Differences

This shows you the differences between two versions of the page.

--- 193607 [2013/02/22 20:43] – external edit 127.0.0.1
+++ 193607 [2014/02/19 21:19] – thuy14
@@ Line 1: / Line 1: @@
-is*
+====== THE SYDNEY BUSHWALKER ======
-.460
-IBM
+A journal devoted to matters of interest to the
-Coo
-"THE SYDNEY BUSHWALKER"
-A Journal devoted to matters of interest to the
 Sydney Bush Walkers, 5 Hamilton St., Sydney, N.S.W.
-No. 30.	JULY 1936.
+\\
-PUBLISHING COMMITTEE
+\\ No. 30.	July 1936
-Miss Marie B. Byles (Editor)
+\\
-Miss Dinah Hearfield (Sub-Editor)
+\\ ** PUBLISHING COMMITTEE **
-Miss Doris Allden (editorial), Mr. Peter Page (correspondence)
+\\ Miss Marie B. Byles (Editor)
-Miseg Ada Frost andDatlEnglish (sellihg'depaftmvnt) Mr. Ian Malcolm (advektising)
+\\ Miss Dinah Hearfield (Sub-Editor)
-CONTENTS
+\\ Miss Doris Allden (Editorial)
-	PAGE
+\\ Mr Peter Page (Correspondence)
-Editorial	2
+\\ Miss Ada Frost and Miss Dot English (Selling Department)
-Shameful Adventure,	by Suzanne Reichard.	3
+\\ Mr Ian Malcolm (Advertising)
-"Warragambols" ,	by Gordon Smith.	6
+\\
-"Paddy11	11
+\\ ** CONTENTS PAGE **
-Jimmy's Mystery Hike,	by Win. Duncombe.	14
+\\
-A Bushwalkerts Impression of London Ramblers	15
+|Editorial|2|
-Questions Answered, By our Bushwalking Expert,"Reklawsub."	16
+|Shameful Adventure, by Suzanne Reichard|3|
-The Sirius Saga from the Dog Tales of Hoffman, by W. Mullins.	17
+|"Warragambols", by Gordon Smith|6|
-EDITORIAL.
+|"Paddy"|11|
-The new King is considerate enough to have his birthday at nearly the same time of the year as his late father, that is to say, in the season most suitable ffor strenuous walking. This year excellent weather blessed the advent of the first King's Birthday on the changed date, and most Club members showed their appreciation.
+|Jimmy's Mystery Hike, by Win. Duncombe|14|
-The official trip was to Blue Gum Forest, led by Dorothy Lawry armed with a huge sledge hammer and a crow-bar, which were intended for the demolition of the hut erected by the unemployed workers down there, and generally considered as undesirable. It is rather interesting to note that huts are erected with much expense in New Zealand, and are pulled down with much labour in our less rainy land. Unfortunately - or otherwise, - some other enthusiasts had already done the main part of the work before the sledge hammer arrived. However, Dorman Long and his much ridiculed trenching-tool were found very useful for uprooting the posts. Thirty-four people housed in sixteen little tents celebrated the destruction of the hut.
+|A Bushwalker's Impression of London Ramblers|15|
-Mount Solitary and the Korrowell Buttress saw its old friend, Jock Kaske, back again; but his prior experience on the Buttress made the rock-climbing less formidable to this party than to his previous one.
+|Questions Answered, by our Bushwalking Expert,"Reklawsub"|16|
-Barney and a party spent the weekend on Clear Hill without succumbing to the temptation of going down Duncan's Pass or Taro's Ladders to the Cox.
+|The Sirius Saga from the Dog Tales of Hoffman, by W. Mullins|17|
- 'Not so Paddy, who made up for his forced confinement in his shop over Easter, by making full use of every hour of the King's Birthday weekend. He and his party went from 'Wentworth Falls along King's Tableland and down to McMahon's on Cox's River, From there they went along Butcher's Creek and over Mount Cookhem, taking in Clear Hill on their return home to Katoomba.
+\\
-Ian Malcolm picked up various stragglers of the Rover Ramblers and also went from Wentworth Falls to the Cox and up Clear Hill; but they took the shorter route via Cedar Creek. Ian had the pleasure of climbing twice up the Goat Track in the middle of the night in search of various Rovers who did not arrive.
+==== EDITORIAL ====
-O'Hare's Creek from Stanwell Park might seem scarcely long enough for a holiday weekend; but Jean Trimble's party found it the most strenuous trip they had taken for a long time, and when Jean makes a statement like that, no more need be said.
+The new King is considerate enough to have his birthday at nearly the same time of the year as his late father, that is to say, in the season most suitable for strenuous walking. This year excellent weather blessed the advent of the first King's Birthday on the changed date, and most Club members showed their appreciation.
