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 "Arrived after a very tough but interesting trip from Tiome. Had to use the gun once but we're now in safe and friendly country and will be beyond the limit of population tomorrow. We will be in the Mountains within a week. The route in looks quite easy from here, and all should be well from now on. We are taking in carriers with lots of native food just in case of trouble with airdrops. The Missionaries here are wonderful people and are helping us a lot..."
+=====From The Letters Of Robert A. Duncan.=====
-FROM THE  LETTERS OF ROBERT A. DUNCAN., High Altitude Observatacy, University of Colora-lo, Boulder, Colorado
+High Altitude Observatory, University of Colorado, Boulder, Colorado
-"I have lifted wself out of Class 2 American citizenship by buying a car, a 1953 Ford Customline with 60,000 miles on the clock, far $395. It seems to go quite well though only time will tell if it's a bomb or not I suppose. Boulder is not really large enough to warrant a car but it is very difficult to do any shopping in hmRrica without one. Banking, for instnnce, is done by driving up to a slot in a wall from which a mechanical arm emerges, enters the car window, grabs the cheque or what have you in your hand, disappears with it into it's slot again and then Shortly afterwards reappears and drops whatever its computer thinks is a fair exchange for what it took, on the car seat. The same system applies to buying humburgers and all other necessities of life, and jump up and down on the plate outside these slots as I did, I used to get nothing because a pedestrian just doesn't weigh enough to activate the mechanism.
-"You will be interested in one effect of the cold, dry climate here. The air is such a good insulator that everything becomes donirged with static electricity If a peamt carelessly slides over the car seat as he gets out a great spark leaps from his nose to the door handle and makes him turn a back flip. I brought a plastic raincoat with me and found it handy to keep out the rain anfl the snow but soon found out why nobody wears them here. I used to look like a walking thunderstorm and I received a near fatal shock everytime I touched-any metal object. ; am thinking of trailing one of those earthing strips you see on cars, behind me.
+"I have lifted myself out of Class 2 American citizenship by buying a car, a 1953 Ford Customline with 60,000 miles on the clock, far $395. It seems to go quite well though only time will tell if it's a bomb or not I suppose. Boulder is not really large enough to warrant a car but it is very difficult to do any shopping in America without one. Banking, for instance, is done by driving up to a slot in a wall from which a mechanical arm emerges, enters the car window, grabs the cheque or what have you in your hand, disappears with it into it's slot again and then shortly afterwards reappears and drops whatever its computer thinks is a fair exchange for what it took, on the car seat. The same system applies to buying hamburgers and all other necessities of life, and jump up and down on the plate outside these slots as I did, I used to get nothing because a pedestrian just doesn't weigh enough to activate the mechanism.
-"Mile in Washington.) The first weekend I was dragged around to see all the sights; where George Washington slept, where George Washington once had a bath, where his bones are now stored and so on. Some of these things were interesting but I faard the dawdling and gawking and crowds very tiring. Once when everyone joined a queue to walk through G.TV's kitchen I said I mru2d wait outside, and sneaked over for forty winks in the sun on the lawn, barely had I closed my
-eyes than I was woken by a policeman and told it was irreverent to sleep on G.Wis
+"You will be interested in one effect of the cold, dry climate here. The air is such a good insulator that everything becomes charged with static electricity. If a peanut carelessly slides over the car seat as he gets out a great spark leaps from his nose to the door handle and makes him turn a back flip. I brought a plastic raincoat with me and found it handy to keep out the rain and the snow but soon found out why nobody wears them here. I used to look like a walking thunderstorm and I received a near fatal shock everytime I touched any metal object. I am thinking of trailing one of those earthing strips you see on cars, behind me.
-lawn
-"The most popular pets in Boulder seem to be French Poodles, and some very elaborate topiarian is practised on them. Often when I go into a barber's shop
+"(While in Washington.) The first weekend I was dragged around to see all the sights; where George Washington slept, where George Washington once had a bath, where his bones are now stored and so on. Some of these things were interesting but I found the dawdling and gawking and crowds very tiring. Once when everyone joined a queue to walk through G.W's kitchen I said I would wait outside, and sneaked over for forty winks in the sun on the lawn; barely had I closed my eyes than I was woken by a policeman and told it was irreverent to sleep on G.W's lawn...
