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--- 195511 [2016/02/04 12:43] – tyreless
+++ 195511 [2016/02/04 13:25] – tyreless
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 - Keith Renwick.
-With a lurch we were off at last heading south on the Melbourne Express. The time was 7,30 p.m. on Thursday, 18th August, and our destination was Hobart where we were to join the Hobart Walking Club and Tasmanian Caverneering Club's trip to Hastings Caves for Aug,20-27. En route were Dot Butler, Garth Coulter and Keith Renwick, and the trip was far from uneventful. First of all, in trying to pull a bag down from the luggage rack I almost stabbed a New Australian girl opposite with an ice axe. Then the young mother with two small children opposite Dot and Garth gave a frightened gasp; a lurch of the train was about to deposit Garth's enormous pack on to them. The climax came at Albury when we were getting out of the train when a further stabbing incident was attempted. "Heavens!" commented Dot to the poor girl, "Foiled again! That's three tries, and we've missed you every time!" "Eet ees all right," the victim replied, "I'm getting out here."
+With a lurch we were off at last heading south on the Melbourne Express. The time was 7,30 p.m. on Thursday, 18th August, and our destination was Hobart where we were to join the Hobart Walking Club and Tasmanian Caverneering Club's trip to Hastings Caves for Aug. 20-21. En route were Dot Butler, Garth Coulter and Keith Renwick, and the trip was far from uneventful. First of all, in trying to pull a bag down from the luggage rack I almost stabbed a New Australian girl opposite with an ice axe. Then the young mother with two small children opposite Dot and Garth gave a frightened gasp; a lurch of the train was about to deposit Garth's enormous pack on to them. The climax came at Albury when we were getting out of the train when a further stabbing incident was attempted. "Heavens!" commented Dot to the poor girl, "Foiled again! That's three tries, and we've missed you every time!" "Eet ees all right," the victim replied, "I'm getting out here."
 Garth and I slept in the corridor during the night. "Youse guys are takin' a bituva risk, aintcha?" said "Happy" the guard in his best Old English. "A guy got his skull kicked in only last week."
@@ Line 219: / Line 219: @@
 - Dot Butler
-Keith had organised the trip, and in the Club those who weren't able to go were, as is their custom, giving their opinion on what thn outcome might be.. .... You'll freeze,/ Why don't you go north to the
+Keith had organised the trip, and in the Club those who weren't able to go were, as is their custom, giving their opinion on what the outcome might be.. .... You'll freeze! Why don't you go north to the Barrier Reef? Don't forget your waterproof pants. Do you know how it rains down there? Take your water wings. They're going to camp in Snow's tent!!! (maniacal laughter off stage.)
-Barrier Reef? Don't forget your waterproof pants. Do you know how
-it rains down there? Take your water wings. They're going to camp in Snow's tent11: (maniacal laughter off stage.)
+Well, let me tell you all about it, lest you begin to think in terms of wholesale discomfort and shivering misery. It rained all right - and it snowed and it sleeted and it blizzarded and it blew a holiday so wet we might have been excused for growing a coating of moss on the south side, but that only happens to stones that have stopped rolling and we hardly stopped once. The only personal fungus really worthy of mention was what Garth grew on his face over a period of 12 days, and which graced his manly beauty all the way back to Sydney as no opportunity (and no razor) presented itself to shave.
-Well, let me tell you all about it, lest you begin to think in terms of wholesale discomfort and shivering misery. It rained all right - and it snowed and it sleeted aad it blizzarded and it bleT a holiday so wet we might have been excused for growing a coating I
-moss on the south side, but that only happens to stones that have stopped rolling and we hardly stopped once. The only personal fungus really worthy of mention was what Garth grew on his face over a peril)
+Arriving at Cradle Mt. Reserve about sundown on the Monday after our week-end with the Hobart Caverneers, all prepared to camp in a shed or in Snow's tent (too bad he had forgotten to bring his tent pegs), we were cordially greeted by Mac the Ranger, who said Waldheim chalet was vacant and we could stay there for 8/6 a night. Thus, whatever the days might bring forth, we were assured of dry warm nights. This was a great thing, but even greater was the deep sense of comradeship that permeated all our days at Waldheim - the sort comradeship that fills you with a warmth that physical cold can't touch. (There I'm quoting Geoffo, who always says these things so much better than I could myself). When the time came for us to go our separate ways we each experienced an indescribable sense of desolation, like finding your arm or your leg cut off. Snow nearly cried.
