YASSO TRANSPORT
Our Story
Where it all began & why it's so important to us
The Heart of Yasso Point
A few weeks ago we returned home, not just to the land but to the legacy. We came together to farewell one of our dear Aunties and in doing so, found ourselves standing right where it all began, Yasso Point.
Let me start this off with a story from myself and what it was like to live in Bowen.
All I ever wanted was to be calm and present. But back then? I had a horse named Puddles — a small, stubborn little mare with the spirit of a rodeo champion and the loyalty of a runaway cat.
My brother and I had horses growing up, and my cousin and I would ride them all the way down the beach from our place — right to the end, what’s now called Yasso Point. It was beautiful, peaceful, like something out of a movie… until it wasn’t.
Because every single time, like clockwork, as soon as we hit that final stretch, Puddles would suddenly decide, “Right, fun’s over — I’m done with you.” And she’d start bucking like she’d just remembered she was wild. Without fail, she’d throw me off like I was a piece of loose luggage, kick up some sand for good measure, then bolt — galloping all the way back home on her own like she was the main character in her own story. I, on the other hand, was left in the sand (bruised in pride more than anything) either limping back or hitching a ride with my cousin. And when we finally got home? There was Puddles, cool as ever, munching grass in the yard like she hadn’t just ditched her human again.
The whole family thought it was hilarious, 2 boys 2 horses, then later on 1 horse no boy, soon followed by 1 horse 2 boys. For Me? Let’s just say I learned early that sometimes you ride the horse, and sometimes the horse rides you... straight into humility.
Living in Bowen as a kid was pure bush magic. I was 11, maybe 12 — Mum would hand me a knapsack with butter and a frypan like I was going on MasterChef: Survival Edition. Dad? He’d pass me his old slug gun with a nod that said, “Don’t die.” We’d disappear for the weekend — no phones, no food plan, just vibes and a pan. Camp wherever we dropped, catch what we could, cook it in way too much butter, and hope it wasn’t poisonous. The only rule was that we had to be back before church - and we dared to not miss it, we would be back to wash the bush off, chuck on the Sunday best, and try not to smell like smoke and swamp in the second row. Best time of my life.
As Dad says “What the enemy meant for evil, God turned around for good.” And at the centre of that good… Were Jack and Topsy Yasso. Our great-grandparents. The quiet giants of Bowen. The foundation of our family.
The Legacy of Jack & Topsy Yasso
At the end of Gloucester Street in Queens Beach stood a humble home with fruit trees in the yard, nets hanging on wooden rails, and the smell of scones always in the air. That home belonged to Jack and Topsy Yasso — whose legacy lives on not through monuments, but through people.
In a town of only a few thousand people, everyone knew them — not because they had wealth or status, but because they lived with open hands, strong values, and an unwavering sense of community.
Jack Yasso
Born to South Sea Islander parents brought to Queensland through the blackbirding trade, Jack worked the soil of Bowen’s farms but his story ran far deeper than labour. He was a man of the land. He learnt black tracking from Aboriginals Elders living off the land across the Don River. He got that good in times of crisis, even the police would call on Jack to help find missing people.
Under the mango trees he planted, he’d sit and sew fishing nets. He had a deep knowledge on fishing, a knowledge passed down, lived out, but never written in books. Many people would gather to hear a story, a tip or learn a new skill and he never held back, he loved to talk fishing. Fishing was connection to the community. Every year, he’d lead a big family fishing day down the Don River, casting huge nets with everyone — even the dog — joining in. Jack Quiet strength. Steady hands. A deep, unwavering love for his family and community
Topsy Yasso.
Topsy, too, was a force. Raised between cultures, she opened her home for one of the first Pentecostal church meetings in North Queensland, despite opposition. Her faith in God shaped the foundation of her family and continues to ripple through generations to this day.
Strict, but deeply loving, Topsy created a home where kids of every background came to feel safe. You knew what you could and couldn’t do, and you’d get a firm hand if needed. But you were always welcome, always fed, always loved. Her cooking was legendary. There was always scones, always a stew on the stove, and always people around the table.
Even with little, she always had something to give. And in her passing, the town stood united a reflection of the unity she lived for, one of the biggest in the town’s history.
Yasso Point Today, at the mouth of the Don River, is named in their honor.
It’s not just a scenic lookout. It’s a tribute to a couple who made people feel seen, safe, and cared for. Their home was a hub. Their marriage was a bridge across cultures. Their lives were a story of strength in the face of oppression.
Jack and Topsy didn’t just raise 11 children — they helped raise a community.
Why This Matters to Us
Yasso Transport exists because of Jack and Topsy. Their story reminds us that a life of service, faith, family, and integrity leaves a legacy deeper than money ever could. Every bus we run, every person we serve, is part of a much bigger journey that started with them.
We honor them in name, but more importantly — we strive to honor them in action.
Thank you, Jack and Topsy. You didn’t build an empire. You built a family. And that’s what made you great.