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195806 [2016/04/08 09:16] – [In Tasmania's South West (Part 3)] kennettj195806 [2016/04/25 15:22] (current) – [The Smoke of Their Passing] kennettj
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 ====== At Our May Meeting ====== ====== At Our May Meeting ======
  
-As the President was unable to be at the meeting, Vice-President Brian Harvey occupied the Chair. The members too sat in chairs - new green metal ones with arm rests - for which we expressed our thanks to the Rationalist Society. They are a strong job, but, though the crashes which punctuate our gatherings were no longer heard, they were not conductive to slumber, and a certain restlesness became evident after the first hour or so.+As the President was unable to be at the meeting, Vice-President Brian Harvey occupied the Chair. The members too sat in chairs - new green metal ones with arm rests - for which we expressed our thanks to the Rationalist Society. They are a strong job, but, though the crashes which punctuate our gatherings were no longer heard, they were not conductive to slumber, and a certain restlessness became evident after the first hour or so.
  
-The meeting opened with a welcome to new member Eileen Taylor. Irene Pridham, another new member, sent her apologies for being unable to attend. Margaret Ryan, our new Hon. Assist. Sec., couldn't get along either, and Jess Martin was at her old post next to the Secretary. The Vice-President welcomed back Malcolm McGregor, whose luggage included 1,000 slides of the U.S. (Social Sec. please note). Mal calm lost no time in getting down to business by pointing out that the minutes of the last meeting recorded that it both opened and closed at 8.45. As this threw some doubt on the possibility of the meeting having been held at all, the starting time was put back half an hour.+The meeting opened with a welcome to new member Eileen Taylor. Irene Pridham, another new member, sent her apologies for being unable to attend. Margaret Ryan, our new Hon. Assist. Sec., couldn't get along either, and Jess Martin was at her old post next to the Secretary. The Vice-President welcomed back Malcolm McGregor, whose luggage included 1,000 slides of the U.S. (Social Sec. please note). Malcolm lost no time in getting down to business by pointing out that the minutes of the last meeting recorded that it both opened and closed at 8.45. As this threw some doubt on the possibility of the meeting having been held at all, the starting time was put back half an hour.
  
 In correspondence a letter from Allen Strom requested a donation to the Stead Memorial Fund to be set up for the foundation of a conservation scholarship, an annual research grant, an annual lecture, a plaque, or some other suitable purpose.  In correspondence a letter from Allen Strom requested a donation to the Stead Memorial Fund to be set up for the foundation of a conservation scholarship, an annual research grant, an annual lecture, a plaque, or some other suitable purpose. 
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 Such was the scene witnessed by a circling eagle the morning that Joan, Arthur, Henry and I set out from Lake Pedder to trek to Mt. Anne. Fortunately, we were too much alive to be of anything but passing interest to circling eagles - the weather, so frustrating during our stay at Pedder, had come good with a vengeance; the rugged grandeur of that sunlit landscape had filled us brimfull of admiration; and with the adventure of Mt. Anne ahead of us, we felt an exciting tingle of anticipation well up within us. Such was the scene witnessed by a circling eagle the morning that Joan, Arthur, Henry and I set out from Lake Pedder to trek to Mt. Anne. Fortunately, we were too much alive to be of anything but passing interest to circling eagles - the weather, so frustrating during our stay at Pedder, had come good with a vengeance; the rugged grandeur of that sunlit landscape had filled us brimfull of admiration; and with the adventure of Mt. Anne ahead of us, we felt an exciting tingle of anticipation well up within us.
  