-of 12 days, and which graced his manly beauty all the way back to
-Sydney as no opportunity (and no razor) presented itself to shave.
+Well, there we were, all snugly ensconsed in the Chalet. Built of rough hewn native timber, Waldheim fits as naturally into its surroundings as grey lichen on a rock. Each year its aging frame leans a little closer towards the earth which is its home. Some day, perhaps soon, it will fall to pieces, but when it has become one with the dark mould of the beech forest floor we will think of it as of a dear dead friend....... We slept with our mattresses on the floor in front of a big fire and dreamed of what tomorrow might bring forth.
-Arriving at Cradle 'Nt. Reserve about sundown on the Monday after
-our week-end with the Hobart Caverneers, all prepared to camp in a shed or in Snow's tent (too bad he had forgotten to bring his tent pegs), we were cordially greeted by Mac the Ranger, who said Waldhe'
+Up at 6.30. Snow lit the kitchen range. We had breakfast, cut lunches, and were away by 8.30 bound for Cradle Mountain. We tramped along muddy tracks in shifting mist and low cloud, and over huge snow drifts 30 ft. deep from which we could see a gleam of lakes in the distance. We practiced cutting steps up snow slopes at steep angles and kicking up and down snow faces and over a cornice. Keith knew all the tricks and Garth was pretty to watch, but Snow, new to all this, was like a gawky young puppy. As we approached Kitchen Hut all we saw of it was the chimney poking through the drift. Snow gambolled ahead and with great exuberance dropped himself down the chimney. The next thing we hear is a wail from down under the snow, "I can't get out!" We dragged him out, and as it was only 11 o'clock decided to go and climb Little Horn, a sharp splinter of rock separated by a gap from the north east end of Cradle Mt. For a couple of hours we wallowed waist deep through snow which lay lightly on the low scrub at the base of Cradle. Imagine a howling gale, a snow storm, and us, all aiming for the one target. It was a tie; we all reached the gap at the same time. Wow! We put our heads down and made all haste for the sheltered lee of Cradle. Here we ate our lunch, standing up, stamping our wet feet in the snow trying to warm them up. Although it didn't look far to the summit of Little Horn we decided we were too wet and cold and uncomfortable for any more, so wallowed back to Kitchen. "Ha," said the weather, "I was only fooling you." The wind promptly dropped, it stopped snowing, and out came the sun. Well, wasn't thid mighty! The homing pigeons about faced and headed for Cradle again. Only Keith was a bit dubious about all this, and when we started the familiar sinking-to-the-waist progression all over again he decided he had had enough so returned to Kitchen hut. When we others got on to the steep slope of the mountain the surface was harder, and instead of sinking we now had to kick steps up the snow couloir. The summit ridge was well plastered, and on the sheltered side of the mountain were deep snow faces. We swung along with rising excitement, and at last reached the summit cairn, "Well," said Garth, quoting Hillary, "We knocked the bastard off." Said I, continuing the quotation, "The occasion seems to call for more than a formal handshake," so we put our arms round each other's shoulders and jumped up and down on the summit of our own little Everest - three small figures under the sky and all the world was ours.
-chalet was vacant and we could stay there for 8/6 a night. Thus,
-whatever the days might bring forth, we were assured of dry warm nights. This was a great thing, but even greater was the deep sense Of comradeship that permeated all our days at Waldheim - the sort
+There were photographs to be taken while the sun lit up the snowy peaks and shining lakes, then the mist came sweeping over and we began the descent. We had great fun glissading down the steep snow slopes, and so back to Kitchen hut. Inside the hut Keith had worn a deep circular track in the snow that had drifted inside, as he stamped round for several hours waiting for us to return. We pulled him out through the chimney then followed our trodden tracks over the snowfields towards home. In the deepening twilight our eyes followed down Marion's track, over the button grass flat with its meandering stream to the dark frings of beech forest where Waldheim nestled in its nest of trees, a white column of smoke drifting upwards - good old Mac had lit the fire for us, and that meant hot water for baths. While still floundering through the button grass swamp we drew straws to see who would have first bath, and Keith was the lucky winner. While he filled the bathroom up with steam we set about getting tea ready. Keith had done a mighty job catering for this party; we had everything. Did we need rice and cabbage for Snow's Foo Chow - it was there. Did we need celery, apple, onion for our stuffed grouse - again, these were all available.
