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195411 [2018/08/07 13:01] tyreless195411 [2018/08/08 09:05] tyreless
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-=== the Sydney Bushwalkers Annual Christmas Party. ===+=== The Sydney Bushwalkers Annual Christmas Party. ===
  
 Friday 10 December. R.S.L. Hall, Elizabeth St., Sydney. Friday 10 December. R.S.L. Hall, Elizabeth St., Sydney.
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 +===== The Admiral's Madcap Marathon, 1954 Style. =====
  
-THE ADMIRALtS MADCAP MARATHON 1954 STYLE. 
 - Frank Rigby. - Frank Rigby.
-You've probably been on one of the Admiral's trips - you know, the type that always manages to begin in utter confusion. Well, the Kanangra Walls - Cloudmaker Tiwilla Katoomba two-day madcap marathon was no exception. For instance, who cares if the "organised" transport to the Walls has gone astray somewhere and taxis are as scarce as hen's teeth? Apparently not the Admiral. "I was only kidding about this tiger trip, anyway" he says. + 
-Picture the post office scene at Blackheath at 11 p m. on that dark, chilly Friday night. Two undaunted stalwarts are on the blower5 0 trying desperately to interest the reluctant taxi fraternity of Katoathba in our plight. The Admiral paces up and down the bridge outside wearing his famous vacant expression, while Yours Truly, with definite 'White Ant tendencies, squats in the gutter dreaming of a blissful, loafing weekend down at Blue Gum. The blower-operators have closed down amid oaths and curses - fortunately they have in their mad quest. Aha, all is now lost - we are resigned to a spine-bashing destiny. But wait! Fate has thwarted me once again - the wretched coach has just rolled up and the Admiral has pounced on its driver. Alas, it is Kanangra or bust nou, and so we press on regardless. That does it matter if you have to push the lazy vehical up the Porcupine? Why should you complain if you don't finally bag +You've probably been on one of the Admiral's trips - you know, the type that always manages to begin in utter confusion. Well, the Kanangra Walls - Cloudmaker Tiwilla Katoomba two-day madcap marathon was no exception. For instance, who cares if the "organised" transport to the Walls has gone astray somewhere and taxis are as scarce as hen's teeth? Apparently not the Admiral. "I was only kidding about this tiger trip, anyway" he says. 
-15. + 
-clown until 2 a m., are hauled out again at 5, aid haven't slept in the interim because of hard planks and mopokes? The answers are unprintable. +Picture the post office scene at Blackheath at 11 p.m. on that dark, chilly Friday night. Two undaunted stalwarts are on the blower, trying desperately to interest the reluctant taxi fraternity of Katoomba in our plight. The Admiral paces up and down the bridge outside wearing his famous vacant expression, while Yours Truly, with definite White Ant tendencies, squats in the gutter dreaming of a blissful, loafing weekend down at Blue Gum. The blower-operators have closed down amid oaths and curses - fortunately they have failed in their mad quest. Aha, all is now lost - we are resigned to a spine-bashing destiny. But wait! Fate has thwarted me once again - the wretched coach has just rolled up and the Admiral has pounced on its driver. Alas, it is Kanangra or bust now, and so we press on regardless. What does it matter if you have to push the lazy vehical up the Porcupine? Why should you complain if you don't finally bag down until 2 a.m., are hauled out again at 5, and haven't slept in the interim because of hard planks and mopokes? The answers are unprintable. 