-A clump of small trees, practically the only shelter on the plain, afforded us a shady lunch spot where we could let our restless spirits wander over the sharp peaks and dips of the Arthur Range. For the moment it was enough to admire from afar, but inwardly I knew the Arthurs would bring me back to Tassie some other day. Replenished, we pushed on around the end of Solitary where we began to really appreciate the full magnificence of the Annes for the first time. ("A mighty hunk of masonry" as Arthur would exclaim.) The eye would inevitably be drawn to the peak of Anne itself, truly a regal queen of all she surveyed. The whole of that long afternoon we crossed the button grass plains, heading directly for the foot of the Mt. Eliza climbing ridge. The Huon River, by legend a fearsome obstacle at times, was this day no more than a harmless brook. Fortunately, with a full quota of photographers, there were plenty of diversions to temper the bash and it was always amusing to study the ridiculous postures adopted by the wild flower experts, Henry and Arthur, to say nothing of the endless discussions on the higher technicalities of close-up photography.  +A clump of small trees, practically the only shelter on the plain, afforded us a shady lunch spot where we could let our restless spirits wander over the sharp peaks and dips of the Arthur Range. For the moment it was enough to admire from afar, but inwardly I knew the Arthurs would bring me back to Tassie some other day. Replenished, we pushed on around the end of Solitary where we began to really appreciate the full magnificence of the Annes for the first time. ("A mighty hunk of masonry" as Arthur would exclaim.) The eye would inevitably be drawn to the peak of Anne itself, truly a regal queen of all she surveyed. The whole of that long afternoon we crossed the button grass plains, heading directly for the foot of the Mt. Eliza climbing ridge. The Huon River, by legend a fearsome obstacle at times, was this day no more than a harmless brook. Fortunately, with a full quota of photographers, there were plenty of diversions to temper the bash and it was always amusing to study the ridiculous postures adopted by the wild flower experts, Henry and Arthur, to say nothing of the endless discussions on the higher technicalities of close-up photography. Our goal was now well in sight but what's this? Surprise of surprises! Without warning we had suddenly stumbled on the most delightful little creek running fair slap-bang through the middle of those soggy plains. The sparkling clear water ran swiftly over a bed of clean smooth stones, so reminiscent of our own Blue Mountains. After consulting the map I realised that it was the lower reaches of Condeminion Ck., whose source lies high up on the slopes of Mt. Anne - no wonder it was the best water in Tasmania! We made a pleasant camp amidst a clump of trees higher up the creek, just where it runs past the foot of the climbing ridge. It was mighty good to relax through the long summer twilight and put a mug of soup, a giant plate of "Henry's Meal" (see Henry for the secret formula) and a couple of syrup dumplings in the place where they ought to go. As we lingered over coffee (or was it rum cocoa) and discussed plans for Anne, dark clouds came sweeping up from the south - in ten minutes a cloudless sky had been transformed into a distinctly ominous one. But that's so typical of the South-West; changes in the weather for better or worse can occur with such frightening speed. However, the weather did not seem to matter then, not when bodies as tired as ours were being called to that haven of tents and sleeping bags we had come to appreciate so much.  
- +
-Our goal was now well in sight but what's this? Surprise of surprises! Without warning we had suddenly stumbled on the most delightful little creek running fair slap-bang through the middle of those soggy plains. The sparkling clear water ran swiftly over a bed of clean smooth stones, so reminiscent of our own Blue Mountains. After consulting the map I realised that it was the lower reaches of Condeminion Ck., whose source lies high up on the slopes of Mt. Anne - no wonder it was the best water in Tasmania! We made a pleasant camp amidst a clump of trees higher up the creek, just where it runs past the foot of the climbing ridge. It was mighty good to relax through the long summer twilight and put a mug of soup, a giant plate of "Henry's Meal" (see Henry for the secret formula) and a couple of syrup dumplings in the place where they ought to go.  +
- +
-As we lingered over coffee (or was it rum cocoa) and discussed plans for Anne, dark clouds came sweeping up from the south - in ten minutes a cloudless sky had been transformed into a distinctly ominous one. But that's so typical of the South-West; changes in the weather for better or worse can occur with such frightening speed. However, the weather did not seem to matter then, not when bodies as tired as ours were being called to that haven of tents and sleeping bags we had come to appreciate so much.  +
  