-comradeship that fills you with a warmth that physical cold can't touch. (There I'm quoting Geoffo, who always says these things so
-much better than I could myself). When the time came for us to go
+That night we fed well, then sat in front of a big fire, our wet clothes draped all around to dry out, and listened while Garth read what was to be our nightly serial - "The Day of the Triffids." Outside the possums scuffled about in the brown damp leaves, the moon stole over the snowy stillness, and when at length it peeped through the skylight it saw us all sound asleep in front of the fire.
-our separate ways we each experienced an indescribable sense of desolation, like finding your arm or /*our leg cut off. Snow nearly
-cried.
+Next day we were hit by a low, despite a favourable weather forecast. We looked out the kitchen window to see Mac's wallabies patiently bearing the continuous rain and wind, but we stayed inside and set our hands to some fancy cooking. Keith made a super chocolate icing cake, I made a couple of baked puddings, and Snow's piece de resistance was a marvellous piece of conglomerate called Foo Chow. But after a late breakfast could we do it justice? It seemed a pity to have no appetite for all this luxury food, but it also seemed a pity to go out for some exercise and get our only outdoor clothes drenched again after spending all night drying them out. The problem was solved for me by putting on my boots and Speedo swim costume and hurtling out into the gale for a run. Down the road to the 4 mile signpost end back through snow and sleet did something for the appetite, and speaking for myself I can say lunch was a good meal. Garth and Snow went out later to work off the effects with a walk to Dove Lake, and Keith took his exercise vicariously by reading South Col.
-Well, there we were, all snugly ensconsed in the Chalet. Built of rough hewn native timber, Waldheim fits as naturally into its surroundings as grey lichen on a rock. Each year its aging frame leans a little closer towards the earth which is its home. Some da7, perhaps soon, it will fall to pieces, but when it has become one wit :L the dark mould of the beech forest floor we will think of it as of e dear dead friend.......Wo slept with our mattresses on the floor in front of a big fire and dreamed of what tomorrow might bring forth.
-Up at 6.30. Snow lit the kitchen range. We had breakfast, cut lunches, and were away by 8.30 bound for Cradle Mountain-. We trampcalong muddy tracks in shifting mist and low cloud, and over huge snor,
+Looking out the window hopefully next morning what do we see? More rain, wind and falling snow. But did that deter us after yesterday's day of sloth? No. And we set out to reconnoitre the cirque which holds Cradle Mt. and Barn Bluff together. Down and over the little stream where a poor washed out wombat peered about with misty nocturnal eyes trying vainly to find shelter under the footbridge, then up Marion's Track to the snowfields. And here we stepped into a strange world of cotton wool fog. In the windless silence we followed our faintly showing tracks of the preceeding days, being grateful to Garth for having sunk in so deep and so often, thus verifying the route. Occasional glimpses of snow poles also helped.
+At Kitchen hut we again got into an area of wind which dispersed the mist somewhat and encouraged us to continue on towards the cirque and Barn Bluff. We battled along, knee deep in drifts at the base of Cradle, which looked huge and like the West Peak of Earnslaw (NZ) through the driving snow. The wind, now risen to gale force, came shouting at our backs, pushing us along and filling the air with icy drift. "It's going to be hell when we turn round," was at the back of my thoughts all the while. At last we came to a small thicket of trees where we hoped to have lunch, but there was no shelter from the wind so we didn't even try to get out our food, but decided to return to kitchen to eat. And so we turned our faces into the sweeping fury of the blizzard. The blinding drift froze up our nostrils so we couldn't breathe. By pulling our goggles low, closing up our parks hoods and breathing warm air through the mouth into the hood the nostrils thawed out and we fought our way back, half blinded, our parkas and ground sheets whipping madly round us and echoing like bullet shots past our ears.