-Ernie and Jean Austin went over the lovely country at the back of Kiama with its green fields and sparkling streams. They camped on Saddleback the first night and at the junction of Brogher's Creek the second night. The second camp was a birthday party for Jean and Ted, and one of the local residents, hearing the jollification, came along with his concertina and added his share.
+\\
-Suzanne Reichart, Dot English, Grace Edgecombe and Marie Byles again went off with the Highbrow Hikers and the Katoomba Suicide Club, intending to rock- climb in the Upper Grose. They certainly lugged out plenty of rope, and found a lovely cave to camp in; but the rocks were either non-existent or vertical,
+\\ The official trip was to Blue Gum Forest, led by Dorothy Lawry armed with a huge sledge hammer and a crow bar, which were intended for the demolition of the hut erected by the unemployed workers down there, and generally considered as undesirable. It is rather interesting to note that huts are erected with much expense in New Zealand, and are pulled down with much labour in our less rainy land. Unfortunately - or otherwise, - some other enthusiasts had already done the main part of the work before the sledge hammer arrived. However, Dorman Long and his much ridiculed trenching tool were found very useful for uprooting the posts. Thirty four people housed in sixteen little tents celebrated the destruction of the hut.
-and the rope was carried back unused.
+\\
-Mitt agong is not as popular as the Blue Mountains Plateau; but Jack Debert led a party of nine out to Mount Jellore and found it deserved greater popularity so perhaps others will follow later.
+\\ Mount Solitary and the Korrowell Buttress saw its old friend, Jock Kaske, back again; but his prior experience on the Buttress made the rock climbing less formidable to this party than to his previous one.
-Apart from the holiday weekend trips, we must record haw Richard Croker and Frank Keelty spent a fortnight at Barrington and Dorrigo, camping on one memorable night within twenty-eight yards of twenty-eight pigs!
+\\
-a -
+\\ Barney and a party spent the weekend on Clear Hill without succumbing to the temptation of going down Duncan's Pass or Taro's Ladders to the Cox.
-Peter Page and Ray Birt also spent their fortnight's holiday under the open sky. They started dawn Breakfast Creek to the Cox's River, went up Morilla Range to the Gangerangs; over Cloudmaker with which Ray fell in love, thence to Kanangra, and dawn Gingera Creek to the Cox. Quite often, Ray informs us, they were up before dawn and breakfasted in the dark. Thus does the levea of early-rising gradually permeate the Clubt
+\\
-CLUB GOSSIP.
+\\ Not so Paddy, who made up for his forced confinement in his shop over Easter, by making full use of every hour of the King's Birthday weekend. He and his party went from Wentworth Falls along King's Tableland and down to McMahon's on Cox's River. From there they went along Butcher's Creek and over Mount Cookhem, taking in Clear Hill on their return home to Katoomba.
-You will be pleased to know that Cupid has again been shooting his arrows in the Club, the victims this time being Iris Rockstro (Roxy) and Arnold Barrett.
+\\
-The Stork has also been busy, and passing by Moroneyhsleft a daughter on their doorstep.
+\\ Ian Malcolm picked up various stragglers of the Rover Ramblers and also went from Wentworth Falls to the Cox and up Clear Hill; but they took the shorter route via Cedar Creek. Ian had the pleasure of climbing twice up the Goat Track in the middle of the night in search of various Rovers who did not arrive.
-The Roots have uprooted once more, and their new aboreal abode at
+\\
-Logan Avenue, Haberfield, is to be open for public inspection to-morrow, the 11th. Julya
+\\ O'Hare's Creek from Stanwell Park might seem scarcely long enough for a holiday weekend; but Jean Trimble's party found it the most strenuous trip they had taken for a long time, and when Jean makes a statement like that, no more need be said.
-Richard Croker has presented nBunyips and Billabongs" to the Club Library, and Dorothy Lawry has presented "The Nature of English Poetry" which we seriously recommend to all our aspiring poets. Not to be outdone the Club funds have presented "Tramping Through Scotland."
+\\
-Frances Ramsay, who is off to Scotland on a twelve month t exchange' and Vera Phillips who is going with her, should find the last-named book most useful, but, as they are sailing in a fortnight, they probably will not have time to read it.
+\\ Ernie and Jean Austin went over the lovely country at the back of Kiama with its green fields and sparkling streams. They camped on Saddleback the first night and at the junction of Brogher's Creek the second night. The second camp was a birthday party for Jean and Ted, and one of the local residents, hearing the jollification, came along with his concertina and added his share.
-Flo Allsworth is another traveller, but her work has taken her only as far as Hobart for three months.
+\\
-Once again we remind you that Barney it itching to receive your subscriptions and that Bernard, who-used-to-be-Edgar, is dying to assist him.