-there are more poodles waiting for a haircut than men and as people are given no precedence in the queue it means a long wait. I noticed the same thing in
-Washington last meek; evidently it is an America wide phenomenon.
+"The most popular pets in Boulder seem to be French Poodles, and some very elaborate topiarism is practised on them. Often when I go into a barber's shop there are more poodles waiting for a haircut than men and as people are given no precedence in the queue it means a long wait. I noticed the same thing in Washington last meek; evidently it is an America wide phenomenon.
-"I was in Washington on the Atlantic Coast last week. Alen I look:back at it now it wasn't a bad trip but I was a bit grumpy about it at the time. One thing that irked the was that the nobs I was stuck: with insisted on going to expensive Frontthrestaurants for every meal. It mould make my ticker bleed to have to hand over fabulous sums of money for cocktails, fried turkeys giblets, pickled frogs livers arid suchlike rubbish. I was glad to get back and start living on milk and fruit ag4in.
-"I have heard rumours of an oil strike in Queensland. Is this just another
+"I was in Washington on the Atlantic Coast last week. When I look back at it now it wasn't a bad trip but I was a bit grumpy about it at the time. One thing that irked me was that the nobs I was stuck with insisted on going to expensive French restaurants for every meal. It mould make my ticker bleed to have to hand over fabulous sums of money for cocktails, fried turkeys giblets, pickled frogs livers arid suchlike rubbish. I was glad to get back and start living on milk and fruit again...
-  false alarm or something more substantial? Last weekend I saw a '..eLE oil field in a desert valley about 300 miles west of here. It was a weird si4-ht. The valley were clay mountains as bare as those in Queenstown, Tasmania, only this was o nat
-floor was dotted with big black pumps chuffing slowly up and down, and all around desert.
+"I have heard rumours of an oil strike in Queensland. Is this just another false alarm or something more substantial? Last weekend I saw a big oil field in a desert valley about 300 miles west of here. It was a weird sight. The valley were floor was dotted with big black pumps chuffing slowly up and down, and all around were clay mountains as bare as those in Queenstown, Tasmania, only this was a natural desert.
-"Last Tuesday was a holiday here - Memorial Days when ti 3T )ut flaFs nn(
+"Last Tuesday was a holiday here - Memorial Days, when they put flags and flowers on graves, a form of ancestor worship - so three other peanuts and I took Monday off too, made it a long weekend and went for a long drive through the west of the State and into Utah, the land of the Mormons and Brigham Young. I was extremely impressed; the country varies spectacularly from the most arid desert to forest and snow covered mountains, depending on the altitude. We visited Dinosaur National Park (where Dinosaur bones are as common as fleas on a monkey; the rocks in the hillsides are studded with them and some people say that live ones still lurk in the remote valleys and snatch the occasional tourist) and then Arches Park a sandy desert Ayers Rock kind of place with the difference that many of the rocks have eroded into arches. The car stood up to the 1300-mile trip fairly well, except for a defunct differential bearing which cost me $12 as the party shared the cost. I am sorry to say however that my passengers were not true outdoor types, they shaved every day and even got me into a hotel one night.
+"Nothing escapes me here. I have heard that Hillary had a mild stroke in the Himalayas. This is bad news. I suppose it was partly due to the high altitude as this mould put up the red cell count and hence the viscosity of the blood. Altitude is certainly an extra load to carry. The University hiking club here stage an expedition to the 18,000' Mexican volcano Popthecatinthekettle each summer and I am told that on each trip someone has gone down with pneumonia. I get a bit stiff around the ribs after high altitude trips but on the whole I am getting used to altitude fairly well and I will be making the Mexican trip if it goes this year..."
+=====The Good Old Days.=====
+"Tough tireless types went out to the several primitive huts the Main Range where they pigged it, sleeping in their clothes with egg stains on their sweaters and stubble on their chins"...   (from a recently published survey on how to have a skiing holiday...).
+From what we hear of Perisher Valley at the Long Weekend, you can't get away from loudspoken music, and the thing they call Visual Isolation is fast disappearing.
+====='Cross The Colo. (Concluded)=====
+- Jim Brown.