 But in the morning it was a different story - the low and threatening cloud ceiling took the edge off our enthusiasm. The mountains which had surrounded us in all their glory the previous day had suddenly ceased to exist. Eliza's climbing ridge disappeared into a forbidding sea of grey less than half-way up its length - the conditions were not exactly promising for an exposed high camp but our hopes would be dashed, Our plan was to carry two days food up to a spot just underneath the top of Mt. Eliza, a recognised campsite from which the Mt. Anne plateau can be comfortably explored. So, stringing up the excess food and gear from a tree, we set off up the ridge and reached our objective after a steady two hour climb. Several members of the Launceston Walking Club were already encamped, straining at the leash for an attempt on Anne at the first break in the weather. As the first bout of icy rain stung our faces we carved two tent sites out of the small dead timber which covers the ridge at this point. I might mention the necessity of placing a stout log across the bottom end of the tent to prevent sleeping bodies from sliding out of cover down the 30 degree slope. A biting southerly provided a hint of what conditions could be like in prolonged bad weather. Later in the afternoon the swirling all around east gave some sign of breaking and a two club party hurried to the tops, but it was all so much wishful thinking; once or twice the murk thinned out to give us tantalising glimpses of great boulder strewn slopes and plunging ridges; there was nothing for it but to return to camp with fingers crossed for the day to come. But in the morning it was a different story - the low and threatening cloud ceiling took the edge off our enthusiasm. The mountains which had surrounded us in all their glory the previous day had suddenly ceased to exist. Eliza's climbing ridge disappeared into a forbidding sea of grey less than half-way up its length - the conditions were not exactly promising for an exposed high camp but our hopes would be dashed, Our plan was to carry two days food up to a spot just underneath the top of Mt. Eliza, a recognised campsite from which the Mt. Anne plateau can be comfortably explored. So, stringing up the excess food and gear from a tree, we set off up the ridge and reached our objective after a steady two hour climb. Several members of the Launceston Walking Club were already encamped, straining at the leash for an attempt on Anne at the first break in the weather. As the first bout of icy rain stung our faces we carved two tent sites out of the small dead timber which covers the ridge at this point. I might mention the necessity of placing a stout log across the bottom end of the tent to prevent sleeping bodies from sliding out of cover down the 30 degree slope. A biting southerly provided a hint of what conditions could be like in prolonged bad weather. Later in the afternoon the swirling all around east gave some sign of breaking and a two club party hurried to the tops, but it was all so much wishful thinking; once or twice the murk thinned out to give us tantalising glimpses of great boulder strewn slopes and plunging ridges; there was nothing for it but to return to camp with fingers crossed for the day to come.
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 Equipped with one only day pack a very excited party started off for what promised to be a day of days. As we climbed higher, wide panoramic views to the south and west began to open up and even Frenchman's Cap, looking like the gabled end of a barn, could be picked out on the horizon. But as we breasted the top Equipped with one only day pack a very excited party started off for what promised to be a day of days. As we climbed higher, wide panoramic views to the south and west began to open up and even Frenchman's Cap, looking like the gabled end of a barn, could be picked out on the horizon. But as we breasted the top
 of the plateau, four pairs of eyes were suddenly held spellbound by the magnificent sight of Federation Peak playing hide and seek with a line of low horizon clouds. It was then that I became convinced that one day I would have to plan a trip to Federation - once seen it could never be forgotten. Indeed, in the excitement of recording this thrilling scene four times over with the tele lenses, we almost forgot that Mt. Anne, so close at hand, was still to be climbed. Fortunately, this day, unlike most others in the of the plateau, four pairs of eyes were suddenly held spellbound by the magnificent sight of Federation Peak playing hide and seek with a line of low horizon clouds. It was then that I became convinced that one day I would have to plan a trip to Federation - once seen it could never be forgotten. Indeed, in the excitement of recording this thrilling scene four times over with the tele lenses, we almost forgot that Mt. Anne, so close at hand, was still to be climbed. Fortunately, this day, unlike most others in the
-high regions of Tasmania, improved with age and by nine o'clock, barely a cloud remained in a sky of deepest blue. Strolling along the tops towards our objective, there was so much to see on every side and so many tempting visions for our cameras that I'd rather not say how long it took to cover those two miles. I remember looking back at one stage and seeing a tiny figure on the skyline darting from one edge of the plateau to the other. Poor Henry, his photographic impulses just would not let him come on. +high regions of Tasmania, improved with age and by nine o'clock, barely a cloud remained in a sky of deepest blue. Strolling along the tops towards our objective, there was so much to see on every side and so many tempting visions for our cameras that I'd rather not say how long it took to cover those two miles. I remember looking back at one stage and seeing a tiny figure on the skyline darting from one edge of the plateau to the other. Poor Henry, his photographic impulses just would not let him come on. Eventually we were together again, climbing up among the crumbling dolerite columns of which Mt.Anne is made; and what a terrific thrill to stand upon that summit on such a day. Just about everything that was worth seeing in southern Tasmania could be seen and appreciated; even Precipitous Bluff, practically on the southern coastline, stood out clear and sharp against the blue sky. Just to complete the picture, we were again visited by our old friend Lloyd Jones of the Aero Club. He flew the Cessna over from Lake Pedder and buzzed us a friendly twice, skimming over our heads so low that we could easily enjoy the astonished expressions on the faces of his tourist passengers. That plane covered the distance from Pedder to Anne in five minutes flat, a journey that would take we bushwalkers two full days - but at least we could stand there on our own two feet with a vital pride in the achievement behind us.
  
