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 ====No.244 March 1955 Price 6d.==== ====No.244 March 1955 Price 6d.====
  
-|**Co-Editors**|Dot Butler, Boundary Road, Wahroonga (JW2208). Geof Wagg, 19 Mary Street,   Blacktown.|+|**Co-Editors**|Dot Butler, Boundary Road, Wahroonga (JW2208). Geof Wagg, 19 Mary Street, Blacktown.|
 |**Business Manager**|Alex Colley (XAl255)| |**Business Manager**|Alex Colley (XAl255)|
 |**Sales & Subs**|Jess Martin| |**Sales & Subs**|Jess Martin|
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 "Come to Rene's Party" said that whimsical folder with the strong Bean flavour. Sounded simple enough - such parties are always happening. Knowing Rene so long and well made it a must. I expected to find the usual roll up of a Club night - but just the reverse - only a few of the young fry were there. But it was a grand party of early members, surely the finest compliment Rene could wish to enjoy.- No reunion can I recall with such a warm glow of feeling - maybe t'was the beautiful mellowing of a quarter century. (Fashion note: light tinted hair seemed to be the mode.) As the Man in the Corner - given to observation - I'll say it was more than a birthday party - it was a demonstration of the real meaning of the S.B.W. Surely the founders never imagined the extent of the pairing to be, and the fruit thereof could be seen playing around in dozens.  Lucky kids all, to have a bushwalking background to grow up in. And what of the Roots' branch! A child of a child of a S.B.W. couple, all produced within the life of and the material of the Club. And what better testing ground could there be for the final long walk through life. Out in the Bushland the real person comes to the surface for all to see, mark and remember. From the first, and on every walk I've shared, I cannot recall one hot argument or disturbance, which, humanity being what it is, makes a fine performance. Better give the Bush the credit! "Come to Rene's Party" said that whimsical folder with the strong Bean flavour. Sounded simple enough - such parties are always happening. Knowing Rene so long and well made it a must. I expected to find the usual roll up of a Club night - but just the reverse - only a few of the young fry were there. But it was a grand party of early members, surely the finest compliment Rene could wish to enjoy.- No reunion can I recall with such a warm glow of feeling - maybe t'was the beautiful mellowing of a quarter century. (Fashion note: light tinted hair seemed to be the mode.) As the Man in the Corner - given to observation - I'll say it was more than a birthday party - it was a demonstration of the real meaning of the S.B.W. Surely the founders never imagined the extent of the pairing to be, and the fruit thereof could be seen playing around in dozens.  Lucky kids all, to have a bushwalking background to grow up in. And what of the Roots' branch! A child of a child of a S.B.W. couple, all produced within the life of and the material of the Club. And what better testing ground could there be for the final long walk through life. Out in the Bushland the real person comes to the surface for all to see, mark and remember. From the first, and on every walk I've shared, I cannot recall one hot argument or disturbance, which, humanity being what it is, makes a fine performance. Better give the Bush the credit!
  
-Back on the main track - the Rene affair. What a party! And what a place! - not to be sought afar, but right here at home in Rootsie's backyard, with enough bush, tracks and trimmings for a test walk and a rock climb! I had a couple of simmering hours watching 'em arrive. The setting was perfect - a track winding down to open suddenly on the camp site. And thus they dramatically appeared -  +Back on the main track - the Rene affair. What a party! And what a place! - not to be sought afar, but right here at home in Rootsie's backyard, with enough bush, tracks and trimmings for a test walk and a rock climb! I had a couple of simmering hours watching 'em arrive. The setting was perfect - a track winding down to open suddenly on the camp site. And thus they dramatically appeared - actually a mannikin parade of pals, some not seen for 20 years. Most of the cast of the Mouin affair were there, including Norm Coulton and Alan Rigby, the actual finders of the delectable quintette. Yea, even Harold Chardon, the inventor of modified Morse.
-actually a mannikin parade of pals, some not seen for 20 years. Most of the cast of the Mouin affair were there, including Norm Coulton and Alan Rigby, the actual finders of the delectable quintette. Yea, even Harold Chardon, the inventor of modified Morse.+
  
 Having socked us into a swamp at Paddy's party the weather, noting Rene, was kind. The moon watched us through the leafy curtain, but the unfortunate victims on the spit took most attention - could we actually surround and annihilate those yards of mutton? Having socked us into a swamp at Paddy's party the weather, noting Rene, was kind. The moon watched us through the leafy curtain, but the unfortunate victims on the spit took most attention - could we actually surround and annihilate those yards of mutton?
  
