and cattle. A rainforest, reduced to an ecological footnote.
Saving it wasn't going to be a walk in the park. It needed legal muscle, scientific smarts, a hefty bankroll, and the buy-in of landowners. It meant planting an almost absurd number of seedlings and committing to years, decades even, of relentless work. And, perhaps most crucially, it needed a conductor for this unruly orchestra of conservation.
Restoring a rainforest sounds idyllic, doesn't it? Just plant some trees, hum a happy tune. For the Big Scrub, it was a gritty, relentless grind. Private landowners had to be cajoled, government agencies prodded, and a coalition of botanists, nursery owners, donors, and volunteers had to keep showing up long after the initial buzz wore off. It was local, technical, and often mind-numbingly repetitive. Which, it turns out, was Tony Parkes's jam.
We're a new kind of news feed.
Regular news is designed to drain you. We're a non-profit built to restore you. Every story we publish is scored for impact, progress, and hope.
Start Your News DetoxTony, you see, was no wide-eyed tree hugger fresh out of college. He was a retired investment banker, born in Hobart, schooled in science and business, who’d made his fortune in the high-stakes world of Sydney finance. At 56, he could have settled into a life of comfortable golf courses and early bird specials.
Instead, he and his wife Rowena bought land in the Northern Rivers area, learned the tragic tale of the Big Scrub, and started planting. What began as a personal mission to green up their own backyard quickly blossomed into a much larger, public crusade. Because apparently, that's what happens when you let a banker get his hands on a shovel and a really big idea.
