98-Year-Old Renmark Man Recalls 90 Summers Without AC

At 98 years old, Clarence "Clack" John has survived almost a century of scorching Australian summers in Renmark, and his memories paint a picture of resilience that makes modern complaints about heat feel a little silly.

John's family arrived in South Australia's Riverland region in 1911 when his father traveled by horse and cart from the Barossa Valley. Upon seeing the river, his father simply declared, "That'll do me." More than 110 years later, the family is still there.

Growing up in the 1930s meant no air conditioning, no fans, no refrigerators, and no ice. "After school we'd be in the creek," John remembers. "That's where we learnt to swim when the hot days were there." Even camping trips came with impossible choices: close the tent and suffocate from heat, or open it and face swarms of mosquitoes.

John watched his mother and sister pick grapes in blistering temperatures and thought there had to be something better. He became a pharmacist instead, serving Renmark for 47 years. Back then, his heat stress prescription was simple: aspirin and a wet towel over the baby's cot.

This January, Renmark hit 49.6 degrees Celsius, its hottest day since records began in 1995. Scientists confirm what John intuitively senses: the last three years globally have been the warmest ever recorded, with the Riverland facing increasingly frequent heat extremes.

Sunny's Take

What makes John's story so moving isn't just his endurance through nine decades of desert heat. It's his clear-eyed honesty mixed with unmovable loyalty. "I hate the heat. I hate the cold," he admits with characteristic bluntness. "The autumn here is beautiful. I should only live here three months of the year."

But when asked if he'd ever leave? "I don't. I won't. I'll be here forever." That kind of devotion to place, despite its flaws, reminds us that home isn't about perfect weather or ideal conditions. It's about belonging, history, and the deep roots that grow when families stay put for generations.

John now enjoys modern comforts like air conditioning, a luxury his childhood self couldn't imagine. Yet he doesn't romanticize the past or pretend people were heroes for surviving without modern cooling. He simply lived through it, adapted, and stayed.

As climate scientists warn that the Riverland will face more extreme temperatures affecting agriculture and food security, John's nearly century-long perspective offers both context and inspiration: humans are remarkably adaptable, communities endure, and sometimes the harshest places become the ones we love most fiercely.