+Back in the comparative calm of the Kitchen flat, somewhat chastened by our experience in the storm, we hardly felt like eating. Waldheim was calling... hot baths! warm fires! dry clothes! Ah.... The late sun shivered through a break in the scudding clouds as we slopped our way back, water trickling down between singlet and skin, sodden pants clinging to our knees and making walking difficult. We wriggled our toes in the icy mush inside our boots. Being dry was hardly a memory now. We side-tracked to have a look at Crater Lake. We were having a little argument with Snow as to whether you could get wetter than wet, and Garth was getting all technical about detergents. Snow didn't think it was possible. As he gesticulated to drive home his point he slipped and fell into the lake. He emerged the colour of pummice. Whether he was wetter than wet he didn't say, but I guess he was cold. He shot off like a rocket for home and a hot bath. We followed, and before long we were savouring the luxury of being warm and dry. Garth, Snow and I read out alternate chapters of our serial till tea time (that was the night we had stuffed grouse and baked vegetables), then found the suspense was getting so great we had to read on after tea till 10.30. In spite of our day's exertions, also because we realised that our holiday at Waldheim was half over, we felt reluctant to go to bed, so sat talking till 1 a.m.
+We awoke at 8 or 9 a.m. Snowing and high wind, We left late - about 11 - but that didn't worry us; we felt by now we had got the measure of the weather - bad in the mornings tending to clear by midday. Mac had given us the key and rowlocks of the boat at Dove Lake. We clambered round the walls of the flooded boathouse and inside to find the boat half submerged. We put things shipshape and pushed out, getting the feet good and wet in the process. Who cares. What are dry feet anyway? Snow was falling, partly veiling the rugged walls all around. Great gusts of wind would swoop down at unexpected moments and deal the boat a mighty blow. Rain and snow beat in our faces and eyes and got down our mouths every time we opened them to say Gee wasn't this great. With all these hazards to contend with the pattern of our progress was a tortuous zig-zag and the miracle was we got anywhere without being sunk. As we skirted round Honeymoon Island with the wind doing its best to tip us in, Garth did a backward summersault and lay in 6" of bilge water laughing heartily. Gee, we thought, that was a good one, but this is hardly the place for parlour tricks. However it was unintentional - a loose rowlock had cast him forth thus. Peering through the falling snow we saw the white rail of the landing stage and managed to get there and tie the boat up.
+What a country of contrasts this is. Leaving the cold and gusty lake shore we entered a dense beech forest - a world of utter silence where the only sound was the muffled plop of snow falling from burdened branches. We emerged from the deep timber and there were the rocks of Little Horn, and there again were the wind, sleet and snow. We had a really super climb up a crisp snow couloir lying at a very steep angle between black fangs of rock. There were magnificent views from the summit, but there were also frustrated photographers as it was too dull for colour.
+And now we're coming down again and on the homeward run. We took a slightly different return route, following a little stream strong with winter, which tumbled along its rocky course under its beech tree canopy, and so back to the windy lake. Our morning's practice at the oars had done nothing to improve our style and we zig-zagged back to the boatshed, this time with Snow suffering (but not in silence) at the faulty rowlock. From the boatshed we ran back to Waldheim to warm up. Then followed the daily procedure of wringing out our sopping clothes and draping them round the fires to dry. A hot bath, dry clothes, and lunch by a big fire at 4 p.m., a session of Triffids, and life was a grand affair.
+We had given up expecting fine weather, so were pleasantly surprised when we woke late on Saturday morning to a reasonably calm day. We got out to Kitchen about 12 o'clock (By now you have guessed that Kitchen hut is the hub of most of the mountain climbs), and decided on a traverse of Cradle.
+A lovely day. Ours the joy of climbing to a mountain top, to gaze out over a world of wonder and delight; to dream unutterable things and try to put them in words; to feel the fresh keen air in our faces and the blood tingling warmly in our veins..... We returned to Waldheim walking on air.
