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A monthly Bulletin of matters of interest to the Sydney Bush Walkers, c/- Ingersoll Hall, 256 Crown St. Sydney.
|Assists||Elsa Mcregor, Norma Barden|
|Bus. Manager||Maurie Berry|
|Sales & Subs.||Jean Hervey|
|“Mount Tomah”||Arbores Australis||1|
|“An Episode (Regrettable)“||D. Helmrich||2|
|“For the Gossips”||News!||6|
|“Porthos & Pathos with Priddle”||“Dingo”||8|
|“Things of Yore”||Skip||11|
There is gladness in the laughter of the sunshine;
There is beauty in the blue light of the sky;
There is sadness in the earth beneath them lying,
Source of all man's life that man has made to die!
Where the giant trees of old grew grand and lofty,
And the jungle with its tree-ferns wildly fair -
Where the twining vines and hanging orchids flowered
In the darkly green, and ferny leafy air.
There is now a lonely ragged tree-fern standing,
And some old burned stumps, whose lordly trunks lie dead,
And a waste of barren bracken, round a stunted
Sassafras, which bravely rears its scented head.
In past times out-pourings of primordial love
Overspread the earth's wide paneplanal view,
And natural orogenic cataclysm
Brought the old to end and ushered in the new.
Now no natural cataclysm earth has need of
Bringing Age of Man unto a timely end.
He himself destroys the source of all his being,
And will take his part in Nature's cyclic trend.
But the Life-Force lives and brings to life forever.
And from out the barren waste that man will trace,
It will bring to life another cyclic era,
And perhaps a kinder and less selfish race!
Related by D. Helmrich as a warning of the misfortunes likely to overtake Bushwalkers who become too interested in their work,.
The Friday of Eight-hour Day week-end dawned clear and bright. Ticket in pocket (reserved seat), rucksack practically packed, I set off to work, meditating upon the joys of the holidays ahead…
As the day wore on I came upon a tantalising, fascinating case, and wrestling with the problem., conaCiousness of the week-end became more and more remotes.-
Late in the afternoon with a rude shock came the realization that I probably shouldn't have time to catch the train - the 5.52 p m. the one and only to Berry. Quickest possible speed to Chatswood got me home with ten minutes to change, finish packing, eat and get back to the station - first class panic - all the family pressed into service - taxi called - came late.
Even then if the of a train had coincided with my arrival at the station the situation would not have been quite desperate. But no! Twelve minutes to wait. Too long…
With a gasp and a prayer, casting caution to the winds, said I to the taxi-driver, “Will you drive me to Central station?”. “Sorry, Miss - there's a Regulation. We can ring for our private-hire car tho'”.
“Yes said the Office, you can have it in a few minutes”. Precious minutes went by before it materialised.
“Please give me your name, address, age and religion”, said the driver. “I have to ring and tell the office, it's a Regulation”. Away ticked inexorable Time.
“Fifteen minutes until your train leaves Central?” said he who had my fate in his hands, “I think we'll get there”.
Crows Nest - traffic police - North Sydney - traffic lights - Bridge - traffic police - toll - Bus ahead - Market Street - traffic lights…
Cursing all Regulations, we saw the Town Hall clock; two minutes to go… “The fare will be £1-1.0”. “Here it is”. (what a wrench!) CENTRAL…. AND IT IS 5.54 p.m.
“Please wait”, said I, “I'll be back if the train has gone”.
The magic word Berry was nowhere on the Indicators; The train had gone…
Dejected, I returned to teh car, and we proceeded at a leisurely pace towareds Chatswood.
At the first telephone box the driver said, “Excuse me but I must ring the office to tell them I'm now returning.”
“What for?” I asked.
“It's a Regulation,” he explained. “It's just as well I didn't get pinched for speeding coming in - 30 miles is the limit along here you know.”
“How much were we doing?”
“Over 60,” was the reply. Then… “You know, I had a garage at Tamworth, but when I came out of the Air Force my nerves were so bad that I had to come to Sydney. That's why I'm here. I have shock treatment every day…”
Take a train for the Gangerangs, slide down Suicide Cr., walk (?) through Ti-Willa Canyon, and pass over Solitary on the way home. Are you tired of life? Do your kidneys trouble you? Are you spotless - outside (remember Inner Cleanliness comes First)? Kill care on Suicide Creek! Go Ti-Willaising!