-There's lots of fun (and anguish) to be had watching mug carvers massacre elegant joints. No matter - our salivary creeks were in full flood and any chunk would do. Henry Woolfe would have had a fit at the doings. Don't ask me who Henry Woolfe was! I'll tell you. In the nineties Henry Woolfe, tall, fairish, spotless, had a smallgoods shop in George Street just below Liverpool Street. He served and carved near the front window, and always a crowd was to be seen watching and admiring his superbity. His judgment in cutting skinned goods in one go! Tick on the dot every time! And when he carved a ham (2/6 lb. then!!!!) he showed all the grace of a ballerina, with the surety of Athos. 'Tis said (by me) he could cut a slice so thin you could read a paper through it. AND - get this - he was official carver immaculate at all Government House functions, at the board - not down in the kitchen. Ah! gracious days! His window, like the tinkling bells of the old waxworks, was one of the sights of Sydney - lovable old Sydney. Yes, you've guessed right - the Henry Woolfe you see about the City is the identical original. And don't go writing to ask me who was Athos, 'cos I'll tell you now: He was the aristrocrat of Dumas' immortal three, and acknowledged the finest swordsman in Europe.+There's lots of fun (and anguish) to be had watching mug carvers massacre elegant joints. No matter - our salivary creeks were in full flood and any chunk would do. Henry Woolfe would have had a fit at the doings. Don't ask me who Henry Woolfe was! I'll tell you. In the nineties Henry Woolfe, tall, fairish, spotless, had a smallgoods shop in George Street just below Liverpool Street. He served and carved near the front window, and always a crowd was to be seen watching and admiring his superbity. His judgment in cutting skinned goods in one go! Tick on the dot every time! And when he carved a ham (2/6 lb. then!!!!) he showed all the grace of a ballerina, with the surety of Athos. 'Tis said (by me) he could cut a slice so thin you could read a paper through it. AND - get this - he was official carver immaculate at all Government House functions, at the board - not down in the kitchen. Ah! gracious days! His window, like the tinkling bells of the old waxworks, was one of the sights of Sydney - lovable old Sydney. Yes, you've guessed right - the Henry Woolfe you see about the City is the identical original. And don't go writing to ask me who was Athos, 'cos I'll tell you now: He was the aristocrat of Dumas' immortal three, and acknowledged the finest swordsman in Europe.
  
 Lemme see - was I at Rootsies? I was. About that feed - the tasters - gallons of 'em, were beautifully flavoured by tricks known to dieticians (did Wally show judgment). Came tea and trimmings, and then THE event: __The Cake__. Lemme see - was I at Rootsies? I was. About that feed - the tasters - gallons of 'em, were beautifully flavoured by tricks known to dieticians (did Wally show judgment). Came tea and trimmings, and then THE event: __The Cake__.
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 It was shaving time before tea that night, because we were being scolded for looking like tramps, so we lathered our faces and the blade hacked into our now tender. whiskers. Don was rewarded, with a cheek rub with Tine to prove how smooth his beardless face now was. It was shaving time before tea that night, because we were being scolded for looking like tramps, so we lathered our faces and the blade hacked into our now tender. whiskers. Don was rewarded, with a cheek rub with Tine to prove how smooth his beardless face now was.
  