+\\ Suzanne Reichart, Dot English, Grace Edgecombe and Marie Byles again went off with the Highbrow Hikers and the Katoomba Suicide Club, intending to rock climb in the Upper Grose. They certainly lugged out plenty of rope, and found a lovely cave to camp in; but the rocks were either non-existent or vertical, and the rope was carried back unused.
-'-211A1VEIFUL ADVENTURE.
+\\
-Suzanne Reichard.
+\\ Mittagong is not as popular as the Blue Mountains Plateau; but Jack Debert led a party of nine out to Mount Jellore and found it deserved greater popularity so perhaps others will follow later.
-Not having "done" a decent walk for months, and with Easter only a week ahead, I felt physLcally very soft, and decided that something really must be done about it. Dot English obligingly offered to help me with the "hardening- up" process, and after some discussion, we decided it should take the form of a walk in the Smith's Creek - Pepadray Creek district, which was unfamiliar to both of us.
+\\
-Accordingly, on Sunday morning, Dot duly arrived per bicycle, having first ducked down Woodland Avenue, in order tp put on her skirt and so appear-before the family decently dressed. We were then driven out -as far as the Duffy's Track turn-off in French's Forest. From here we set out armed with a map, but no compass; for although Dot awns one, she does not carry it, and I do not even awn one.
+\\ Apart from the holiday weekend trips, we must record how Richard Croker and Frank Keelty spent a fortnight at Barrington and Dorrigo, camping on one memorable night within twenty eight yards of twenty eight pigs!
-We had no difficulty in finding the Trig station which indicates the turnoff to Smith's Creek, and we were soon making our way down to the junction of the two upper arms of the creek. Dot's aversion to pack-carrying caused her to present a good edition of Mrs. Mandelberg, with little parcels strung about her waist on bits of string - shoes, skirt, lunch etc.
+\\
-We found Smith's Creek nice and bouldery, but dry. Dot, who was skipping along ahead, presently disturbed two flirting Lyre birds, which flew off up the hillside, with hoarse cries. After about an hour's boulder-hopping, during which we had not seen much water except occasional water-holes and one nice little waterfall, we found ourselves in an open valley. The water here was brackish, and a noisome smell assailed our nostrils. Bright yellow sulphur deposits covered the bottoms of the pools.
+\\ Peter Page and Ray Birt also spent their fortnight's holiday under the open sky. They started down Breakfast Creek to the Cox's River, went up Morilla Range to the Gangerangs; over Cloudmaker with which Ray fell in love, thence to Kanangra, and down Gingera Creek to the Cox. Quite often, Ray informs us, they were up before dawn and breakfasted in the dark. Thus does the leven of early rising gradually permeate the Club!
-Farther on we struck a track leading through a dry reeds-covered swamp. This we followed for some distance, along the banks of the creek -which had now widened and become semi-tidal - until we came to an arm which branched westwards. At this point the sand-flies began to chew us alive, so we beat a
+\\
-hasty retreat up the branch. creek. There we found some delicious water, and decided to make a halt for lunch. Dot's lunch, consisting of two date sandwiches, was eaten while my man-size steak was still grilling on the fire. (What a waste of a fire, had we but known). After I had thoeoughly "stodged" myself
+\\
-with lunch, in true Bushwalker fashion, we continued on our way. We followed up the creek until we became bored with it and decided to return to the road.
+\\ ** CLUB GOSSIP **
-Having studied the map, I suggested that the most interesting and most direct route for home would be to strike out along the ridges for the large pool at the
+\\
-junction of Pepadray and Cowan Creeks, and thence along the Cowan Road. Dot,
+\\ You will be pleased to know that Cupid has again been shooting his arrows in the Club, the victims this time being Iris Rockstro (Roxy) and Arnold Barrett.
-poor trusting soul, agreed that that would be a good idea. We, therefore, followed the road for some distance until we deemed the moment had come to strike out along the ridges. Again a Trig station was supposed to mark the
+\\
-point at which we should descend; which we duly did. After half an hour's rough scrambling, we found ourselves on Pepadray Creek. It was impossible to
+\\ The Stork has also been busy, and passing by Moroney's left a daughter on their doorstep.
-tell haw far up we were, but I imagined the big pool must be "just round the corner." In the meantime we enjoyed the vista of a string of some of the most
+\\
-lovely, clear, rock-bottomed pools I have yet seen.
+\\ The Roots have uprooted once more, and their new aboreal abode at 3 Logan Avenue, Haberfield, is to be open for public inspection tomorrow, the 11th July.
-After half an hour's extremely rough going - Dot was able to climb down the face, of the rocks; but I perforce had to scramble up the banks and fight my
+\\
-way through the almost impenetrable scrub en the hillside - the big pool seemed to be as far away as ever. This drove us to study the map again, and the horrible eonolusion was forced upon us that we had come dawn the wrong ridge and were a good two miles up Pepadray Creek, with only half an hour left before sunset.