-The pre-dawn gloom, the feeble brain impulses inseparable from this absurd hour of the day, and the incombustible Kanangra wood all combine to make breakfast something of a struggle. However, the sun rose up into a cloudless, breathless sky, and with it the Promise of + 
-glorious day-to come. This spurred our languid efforts to some extent, and so, despite all, the eight sleepless frames mooched out on to the Kanangra Tops in rather bedraggled fashion at something after seven. Our slow-revving, long-stroke leader, with whip as yet cunningly concealed, led the way, closely followed by Jim Hooper with new movie camera straining at the leash, trying to be compatible with Odin Putt who was flinging pointed curses at the wicked disease of photography which, according to Colin, seems to have stricken so many of our walkers with creeping paralysis. That man of stamina, Arne Jotsson, strode out with an enviable confidence reminiscent of those rare walkers who possess seemingly bottoMless pits brimming over with encrgy. Next cane prospective Ted Smith, showing admirable courage in taokling this trip, only his second with the Club, and then Yours TruLy; alternating between suspicious glances at the mighty Cloudmakc: aheua, and wistful daydreams of the tranquility and inertia of weekenda spent at Blue Gum Forest or Euroka. A tried and tested tail comTrised our pair fresh from New Zealand, lone femme Betty Swain, and try-anything-once Pete Stitt. All in all a mixed bag, I felt, but a bag from which some strange apparitions would inevitably appear, Hcw prophetic and how true! +The pre-dawn gloom, the feeble brain impulses inseparable from this absurd hour of the day, and the incombustible Kanangra wood all combine to make breakfast something of a struggle. However, the sun rose up into a cloudless, breathless sky, and with it the promise of glorious day to come. This spurred our languid efforts to some extent, and so, despite all, the eight sleepless frames mooched out on to the Kanangra Tops in rather bedraggled fashion at something after seven. Our slow-revving, long-stroke leader, with whip as yet cunningly concealed, led the way, closely followed by Jim Hooper with new movie camera straining at the leash, trying to be compatible with Colin Putt who was flinging pointed curses at the wicked disease of photography which, according to Colin, seems to have stricken so many of our walkers with creeping paralysis. That man of stamina, Arne Jonsson, strode out with an enviable confidence reminiscent of those rare walkers who possess seemingly bottomless pits brimming over with encrgy. Next came prospective Ted Smith, showing admirable courage in tackling this trip, only his second with the Club, and then Yours Truly, alternating between suspicious glances at the mighty Cloudmaker ahead, and wistful daydreams of the tranquility and inertia of weekends spent at Blue Gum Forest or Euroka. A tried and tested tail comprised our pair fresh from New Zealand, lone femme Betty Swain, and try-anything-once Pete Stitt. All in all a mixed bag, I felt, but a bag from which some strange apparitions would inevitably appear. How prophetic and how true! 
-After a bit of jiggery-pokery in which the Admiral had us all + 
-at sea, we hit upon the cleft running from the Tops down to our ridge an then stepped it out along to Craft's Walls, where our first rest of "two minutes only, you peasants" fortuna tely degenerated into a qua2ter-hour Photographic ramble. From then on, though, the whip was alwfys handy, and potential white-antism was invariably nipped in the bud. This was serious business, I guessed, as the Admiral's face began to assume that strained expression of pseudo-responsibility only he can conjure. Up the High, over the High and Mighty, and then the Mighty - and what high and mighty panoramas were opening up on +After a bit of jiggery-pokery in which the Admiral had us all at sea, we hit upon the cleft running from the Tops down to our ridge and then stepped it out along to Craft's Walls, where our first rest of "two minutes only, you peasants" fortunately degenerated into a quarter-hour photographic ramble. From then on, though, the whip was always handy, and potential white-antism was invariably nipped in the bud. This was serious business, I guessed, as the Admiral's face began to assume that strained expression of pseudo-responsibility only he can conjure. Up the High, over the High and Mighty, and then the Mighty - and what high and mighty panoramas were opening up on every side. The view back along the massive Kanangra Deep was particularly impressive. Ahead and above reared the Cloudmaker massif, and one by one we stormed and won its lesser bastions of Rip, Rack, Roar and Rumble, until at last the summit itself was ours just as the noonday hour approached. I must admit that the summit of Cloudmaker is somewhat uninspiring. After such a struggle, one might expect to be rewarded with, at the least, a view. However, it's one of those mountains that are undoubtedly good for the prestige. Looming up like a giant as it does from all horizons, to have traversed the mighty Cloudmaker is to have become a bushwalker tried and true - or so the tourists would have it, anyway. And so down to the Tiwilla Pass for lunch. Oh, what dastardly curses and ungentlemanly oaths flowed out into that pure mountain air when it was discovered that the staple lunch item, the so-and-so biscuits, had been completely omitted from the Admiral's food party lists. We are beginning to see the reason behind Brian's light-weight fanaticism - it's apparently because he can't help it. 