+The provocative weather was improving now, with a magnificent sky of washed-out blue, stained with black and yellow clouds, framed in the wide gap between Mt. Gundangeroo and the ranges across the Capertee: the wind from south west was biting cold.
+Sufficient of Glen Davis survives to allow me to buy a few stores, send a couple of telegrams, and to hear that the weather forecast was for better things. By this time the day was well advanced so I planned to camp just downstream. First I had to pass through the ruins of the shale treatment plant; a pitiful place with blackberries moving in on the big buildings that once housed the retorts and equipment. Beyond the works the Capertee is a most gracious valley and I had no trouble in finding a campsite beside (in fact, half within) an overhang which protected me and my fire for cooking.
+It rained lightly several times in the nights but the stars were out just before dawn. With the morning, unfortunately the clouds came again, not the pall of the previous day but enough overcast to take most of the beauty out of a valley that must be as lovely as Burragorang before the flood. On a well formed trail, following the southern bank, sometimes well above the river, I made good time and in 1 1/2 hours - just after 8.0 a.m. - realised I was on my exit point. In fact, I almost overshot it.
+Some four or five miles down from Running Stream Creek (hence about 6-7 miles from Glen Davis) a basalt spur, misleadingly called Grassy Hill, intrudes into the sandstone cliff formation on the north side of the river, and offers an easy escape route. I was almost past it before I noticed the brown scree spills high on the slopes and realised it could be only Grassy Hill.
+The combination of loose stones, the moist, slippery soil, the richer vegetation made the climb out an energetic performance, punctuated by some back-sliding, and it was not until 10.30 that I drove my aching calf and thigh muscles to haul me up the final sandstone layer at the top.
+Now my way lay north to the grassy dome of Mt. Uraterer, which I had approached twice before - once from the east and once from north west. It was about eight miles distant this time via a flat, wide ridge which I had been told was well grown up with mountain holly, prickly moses and other unpleasant vegetation. Most of the time one couldn't descry where the ridge top was in that uniform landscape and it seemed easiest to walk into the sun - generally north.
+Over another dry ridge-top lunch I noted with dismay that the canvas fabric of my sandshoes was deteriorating badly and threatening to part company just behind the rubber toecaps. Perhaps if I could rely on track all the way from Uraterer they would see it out - I hoped.
+About 1.0 p.m., in thickening overcast, I realised I had veered round and was walking almost east. Alarm, panic, consternation! In this flat terrain how could one ever be sure where I had left the ridge - or for that matter whether I would be able to locate it again. I spent a very wretched five minutes or so - and then came the only bona fide bit of luck on the trip - through a gap in the forest I saw the unmistakable grassy curve of Uraterer - bearing 20 degrees. I hadn't seen it before - I didn't see it for over an hour afterwards - what time I stuck resolutely to a compass bearing of 20 degrees magnetic - and somewhere got back on to my spur.
+There was a track over the last mile or so, speeding my progress and bringing me to the top of the mountain at 3.30 p.m.
+Uraterer commands a majestic view - not a photographer's landscape, but a huge cyclorama of wild country, with all the basalt cams of the Northern Blue Maintains - from Yengo around through Monundilla, Coriaday, Boonbourwa, Tyan Pic and dawn to my old friends Cameron and Tambo - and surely that was Mount King George away over. They all stood, grey and forbidding, against a stormy afternoon sky of saffron. Over the lower ground towards the coast veils of raincloud were streaking the pale sky.
+It was too cold to stay longer than half an hour so, I dropped down to the creek on the northern flank of the mountain, scouted around and found the track leading out towards Putty, and settled for the night at 4.30. It ranked as an early camp and I resolved to have a big fire, and a laze before it after dinner. Then it rained again, not much, but enough to dampen my enthusiasm and discourage me from making an expansive evening of it. Instead I turned in and lay a while in the sleeping bag smoking a final pipe and pondering if (aided by a track) I could be right out to the road on Wednesday, this sixth day, and by chancing on a hitch, even be back that night. That would get me back to my original estimate of a six-day trip which went haywire then I couldn't get out of the Colo 'way back on the first day (it felt about two months earlier instead of four days!).