Do I sound rather keen on Ti-Willa Canyon? Until last year it was just a name on the map to me, and not particularly attractive at that. Last year it became The Name on the map for me, for I christened Suicide Creek with a spectaculor jump over a cliff.
This year I revisited the scene of the crime. Having passed Gentle's Pass you have but a mile or so to go. There's nothing special about Suicide Creek where it starts up on the range except it has a swampy beginning, and might have water in it when others haven't. It's north of Dex Ck.
If you're wise, this is where you camp, even without water. We had tea on two tins Of spaghetti heated in the ashes. Add a tin opener (to get the spagaetti out - am I not obvious) and you have a ready made atom gun.
Next morning, if you wake up, you follow down Suicide Ck. Naturally you meet a cliff. This can be negotiated on one side. Which brings you to another cliff. Here I took the shortest way down the first time, but that's another story.
At this point the lunatic is well advised to take the ridge on his or her right hand and follow it down. Care must be taken that the ridge does not follow you down. In this wild land where the hand of man has never set foot, or hardly ever, the foot of the wallaby gives a helping hand. On the way you clutch madly at tufts of graas, loose rocks, prickly bushes, and further down near the end you can hardly resist temptation to take to the vines. (Not of the grape, but even that applies).
You're down. Or are you? If you haven't seen water since leaving the Cox yesterday morning, you throw away your pack and dash frantically for a rock pool. But don't trip over the boulders. In good time nearly the whole of the ten foot width of the Canyon floor is taken up with a beautiful babbling brook. Wrens and robins chatter noisily in the sunshine filtering through the leaves above. I don't know what it is that grows there, but there's a lot of it. However I do know a tree fern when I see it, also the river-oke (that spelling's official) which grows to gigantic proportions in this ageless land.
If you're lucky, there will be only a series of pools here and there, water flowing between them under the ground, water-worn rocks making up the bed of the stream. Here and there this gives way to smooth rock, the water flowing along a self-made channel. At these places you're apt to sit down suddenly. Gee, octopi are lucky suckers.
About every five minutes you change direction with the stream. Eagerly you anticipate something new around the next corner, and after you've stopped anticipating what doesn't seem to be coming you draw back your outstretched foot from the 40' drop below you. I have had the temerity to call these Surprise Falls. The only way to bypass them is to take to the hills. On the right you hang by the eyebrows just above the brink of sixty foot cliffs until you come to a long shale slippery dip, unless the Tarzan urge becomes too strong for you, and you attempt to get down the cliff on vines. On the left you hang by the eyebrows just above the brink of sixty foot cliffs until you come to a long shale slippery dip. You don't have to go as far on this side as on the other, and there are no tempting vines.
I might make mention here of the only fly in the Rexona. These are nettles, and on these little hillside expeditions to get round things, all portions of one's anatomy are equally as likely to suffer. And suffer one does.
For all the hard work so far you have the banifits of almost tame wild life, Rose Robins will flutter around you, and lyre birds are forever dashing off in a panic before your irresistible progress (that's for the benefit of the ladies or otherwise 'cause I like to think I'm gallant). We came across a dead fox, and never hls the wallaby, often seen, been such a friend, with his network of paths along the hillside.
Having mode the creek once more you keep on walking till you come to Mary Falls. These are not such a surprise, but are deeper and more spectacular, and you have to struggle skywards to circumnavigate them. Both times I've taken the left side, so you take the right, and everybody will be happy. Except you.
When you've again reached the creek you have only to walk until you reach the Kowmung. By this time you've got completely used to walking over round stones and are skinning along at a steady four miles an hour, dodging over falling trees, and wetting your feet in the interests of progress if you're not fussy. It saves a lot of hill climbing. There are however tricky and slippery places which can mean an involuntary bath for the unwary.
Further down the creek widens out, and here and there at the bends are grassy banks - and nettles - and traces of the bovine breed. The river okes grow tall and straight, and sunlight reaches down unhampered by warmth hungry branches. On and on you go, bend after bend - has the creek no ending.
And right where you think there's going to be another bend the creek broadens immensely. Stones give way to grass. Ahead a wide stream busily bubbles over slippery stone. Ye Kowmung!
And if it isn't yet dusk, don't worry. Have tea, bed down quickly, and sweet dreams to you. For tomorrow and tomorrow you have to struggle with the Cox and Solitary before you can settle down to a good meal in Katoomba.
The social round on Labour Day.