-We crossed the Cobungra at 8.15 next morning and commenced the climb up to Mt. Loch. The weather was blowing a treat and clouds raced across the heavens at great speed. Mt. Feathertop lived up to its name, the top being clothed in soft white clouds. The ridge was long and steep, but quite good underfoot. From Mt. Loch to Mt. Hotham was unfortunately a road bash. Diamentina Hut was to have been our camp spot that night, but one look at it and we moved on, dropping  +We crossed the Cobungra at 8.15 next morning and commenced the climb up to Mt. Loch. The weather was blowing a treat and clouds raced across the heavens at great speed. Mt. Feathertop lived up to its name, the top being clothed in soft white clouds. The ridge was long and steep, but quite good underfoot. From Mt. Loch to Mt. Hotham was unfortunately a road bash. Diamentina Hut was to have been our camp spot that night, but one look at it and we moved on, dropping down a small gully to Diamentina Creek. We made camp at 12 midday. Please excuse our early camp, but it was New Year's Eve.
-down a small gully to Diamentina Creek. We made camp at 12 midday. Please excuse our early camp, but it was New Year's Eve.+
  
-Don suggested that for a little celebration we should have tea at the Chalet at Mt. Hotham. This suggestion was thought a wonderful idea by all. So at 3 p.m. we made ourselves look reasonably respectable and walked round the road leading to the Chalet. From the roadway the ridge, or Razorback as it is called, can be seen extending from Hotham to Mt. Feathertop, a distance of 6 miles. We soon reached the Chalet and the Manager was consulted by our Business Manager Don,  +Don suggested that for a little celebration we should have tea at the Chalet at Mt. Hotham. This suggestion was thought a wonderful idea by all. So at 3 p.m. we made ourselves look reasonably respectable and walked round the road leading to the Chalet. From the roadway the ridge, or Razorback as it is called, can be seen extending from Hotham to Mt. Feathertop, a distance of 6 miles. We soon reached the Chalet and the Manager was consulted by our Business Manager Don, who arranged the evening meal at a cost of 10/- per head. It was 4 p.m. and tea was to be served at 6.30 p.m, - 2 1/2 hours to fill in. Geof went back for Bev who had decided to rest instead of walking to the Chalet, meanwhile we other four took a walk along the road past the Chalet, returning by 5.45. Geof had just beaten us back.
-who arranged the evening meal at a cost of 10/- per head. It was 4 p.m. and tea was to be served at 6.30 p.m, - 2 1/2 hours to fill in. Geof went back for Bev who had decided to rest instead of walking to the Chalet, meanwhile we other four took a walk along the road past the Chalet, returning by 5.45. Geof had just beaten us back.+
  
-At 6.30 p.m. we were seated at a large table in the dining room, with Geoffrey placing on the table the mysterious little box he had carried all the trip. To our surprise it was a box of sweets, and very delicious too. The meal was most satisfying to our dried vegetable constitutions, the plates of cheese crackers diminishing rapidly before the soup. It was a real 3-course meal, supplenented  +At 6.30 p.m. we were seated at a large table in the dining room, with Geoffrey placing on the table the mysterious little box he had carried all the trip. To our surprise it was a box of sweets, and very delicious too. The meal was most satisfying to our dried vegetable constitutions, the plates of cheese crackers diminishing rapidly before the soup. It was a real 3-course meal, supplenented by the sweets from Geof's mysterious box.
-by the sweets from Geof's mysterious box.+
  
