MARK WOODCOCK is a White Gum Valley resident, former precinct convenor and member of the Fremantle Society.

IF you want to understand the soul of Fremantle, you don’t look down at the asphalt; you look up. Specifically, you look up through the dark, fractured lace of the Norfolk Island Pines on the Esplanade.

There is an arresting gravity to those trees. For generations of Freo locals, they have been the structural pillars of our collective heritage. They have stood as silent, towering sentinels while the city transitioned from a gritty, working port to the creative, eclectic heartland we fight to protect today. To walk beneath them is to walk through a living green cathedral. They are an irreplaceable piece of our civic antiquity—as deeply woven into our heritage identity as the weathered limestone of the Fremantle Prison or the salt-crusted Victorian facades of the West End.

But these trees aren’t just passive historical markers; they are the backdrop to the soundtrack of our lives.

For over a century, this canopy has witnessed the vibrant, chaotic, & beautiful tapestry of Fremantle’s social history. They stood above the smoke & excitement of the old Empire Day cracker nights, Fremantles record setting Australia Day celebrations when families gathered for fireworks which echoed across the grass or they flew their australia flags or wore their Aussie best T’s & thongs. They’ve vibrated to the basslines of countless local bands, provided the leafy ceiling for decades of beer and food festivals, and offered a cool sanctuary to generations of families. Today, that connection is captured perfectly from the gondolas of the tourist Ferris wheel, where you can rise to eye level with their crowns, looking directly into the intricate, resilient tops of the pines while the Indian Ocean glints on the horizon.

Yet, for all this rich history, walk through the park today and ask yourself: Where is the brass plaque for Frank Nicholas? Where is the permanent, public monument detailing the grit of the early council and the century-old story of these mighty pines and park? While other monuments sit in the reserve, the actual architect of our iconic skyline and the biological history of the trees themselves remain unmapped for the thousands of locals and visitors who walk beneath them daily. Correcting this oversight should be a priority; our living history deserves a physical voice.

Because history isn’t just something we inherit; it’s something we have to actively defend.

The story of the Esplanade Reserve is a classic Freo tale of grit, vision, and historical ambition. Reclaimed from South Bay at the turn of the last century using dune sand from Robb Jetty and limestone spoil chopped out from the deep East Street cuttings, it was originally just a dusty, wind-scoured expanse of couch grass. It was Councillor Frank Nicholas who, in 1908, looked at that barren patch of coast and envisioned a grand, European-style civic promenade. Guided by the State Forests Department and local horticultural societies, those early planners planted a vision they would never live to see in its full majesty—a living legacy left for us to inherit.

Today, those trees have invested well over a century of growth into Fremantle. They are the true elders of our urban landscape. The beautiful truth is that with the right care, these heritage titans could easily give us another 40 to 50 years of life, continuing an unbroken chain of living history that spans two centuries.

Sacred ground

However, loving t2is history isn’t enough anymore; we need to legally shield the sacred ground it stands on.

Right now, despite its profound cultural value, the Esplanade remains vulnerable to the shifting whims of state and local planning. To truly honour this legacy, the City of Fremantle and the community must fight to elevate the entire precinct to an A-Class Reserve. Under Western Australian law, an A-Class designation is the ultimate gold standard of environmental and cultural protection. It means the purpose of the park is locked in perpetuity—it cannot be amended, excised, or redeveloped without the scrutiny of both Houses of State Parliament. Securing this status would elevate the Esplanade from a standard council park to a crown jewel of Western Australian state heritage, legally recognising that a century of community memory and historic canopy cannot be bartered away for short-sighted infrastructure or commercial grabs.

But preserving heritage requires more than legal declarations; it demands proactive, dirt-under-the-fingernails conservation. As a community, we must hold the council to account and ensure they are looking after and taking care of the Esplanade’s tree canopy needs with the urgency a 100-year investment deserves.

On the Esplanade, the council’s arborists, alongside specialised contractors, are tackling the silent enemy of heritage trees: ground compaction. Decades of heavy foot traffic from major events, festivals, and amusements pack the soil tight, choking off oxygen and water to the historic root zones. Through targeted vertical mulch aeration, deep nutrient injection, and specialised pruning to manage the weight of their towering limbs, the city must treat these centenarians with the specialised curatorial care that any major heritage asset deserves.

Yet, true stewardship means planning for the day when their  shadows finally shorten. We cannot wait for a gap in our historic skyline to ask what comes next.

The city needs—and must actively pursue—a rigorous succession program to preserve this specific genetic heritage. This shouldn’t just mean buying generic stock from an anonymous nursery ledger. We need to look to our own backyard, identifying the most resilient, salt-tolerant, and genetically robust survivors on the Esplanade to cultivate localised seedlings. By growing Freo’s next generation of pines from the literal DNA of the survivors that have stood here since 1908, we ensure a direct, unbroken line of biological heritage that keeps the soul of the original planting alive for the next century.

And what of the giants that do eventually succumb to age or storm damage? Their historical journey shouldn’t end in woodchips or landfill. There is a beautiful, circular continuity to be realised in our heritage timber. When an Esplanade pine reaches the end of its natural life, its wood should be cycled straight back into the cultural fabric of Fremantle. Let the timber be milled locally and transformed by Freo hands into park benches, public seats, and playground fences for places like Gilbert Fraser reserve.

In that way, the heritage is never lost; it is simply repurposed. The elders who shaded our grandparents will remain beneath us, holding up the next generation of locals watching the sun go down over the harbour.

Our pines have given us a century of shelter, anchoring Fremantle’s identity through generations of change and celebration. By securing A-Class protection, installing the historical markers we owe to our founders, and demanding the council constantly look after our canopy, it’s time we return the favour.