-Eventually we were together again, climbing up among the crumbling dolerite columns of which Mt.Anne is made; and what terrific thrill to stand upon that summit on such a day. Just about everything that was worth seeing in southern Tasmania could be seen and appreciated; even Precipitous Bluff, practically on the southern coastline, stood out clear and sharp against the blue skyJust to complete the picturewe were again visited by our old friend Lloyd Jones of the Aero ClubHe flew the Cessna over from Lake Pedder and buzzed us a friendly twiceskimming over our heads so low that we could easily enjoy the astonished expressions on the faces of his tourist passengers. That plane covered the distance from Pedder to Anne in five minutes flat, a journey that would take we bushwalkers two full days - but at least we could stand there on our own two feet with a vital pride in the achievement behind us.+Lunchtime saw very entranced party satisfying their scenic appetites with what surely must be one of the most beautiful natural landscapes in the world. From the rocky eastern edge of the plateau our gaze shot down plummeting precipices into the lovely blue depths of Judd's Charm two thousand feet belowAcross 
 +the lake the incredibly steep slopes of Mt. Sarah Janecompletely covered by the densest and greenest mantle of vegetation (something for the tigers) I have ever seen, rose up nearly to our own levelFar beyond the southern tip of the Charm and some intriguing hanging lakes cradled in their own circle of mountains, the sheer slab of Federation Peak dominated the razor-sharp horizon of the Arthur Range. These features stood out in their attraction and competition for the eyebut even without them it would be sight that no true bushwalker would be likely to forget.
  
-Lunchtime saw avery entranced party satisfying their scenic +The rest of the day was spent in leisurely exploring the many interesting features of this remarkable mountain mass. Wild flowers there were a-plenty and of course Henry and Arthur were in their element while Joan and I contented ourselves with trying to photograph the landscape at large. Finally, after almost twelve hours of exposure in that brilliant sunshine, it was no hardship to return to our high camp and think about the inner man, for we had had our fill in overflowing measure. At twenty minutes to nine we sipped coffee and watched with wonderment as the sun, distorted into the shape of a fiery ten gallon hat, sank into the ocean fifty miles to the south-west. It had been OUR day from beginning to end, and as the full moon peeked over Mt. Anne, we slid into our sleeping bags to sleep the sleep which only the great outdoors can bring to bushwalkers.
-appetites with what surely must be one of the most beautiful natural landscapes in the world. From the rocky eastern edge of the plateau our gaze shot down plummeting precipices into the +
-lovely blue depths of Judd's Charm two thousand feet below. Across +
-the lake the incredibly steep slopes of Mt. Sarah Jane, completely covered by the densest and greenest mantle of vegetation (something for the tigers) I have ever seen, rose up nearly to our own level. Far beyond the southern tip of the Charm and some intriguing hanging lakes cradled in their own circle of mountains, the sheer slab nf Federation Peak dominated the razor-sharp horizon of the Arthur Range. These features stood out in their attraction and competition for the eye, but even without them it would be a sight that no true bushwalker would be likely to forget. +
-The rest of the day was spent in leisurely exploring the many interesting features of this remarkable mountain mass. Wild flowers there were a-plenty and of course Henry and Arthur were in their element while Joan and I contented ourselves with trying +
-to photograph the landscape at large. Finally, after almost twelve +
-hours of exposure in that brilliant sunshine, it was no hardship to return to our high camp and think about the inner man, for we had had our fill in overflowing measure. At twenty minutes to nine we sipped coffee and watched with wonderment as the sun, distorted into the shape of a fiery ten gallon hat, sank into the +
-ocean fifty miles to the south-west. It had been OUR day from beginning to end, and as the full moon peeked over Mt. Anne, we +
-slid into our sleeping bags to sleep the sleep which only the great outdoors can bring to bushwalkers+
-The next morning it was time to be off the mountain. Only three days remained of our trip, the three days it would take us +
-to walk out to Maydena. Only the continuing spell of fine weather tempered our regret at leaving Mt. Anne behind. And so, quietly, each engrossed in his own thoughts, we descended the ridge and looked back, and looked back again. At Condeminion Ck. the gear was recovered and the loads reorganised - ah, that loathsome lump +
-was getting lighter at last and it was not hard to take. Lunch and a well-earned bath at Huon Crossing and camp at Woody Island set the pattern  the day, a good day made even better by a memoralple campsite and a still more memorable menu. From our tents pitched in a clearing amid beautiful gum trees, we looked +
-out ait Mt. Anne again for the last tiz,3 its peak ablaze in the low rays of the evening sun. Spread over a respectable period of about +
-three hours, it was a pleasure to engage in a marathon eating effort of six "courses" - tea, soup, salmon fritters and mashed potato, apricots and mellah, coffee and finally rum cocoa for a nightcap. The forty odd salmon fritters conjured out of a 1 lb. tin of salmon +
-were a masterpiece of bushwalking economy. The one trouble was that we burnt too many of them when the lot of us raced out on two +
-occasions to take pictures of the sunset. (Like all sunset +
-a.+
  