+\\ Richard Croker has presented "Bunyips and Billabongs" to the Club Library, and Dorothy Lawry has presented "The Nature of English Poetry" which we seriously recommend to all our aspiring poets. Not to be outdone the Club funds have presented "Tramping Through Scotland."
-The only thing to do was to leave the creek and get up the farther hillside while there was still light. The sun was setting as we reached the top, and there before us, to my utter dismay, lay still another tremendous gully. On the far horizen twinkled two or three lights, indicating the main French's Forest Road.
+\\
-Although it was already dark, there seemed nothing to do but attempt to descend the gully.
+\\ Frances Ramsay, who is off to Scotland on a twelve months exchange and Vera Phillips who is going with her, should find the last named book most useful, but, as they are sailing in a fortnight, they probably will not have time to read it.
-My "softness" was beginning to tell on me pretty badly by this time, and te add to my difficulties, the going was very steep and there were many ledges unscalable by me, though not, of course, by Dot. My feeble pocket torch was not strong enough to explore the darkness for any distance ahead, so that I could not ascertain beforehand whether ledges were scalable or not; but could only progress by a method of trail and error. After about twenty minutes c'f this I became thoroughly fed up, and told Dot that I could not descend the gully; but that if she were willing, we might attempt to circle round it, via the ridges.
+\\
-However, after half an hour's walking, the gully still showed no signs of closing in. Dot again wanted to attempt to cross it; but I was "done-in." There seemed no alternative but to spend the night in the open, we forthwith dumped our possessions on the first comparatively flat spot, and set about hauling in all the available logs. We soon piled up an imposing-looking stack of wood and filled with pleasant anticipations of warmth, I put my hand in my rucksaek pocket for the matches.
+\\ Flo Allsworth is another traveller, but her work has taken her only as far as Hobart for three months.
-"No matches here	Funny	Well, perha-)s I put them in the other
+\\
-pocket	..Nol"
+\\ Once again we remind you that Barney it itching to receive your subscriptions and that Bernard, who-used-to-be-Edgar, is dying to assist him.
-'Where the Devil did I put the damn matches?"
+\\
-Things were beginning to look serious. Perhaps I threw them inte the paok, by mistake, at lunch time. Followed a frantic delving into the pack. Finally, the thing was tipped upside down and all its oontents strewn upon the ground.
+\\
-No matches!
+==== SHAMEFUL ADVENTURE ====
-Well, that was the last straw. "Damn and blast," I exclaimed with the utmost venom and from the fulness of my heart.
+Suzanne Reichard
-As soon as we had sufficiently recovered from the shock, we decided that a little nourishment would be the best means of restoring our equilibrium I was able to produce the following: one banana, one piece of cake, a few raisins
+\\
-and two pieces of bread ad butter. Thesd we duly shared, -with the exci:pti.r. of the bread and butter which was to be saved for the morning. Water, of course, we had
+\\ Not having "done" a decent walk for months, and with Easter only a week ahead, I felt physically very soft, and decided that something really must be done about it. Dot English obligingly offered to help me with the "hardening up" process, and after some discussion, we decided it should take the form of a walk in the Smith's Creek - Pepadray Creek district, which was unfamiliar to both of us.
-none.
+\\
-We then spread the ground-sheet crosswise on the ground so that it would cover us both. The superior virtue of pack-carrying was further demonstrated
+\\ Accordingly, on Sunday morning, Dot duly arrived per bicycle, having first ducked down Woodland Avenue, in order to put on her skirt and so appear before the family decently dressed. We were then driven out - as far as the Duffy's Track turn off in French's Forest. From here we set out armed with a map, but no compass; for although Dot owns one, she does not carry it, and I do not even own one.
-by my being able to produce, in addition to the above: one pullover, one woollen bathing costume, one towel, one bread-bag, one bathing cap.	I put on the
+\\
-pullover and drew the bathing costume over my legs, while Dot pulled her skirt up round her body, wrapped her legs in the towel and placed her feet in the bread-bag inside the bathing c'ep1 We then snuggled down together, and the cold light of the moon shone unsympathetimlly upon us,
+\\ We had no difficulty in finding the Trig station which indicates the turnoff to Smith's Creek, and we were soon making our way down to the junction of the two upper arms of the creek. Dot's aversion to pack carrying caused her to present a good edition of Mrs Mandelberg, with little parcels strung about her waist on bits of string - shoes, skirt, lunch etc.
-We changed the watch about .every hour during the night, or whenever the ground became unbearably hard. This meant that we sat up and rubbed one another's backs vigorously, stamped our feet and then changed positions; the inside man taking the outside man's place, or vice versa.	At about 11 o'clock Dot said: "I think it's nearly dawn; we might start, don't you think?" I didn't!