-dl-ifts 30 ft, deep from which we could see a gleam of lakes in the distance. We practiced cutting steps up snow slopes at steep angles and kicking up and down snow faces and over a cornice, Keith knew
-all the tricks and Garth was pretty to watch, but Snow, new to all this, was like a gawky young puppy. As we approached Kitchen Hut
-all we saw of it was the chimney poking through the drift, Snow
-gambolled ahead and with great exuberance dropped himself down the chimney. The next thing we hear is a wail from down under the snow,
-"I can't get gut;" We dragged him out, and as it was only 11 o'cloci
-decided to go and climb Little Horn, a sharp splinter of rock
-separated by a gap from the north east end of Cradle Mt. For a couplr
-of hours we wallowed waist deep through snow which lay lightly on thr, low scrub at the base of Cradle. Imagine a howling gale, a snow
-storm, and us, all aiming for the one target. It was a tie; we all reached the gap at the same time. Wow: We put our heads down and
-made all haste for the sheltered lee of Cradle. Here we ate our lunch, standing up, stamping our wet feet in the snow trying to warm
-them up. Although it didn't look far to the summit of Little Horn we decided we were too wet and cold and uncomfortable for any more, so wallowed back to Kitchen. "Ha," said the weather, "I was'only fooling you." The wind promptly dropped, it stopped snowing, and out came the sun. Well, wasn't thid mightyl The homing pigeons
-about faced and headed for Cradle again. Only Keith was a bit dubious about all this, and when we started the familiar sinking-tothe-waist progression all over again he decided he had had enough so returned to Hitchen hut. When we others got on to the steep slope of the mountain the surface was harder, and instead of sinking we
-now had to kick steps up the snow couloir. The summit ridge was wel2 plastered, and on the sheltered side of the mountain were deep snow faces. We swung along with rising excitement, and at last reached the summit cairn, "Wells," said Garth, quoting Hillary, "We knocked the bastard off," Said I, continuing the quotation, "The occasion seems to call for more than a formal handshake," so we put our arms round each other's shoulders and jumped up and down on the summit of our own little Everest - three small figures under the sky and all the world was ours.
-There were photographs to be taken while the sun lit up the snowy peaks and shining lakes, then the mist came sweeping over end we began the descent. We had great fun glissading down the steep snow slopes, and so back to Kitchen hut. Inside the hut Keith had worn a deep circular track in the snow that had drifted inside, aEli he stamped round for several hours waiting for us to return. We pulled him out through the shimney then followed our trodden trans over the snowfields towards home, In the deepening twilight our eye;; followed down Marion's track, over the button grass flat with its meandering stream to the dark frings of beech forest where Waldheim nestled in its nest of trees, a white column of smoke drifting upwards - good old Mac had lit the fire for us, and that meant bot water for baths. While still floundering through the button grass swamp we drew straws to see who would have first bath, and Keith was the lucky winner. While he filled the bathroom up with steam we set about getting tea ready3 Keith had done a mighty job cate-,,i:
-for this party; we had everything. Did we need rice and cabbage
-for Snow's Foo Chow - it was there. Did we need celery, appl, onion for our stuffed grouse - again, these were all available,
-.
-That night we fed well, then sat in front of a big fire, our wet clothes draped all around to dry out, and listened while Garth read what was to be our nightly serial - "The Day of the Triffids."
-Outside the possums scuffled about in the brown damp leaves, the moo, stole over the snowy stillness, and when at length it peeped through the skylight it saw us all sound asleep in front of the fire.