-pictures, the colours improved no end after the first impetuous shots and we graciously gave Kodak a second dividend.) ":;' mighty +The next morning it was time to be off the mountainOnly three days remained of our trip, the three days it would take us to walk out to Maydena. Only the continuing spell of fine weather tempered our regret at leaving MtAnne behindAnd soquietlyeach engrossed in his own thoughts, we descended the ridge and looked back, and looked back again. At Condeminion Ck. the gear was recovered and the loads reorganised - ahthat loathsome lump was getting lighter at last and it was not hard to takeLunch and well-earned bath at Huon Crossing and camp at Woody Island set the pattern for the day, a good day made even better by a memorable campsite and a still more memorable menuFrom our tents pitched in a clearing amid beautiful gum treeswe looked out at MtAnne again for the last time, its peak ablaze in the low rays of the evening sun. Spread over a respectable period of about three hoursit was pleasure to engage in a marathon eating effort of six "courses" - tea, soupsalmon fritters and mashed potato, apricots and melloncoffee and finally rum cocoa for a nightcap. The forty odd salmon fritters conjured out of a 1 lbtin of salmon were a masterpiece of bushwalking economy. The one trouble was that we burnt too many of them when the lot of us raced out on two occasions to take pictures of the sunset(Like all sunset 
-trip"breathed Joan with a sigh as we bedded down onto a soft +apicturesthe colours improved no end after the first impetuous shots and we graciously gave Kodak a second dividend.) "Mighty trip"breathed Joan with a sigh as we bedded down onto a soft mattress of cut baueralittle dreaming that on the morrow we would be cursing this innocent looking shrub as we pushed through it along the track,
-mattress of cut bauera, little dreaming that on the morrow we would be cursing this innocent looking shrub as we pushed through it along the track, +
-How well I remember our first encounter with the enemy. +
-Previously we had enjoyed our arguments with the local walkers on +
-long trousers versus shorts for Tassie bushwalking"Wait till +
-you strike our bauera," they laughed. We were not convinced then, +
-but after braving it for a few hundred yards in shorts, we were forced to admit defeatIt was then that Arthur could not find +
-his trousers; every nook mad cranny of the "Mountain Mule" was +
-examined but although the oaths became more bloodystill no long pants were forthcomingIt was shorts job for Arthur that day, +
-and a rather painful one at thatOnly when he went to bed thrt +
-night did he unearth his precious pants - right down in the bctL,,pm +
-of his sleeping bag coverI have steadfastly refrained +
-setting down in print the muffled language which filtered out from +
-the inside of his tent that night. +
-Those last two days were really enjoyable for their variety - good solid track (?) walking through country that was always delightfully changing its character. There were the cool damp myrtle forests with their vines and mosses and their atmosphere of great age and decay; (how can we forget the stumbling over the interminable trees fallen across the track); there were the open button grass plains with their quartzite outcropsthe stretches of green forest where giant ferns formed canopy above the track and the pleasant interlude of gum trees with good burning wood, and of coursenot forgetting the patches of unspeakable Tasmanian mud to make life interestingPersonal incidents +
-and laughs were two bob dozen with a party of such character as +
-ours and we revelled in the life - it was bushwaking and comradeship at its very best. All too soon we found ourselves surrounded +
-by the signs of civilisation, until at the end of our last day four bushwalkers with all the character of a long tough trip stanped upon them walked quietly into the little town of Maydena +
-It was here that the famous Tasmanian h:,spitality treated us so +
-unexpectedly and so unstintingly to glorious hot baths and home- cooked food. Civilisation would indeed have been hard to take without such compensations+
-i nd so our trip had endedas end they all must; that is except for the hundreds of colour slides and the bragging and the endless story-telling and the reminiscensesand as far as all that +
-was concerned, it had only just begun. THE END+
  
 +How well I remember our first encounter with the enemy. Previously we had enjoyed our arguments with the local walkers on long trousers versus shorts for Tassie bushwalking. "Wait till you strike our bauera," they laughed. We were not convinced then, but after braving it for a few hundred yards in shorts, we were forced to admit defeat. It was then that Arthur could not find his trousers; every nook mad cranny of the "Mountain Mule" was examined but although the oaths became more bloody, still no long pants were forthcoming. It was a shorts job for Arthur that day, and a rather painful one at that. Only when he went to bed that night did he unearth his precious pants - right down in the bottom of his sleeping bag cover. I have steadfastly refrained setting down in print the muffled language which filtered out from the inside of his tent that night.
  