+\\
-This went on throughout the night. She was further encouraged by a solitary cock-craw; but we discovered that cocks craw at midnight!. There was a very heavy dew and it began to come through the ground-sheet rather badly - another unpleasant discovery. However, in spite of all this, we both achieved an odd doze or tr7.
+\\ We found Smith's Creek nice and bouldery, but dry. Dot, who was skipping along ahead, presently disturbed two flirting Lyre birds, which flew off up the hillside, with hoarse cries. After about an hour's boulder hopping, during which we had not seen much water except occasional water holes and one nice little waterfall, we found ourselves in an open valley. The water here was brackish, and a noisome smell assailed our nostrils. Bright yellow sulphur deposits covered the bottoms of the pools.
-The first pallid light of dawn saw us sitting up, thankful for the excuse to move. A piece of bread and butter each gave us courage for the start. In a quarter of an hour we had reached the bottom of the gully, and in barely an hour were on the road; but I am sure it would have taken us fully three hours in the dark. It was a brilliantly sunny morning, and as soon as we had warmed up a little through the exercise, we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves and prepared to regard the whole adventure as a joke.
+\\
-We had just passed St. Ives' Village, when the family limousine loomed in sight. Dot and I were so pleased at the immediate prospect of breakfast, that we came alongside, all beaming smiles.
+\\ Farther on we struck a track leading through a dry reeds covered swamp. This we followed for some distance, along the banks of the creek - which had now widened and become semi-tidal - until we came to an arm which branched westwards. At this point the sand flies began to chew us alive, so we beat a hasty retreat up the branch creek. There we found some delicious water, and decided to make a halt for lunch. Dot's lunch, consisting of two date sandwiches, was eaten while my man-size steak was still grilling on the fire (what a waste of a fire, had we but known). After I had thoroughly "stodged" myself with lunch, in true Bushwalker fashion, we continued on our way. We followed up the creek until we became bored with it and decided to return to the road.
-"It's no. laughing matter!" from Father, in very gruff tones.
+\\
-Somewhat abashed, Dot and I climbed in; but Dot, the irrepressible, soon started telling them in blithe tones how awfully cold we had been, whereupon
+\\ Having studied the map, I suggested that the most interesting and most direct route for home would be to strike out along the ridges for the large pool at the junction of Pepadray and Cowan Creeks, and thence along the Cowan Road. Dot, poor trusting soul, agreed that that would be a good idea. We, therefore, followed the road for some distance until we deemed the moment had come to strike out along the ridges. Again a Trig station was supposed to mark the point at which we should descend; which we duly did. After half an hour's rough scrambling, we found ourselves on Pepadray Creek. It was impossible to tell how far up we were, but I imagined the big pool must be "just round the corner." In the meantime we enjoyed the vista of a string of some of the most lovely, clear, rock bottomed pools I have yet seen.
-a violent nudge from me, and a hastily whispered: "For Heaven's sake don't spin too much of a yarn." Subsidence of Dot.
+\\
-When we reached home, Dot, with admirable adaptability to the situation, proceeded to inform another member of the family that we had been very nice and warm all night.
+\\ After half an hour's extremely rough going - Dot was able to climb down the face, of the rocks; but I perforce had to scramble up the banks and fight my way through the almost impenetrable scrub on the hillside - the big pool seemed to be as far away as ever. This drove us to study the map again, and the horrible conclusion was forced upon us that we had come down the wrong ridge and were a good two miles up Pepadray Creek, with only half an hour left before sunset.
-No mention of the disgraceful episode of the matches was ever made.
+\\
-However, alone during expected the attitude. I done!the atmosphere was highly disapproving, and we were left severely breakfast. When Dot left, no one said good-bye to her! I had folks to be worried; but was not prepared for such a censorious am afraid I have not brought up my family as well as I might have
+\\ The only thing to do was to leave the creek and get up the farther hillside while there was still light. The sun was setting as we reached the top, and there before us, to my utter dismay, lay still another tremendous gully. On the far horizon twinkled two or three lights, indicating the main French's Forest Road.
-Still, it is an ill wind that blows no one any good. Although the experience did not convert Dot to pack-carrying, it has made her vow never to be without her awn box of matchesl
+\\
-Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying;
+\\ Although it was already dark, there seemed nothing to do but attempt to descend the gully.
-Hear the drums of morning play; Harkl the empty by-ways crying
+\\
-"Who'll beyond the hills away?"
+\\ My "softness" was beginning to tell on me pretty badly by this time, and to add to my difficulties, the going was very steep and there were many ledges unscalable by me, though not, of course, by Dot. My feeble pocket torch was not strong enough to explore the darkness for any distance ahead, so that I could not ascertain beforehand whether ledges were scalable or not; but could only progress by a method of trail and error. After about twenty minutes of this I became thoroughly fed up, and told Dot that I could not descend the gully; but that if she were willing, we might attempt to circle round it, via the ridges.