-Next day we were hit by a low, despite a favourable weather forecast, We looked out the kitchen window to see Mac's wallabies patiently bearing the continuous rain and wind, but we stayed inside and set our hands to some fancy cooking. Keith madela:super chocolate icing cake, I made a couple of baked puddings, and Snow's piece de resistance was a marvellous piece of conglomerate called Foo Chow, But after a late breakfast could we do it justice? It seemed a pity to have no appetite for all this luxury food, but it also seemed a pity to go out for SOMB exercise and get our only outdoor clothes drenched again after spending all night drying them out. The problem was solved for me by putting on my boots and Speedo swim costume and hurtling o ut into the gale for a run. Down the road to the 4 mile signpost end back through snow and sleet did something for the appetite, and speaking for myself I can say lunch was a good meal. Garth and Snow went out later to work off the effects with a walk to Dove Lake, and Keith took his exercise vicariously by reading South Col,
-Looking out the window hopefully next morning what do we see? More rain, wind and falling snow, But did that deter us after yesterday's day of sloth? No. And we set out to reconnoitre the cirque which holds Cradle Mt, and Barn Bluff together. Down and over the little stream where a poor washed out wombat peered about with misty nocturnal eyes trying vainly to find shelter under the foot. bridge, then up Marion's Track to the snowfirlds. And here we stepp,- into a strange world of cotton wool fog. In the windless silence we
-followed our faintly showing tracks of the preceeding days, being
-grateful to Garth for having sunk in so deep and so often, thus verifying the route, Occasional glimpses of snow poles also helped.
- At Kitchen hut we again got into an area of wind which dispersed the mist somewhat and encouraged us to continue on towards the cirque and Barn Bluff. We battled along, knee deep in drifts at the base of Cradle, which looked huge and like the West Peak of Earnslaw (NZ) through the driving snow. The wind, now risen to gale force, came shouting at our backs, pushing us along and filling the air with icy drift. "It's going to be hell when we turn round," was at the back of my thoughts all the while. At last we came to a small thicket of trees where we hoped to have lunch, but there was no shelter from the wind so we didn't even try to get out our food, but decided to return to kitchen to eat., And so we turned our faces into the sweeping fury of the blizzard, The blinding drift froze up our nostrils so we couldn't breathe. By pulling our goggles low, closinE up our parks hoods and breathing warm air through the mouth into the
-hood the nostrils thawed out and we fought our way back, half
-blinded, our parkas and ground sheetsw hipping madly round us and echoing like bullet shots past our ears.
-Back in the comparative calm of the Kitchen flat, somewhat
-.
-chastened by our experience in the storm, we hardly felt like eating Waldheim was calling...hot baths 1 warm fires; dry clothes; Ah.  The late sun shivered through a break in the scudding clouds as we slopped our way back, water trickling down between singlet and skin, sodden pants clinging to our knees and making walking difficult. We wriggled our toes in the icy mush inside our boots. Being dry was hardly a memory now, We side-tracked to have a look at Crater Lake: We were having a little argument with Snow as to whether you could get wetter than wet, and Garth was getting all technical about deturgents. Snow didn't think it was possible. As he gesticulated
-to drive home his point he slipped and fell into the lake. He
-emerged the colour of pummice. Whether he was wetter than wet he
-didn't say, but I guess he was cold. He shot off like a rocket for
-home and a hot bath. We followed, and before long we were savouring the luxury of being warm and dry. Garth, Snow and I read out alternate chapters of our serial till tea time (that was the night we had stuffed grouse and baked vegetables), then found the suspense was getting so great we had to read on after tea till 10,30. In spite of our day's exertions, also because we realised that our holiday at Waldheim was half over, we felt reluctant to go to bed,
-so sat talking till 1 aom.
-We awoke at 8 or 9 a.m. Snowing and high wind, We left late -
-about 11 - but that didn't worry us; we felt by now we had got the measure of the weather - bad in the mornings tending to clear by midday. Mac had given us the key and rowlocks of the boat at Dove Lake, We clambered round the walls of the flooded boathouse and inside to find the boat half submerged. We put things shipshapc and pushed out, getting the feet good and wet in the process. Who cares, What are dry feet anyway? Snow was falling, partly veiling the rugged walls all around. Great gusts of wind would swoop down at unexpected moments and deal the boat a mighty blow. Rain and snow beat in our faces and eyes and got down our mouths every time
-we opened them to say Gee wasn't this great, With all these hazard to contend with the pattern of our progress was a tortuous zig-zag and the miracle was we got anywhere without being sunk. As we skirted round Honeymoon Island with the wind doing its best to tip us in, Garth did a backward summersault and lay in 6" of bilge water
-laughing heartily. Gee, we thought, that was a good one, but this
-is hardly the place for parlour tricks. However it was unintentional - a loose rowlock had cast him forth thus. Peering through the falling snow we saw the white rail of the landing stage and managed to get there and tie the boat up.