Nose to the ground, eyes peering hither end thither, notebook appearing and disappearing in flourishes grandiose, the Official Reporter was on the Official Walk. (Alarming, what?)
When first I looked, Edna Garrrard was there. Again I cast my eyes around - and she was gone! Did the Barren Lands mists swallow her up? Or was she conscious of my furtive entries in the notebook?
Subterfuge was rife. Norma Barden, with enough food for three (and Bob Younger carrying it - Labour Day, alright) did her best to whiten Alex Colloy's hair. Got lost three times, with at least three males. She seemed to be the nucleus of the Breakaway Group, which consistently lagged five mils behind the leader, saw him only at meal times (sometimes), and in a last half-mile sprint to catch him - yes, missed the train!
The Leydon-Cosgrove controversies confounded the critics. Bushwalkers were lousey; Berry beer as lousey; Kosciusko weather was lousy. But all agreed that when the depression comes, it will be grand to go walking permanently with occassional ports of call to collect the dole!
At Central, Dennis Gittoes missed the train, then raced it to Berry! No, this isn't Ripley's column - he hi-jacked a timely truck.
We thought we had a U.S. Army Construction Battalion, but someone murmured, “Dorman.” Intrigued we were by two lumps of hose-pipe, one large, one small. “Fire persaders, for blowing fires to life. Large one for large fires, small one for small fires.” When he wants to put the fire out, he sucks instead of blowing.
At Yoola, followed the trend of the times, sporting a ten-man tent, with pack annexe complete. Is it not amazing how the tent is put away in the pack all day, and the pack put away in the tent all night?
Phil Hall struck geologic fame over night, unearthing the best fossils Yeola has yet produced. “Pooh!” said a sceptic, “I've seen better ones in club!” We hope he meant rocks.
You have heard Roley on women of course? “Two men to every woman, lads, etc., etc.”… but there's another side to the story. There he was on the Walgon - the old dog for the hard road. Three women in the crowd, and every one of them in his food party! Need we explain that his pack weighed 101bs., that he fried not one single chop; nor stirred one single billy; yes, nor washed one single plate?
In that impromptu spirit so manifest among the walkers, they wandered up a side creek from Annie Rowan's, to find an impasse in the form of two waterfalls. No; they must turn back. But whist! Was that a voice up there? Why, there were Jenny and Eric, way up top. Now this, my dears, was a pretty pickle - for half of the food was up and could not get down, whilst tiae othar half was down and could not get up. Have you ever faced the prospect of living the rest of the day on dried cabbage and milk? Then do you wonder that Jenny yelled as only Jenny can yell?
Yes, as forecast, the stork has been working as hard as usual. The Paul Barnses drew a cloak of secrecy around the event, but it is now known that their daughter will be six months old at Christmas.
The Ron Bakers, too, are gurgling baby-talk. Rhonda Lisbeth is their last light-weight effort. Visitors to the ward noticed that another baby bore strong resemblance to one of the club's male eligiblies. Now, who's blushing?
The Year's hard luck story comes from the poor unfortunate at Garrawarra working bee, who, far from missing the nail and hitting his thumb, placed his thumb on the nail, then hit with unerring aim!
Irving Calnan has disappeared from the Club. Gone to Lismore. Did he read the Kweensland Speshul and develope a yearning for the North?
The “free” nights on the social programme are not because we think you are broke. Merely to remind you to turn over your spare cash to Rene Browne's Kiddies' Treat.
Next month!! The year's best artic1es! Fun and gossip; full page illustrations by Dennis Gittoes and Ted Constable; poems by the Club's lyrics; articles (we hope!) by many oontributors (yet to come). Come forth and contribute.
PORTHOS AND 'PATHOS, WITH PRIDDLE”
So I sez to myself says I “What you 'want, ',old chap_is. a nice quiet ramble in the bush and then yOu'll return to work as fregh-as paint”. Being Friday evening I wriggle down to the Club and there I am introduced to a pleasant bird called Luke priddle. Luke it seems is taking a team from the Upper Colo to Kurrajong Heights. I have conversation with LUke and emerge from the fray sixteen boblets poorer, but, my little Spanish Onions - I'm on the walk.
The aucdeeding week I float about and Friday evening finds me with suffictent fodder for the trip. I am Also to be found at Parramatta Station whence the truck is scheduled to leave at 7.30 p m. I arrive at 7.20 p m. and by 8 p m. have walked about two miles around the station, seeking latecomers. Betty duly arrives and there is a vulgar souffle to see,who sits next to her in the motor chariot. Disgusting the way these young chaps push theses forward. From where I sit I sse the top of her ear occasionally,so brighten up. somewhat.