+On Wednesday I was astir early, moving off five minutes before sunrise time at 6.20. The track bore the prints of a small herd of cattle, one horseman and a couple of dogs - they must have gone through only a day or so before, or the periodical showers would have masked the prints. I followed up on the first spur, lost contact with the tracks and in the now misty morning light saw what I was positive was my ridge over to the north. Simply a matter of heading a little gully - well, maybe another - why there's another - devil of a way around here. Now, this ought to be it - yes, I'm sure - no I'm not - it's turning too far north - ah, I was on a side spur, this is it - no it isn't, it's bearing away south west...
+This went on for perhaps an hour until in high dudgeon at my own stupidity for being unable to stay with a firm ridge going about east, I decided to beat back towards Uraterer, which beckoned all the time out to the south, and describe a wide circuit around it towards the east. That should surely intersect the mislaid track, which, in turn should put me on the ridge heading steadily east instead of weaving all over the place. The track was there, all right, I knew, because I had been over it twice before - but years earlier - 1947 and 1953 to be exact.
+On my circuit I started to drop into a small gully with a flowing creek. It looked right and I was too eager to see how mossy the rock was under my feet until I was sitting down with a large lump of skin hanging stupidly from my left hand which was the first point of contact with the rock. Volubly expressing my opinion of the Northern Blue Mountains in general and the creeks and ridges north of Uraterer in particular, I dropped to the creek to wash and bandage the hand. There was a clean, convenient strip of white sand to set down my pack - and along it went some cattle hoof marks, some horse shoe prints and dog-paw impressions.
+The lost 1 1/2 hours put any thought of getting through that day quite out of reasonable reckoning, but once on the track I clung tenaciously to it, passing at 10.0 o'clock the side spur to Mt. Wirraba and Wollerie Creek I had travelled before (after all, I had wanted for years to see where the track got to).
+Yes, I clung to that track, which continued reasonably strong and clearn on to the ridge south of, and parallel to, the Wirraba Range: then swung more to the south, once descended obligingly to the head of a creek, climbed again on to the ridge and to my amazement - plunged right down into the bed of a creek flowing south east and began to chase it downstream. I know now that it was here I lost contact with the map. I believed I was on an unnamed stream which flows into the Wollerie about 2 1/2 miles below the junction of Putty Creek: instead it could only be Gobo Creek, which takes a much more southerly course and ultimately joins the Wollerie opposite the northern side of the Culoul Range.
+The track remained alongside the creek far over a hour, until about 3.0 o'clock when I was smugly expecting to come to Wollerie any time, it turned away __UP__ a side stream entering from the north. Hereabouts the canvas of the left sandshoe ripped right across: at least, watching its slow disintegration had given me time to think out a possible repair. I removed the lace from the two bottom eyelets, used my tin opener to bore holes in the still sound rubber of the toe cap and strung a niece of tent cord like two reins from the cap back to the eyelets. It worked, and in ten minutes I was mobile again, pursuing the track up through a little swamp on to a ridge. Then it dived dawn into the next valley to the north, which I assessed (wrong) as Dumbell Creek.
+Here, at last, I mislaid the trail, which must go up and over yet another ridge, possibly over two, before coming to Wollerie Creek somewhere near Putty Creek. I can't say I regretted losing the trail. By this time I was heartily sick of its intransigence. Surely Putty stockmen must have spent years seeking the most roundabout course between Wollerie Creek and Uraterer. I went on down "Dumbell Creek" - (actually the unnamed stream which I fancied I'd been on before!) and found the going fair, but with piles of slippery rocks in places. At 5.25 having given myself another 10 minutes before sitting down to camp, I waked out on to a sandbar overlooking Wollemi Creek and, as I hastily made camp in the failing light, marvelled at the wild nature of the valley thereabouts. (Of course I thought I was only a mile below Putty Creek and civilisation, instead of something like three miles.)
+I had never proposed to go out via Putty Volley. That would entail walking 10 miles almost north before getting out on to the Singleton Road and would place me probably 25 miles north from the car back at Culoul. My plan was to strike generally east, allow a bit of a curve north to get around a deep part of Long Wheehy Creek, then firmly east to intersect the road.
+This was still my plot on Thursday morning, which was very misty with visibility down to 100 yards or less. Worse, the mist rose as I went up the eastern wall of Wollerie Creek on a steady grade. I kept trying to detour to the north east, each time finding the ground falling away and finally, with no view of the landscape, decided to keep going with the rise of the ground.