-What a country of contrasts this is. Leaving the cold and gust lake shore we entered a dense beech forest - a world of utter silence where the only sound was the muffled plop of snow falling from burdened branches, We emerged from the deep timber and there were the rocks of Little Horn, and there again were the wind, sleet and snow, We had a really super climb up a crisp snow couloir lying at a very steep angle between black fangs of rock. There
-were magnificent views from the summit, but there were also frustrat ed photographers as it was too dull for colour,
-And now weTre coming down again and on the homeward run, We took a slightly different return route, following a little stream
-.
-strong with winter, which tumbled along its rocky course under its beech tree canopy, and so back to the windy lake. Our morning's practice at the oars had done nothing to improve our style and we
-  zig-zagged back to the boatshed, this time with Snow suffering (but not in silence) at the faulty rowlock, From the boatshed we ran bac..,= to Waldheim to warm up. Then followed the daily procedure of wringing out our sopping clothes and draping them round the fires to dry. A hot bath, dry clothes, and lunch by a big fire at 4 p.m., a sessio7 of Triffids, and life was a grand affair.
-We had given up expecting fine weather, so were pleasantly surprised when we woke late on Saturday morning to a reasonably calm day. We got out to Kitchen about 12 o'clock (By now you have guessed that Kitchen hut is the hub of most of the rnuntain climbs), and decided on a traverse of Cradle.
-A lovely day. Ours the joy of climbing to a mountain top, to gaze out over a world of wonder and delight; to dream unutterable things and try to put them in words; to feel the fresh keen air in our faces and the blood tingling warmly in our veins.....We returned to waldheim walking on air.
 And there we met Gawd.
-He had just come up for the week-end. Gawd was a depressing type to whom the world was weary, flat, stale and uninspiring. The corners of his mouth drooped in a cureless pessimism. His every word was a blasphemy. He said Pah he wouldn't belong to a club and be ordered about. He said there was nothing good about Waldheim - its foundations, the original tree stumps, were perishing of wet rot; there was dry rot in the upper structure; the kitchen annexe should never have been built; the hot water system was useless. He said dear old Laz Pura had set out through the Reserve intending to commi:: suicide, else why had he signed the visitors? book "L.Pura, late S.B.W."? We edged away from him as from a disease and had our tea when he and his companion had left the kitchen. They went off to bed early, so we had our last night together on the floor in front of the fire as usual.
-And now it's Sunday - our last day. We plan to climb Barn Bluff and be back to catch a taxi out to Sheffield at 6 porn. Gawd said, "Don't be too utterly ridiculous. You can't do it." We awoke end got up at dawn, (all except Keith, who was going to have a day of rest), and were.away about 1 hours later. With hard snow to walk on we reached Kitchen in an hour - less than half the time previously taken - and then round the base of Cradle to the cirque. Soon a dense mist enveloped everything as we groped our way along between snow poles. After a time there were no more poles to guide us, and the wind howling in the right ear all the time was the only indication that at least we were keeping our direction. Snow knew by the grace of Heaven where we were going, if no' one else did He headed off eventually up a small hill which couldn't be seen to rise in the fog, only felt. was now aware of the wind howling in my left ear and couldn?t get rid of the idea that we were on the way back, Snow drew maps in the snow with his ice axe to show how the cirque performed a big loop, but my brain couldn't take
-.
+He had just come up for the week-end. Gawd was a depressing type to whom the world was weary, flat, stale and uninspiring. The corners of his mouth drooped in a cureless pessimism. His every word was a blasphemy. He said Pah he wouldn't belong to a club and be ordered about. He said there was nothing good about Waldheim - its foundations, the original tree stumps, were perishing of wet rot; there was dry rot in the upper structure; the kitchen annexe should never have been built; the hot water system was useless. He said dear old Laz Pura had set out through the Reserve intending to commit suicide, else why had he signed the visitors' book "L.Pura, __late__ S.B.W."? We edged away from him as from a disease and had our tea when he and his companion had left the kitchen. They went off to bed early, so we had our last night together on the floor in front of the fire as usual.
