196910
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| 196910 [2016/04/12 15:38] – [The Evolution of a Unique Psychological Type] kennettj | 196910 [2016/04/23 09:39] – [The Fallen Idol] kennettj | ||
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| The track is obviously a cattle track from the Hunter to the west built up, graded sufficiently obscure for nefarious activities. It skirts Mt Cox, passing impressive balancing sandstone slabs, the foliage only slightly scratchy. Towards Pomany the only water is encountered, | The track is obviously a cattle track from the Hunter to the west built up, graded sufficiently obscure for nefarious activities. It skirts Mt Cox, passing impressive balancing sandstone slabs, the foliage only slightly scratchy. Towards Pomany the only water is encountered, | ||
| - | Pat assaults Pomany. Not a difficult task. There is an Alpine flora on top and the aforesaid 6000 square. miles of view. While the rest of us disport ourselves, Pat looks at his map for the thousandth time. There is no ready solace. Beneath the map, in his marsupial holder, there is an aerial photo on which I can't even see the abundant cliffs. Beneath the photo, a last resort, there is a preliminary contour map. The cliffs arc really black on this one. | + | Pat assaults Pomany. Not a difficult task. There is an Alpine flora on top and the aforesaid 6000 square miles of view. While the rest of us disport ourselves, Pat looks at his map for the thousandth time. There is no ready solace. Beneath the map, in his marsupial holder, there is an aerial photo on which I can't even see the abundant cliffs. Beneath the photo, a last resort, there is a preliminary contour map. The cliffs arc really black on this one. |
| We all descend the basalt sore: like the men of the Duke of York. Below the basalt there is scratchy foliage and a cliff. We sidle through more scratchifoija to a ridge. And another cliff. We look with more interest than hope over other cliffs and into deeper chasms. Pat is confused. I am not. I know that I will can near the Pomany hut, rise late and retrace my steps along the rides. | We all descend the basalt sore: like the men of the Duke of York. Below the basalt there is scratchy foliage and a cliff. We sidle through more scratchifoija to a ridge. And another cliff. We look with more interest than hope over other cliffs and into deeper chasms. Pat is confused. I am not. I know that I will can near the Pomany hut, rise late and retrace my steps along the rides. | ||
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| I pulled my sleeping bag over my head. I had made a separate peace. | I pulled my sleeping bag over my head. I had made a separate peace. | ||
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| ====== From the Winborndale to the Turon ====== | ====== From the Winborndale to the Turon ====== | ||
196910.txt · Last modified: 2016/04/23 09:41 by kennettj