-ever7 side. The view back along the massive Kanangra Deep was partice + 
-uly impressive. Ahead and above reared the Claudmaker massif, and +The afternoon passed away pleasantly with the stroll across Tiwilla Plateau and down the Tiwilla Buttress to the Kowmung. I can thoroughly recommend the Buttress with its gently-sloping, open, easy-going ridge; besides, extra good time can be made on this section owing to the absence of kodachromatic material. 
-olie Iv one we stormed and won its lesser bastions of Rip, Rack, Roar + 
-and Rumble, until at last the summit itself was ours just as the nponda7 hgur approached. I must admit that the summit of Cloudmaker +What happens when a party, nearing its evening campsite, splits into two equal factions and the "Leader" is relegated to the rearguard? Let me tell you. "Wait for us down at the Tiwilla Creek junctionwarns our tiring Chieftain; and did that advance guard wait? Like merry hell they didCooee contact was eventually established and it appeared the erring ones had found a haven some half-mile upstream. "I'll show 'em who's bossing this outfit" and flinging down pack, our gallant crusader, with features contorted like those of a mad bull, pranced off in the best admiral's tradition to do battle with the renegades. What ensued we can only guess at, but, judging by our Leader's browbeaten, faltering return some fifteen minutes later, we knew that he had met his Waterloo. "After all, they had the tents half up and a couple of fires going. That __could__ I do?" he wailed. The fact that the advance guard had hit upon an infinitely superior campsite to the Junction was, of course, merely incidental and insignificant in the Admiral's scheme of things. 
-somewItt uninspiring. After such a struggle, one might expect to ,be rewarded with, at the least, a view. However, it's one of those mountains that are undoubtedly good for the prestige. Looming up lih + 
-a giant Ls it does from all horizons, to have traversed the mighty +Impromptu food-partying with Colin Putt can be fun. Odd and sundry ingredients from the tucker bags of several bods are combined in an unpremeditated fashion in Colin's communal billy, set over a roaring fire. Despite all the laws of science, the result is invariably a feast of both quality and qlantity, especially the latter. After just such an orgy of eating, on top of some forty virtually sleepless hours, no threats were required to make us hit the hay like obedient five-year-olds. Even the Leader's grim forecast of a 6.30 start on the morrow failed to provoke the belligerent protests customary on more animated occasions. 
-Cloudmaker is to have become a bushwalker tried and true - or so the tourists would have it, anyway. And so down to the Tiwilla Pass for + 
-lunch. Oh, what dastardly curses and ungentlemanly oaths flowed out into that pure mountain air when it was discovered that the staple +From the moment Brian slowly and sorely raised his long frame from the good earth, I knew that the 6.30 start would prove to be a fallacy. After all, you can't light a fire with green logs in five minutes, can you Brian? Noit takes fully thirty. If you hadn't been the Leader I'd have accused you of deliberate White Anting with so much dry tinder around for the taking. Then, of course, Jim Hooper and Peter Stitt had somehow yet to have their eyelids raised, no easy task without a plug of gelignite. Ah yes, time there was a-plenty. And then it happenedThe Admiral's billy of rice, prepared at great effort and cost, was sitting out on the open prairie in perfect repose while its contents cooled for eating. What __could__ upset it? Why, nothing else save the Admiral's No.10 hoof! And where did the rice flow? Why, straight on top of the biggest meadow cake for miles around. And what was also inverted during the gourmet's prancing rageOf course it was the full billy of milk intended for covering the first course. Yes Jim, you __were__ right about the foreign flavour in your breakfast that Sunday morning
-lunch item, the so-and-so biscuits, had been completely omitted from the Admiral's food party lists. We are beginning to see the reason behind Brian's light-weight fanaticism - it's apparently because he can't help it. + 
-16. +After a series of false alarms, Anderson style, we finally hit the trail at 7.45. Sixteen miles behind us and twenty-seven ahead. Did I say twenty-seven? I sure did, and I mean every inch of it, with 3,000 feet upwards thrown in for good measure. The first part was unbelievably pleasant and exhilarating and we swung along in great style down the Kowmung to the Cox Junction, where an early lunch was started at something like 1100 hours. After supplying the no-biscuits party with free bread, they were too tight even to purchase a surplus tin of sardines from me to bolster their meagre rations. "Why should we pay", they chorused, "when we can take by force?" Such are the animal instincts developed on these tiger trips - keep well away fram them. I hid my sardines in the farthest corner of my pack and kept my distance... 