-A.E. Houseman.
+\\
-"WARRAGAMBOLS"
+\\ However, after half an hour's walking, the gully still showed no signs of closing in. Dot again wanted to attempt to cross it; but I was "done in." There seemed no alternative but to spend the night in the open, we forthwith dumped our possessions on the first comparatively flat spot, and set about hauling in all the available logs. We soon piled up an imposing looking stack of wood and filled with pleasant anticipations of warmth, I put my hand in my rucksack pocket for the matches.
-Gordon Smith.
+\\
-The canoe trip should have commenced at Penrith on Xmas Eve; but as at that time the canoe was miles away, I had better start from the beginning, when Hama Galliott, "Kissme" Hardy and I set out for Camden on Friday, December 20th. The Canoe had been freighted from Liverpool to Camden, it being our intention to follow the Nepean River to Penrith and from there commence the trip proper on Xmas Eve. The canoe Was carried to the Nepean, and at 9 a.m. on Saturday a start was made on the 40 miles of river to Penrith. After covering 22 miles of the George's River to Liverpool in half a day, I was optimistic enough to think we could reach Penrith by Sunday night:---alast
+\\ "No matches here......funny......well, perhaps I put them in the other pocket......no!"
-There was not much information available about this part of the Nepean, but no news is good news - sometimes. After a quarter of a mile the weir appeared, and by lunch time, after five portages, our appetite for weirs was more than satiated.	In between times the canoe was dragged through sand, assisted over snags and occasionally paddled, and by dusk nine miles had been covered.
+\\
-After a 7 a.m. departure, progress improved and about 9 a.m. I was able to use the oars and visualize a spot of lunch about Wallacia. A beautiful stretch of water, where the banks were heavily wooded, ended abruptly at the entrance to a narrow defile. What shall I say about the next six or seven hours when at
+\\ "Where the Devil did I put the damn matches?"
-the expense of some gruelling hard work, and heavy falls on green, slippery rocks, an advance of 3A mile was made. "Kissme" tugged heroically at one end, while Hilma, surrounded with packs, on all sides, emulated a donkey along the rocky banks.
+\\
-At 5 p.m. we "threw in the sponge," parked the canoe to await our return on Christmas Eve and in 35 minutes reached Bent's Basin. On our arrival at Wallaeia after tea, it was found that the last service car had gone. After some good team work between the storekeeper and a car owner, we departed at an average speed of 50 miles p.h., for Kingswood, where, we were informed, the last train would stop for us if asked nicely. It didn't, and we slept in a paddock waking at 4 a.m. to catch the first train to Sydney.
+\\ Things were beginning to look serious. Perhaps I threw them into the pack, by mistake, at lunch time. Followed a frantic delving into the pack. Finally, the thing was tipped upside down and all its contents strewn upon the ground.
-Next night, Xmas Eve, saw the same party, plus Ada Frost, on Central waiting the 8-40 p.m. train to Penrith. Not I am wrong for Mr. Hardy arrived at 8-45 full of joie de vivre, and reeled off a sad and recurrent story of missed taxis and convival friends encountered. A sunlight soap box held his surplus groceries, and his pockets bulged with cigars. He forgot nothing - not even to give the Stationmaster at Kingswood a 'raspberry'.
+\\
-The service car from Penrith dropped us at Wallacia about 12-30 a.m., and accompanied by one stray dog, we staggered a mile or two before camping.
+\\ No matches!
-Xmas Day was hot and a combined load of 180 lbs. of food and gear made our journey to Bent's Basin a nightmare. The canoe had been left some 3/4 mile
+\\
-above this spot. The Basin, almost circular, with a diameter of about 150 yards, and fringed with rocks, grass and river oaks provided an ideal camp site, and a swim in its limpid waters soon removed the tired feeling. Soon after tea "Kissme" produced a bright green mosquito net and hid himself. In confidence, let me tell you that "Rissme" (according to Kissme) does everything but gamble, but vfoddahl and sleep are his two favorite pastimes. He had been burning the midnight oil recently and intended to get all the beauty sleep possible.
+\\ Well, that was the last straw. "Damn and blast," I exclaimed with the utmost venom and from the fullness of my heart.
-With the exception of a couple of hours' portage of the canoe to the Basin, Boxing Day WAS spent in a leisurely fashion. A sharp shower of rain drove us into the tent at night.
+\\
-At 11 a0m0 on Friday the two gi7ls caught the launch to Wallacia (7 miles) and we followed 13y canoe, in time for lunch. Two trips were made to the weir, and after unloading, commenced the mile portage to Nortonls Basin which was gloomy with the approaching dusk before we arrived Joan Fitzpatrick and Jock Kaske, who had arranged to start by canoe that morning from Penrith and meet us at the Basin, werenit present in the flesh but an apt description by local campers satisfied me that they and the canoe werentt far distant. After breakfast they strolled up, expecting to see us, had been told that a "pommy and a big dago" had been sightedt
+\\ As soon as we had sufficiently recovered from the shock, we decided that a little nourishment would be the best means of restoring our equilibrium. I was able to produce the following: one banana, one piece of cake, a few raisins and two pieces of bread and butter. These we duly shared, with the exception of the bread and butter which was to be saved for the morning. Water, of course, we had none.