 +Those last two days were really enjoyable for their variety - good solid track (?) walking through country that was always delightfully changing its character. There were the cool damp myrtle forests with their vines and mosses and their atmosphere of great age and decay; (how can we forget the stumbling over the interminable trees fallen across the track); there were the open button grass plains with their quartzite outcrops, the stretches of green forest where giant ferns formed a canopy above the track and the pleasant interlude of gum trees with good burning wood, and of course, not forgetting the patches of unspeakable Tasmanian mud to make life interesting. Personal incidents and laughs were two bob a dozen with a party of such character as ours and we revelled in the life - it was bushwalking and comradeship at its very best. 
 +All too soon we found ourselves surrounded by the signs of civilisation, until at the end of our last day four bushwalkers with all the character of a long tough trip stamped upon them walked quietly into the little town of Maydena. It was here that the famous Tasmanian hospitality treated us so unexpectedly and so unstintingly to glorious hot baths and home-cooked food. Civilisation would indeed have been hard to take without such compensations.
 +
 +And so our trip had ended, as end they all must; that is except for the hundreds of colour slides and the bragging and the endless story-telling and the reminiscenses, and as far as all that was concerned, it had only just begun. THE END
  
 ====== Your Walking Guide ====== ====== Your Walking Guide ======
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 Rain gone; no-one missing yet all was well. We waved a cheer to our driver friends and sauntered off into the night. The road-bash down the hill was merely an appetiser. In Green Gully we found Ron Baker fossicking around with a torch. He was apologising profusely to a cow.: "You don't really look like Brian. Wrong shape, side on. But it's hard to tell from behind." He'd gone up early with Jean Harvey, and between the two of them they'd not only organised a cuppa tea at the house, but beds for the whole party.  That is, provided we didn't regard Jack Gentle was part of the whole party. He had to be content with a tot of rum and a loose floorboard while the rest of us had a tot of rum and soft mattresses. Rain gone; no-one missing yet all was well. We waved a cheer to our driver friends and sauntered off into the night. The road-bash down the hill was merely an appetiser. In Green Gully we found Ron Baker fossicking around with a torch. He was apologising profusely to a cow.: "You don't really look like Brian. Wrong shape, side on. But it's hard to tell from behind." He'd gone up early with Jean Harvey, and between the two of them they'd not only organised a cuppa tea at the house, but beds for the whole party.  That is, provided we didn't regard Jack Gentle was part of the whole party. He had to be content with a tot of rum and a loose floorboard while the rest of us had a tot of rum and soft mattresses.
  
-Early on Anzac Day, our energetic leader was stirring us up and chattering away about moving off at eight o'clock, Sure enough, by 8.30 or 9.30 we were strung out up the slope like Carlon's Cows and headed for the Black Dog track. In front - out in front, mark you - was me. Me, who's walked a thousand miles on test walks and always at the rear on the pretext of whipping in the stragglers; MB, who's worn out the toes of a hundred boots through treading on the heels of the second-last member of the party; MB, whose standing instruction to SR is always, "Look where the rearguard camped last night - that's where I'll be tomorrow." And here I was, in front.+Early on Anzac Day, our energetic leader was stirring us up and chattering away about moving off at eight o'clock, Sure enough, by 8.30 or 9.30 we were strung out up the slope like Carlon's Cows and headed for the Black Dog track. In front - out in front, mark you - was me. Me, who's walked a thousand miles on test walks and always at the rear on the pretext of whipping in the stragglers; MB, who's worn out the toes of a hundred boots through treading on the heels of the second-last member of the party; MB, whose standing instruction to SR is always, "Look where the rearguard camped last night - that's where I'll be tomorrow." And here I was,in front. 
 + 
 +Two lengths away were Pam Baker and Audrey Kenway; a short head to John Luxton and Peter Cummings, Bob O'Hara and John Proudfoot with half a furlong to Col Ferguson; three lengths to a bunched up field of Jack Gentle, Margaret Ryan, Isobel Wilkie, Eileen Taylor, Canada Dry and Beryl Collins; closely followed by Ron Baker, Ernie French and Jean Harvey, with the Leader tailed off last. At the gate I counted them through and slipped into my accustomed position, whipping in the straggling leader. 
 + 
 +The day was cool and the pace a killer. You could not hear the footsteps for the swishing of the bushes, and it wasn't long before I was finding my way, not by the sight of the party in front, but by the smoke of their passing. They were doing at least a mile and a half to the hour - or an hour and a half to the mile, I forget which. 
 + 
 +Unerringly the leader guided the flock along the Black Dog track and rested at the cross roads under Debert's Knob to let your raconteur catch up. Lunch at the top of the Faithful Hound was quite civilised, 
 +really, Ron Baker being the only one to drink his tea straight from the billy. He claimed that he'd forgotten his mug but we suspected lightweight tactics. Some Federation officials, accompanied by a group of Y.H.L.C.C. types, arrived as we were leaving and blithely took over our campfires. They, too, were headed for Splendour Rock and we idly wondered if they'd try the same cunning trick at nightfall. 
 + 
 +Onwards and upwards went the leader, followed by the six hundred, tailed up by John Clubfoot and me. He'd caught on - it's so much cleaner when other bods have wiped all the dew from the bushes and the carbon black from the stumps. 
 + 
 +Black Horse Gap was our next breather. It's a steep little scramble to a short-tail like me, and by the time I caught up I was wondering if the wreath I was carrying for the morrow's sunrise service might be used for me instead. Ernie French took it from me for the Wombat Parade stretch - apparently he felt more in need of it than I. Jean Harvey led the girls along the Parade, and after a discreet interval we males followed. Wombat Parade is so called for two very good reasons - first, because there's ample evidence 
 +of the presence of wombats, and second because the boulders are so big that you feel as if your legs are as short as a wombat's, half grown. 
 + 
 +At the drop into Warrigal Gap the cliffs are broken up into a stairway; only it was built in Gargantua and us Liliputians had no ropes. Is Margaret's vital statistics are legs 20 inches (length, not round the thighs) and arms 25 inches there was some conjecture as to the ability of herself and others to negotiate the drop; but our gallant leader mustered Jack Gentle, John Sixfoot, etc. into a chain male and manhandled the girls down one by one. 
 + 
 +The girls regained their dignity down in the saddle and swung up on to the flat top of Merrigal with true bushwalker rhythm. As we intended camping in Merri-merrigal Saddle, water was gathered from the top of the mount - out of the shallow holes in the sandstone at the rate of a quarter of a mug per dip. We began by carefully skimming the water so as not to scoop up mud and twigs, but finished the last 2,000 dozen scoops by bailing sand, leaves, humus and all. The only objecting voice pointed out that in her native Ireland such peat bogs were frequented only by sheep and cattle. Well? ..?
  