-The afternoon passed away pleasantly with the stroll across Tiwilla Plateau and down the Tiwilla Buttress to the Kowmung. I can thoroughly recommend the Buttress with its gently-sloping, open, easygoing ridge; besides, extra good time can be made on this section owing to the absence of kodachromatic material. + 
-What happens when a party, nearing its evening campsite, splits into two equal factions and the "Leader" is relegated to the rear uard Let inc tell you. "Wait for us down at the Tiwilla Creek junction warns our tiring Chieftain; and did that advance guard wait? Like merry hell they didCooee contact was eventually established and it appeared the erring ones had found a haven some half-nfle upstreamc "I'll show 'em who's bossing this outfit" and flinging down pack, our gallant crusader, with features contorted like those of a mad bull, pranced off in the best admiral's tradition to do battle with the renegades. What ensued we can only guess at, but, judging by our Leader's browbeaten, faltering return some fifteen minutes later, we knew that he had met his Waterloo. "After all, they had the tents half up and a couple of fires going. That could I do?" he wailed. The fact that the advance guard had hit upoir7E-infinitely superior campsite to the Junction was, of course, merely incidental and insignificant in the Admiral's scheme of things. +Onwards, ever onwards! Up the steep end of the White Dog spur we plodded, with physical staminas slowly but surely on the wane. At Kelpie Hill, Brian, Peter and Betty decided to advance more leisurely, while the rest of us, with visions of the last train chortling off without us, started the long burn into Katoamba, a sweat-and-tears trek that I shall never forget. I was quite happy as far as Clear Hill, but with the level going and those high-powered steam engines Hooper, Jonsson and Putt alternately taking over the pacing, it was a constant struggle for little "chuffas" like me. From Glenraphael Swamp to the Falls Kiosk our train was truly express. Had we stopped once, I am quite certain that we wouldn't have moved again that day. By collapsing into a taxi at the Falls Kiosk we managed to steal time for a most welcome meal. 
-Impromptu food-partying with Colin Putt can be fun. Odd and sundry ingredients from the tucker bags of several bods are combined in an unpremeditated fashion in Colin's communal billy, set over a + 
- roaring fire. Despite all the laws of science, the result is invariably a feast of both quality and qlantity, especially the latter. After just such an orgy of eating, on top of some forty virtually sleepless hours, no threats were required to make us hit the hay like obedient five-year-olds. Even the Leader's grim forecast of a 6.30 start on the morrow failed to provoke the belligerent protests customary on more animated occasions. +The hour had come when we must try desperately to somehow drive our tortured bodies to the station; and there followed such a cireus act as the citizenry of Katoomba had never been treated to before. Rigor Mortis had set in en masse during our relaxation at the cafe and we had degenerated into a bunch of old crocks. Staggering, lurching, and creaking at every joint, our plight was indeed a sorry one, but not without its humorous side. I could honestly state that we did not radiate that "how to win members and influence people" effect at this stage of the marathon. 
-From the moment Brian slowly and sorely raised his long frame from the good earth, I knew that the 6.30 start would prove to be a 'fallacy. After all, you can't light a fire with green logs in five minutes, can you Brian? No it tahes fully thirty. If you hadn't been the Leader I'd have accused you of deliberate White Anting with so much dry tinder around for the taking. Then, of course, Jim Hooper and Peter Stitt had somehow yet to have their eyelids raised, no easy task without a plug of gelignite. Ala yes, time there was a-plenty. And then it happenedThe Admiral's billy of rice, prepared at great effort and cost, was sitting out on the open prairie in perfect repose while its contents cooled for eating. What could upset it? Why, + 
-nothing else save the Admiral's No.10 hoof! And where did the rice flow? Why, straight on top of the biggest meadow calm for miles around,. And what was also inverted during the gourmet's prancing rage': Of course it was the fullbilly of milkintended for covering the first course. Yes Jim, you were right about the foreign flavour in your breakfast that Sunday =nig+Having fallen in a heap on the platform, the burning question then was whether our gallant Leader'minority group would have the physical reserve necessary to turn up in time for the train; and staunch warriors that they proved to be, that they did just in the nick of time. Suffering much the same effects as we, they had just had time to grab some cakes and biscuits to keep body and soul together. 