+\\
+\\ We then spread the ground sheet crosswise on the ground so that it would cover us both. The superior virtue of pack carrying was further demonstrated by my being able to produce, in addition to the above: one pullover, one woollen bathing costume, one towel, one bread bag, one bathing cap. I put on the pullover and drew the bathing costume over my legs, while Dot pulled her skirt up round her body, wrapped her legs in the towel and placed her feet in the bread-bag inside the bathing cap! We then snuggled down together, and the cold light of the moon shone unsympathetically upon us.
+\\
+\\ We changed the watch about every hour during the night, or whenever the ground became unbearably hard. This meant that we sat up and rubbed one another's backs vigorously, stamped our feet and then changed positions; the inside man taking the outside man's place, or vice versa. At about 11 o'clock Dot said: "I think it's nearly dawn; we might start, don't you think?" I didn't!
+\\
+\\ This went on throughout the night. She was further encouraged by a solitary cock craw; but we discovered that cocks craw at midnight! There was a very heavy dew and it began to come through the ground sheet rather badly - another unpleasant discovery. However, in spite of all this, we both achieved an odd doze or two.
+\\
+\\ The first pallid light of dawn saw us sitting up, thankful for the excuse to move. A piece of bread and butter each gave us courage for the start. In a quarter of an hour we had reached the bottom of the gully, and in barely an hour were on the road; but I am sure it would have taken us fully three hours in the dark. It was a brilliantly sunny morning, and as soon as we had warmed up a little through the exercise, we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves and prepared to regard the whole adventure as a joke.
+\\
+\\ We had just passed St. Ives' Village, when the family limousine loomed in sight. Dot and I were so pleased at the immediate prospect of breakfast, that we came alongside, all beaming smiles.
+\\
+\\ "It's no laughing matter!" from Father, in very gruff tones.
+\\
+\\ Somewhat abashed, Dot and I climbed in; but Dot, the irrepressible, soon started telling them in blithe tones how awfully cold we had been, whereupon a violent nudge from me, and a hastily whispered: "For Heaven's sake, don't spin too much of a yarn" Subsidence of Dot.
+\\
+\\ When we reached home, Dot, with admirable adaptability to the situation, proceeded to inform another member of the family that we had been very nice and warm all night.
+\\
+\\ No mention of the disgraceful episode of the matches was ever made.
+\\
+\\ However, the atmosphere was highly disapproving, and we were left severely alone during breakfast. When Dot left, no one said good bye to her! I had expected the folks to be worried; but was not prepared for such a censorious attitude. I am afraid I have not brought up my family as well as I might have done!
+\\
+\\ Still, it is an ill wind that blows no one any good. Although the experience did not convert Dot to pack carrying, it has made her vow never to be without her own box of matches!
+\\
+\\ ----------
+\\ Up, lad, up, 'tis late for lying;
+\\ Hear the drums of morning play;
+\\ Hark; the empty by-ways crying
+\\ "Who'll beyond the hills away?"
+\\
+\\ A.E. Houseman.
+\\
+\\
+==== "WARRAGAMBOLS" ====
+Gordon Smith
+\\
+\\ The canoe trip should have commenced at Penrith on Christmas Eve; but as at that time the canoe was miles away, I had better start from the beginning, when Hama Galliott, "Kissme" Hardy and I set out for Camden on Friday, December 20th. The canoe had been freighted from Liverpool to Camden, it being our intention to follow the Nepean River to Penrith and from there commence the trip proper on Christmas Eve. The canoe Was carried to the Nepean, and at 9 am on Saturday, a start was made on the 40 miles of river to Penrith. After covering 22 miles of the George's River to Liverpool in half a day, I was optimistic enough to think we could reach Penrith by Sunday night...alas!
+\\
+\\ There was not much information available about this part of the Nepean, but no news is good news - sometimes. After a quarter of a mile the weir appeared, and by lunch time, after five portages, our appetite for weirs was more than satiated. In between times the canoe was dragged through sand, assisted over snags and occasionally paddled, and by dusk, nine miles had been covered.
+\\
+\\ After a 7 am departure, progress improved and about 9 am, I was able to use the oars and visualise a spot of lunch about Wallacia. A beautiful stretch of water, where the banks were heavily wooded, ended abruptly at the entrance to a narrow defile. What shall I say about the next six or seven hours when at the expense of some gruelling hard work, and heavy falls on green, slippery rocks, an advance of 3/4 mile was made. "Kissme" tugged heroically at one end, while Hilma, surrounded with packs, on all sides, emulated a donkey along the rocky banks.
