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199009 [2016/06/15 08:56]
vievems [Morong Deep]
199009 [2016/06/15 09:21] (current)
vievems [The Storming of Byangee Walls]
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 |FOLLOWERS:​|Wendy Lippiatt, Brenda Cameron, Kevin Burrows, Sev Sternhell, Jan Mohandas, Morrie Ward, Jim Oxley, Geoff Yewdall, Morag Ryder, Rick King and Steve Bieger| |FOLLOWERS:​|Wendy Lippiatt, Brenda Cameron, Kevin Burrows, Sev Sternhell, Jan Mohandas, Morrie Ward, Jim Oxley, Geoff Yewdall, Morag Ryder, Rick King and Steve Bieger|
  
-According to conventional wisdom, the only way you can negotiate Pickering Point is by abseiling down. However, Wayne Steel said it could be climbed and we were willing to try. After moving most of the cars to Yadboro flat on Saturday, we made a late-ish start with Jan leading the racehorses up the ridge to Pigeon House, and our '​new ​ctuire ​Steve - with the usual new chums' overweight pack - bringing up the rear. +According to conventional wisdom, the only way you can negotiate Pickering Point is by abseiling down. However, Wayne Steel said it could be climbed and we were willing to try.  After moving most of the cars to Yadboro flat on Saturday, we made a late-ish start with Jan leading the racehorses up the ridge to Pigeon House, and our '​new ​chum' ​Steve - with the usual new chums' overweight pack - bringing up the rear. 
-with the views somewhat spoiled by thick When the canera-clickina subsided, we + 
-Snadk-and-jumper time on the summit, clouds racing before a fierce wind. made our way to landslide ​Creek. ​Flawing ​well and very slippery, it provided us with many sporting moments as we leapt, slithered and circumnavigated our way down.+Snack and jumper time on the summit, ​with the views somewhat spoiled by thick clouds racing before a fierce wind. When the camera clicking subsided, we made our way to Landslide ​Creek. ​Flowing ​well and very slippery, it provided us with many sporting moments as we leapt, slithered and circumnavigated our way down. 
 At 12.30 the lunch fire was lit on a huge slab of rock, where we rested in fitful sunlight, boiling our billies and inspecting our bruises. At 12.30 the lunch fire was lit on a huge slab of rock, where we rested in fitful sunlight, boiling our billies and inspecting our bruises.
-The creek slowly becalm. less demanding, and we spread out, each travelling at their own pace. Three o'​clock - level ground at last - the creek now demurely gliding 
-over a sandy bed and large ferny flats spread 
-beneath the trees. At 3.20 I arrived at a particularly inviting place, to find Jan and Maurie Ward staking out their tent sites. "By the time the rest arrive " said Jan, it will be time to think about camping"​. 
-So we lit a fire, put on sOme billies, and sure enough, by 4pui everyone had arrived. By 5pm the sunlight had faded from the cliffs and we settled dawn on the soft leaf litter of our (alirost) leech-free campsite. Rum,  port and jokes began to flow, and Wayne told us a marvellous 'story about The Octopus Which Stuck TO The Kitchen Floor. 
-SUNDAY 
-Another leisurely start, about 8.30am. Across the icy Clyde'​Biver,​ which immediately froze my feet, and up a leech infested slope to the foot of the bastions of Byangee Walls. Morning snack stop was in a vast conglomerate overhang - all cream and gold, like an oriental palace. When the oohing and aahing stopped, the rain began. With the thermometer falling steadily, we reluctantly left our elegant shelter to begin our assult on the stern grey cliffs. 
-Watch that rock, 
  