The trip is entertaining fron0he beginning. When wa get really going the lorry gives, out a great shower of sparks from the und,ergear, so much so, that a followiag. motor cyclist draws abreast and informs
our driver that he is on fire (not the-driver). Much to our disappointment we pull up and discover that it'ia only carbon from the exhaust pipe and I 'settle down tolook at the ear again.
About one hour afterwards 140 are bowling along a dusty road and I woUld not'bb contradicted if I mendhthat :a 'speck or two of the same dust 'enters the part where I sit.':I.at:informedt:hat it ia called affectionate dust, which I believelaeCause a pound on-two is clinging to my skin. Around about this time some heartless beast obscures W. view of the auditory appendage (ear, you mug) so I cast A glance to my right.. Dogonne my ornery hide if I'm not sitting next to.Bob: and Phil.-j.Having bunked with Phil on Berry Mountain, I feel at home and ehoXtly afterwards the conversation turns to tents. It is discovered thatlim'three have a tent 'each, ao someone suggests we tent together and utilise the slur-Pius tents aEvicoverage. -A very solid idea, so When we turn in at 11 p m. it is-not'surprising that we thl'eeare cheek to cheek, more or 1&&s Anyway. I also am not surprisad-t0,t1Ad. myself on the outside as We have ,drawn straws for the position in the centre.
..:plarid a very restless night and am pleased to seethe dawn. aiAbiried- by 'others and soon breakfast is on the way. Phil and Bob each report a'goOd”night,'..s al4ep, which makes the big blbite' a little envious. Phil however draws.:attentio4.to my sleeping pants and I am advised that by removing the rtom the,pockets an improvement
in the slumber will be noticed.
The-,inetriictionorare,to b6. ready to Move off at 8 a m.'ed at
9. aale% we. ki4'Off;to, ItOty%hic.(1 start Up'a'hill naturally,. Going
down the other. slae tp:efaingry :Way Cree,k. lattli, Bob
ar..m wirdMmw.. Imm..p011.Wmoven CL.
and_Phil and some_ bright soul claSseS us aS the Three Musketeers. Thi'7i is same,speCulation as to how to allot the characters but on discussio:i Bob id.Aramis, Phil is Athos and you Can'gueSs who Cops Porthos. I rack My brain and am rewarded with ,the memory that Porthos is the
-4Ullest of the trio… Curse Alex Dumas, The descent 1.8 also highlighted by a wallaby aChieVing aliost impossible leaps from rock to
Westward'alOng the Creek and,we come to the Colo River. There
we receive a pleasant surprise as, the River is cleaner than we expected. About midday the party crossed the river, knee deep at the crossing, and mention might be' made that all talk of swimming before. lunch SpPMed to just fade away.
Lunch at the junction of the Colo and Tootle Creek and afterwards alcnz the creek for about half a mile then Bingo, we seek higher alti, tudc:. The afternoon passes- climbing fOur successive ridges and Porthos here dips his lid to the girls in the party, Gwen, Betty; May, Shirley and Jenny. They never chants down into low gear. I would like to report the same about Porthosiout you know how it is. Too ,many- witnesses. Five-oclock finds Luke & Co. at Condor Trig, and we are cheered at the news that camp im,only a short distance away. Several glamor boys take the opportunity-tojpose,on the trig for
photos and it is reallydisgusting:the way they push themselves forward and it is only by good fortUne-that I am not shoved off the trig and -put completely out of thespicture. -
Away goes the team to camp and away go the Musketeers, and please notice, Betty. -I'm not a woman to talk but that girl has really got taste. Iffien next we take a look about us the rest of th6 party seem to have vanished so we follow in the direction we assume to be correct.