-It in. But of course Snow was right, and When by a miracle the mist
-suddenly lifted there we were standing right at the base of Barn Bluff which towered above us like a mighty castle.
+And now it's Sunday - our last day. We plan to climb Barn Bluff and be back to catch a taxi out to Sheffield at 6 p.m. Gawd said, "Don't be too utterly ridiculous. You can't do it." We awoke and got up at dawn, (all except Keith, who was going to have a day of rest), and were away about 1 1/2 hours later. With hard snow to walk on we reached Kitchen in an hour - less than half the time previously taken - and then round the base of Cradle to the cirque. Soon a dense mist enveloped everything as we groped our way along between snow poles. After a time there were no more poles to guide us, and the wind howling in the right ear all the time was the only indication that at least we were keeping our direction. Snow knew by the grace of Heaven where we were going, if no one else did. He headed off eventually up a small hill which couldn't be seen to rise in the fog, only felt. I was now aware of the wind howling in my left ear and couldn't get rid of the idea that we were on the way back. Snow drew maps in the snow with his ice axe to show how the cirque performed a big loop, but my brain couldn't take it in. But of course Snow was right, and when by a miracle the mist suddenly lifted there we were standing right at the base of Barn Bluff which towered above us like a mighty castle.
-We had a little bit of everything on that climb, even-ice faces,
-up which Garth led and cut'stepsibr us. Sc to the summit. It was now a perfectly fine day - the map of the reserve lay spread
+We had a little bit of everything on that climb, even ice faces, up which Garth led and cut steps for us. So to the summit. It was now a perfectly fine day - the map of the reserve lay spread before us in all its topographical detail. Garth strode enthusiastically in all directions taking the perfect photo, with Snow's voice following him up, "Take one for me." (Snow had left his camera in the train at Albury).
-before us in all its topographical detail. Garth strode enthusiastic ally in all directions taking. the perfect photo, with Snow's voice following him up, "Take one for me." (Snow had left his camera in the train at Albury).
-At last we left the top and mbed and slid and glissaded down again. It was now late afternoon. Behind Barn Bluff mighty streamer of 1 ight from the westering sun radiated out into the endelss blue where a few clouds - wind flowers - had scattered their petals of gold light. We could not keep from looking back every few paces.
+At last we left the top and climbed and slid and glissaded down again. It was now late afternoon. Behind Barn Bluff mighty streamers of light from the westering sun radiated out into the endless blue where a few clouds - wind flowers - had scattered their petals of gold light. We could not keep from looking back every few paces.
-I have had my invitation to this world's festival and so my life has been blessed;
-My eyes have seen and my ears have heard
+'I have had my invitation to this world's festival\\
+and so my life has been blessed;\\
+My eyes have seen and my ears have heard.....'
 "Well, It's been a wonderful party," said I. "Who should we thank for all this?"
-"I know, said Snow, and over the glowing hills his eager young
-voice rang out, "Thank you Hughie for a glorious day."
-Back to Waldheim in time to have a hot bath, some tea, and be
+"I know," said Snow, and over the glowing hills his eager young voice rang out, "Thank you Hughie for a glorious day."
-packed up ready for the taxi which arrived at 6. We carried our
-gear down and stowed it in the boot, aid ourselves and ice axes inside. We turned, round for one last look at Waldheim, ("Ought to have a match put to it," said Gawd, but in our memories it will stay eternally embalmed - a mansion and a home.) One last wave to Mac, standing there in all his rugged gentlehood, genuine goodwill beaming from'his face. We will come back again some day perhaps
+Back to Waldheim in time to have a hot bath, some tea, and be packed up ready for the taxi which arrived at 6. We carried our gear down and stowed it in the boot, and ourselves and ice axes inside. We turned round for one last look at Waldheim, ("Ought to have a match put to it," said Gawd, but in our memories it will stay eternally embalmed - a mansion and a home.) One last wave to Mac, standing there in all his rugged gentlehood, genuine goodwill beaming from his face. We will come back again some day perhaps... Good-bye..... Good-bye....
-Good-bye.....Good-bye....
+----
 LETTER FROM SNOW IN TASMANIA
 Dear Geoff 0, Judy, Bushwalkers and Bono,