+\\
+\\ At 5 pm we "threw in the sponge," parked the canoe to await our return on Christmas Eve and in 35 minutes reached Bent's Basin. On our arrival at Wallacia after tea, it was found that the last service car had gone. After some good team work between the storekeeper and a car owner, we departed at an average speed of 50 miles p.h., for Kingswood, where, we were informed, the last train would stop for us if asked nicely. It didn't, and we slept in a paddock waking at 4 am to catch the first train to Sydney.
+\\
+\\ Next night, Christmas Eve, saw the same party, plus Ada Frost, on Central waiting the 8.40 pm train to Penrith. No! I am wrong for Mr Hardy arrived at 8.45 full of joie de vivre, and reeled off a sad and recurrent story of missed taxis and convival friends encountered. A sunlight soap box held his surplus groceries, and his pockets bulged with cigars. He forgot nothing - not even to give the Stationmaster at Kingswood a 'raspberry'.
+\\
+\\ The service car from Penrith dropped us at Wallacia about 12.30 am, and accompanied by one stray dog, we staggered a mile or two before camping.
+\\
+\\ Christmas Day was hot and a combined load of 180 lbs of food and gear made our journey to Bent's Basin a nightmare. The canoe had been left some 3/4 mile above this spot. The Basin, almost circular, with a diameter of about 150 yards, and fringed with rocks, grass and river oaks provided an ideal camp site, and a swim in its limpid waters soon removed the tired feeling. Soon after tea, "Kissme" produced a bright green mosquito net and hid himself. In confidence, let me tell you that "Kissme" (according to Kissme) does everything but gamble, but "foddah" and sleep are his two favorite pastimes. He had been burning the midnight oil recently and intended to get all the beauty sleep possible.
+\\
+\\ With the exception of a couple of hours' portage of the canoe to the Basin, Boxing Day was spent in a leisurely fashion. A sharp shower of rain drove us into the tent at night.
+\\
+\\ At 11 a0m0 on Friday the two gi7ls caught the launch to Wallacia (7 miles) and we followed 13y canoe, in time for lunch. Two trips were made to the weir, and after unloading, commenced the mile portage to Nortonls Basin which was gloomy with the approaching dusk before we arrived Joan Fitzpatrick and Jock Kaske, who had arranged to start by canoe that morning from Penrith and meet us at the Basin, werenit present in the flesh but an apt description by local campers satisfied me that they and the canoe werentt far distant. After breakfast they strolled up, expecting to see us, had been told that a "pommy and a big dago" had been sightedt
 In the afternoon Joan, Hilma, Jock and I went to Wallacia for supplies, while Ada and "Kissme" moved camp to a cave at the mouth of the Warragamba; the real beginning of the combined canoe trip, it being our intention to paddle up this river to Burragorang. Vic. Leeson and Bill Medbury in a third canoe completed the party.
 In the morning I rose early and took one of our party four miles upstream by canoe, paddling back in time to see the others pack and depart en masse. Gladys Parsons and Hee. Carruthers who were only out for the week-end gazed mournfully at us from the bank. Steady rain fell for an hour or so; but at lunch-time the skies were clear again. The river had narrowed and the canoes made tortuous progress between huge boulders towering on either side. The first few rapids presented little difficulty. To drag the canoes through the fast but shallow water was comparatively easy; but early in the afternoon the volume of water increased, and as a result of carelessness on my part, a wave swept over the side and swamped my canoe, some of the contents suffered but not seriously. About this time the company had an encounter with two youths, travelling downstream in a canvas canoe;who gave us a vivid, if exaggerated description of the terrors ahead. Owing to the reported dearth of camp sites above Monkey Creek, it was decided to camp there on our arrival although only 3-15 p.m. An early start on the morrow was planned, and Joan certainly arose at some ungodly hour to disturb the peace. That she even had "Kissme" out of bed early says a lot for her enthusiasm. By 7 a.m. the canoes were in motion and the day proved to be a hard one. Our canoe was overstocked, of course, with luggage for four, entailing loss of time at each portage. One or two of us took turns to walk along the rough banks. Later the "Trail Blazer" and the "Pig" very kindly took a passenger each. Stretches of half a mile or so of open water were encountered between some rapids; but this was far from general. At times, forces were combined, the five men pushing the canoes, in turn, through the swirling waters, or carrying them bodily over the rocks. This method lessened the hard work; but probably lost time. Lunch Was taken on a large, flat rock and the close of a rather tiring day saw the gorge Was behind us. Green banks, similar to those of the Cox, appeared in view and at 6 p.m. camp was made one mile short of the big bend and four to five miles from the CoxWollondilly Junction.