.After a few minutes we are not. so sure Of ourselves, so Porthos, who has learned to C000, gets in a little Practice, but not even an echo replies. Things are soquiet that even the sound of Sinatra singing would be welcome, “rep Bud; it is as -quiet as that. So Athos, Aramis and Porthos start to use their horse sense and bowl down a ridge or
. two. The position is not improved by Athosf pack going for a stroll all by its self.: It does not go very farbut completes the trip by dropping over a,middle cliff. Just between you and me the abovementioned pack contains eggs. By this time the place is getting very dark' arli on account of power rationing there are no lights (Curse the Government 7'Curse the Miners). The gentle reader may now be excueed for thinking the Musketeers are lost, but not those bright boys. All you have to do 16 return to Condor Trig and make another start. po away they go and walk for about half an hour:, but some praatioal -joker has removed the trig. By this time it is so dark. that the Owls are even carrying Glow-worms for illumination and it is decided to make a dry camp. At that presact moment several coos are heard and. in a couple of minutes along bowl-.Luke,'Clem and Colin. I don't wish to be anyway emotionallaut veryankissed BettyYand even
Porthos iscarried:away and participates, in the orgy and is Only halted. when he makes a mistake in the dark and 'gets gulash on his chin. The least said about the shameful return 1116 better but. I am assured that although Bushwalkere may be overdue, th6y_aro never_lost. Which is
a vbry dmforting thought when you don' t know where you are.
Sunday morning fin04, the pl rtY o ve4opki4gWheeny Creek' and it -is -t,i7.t1,17..ying to receive the 'complitherits:,f;rbta the rest of the party. The r_,:r_rer3. Musketeers are even honored to the extent of being placed at the head' of the crowd. As I was saying we are looking down on 'Wheeny
and, youmight be pardoned for saying ' it is only a short step
Investigating officers JOhnO,- _Like.' and 'Clem report it to be :Only: a: short' step, but a rock 'face intervened so we must need's turn our; Va.-01c. on' the.' short way: At the baCk of olir ridge we 'find a convenient creek, bit half way down We 'also strike a not do convenient waterfall so it i e a case of back up the creek.
:The next. creek' looks promiel rig so with strict instructions to the Musketeers not to stray, away o the investigators. Better luck this time and a.: halt ie.:called half 'way' 'down for lunch. Short and. sweet would-, be the, oorre-ct term for this
meal a:e we are: behind schedule.,. The 4,4c-ent of the creek is most int6resting even if at tithes a tri.C.2 rough. and Wheenie. Creek is reached practically without incident It mlzght.:be mentioned that Porthos: is inclined' to be a little original in his method of deei-anding a' waterfall. After he has :picked. hithself up' it is oxplainkid patiently that fee-t.'“first, , not head first, is thecorrs:tt way.
prom Wheenie Creek it is -juetne; biecuit'toss to Kurrajong Heights and after a couple of hours we come out on to the roadway where we
expected to our lorry. It is almost six o' clock and. Are are heartened by 'a report from a tag.8eing motorist, that there is a covered'
just up the road. Luke. has never been over the complete route
!.-fore and a gentle pat on the back is merited for his leading.: io owess.'. Back to parramatta by our motor 'chariot where Luke further
Uears himself to the team by producing a chaff bag full o. oranges
now nforms Us that he purchased them for twenty sheckels at Arinstron g1 s Orchard, at the oorarrenderrient of the walk. I 'recollect the story Of a' bloke' who once oarrieil half a hundr,edwei:ght of coboa over seventeen mountains sbI look hard :at Luke but he doesn' t bat an eye and swears they were Carried in the lorry since the “time of purchase. Didregarding. my iorbken back, I 'believe the story; -
There is!'nothirig. else to, report except to record that the Ham-
burger: shop sold,. out…at -Parramatta and a 'Milk bar has iraoancies for two new attendants next: time We ge..thete:.