+It kept going on up - far more than the 500' or 600' I expected to gain - and the higher ground bore steadily to the south east. I knew I was not where I had believed the previous night but it was a "good" direction for me and presently two hours from the Wollemi, the haze cleared away, I could look back to Wirraba and work out where I was. Then the second sandshoe packed up and as I worked at it on a lofty shelf of rock I felt a lift of spirits. Well, I had been wrong about my location the previous night but now I was poised almost on top of a range between the Wollemi and Molong Swamp.
+If I dropped over east into Molong Swamp I should have easy going four miles north and east and come put on to the Singleton Road near Stoney Waterhole, only eleven miles north from Culoul. With the seat ripped out of both my longs and shorts, scratched and dirty, I mould be lucky to get a lift, but at least I should be able to walk...
+I reached Molong Swamp at 10.0.
+I reached Singleton Putty Road at 11.20.
-flowers on graves, a form of ancestor worship - so. three other..1:anuts and T took Monday off too, made it a long weekand and went for a long drive throur: the vest of the State and into Utah, the lane of the Mormons and Brighan... I was extremely impressed; the country varies spectacularly from the most desert to forest and snow covered mountains, depending on tl-le eltitude. We visited Dinosaur National Park (where Dinosaur bones are as com en as fleas pn a monkey; the rocks in the hillsides are studded with them and some people say that live ones still lurk in the remote valleys and snatch the occasional tourist) and then Arches Park a sandy desert Ayers Rock kind of place with the difference that many of the rocks have eroded into arches. The car stood up to the 1300-mile trip fairly well, except for a defunct differential bearing which cost me $12 as the party shared the cost. I am sorry to say however that my passengers were not true outdoor types, they shaved every day and even gat me into a hotel one night.
-"Nothing escapes me here. I have heard that Hillary had a mild stroke in the HiTtiRlayas. This is bad news. I sappose it was partly due to the high altitude as this mould put up the red cell count and hence the viscosity of no blood. Altitude is certainly an extra load to carry. The University hiking club here stage an expedition to the 18,000' Mexican volcano Popthecatinthekettle each sammer and I am told that on each trip someone has gone down with pneumonia. I get a bit stiff around the ribs after high altitude trips but on the whole I am getting used to altitude fairly well and I will be making the Mexican trip if it goes this year    "
-THE GOOD OLD DAYS.
-"Tough tireless types went out to the several i-Lmitive huts the Wrath Range where they pigged it, sleeping in their clothes with egg stains their sweaters and stubble on their chins".   (fror_i_ a recently published on how to have a skiing holiday   ).
-From -what we hear of Perisher Valley at the LongWeekenr", 57-0,2 can't get away from loudspoken music, and the thing they call Visual Isolatien is fast disappearing.
-.
-'CROSS THE COLO.
---rdacluded
-- Jim Brawn.
-The provocative weather was improving now, with a magnificent slw of washed- out blue, stained with black and yellow clouds, framed in the wide gap between Mt. Gundangeroo and the ranges across the Capertee: the wind from south west was biting cold.
-Sufficient of Glen Davis survives to allow me to buy a few stores, send a
-couple of telegrams, and to hear that the weather forecast was for better things.
-By this time the day was well advanced so I planned to camp just downstream.
-First I had to pass through the ruins of the Shale treatment plant; a pitiful place with blackberries moving in on the big buildings that once housed the
-retorts and equipment. Beyond the works the Capertee is a most gracious valley
-and I had no trouble in finding a campsite beside (in fact, half within) an overhang Which protected me and my fire for cooking.
-It rained lightly several times in the nights but the stars were out just before dawn. With the morning, unfortunately the clouds came again, not the
-pall of the previous day but enough overcast to take most of th beauty out of
-a valley that must be as lovely as Durragorang before the flood. On a well formed
-trail, following the southern bank, sometimes well above the river, I made good
-tine and in 21 hours - just after 8.0 a m. - realised I wRs on my exit point. In fact, I almost overshot it.
-Some four or five miles down from Running Stream Creek (hence about 6-7 mi]es from Glen Davis) a basalt spur, misleadingly called Grassy Hill, intrudes into the sandstone cliff formation on the north side of the river, and offers an easy escape route. I was almost past it before I noticed the brown scree spills high
-on the Slopes and realised it could be only Grassy Hill.