-Two lengths away were Pam Baker and Audrey Kenway; a short head to John Luxton and Peter CummingsBob O'Hara and John Proudfootwith half a furlong to Col Ferguson; three lengths to a bunched up field of Jack Gentle, Margaret Ryan, Isobel Wilkie, +A few short steps brought us to the col, and yours truly remembered too late a long-forgotten lessonalways be in front at the end of the dayHaving slipped once again into the rearguard position, there was no place left for my tent, in which I had graciously offered to shelter Pam Baker and Audrey Kenway
-Eileen Taylor, Canada Dry and Beryl Collins; closely followed by Ron Baker, Ernie French and Jean HarVey, with the Leader tailed off last. +I was just contemplating the problem of pitching camp over a clump of Xanthorreae when the two girls started hollering that they'already reserved site in the executive suite in among Brian and JeanCanadaRon Baker and Col FergusonI suggested that it might be better to put up with the Xanthorreas butchivalrous to the endacceded to the girlsrequest.
-Lt the gate I counted them through and slipped into my accustomed position, whipping in the straggling leader. +
-The day was cool and the pace a killer. You couldna hear +
-the footsteps for the swishing of the bushes, and it wasn't long +
-before I was finding my waynot by the sight of the party in front, +
-but by the smoke of their passing. They were doing at least a +
-mile and a half to the hour - or an hour and a half to the mile, I forget which+
-Unerringly the leader guided the flock along the Black Dog +
-track and rested at the cross roads under Debert's Knob to let your raconteur catch up. +
-Lunch at the top of the Faithful Hound was quite civilised, +
-really, Ron Baker being the only one to drink his tea straight from the billy. He claimed that he'forgotten his mug but we +
-suspected lightweight tactics. +
-Some Federation officials, accompalied by group of Y.H.L.C.C. +
-types, arrived as wewere leaving and blithely took over our campfires. Theytoowere headed for Splendour Rock and we idly +
-wondered if they'd try the same cunning trick at nightfall. +
-Onwards and upwards went the leaderfollowed by the six hundredtailed up by John Clubfoot and me. He'd caight on - it's +
-so much cleaner when other bods have wiped all the dew from the bushes and the carbon black from the stumps. +
-Black Horse Gap was7ur next breather. It's a steep little +
-scramble to a short-tail like MB, and by the time I caught up I +
-was wondering if the wreath I was carrying for the morrow's sunrise +
-service might be used for MB insteadErnie French took it from +
-me for the Wombat Parade stretch - apparently he felt more in need of it than I. +
-Jean Harvey led the girls along the Parade, and after a +
-discreet interval we males followed. Wombat Parade is so called for two very good reasons - first, because there's ample evidence +
-of the presence of wombats, and second because the boulders are+
  