, 1 j A dathser.`bending - With altitrnati ng: – As r - Peg'gy- lqields a And fLercely jabs th- Itol-ey.- pacing , POEM - TO JENNY but speaking not a word) A splinter causes strife In any womant s over -Peggy'-e knee,- (A. wicked., :shrieks of– path: and 'glee','”' r it 'in, up arid d-own. the
. sgard; - ;..=rtiorg…wwgerrtiraa 11. THINGS OF YORE. By Skip. During my period of self enforced absence from bushwalking I've been looking over my souvenirs and photographs of my fRw but happy days in the bush. Everyone of us has his own personal experiences on which we look back with pleasure and pride, awe or what have you. Frl-rie, of these belong to you and you alone, but some are boomerangs; that is they repeat themselves, although We de the coming back. Occupying pride of place at the present are three feathers from a lyrebird's tail. This pride of place business is very temporary, as most of the souvenirs serve no purpose other than to remind one of the past. The present is continually replacing theM. Anyway, whilst the present state of affairs exists they droop in - rathnr bedraggled splendour, jammed. :between the leaves bf a large trade catalogue.. They will go soon, but-the memory stays. These were picked up along,Ti-Willa Creek, where I have seen many things I will not soon forget. Two waterfalls, difficult to negotiate, rose robins which would flutter round one's head, stinging nettles (rather redundant, that), thorny trees, thick Undergrowth, and wonderfully pure water come to my mind as I write. Another plaCe where I had a most satisfying experience with lyrebirds was Derp Creek, Narrabeen. I suppose this is rather scorned by the bushwalker who's,”had” most placed, and is Seeking fresh fields to conquer. But the Sunday Picknicqrs do not penetrate far, and this rugged little gulley has much to offer those in search far beauty after you've passed the barrier of rubbish. Lyrebirds in Deep Creek, you wonder? I certainly can vouch for that. Whilst fifteen of us were drying ourselves aftRr a swim in the creek, one of the party drew our attention to a female lyrebird scratching for food. She slowly approached us, and shortly her mate appeared. They took very little notice of us as they scratched about, and the pair came within ten iards of us. The ohly thing that did not happen was the spreading of daddy's tail feathers. Sounds uninteresting? I suppose so, but you didn't see it. You weren't theret And lyrebirds aren't the only thing in Deep Creek. 1 have four or five plaster casts of animal tracks somewhere. There is the inevitable wallaby, the lyrebird, some eort of, lliard, a goanna and a possum. then again the place is alive with firetail finches, ravens, and mosquitoes, and we heard the currawong. Again we saw the little forest kingfisher, the kooka, peewit, mullet, sundew, slipper ochid, the blun and red sort of fowl that's peculiar to NarrabRen and so on and on and on. There is tall timber under _which to camp and an unreliable water suRply. But this is only for a campr, not a bushwalkqr. 12.
But the first time I saw a lyrebird was on the Cox River. What a tripl It was the first time I had walked - or tried to - for more than three days and thirty miles, Whatvas leorse,J*, had to pick the worst surmer-the mountains have had 1944.. The at least not on top - although the few pools 'we saw were of some help, mostly for relaxation: Between, Black Jerry's and Harry's River We relaxed 7era1times, and from thereon the only water in the Cox was Harry's I-daresay most of you remember. that summer with its terrific buc,hfires, dust hazes, and at least one bushwalker fatality. I do 'cause I was noarly one myself, Or. so I like to kid myself. However, 4 back to the point.. We caught only-:6. glimpse of quite a few 13irebids all that time, but made our first acquaintance With a dingo and duck d la nature. We remember the-heat,andhaze, the sensation of walking through burnt, out colintry mhere,:logs[-tirestill smoulderinganctpf the etatlmess'ofia dead animal -:.our first experience of theee,things. 1 remember fifty miles with blisters. on all toes and. both heels, and'a_dry_gOollOn , tongue..:-.-.. ' -. ,.; . ' , , . . .,;w….', .:.. .. . , . . . , ' . , , alat:mhaps T7.17& brought back half,f6r0t:bOn MSmoried-tO:you'i-pr perhaps I've kindled an interest about theseplaci4.- An&perh'apiiiyoumutter a whispered prayer as you turn to the next ttticle'-'“Lbrd prerent himfrom seeing anything Worth,spu7pniring next,time.” ., .. … … ,…. . i 9..m.,..rm. fr., r , r .., , , - RIVERCANOE CLUB TOPOGAAPHICAL'SECTION.. The folipling Maps have noW been-,completedW this'aection: Map No. 37 Nymboida River (Nymboida to 'Clarence River junctibn). Map No. 38 - ClarenceRiver (Nymboida River Junction to Copmanhurst). Includes a 16rge-scale. inset,epecially illustrating the approach, portage of,' and general negotiation rand navi, .gation of the Clarence River Gorge. . _ . . E:Caines Convenor. ' 39 Silver Stree:t,' St. Peters. (Phone LA2667) CHRISTMAS PARTY. - Watch notice board for details. For inform6,- see Social Secretar7_7-104url e Wood. (Phone BX 6424). t, .. , A ]7ate_flashvOrY late) bringg' ne0 'of Bill Burke. Next time you see him, oorigratialate hip, 'upon the 'ii0quisition of a son. Still later flaeh - Don and Betty Gordon are the proud parents of a son. - name Angus. MDIES' CHRISTMAS TREAT - REMINEER. RINE BROWNE NEEDS HELPERS. tion STORK AGAIN,