 A golden-red sunset lit the sky as we made our way back to our camp. By 9 p.m. we had a fire burning brightly for a brew. The darkness of the hillside was interrupted by the light of a torch as someone made his way down the slope towards us. It turned out to be one of the chaps who was building a ski-hut about 200 yards from where we were camped. "Like to come up to the hut for a little celebration" he asked. To this we all agreed, it being New Year's Eve. Midnight found us singing Auld Lang Syne and saying to our hosts that we really must be going. They saw our point of view, being ex-bushwalkers now turned to the pleasures of skiing and they sympathised with us. So we made our way down the slope to the tents in happy frame of mind, and sleep was soon upon us. A golden-red sunset lit the sky as we made our way back to our camp. By 9 p.m. we had a fire burning brightly for a brew. The darkness of the hillside was interrupted by the light of a torch as someone made his way down the slope towards us. It turned out to be one of the chaps who was building a ski-hut about 200 yards from where we were camped. "Like to come up to the hut for a little celebration" he asked. To this we all agreed, it being New Year's Eve. Midnight found us singing Auld Lang Syne and saying to our hosts that we really must be going. They saw our point of view, being ex-bushwalkers now turned to the pleasures of skiing and they sympathised with us. So we made our way down the slope to the tents in happy frame of mind, and sleep was soon upon us.
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 The cooking of the slabs of steak and sausages was a masterpiece of ingenuity. A wire bed frame was erected over the fire, a sheet of small mesh wire-netting spread on top to prevent the sausages falling through, then all the meat was laid on and cooked to a turn in about 20 minutes - a much better method than spitting the beast whole and taking ten hours to render it to cinders outside while the inside remains red raw. The cooking of the slabs of steak and sausages was a masterpiece of ingenuity. A wire bed frame was erected over the fire, a sheet of small mesh wire-netting spread on top to prevent the sausages falling through, then all the meat was laid on and cooked to a turn in about 20 minutes - a much better method than spitting the beast whole and taking ten hours to render it to cinders outside while the inside remains red raw.
  
-The eating and festivities continued till 2 a.m. when the party took to its sleeping bags under a large canvas which Ross' father spread over the outsize rotary clothes hoist. Morning revealed to the astonished neighbours slumbering bodies by the dozen. As soon as Geoffrey awoke there was no sleep for anyone any more, and in self defence they got up for breakfast. Some folk brought their own, and the rest were fed from the communal supply of Cornflakes, blackberries,  +The eating and festivities continued till 2 a.m. when the party took to its sleeping bags under a large canvas which Ross' father spread over the outsize rotary clothes hoist. Morning revealed to the astonished neighbours slumbering bodies by the dozen. As soon as Geoffrey awoke there was no sleep for anyone any more, and in self defence they got up for breakfast. Some folk brought their own, and the rest were fed from the communal supply of Cornflakes, blackberries, icing sugar and cream.
-icing sugar and cream.+
  
 Then Brian tried to leave to go home. Stitt was going to drive him to the station per motor bike. Oh, how that poor boy suffered! First they took his bag away and hid it. Then he somehow regained possession and was making a dash for the motor-bike he was seized bag and all and carried bodily out to the back lawn again. So Peter got an offsider to open the side gates and drove in to rescue the victim. Unfortunate move! Geof now padlocked the gate and they were prisoners. A kind-hearted Mr. Laird gave Brian the key, and at the psychological moment he frantically fumbled open the gates and they were away. Then Brian tried to leave to go home. Stitt was going to drive him to the station per motor bike. Oh, how that poor boy suffered! First they took his bag away and hid it. Then he somehow regained possession and was making a dash for the motor-bike he was seized bag and all and carried bodily out to the back lawn again. So Peter got an offsider to open the side gates and drove in to rescue the victim. Unfortunate move! Geof now padlocked the gate and they were prisoners. A kind-hearted Mr. Laird gave Brian the key, and at the psychological moment he frantically fumbled open the gates and they were away.
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 Blimey! What is it lined with, gold? Well, no, but it is at least a golden colour and would make a tent that would last for generations. Just think of Mr. Laird patting his grandson on the back - "Yes, Ross III, I bought that tent back in '55 but they aren't as good these days". Blimey! What is it lined with, gold? Well, no, but it is at least a golden colour and would make a tent that would last for generations. Just think of Mr. Laird patting his grandson on the back - "Yes, Ross III, I bought that tent back in '55 but they aren't as good these days".
  
-Paddy Pallin, Lighweight Camp Gear, 201 Castlereagh Street, Sydney. BM2685.+Paddy Pallin, Lightweight Camp Gear, 201 Castlereagh Street, Sydney. BM2685.
195503.txt · Last modified: 2016/01/25 13:01 by tyreless
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