- + 
-After a series of false alarms, Anderson style, we finally hitthe trail at 7.45. Sixteen miles behind us and twenty-seven ahead. Did T oay twenty-seven?'sure did,'and I mean every inch of it, with 3,000 feet upwards thrown in for good measure. The first part +Nor was the position much improved at Central Station. As we lurched our several ways I'm sure that most of us made ourselves a secret promise that our next outing would be, shall we say, more in the order of a nice, soft, instructional weekend or a Sunday cakewalk. We had come, seen, and been conquered, but had lived to tell the tale. Three cheers for the Admiral and his crew of sturdy henchmen! 
-17. was unbelievably pleasant and exhilarating and we swung along in + 
-great style down the Kowmung to the Cox Junction, where an early lunch was started at something like 1100 hours. After supplying the no-biscuits Party with free bread, they were too tight even to pure:, chase a surplus tin of sardines from me to bolster their meagre rations. 6Why should we pay", they chorused, "when we can take by force?" Such are the animal Instincts developed on these tiger trips- keep well away fram them. I hid my sardines in the farthest corner of my pack and kept my distance  +---- 
-Onwards, ever onwards! Up the steep end of the White Dog spur we plodded, with physical staminas slowly but surely on the wane. At Kelpie Hill, Brian, Peter and Betty decided to advance more leisurely, while the rest of us, with visions of the last train chortling off without us, started the long burn into Katoamba, a sweat-and-tears trek that I shall never forget. I was quite happy as far as Clear Hill, but with the level going and those high-powered steam engines Hooper, Jonsson and Putt alternately taking over the pacing, it was a constant struggle for little "chuffas" like me. From Glenraphael Swam to the Falls Kiosk our train was truly express. Had we stopped once, I am quite certain that we wouldn't have moved again that day. By collapsing into a taxi at the Falls Kiosk we managed to steal time for a most welcome meal. + 
-The hour had come When we must try desperately to somehow drive our tortured bodies to the station; and there followed such a cireus act as the citizenry of Katoomba had never been treated to before. Rigor Mortis had set in en masse during our relaxation at the eafe and we had degenerated into a bunch of old crocks. Staggering, lurching, and creaking at every joint, our plight was indeed a sorry one, but not without its humorous side. I could honestly state that we did not radiate that "how to win members and influence people" effect at this stage of the marathon. +=== Credit where it is due: === 
-Having fallen in a heap on the platform, the burning question then was whetter our gallant Leader Ts minority group would have the physical reserve necessary to turn Up it time for the train; and staunch warriors that they proved to be, that they did just in the nick of time. Suffering much the same effects as we, they had just had time to grab some cakes and biscuits to keep body and soul together. + 
-Nor was the position much improved at Central Station. As we +Before too many people start congratulating the Editor for the extremely valuable Index to Walks which has appeared in the two previous issues, we would hasten to point out that this lengthy piece of research is the work of your President, Jim Brown. We should have acknowledged it before. 
-+ 
-lurched our several waysI'm sure that most of us made ourselves a secret promise that our next outing would be, shall we say, more in the order of a nice, soft, instructional weekend or a Sunday cakewalk. We had come, seen, and been conquered, but had lived to tell the tale. Three cheers for the Admiral and his crew of sturdy henchmen! +---- 
-CREDIT WHERE CREDIT IS DUE Before too many people start congratuTaing thetor for Elieextremely valuable Index to Walks which has appeared in the two previous issues, we would hasten to point out that this lengthy piece of research is the work of your President, Jim Brown. We should have acknowledged it before.+
 18. 18.
 KOSCIUSKO INVASION. KOSCIUSKO INVASION.
195411.txt · Last modified: 2018/08/09 13:19 by tyreless

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