-so big that you feel as if your legs are as short as a wombat's, half grown. 
-Lt the drop into Warrigal Gap the cliffs are broken up into a steirway; only it was built in Gargantua and us Liliputians had no ropes. Is Margaret's vital statistics are legs 20 inches (length, not round the thighs) and arms 25 inches there was some conjecture as to the ability of herself and others to negotiate the drop; but our gallant leader mustered Jack Gentle, John Sixfoot, etc. into a chain male and manhandled the girls down one by one. 
-The girls regained their dignity down in the saddle and swung up on to the flat top of Merrigal with true bushwalker rhythm. As we intended carping in Merri-merrigal Saddle, water was gathered from the top of the mount - out of the shallow holes in the sandstone at the rate of a quarter of amug per dip. We began by carefully skimming the water so as not to scoop up mud and twigs, but finished the last 2,000 dozen scoops by bailing sand, leaves, humus and all. The only objecting voice pointed out that in her native Oirland such peat bogs were frequented only 
-by sheep and cattle. Well? ..? 
-A few short steps brought us to the col, and yours truly remembered too late a long-forgotten lesson; always be in front at the end of the day. Having slipped once again into the 
-13-4, 
-rearguard position, there was no place left for my tent, in which 
-I had graciously offered to shelter Pam Baker and Audrey Kenway. 
-I was just contemplating the problem of pitching camp over a clump of Xanthorreae when the two girls started hollering that theytd 
-already reserved a site in the executive suite - in among Brian and Jean, Canada, Ron Baker and Col Ferguson. I suggested that 
-it might be better to put up with the Xanthorreas but, chivalrous to the end, acceded to the girls' request. 
 I had to admit that the site was roomy and comfortable; only we discovered later that the roominess was due to its being the confluence of two well-trodden tracks - one to Splendour Rock and the other to the water. Ever tried sleeping on the Circular Quay overway? If you have, you'll see the similarity in the setup. I had to admit that the site was roomy and comfortable; only we discovered later that the roominess was due to its being the confluence of two well-trodden tracks - one to Splendour Rock and the other to the water. Ever tried sleeping on the Circular Quay overway? If you have, you'll see the similarity in the setup.
  
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 I must have had aquatic amnesia, for my mind is a blank until 4.45 p m., when John Sorefoot and I were to be seen lounging in the grass at the mouth of Galong Ck, John answered my querulous look by saying, "We're in front." "Of course," said I. "I made a mental note to be the first in camp tonight, and my tent goes right there on that lush patch of lawn." I must have had aquatic amnesia, for my mind is a blank until 4.45 p m., when John Sorefoot and I were to be seen lounging in the grass at the mouth of Galong Ck, John answered my querulous look by saying, "We're in front." "Of course," said I. "I made a mental note to be the first in camp tonight, and my tent goes right there on that lush patch of lawn."
  
-Having picked the site I departed up the creek to gather firewood. A1as I omitted to mark the spot, "Reserved for an old retired member," and by the time I got back Peter Cummings had a tent peg where my hip would have gone and a fire where my feet were to rest. Foiled again.+Having picked the site I departed up the creek to gather firewood. Alas I omitted to mark the spot, "Reserved for an old retired member," and by the time I got back Peter Cummings had a tent peg where my hip would have gone and a fire where my feet were to rest. Foiled again.
  
 Breakfast next morning was interrupted by the rugby league whistle and the public address system. Breakfast next morning was interrupted by the rugby league whistle and the public address system.
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 the presence of The Law at an adjacent table we were soon washing down our fillets mignon with beer and hock. the presence of The Law at an adjacent table we were soon washing down our fillets mignon with beer and hock.
  
-The walk was overbut if you think this is the end of the story you're wrong. It goes on for a long time yet - hilarity every time we meet in the club; chuckles over kodachromes at odd times; and I still haven't got all the grass seeds out of my sox. In fact, the story is probably just beginning, because I give notice of a motion at the next Annual General to appoint Messrs. Baker and Ferguson as honorary chauffeurs to official test walks and Brian Harvey as permanent honorary organiser of post-walk catering at the All British. +The walk was over but if you think this is the end of the story you're wrong. It goes on for a long time yet - hilarity every time we meet in the club; chuckles over kodachromes at odd times; and I still haven't got all the grass seeds out of my sox. In fact, the story is probably just beginning, because I give notice of a motion at the next Annual General to appoint Messrs. Baker and Ferguson as honorary chauffeurs to official test walks and Brian Harvey as permanent honorary organiser of post-walk catering at the All British. 
  
 And I'm sure that all my companions on that trip will carry with acclamation (magno clamor) my vote of thanks to an excellent leader. And I'm sure that all my companions on that trip will carry with acclamation (magno clamor) my vote of thanks to an excellent leader.
195806.1460071016.txt.gz · Last modified: 2016/04/08 09:16 by kennettj

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