-From the depths of his pack, Wayne extracted a massive, fluorescent orange rope. We spent the next three hours clinging to this lifeline as we+The creek slowly became less demanding, and we spread out, each travelling at their own pace. Three o'​clock - level ground at last - the creek now demurely gliding over a sandy bed and large ferny flats spread beneath the trees. At 3.20 I arrived at a particularly inviting place, to find Jan and Maurie Ward staking out their tent sites. "By the time the rest arrive"​ said Jan, "it will be time to think about camping"​. 
-    ​AND UP  + 
-I've +So we lit a fire, put on some billies, and sure enough, by 4pm everyone had arrived. ​ By 5pm the sunlight had faded from the cliffs and we settled dawn on the soft leaf litter of our (almost) leech-free campsite. Rum, port and jokes began to flow, and Wayne told us a marvellous story about The Octopus Which Stuck To The Kitchen Floor. 
-always wanted--- to play + 
-Tarzan +__Sunday__ 
-Frozen, scraped, dirty and distinctly damp, we finally emerged triumphant at the top of Pickering Point. Jan was supervising the peck-hauling, and as soon as mine appeared, I pulled ​outmatches ​and paper. With numb fingers we lit a bonfire to bo thaff ourselves and incinerate ​'a few billies. The temperature was still falling, our breath smoked on the air, and tea writ cold by the time biscuits were spread. + 
-For the first time in years, I woke Jumper ​all +Another leisurely start, about 8.30am. Across the icy Clyde River, which immediately froze my feet, and up a leech infested slope to the foot of the bastions of Byangee Walls. Morning snack stop was in a vast conglomerate overhang - all cream and gold, like an oriental palace. ​ When the oohing and aahing stopped, the rain began. With the thermometer falling steadily, we reluctantly left our elegant shelter to begin our assult on the stern grey cliffs. 
-day - and I noticed the others were also pretty well rugged up. Muffled and hooded, we ate, defrosted and whenever the clouds parted, photographed Pigeon House from the vantage point of our rock platform. + 
-WENT UP  +From the depths of his pack, Wayne extracted a massive, fluorescent orange rope. We spent the next three hours clinging to this lifeline as we WENT UP.... ​AND UP.... AND UP! 
-AND+ 
 +Frozen, scraped, dirty and distinctly damp, we finally emerged triumphant at the top of Pickering Point. ​ Jan was supervising the pack-hauling, and as soon as mine appeared, I pulled ​out matches ​and paper. With numb fingers we lit a bonfire to bo thaw ourselves and incinerate a few billies. ​ The temperature was still falling, our breath smoked on the air, and tea went cold by the time biscuits were spread. 
 + 
 +For the first time in years, I wore jumper ​all day - and I noticed the others were also pretty well rugged up. Muffled and hooded, we ate, defrosted and whenever the clouds parted, photographed Pigeon House from the vantage point of our rock platform. 
 + 
 +The rain stopped at 1.30 and we began our struggle with the near-impenetrable scrub, Byangee Walls is not as flat as it looks from the top of The Castle. We struggled up and down, snatching photos of the spectacular views - a tangle of blue gorges plunging away on both sides. Driving cloud added to the drama, had the Ride of the Valkyries 
 +taken place as we watched, it would have seemed perfectly natural. Two o'​clock,​ and still a long way to go. Only time for a 5 minute stop near the exit track, a last photo and a mouthful of water. 
 + 
 +After some rummaging among the bushes, we found our exit hole through the cliff line, left along the wombat track to another cliffline. Right, left, down, left; the wombat track grew wider with old footprints everywhere. Spectacular overhangs and neck-stretching glimpses of soaring cliffs. No time to waste in looking, the sun had already dropped behind the ridges. Castle Gap Saddle at last - a brief catch-up stop - just time to drink the last of my water. Twilight now, and we began working our way around the foot of The Castle - boulder scrambling, stumbling over unseen roots, treading in small icy pools. 
 + 
 +Wayne took a compass bearing by torchlight and I took the opportunity to pull out my torch. Thank heavens for '​D'​ size batteries! Enough light for myself and Jim Oxley and we began walking faster. Too fast - "Slow down", wailed a voice far behind, "We can't see where you are". "Get out your torches",​ replied the enlightened ones. One by one, dim little sparks appeared and our speed increased. 
 + 
 +Another compass check. ​ We passed by great cavens running with water, slid over and under huge boulders. With vision restricted to the circles of torchlight, it felt eerily like being underground. ​ I remembered those words from Kubla Khan "​...through cavens measureless to man, down to a sunless sea..."​. ​ After checking his compass again, Wayne said "Wait here," and disappeared.
  
-What d'you meanfootholds ​- +We waited in total blackness, saving our torches. From far downhill he called and we headed towards his waving torch, tripping and falling through the scrub. ​ The ground seemed clearer - could it be a track?' ​No, it was The Fire Trail - I could have kissed it! Down we went, as fast as the slippery clay would allow, all laughing and talking at once. The knee deep river was suprisingly warm as we stumbled and splashed acrossleaving water-trails behind us as we climbed ​up to the cars.
-just jump up.+
  
-.Look - 
-loan see 
-two little -s patches of blue 
-14=7:rs--- 
-The rain stopped at 1.30 and we began our struggle with the near-impenetrable scrub, Byangee.Walls is not as flat as it looks from the top of The Castle. We struggled up 
-and down, snatching photos of the spectacular 
-- views.,:- a tangle of blue gorges plunging 
-away onboth'​sides. Driving cloud added to the drama, had the Ride of the 
-taken place as we watched, it.'​would have seemed perfectly natural. Two o'​clock,​ and still a long way to go. Only time for a 5 minute stop near the exit track, a last photo and a mouthful of water. 
-After son rummaging among the bushes, we found our exit hole through the cliff line, left along the woMbat track to another cliffline. Right, left, down, left; the wombat track grew wider with old footprints everywhere. Spectacular overhangs and neck-stretching glimpses of soaring cliffs. No time to waste in looking, the sun had already dropped behind the ridges. Castle Gap Saddle at last - a brief catch-up stop - just time to drink 
-the last of my water. Twilight now, and we began working our way around the fbot of The Castle - boulder scraMbling, stumbling over unseen roots, treading in small icy pools. 
-Wayne took a compass bearing by torchlight and took the opportunity to pull out my torch. Thank heavens for '​D'​ size batteries! Enough light for myself and Jim Oxley and we began walking faster. Too fast - "Slag daan", wailed a voice far behind, "We can't see where you are". "Get out your, torches",​ replied the enlightened ones. One by one, dim little sparks appeared and our speed increased. 
-Another compass check. We passed by great cavens running with water, slid over and under huge boulders. With vision restricted to the circles of torchlight, it felt eerily like being underground I remembered those words from Kubla Khan "​...through cavens measureless to man, down to a sunless sea..."​ After checking his compass again, Wayne said "Wait here," and disappeared. 
-We waited in total blackness, saving our torches. From far downhill he called and we headed towards his waving torch, tripping and fallin9 through the scrub. 
- The ground seemed clearer - could it be a track?'​ No, it was The Fire Trail - 1 could have kissed it! Down we went, as fast as the slippery clay would allow, all laughing and talking at once. The knee deep river was suprisingly warm as we stumbled and splashed across, leaving water-trails behind us as we dlidoed up to the cars. 
 Just one thing puzzled me as we sped back to Sydney. Who was Pickering, and why was the point named after him? Just one thing puzzled me as we sped back to Sydney. Who was Pickering, and why was the point named after him?
  
199009.txt · Last modified: 2016/06/15 09:21 by vievems