-The combination of loose stones, the moist, slippery soil, the richer vegetation made the climb out an energetic performance, punctuated by some back- sliding, and it was not until 10.30 that I drove my aching calf and thigh muscles to haul me up the final sandstone layer at the top.
-Now my way lay north to the grassy dame of Mt. Uraterer, which I had
-approached twice before - once from the east and once from north west. It was about eight miles distant this time via a flat, wide ridge which I had been told was well grown up with mountain holly, prickly moses and other unpleasant vegetation. Mbst of the time one couldn't descry where the ridge top was in that uniform latdscape and it seemed easiest to walk into the sun - generally north.
-Over another dry ridge-top lunch I noted with dismay that the canvas fabric of my sandshoes was deteriorating badly and. threatening to part company just behind the rubber toecaps. Perhaps ifeIecduld rely on track all the -way from Uraterer they would see it out - I hoped.
-About 1.0 p m., in thickening overcast, I realised I had veered round and was walking almost east. Alarm, panic, consternation: In this flat terrain how could one ever be sure where I had left the ridge - or for theet matter whether I would be able to locate it again. I spent a very wretched five minutes or so - and then came the only bona fide bit of luck on the trip - through a gap in the forest
-.
-I saw the unmistakable grassy curve of Uraterer - bearing 20. hadn't seen it before - I didn't see it for over an hour afterwards - what time 'I stuck resolutely to a compass bearing of 200 magnetic - and somewhere got back on to
-Spur.
-There was a track:over the last mile or so, speeding my progress and bringing me to the top of the mountain at 3.30 p m.
-Uraterer commands a majestic view - not a nhotogralpher's landscape, but a huge cyclorama of wild country, with all the basalt cams of the Northern Blue Maintains - from Yengo around through Mbnundillai Coriaday, B-)onbourwa, Tyan Pic and dawn to my old friends Cameron and Tambo - and suY.ely that was Mount King George away over. They all stood, grey and forbidding, against a stormy afternoon skr of saffron. Over the lower ground towards the coast veils of raincloud were streaking the pale sky.
-It was too cold to stay longer, than half an hour so, I dropped dawn to the creek on the northern flank of the mountain, scouted around and found the track leading out towards Putty, and settled for the night at 4.30. It ranked as an early camp and I resolved to have a big fire, and a laze before it after dinner. Then it rained again, not much, but enough to dampen my enthusiasm and discourage me from making an expansive evening of it. Instead I turned in and lay a while in the sleeping bag smoking a final pipe and pondering if (aided by a track) I could be right out to the road on Wednesday, this sixth day, and by chancing on
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-WE WILL BE PLEASED TO QUOTE TRIPS OR SPECIAL PARTIES ON APPLICATION.
-.
-a hitch, even be back that night. That would get me back to my original estimate of a six-day trip which vent haywire then I couldn't get out of the Colo 'Ivy back on the first day (it felt about two months earlier instead of four dr7s
-On Wednesday I was astir early, moving off fiveminutes before sunrise time at 6.20. The track bore the prints of a smell herd of cattle, one horeeman and a couple of dogs - they must have gone through only a day or so before, or the periodical showers would have masked the prints. I followed up on the first spur, lost contact with the tracks and in the now misty morning light saw what I was positive was my ridge over to the north. Simply a matter of heading a little
-gully - well, maybe another - 'why there's another - devil of a way around here  Now, this ought to be it - yes, I'm sure - no I'm not - it's turning too far north - ah, I was on a side spur, this is it - no it isn't, it's bearing away south west
-This went on for perhaps an hour until in high dudgeon at my own stupidity for being unable to stay with a firm ridge going about east, I decided to beat back towards Uraterer, which beckoned all the time out to the south, and describe
-a wide circuit around it towards the east. That daould surely intersect the mislaid track, -which, in turn should put me on the ridge heading steadily east instead of weaving all over the place.. The track: was there, all riFht, I knew, because I had
-been over it twice before - but years earlier - 1947 and 1953 to be exact.
-On my circuit I started to drop into a small gully with a flowing creek. It looked right and I was too eager to see how mossy the rock was under my feet
-until I was sitting down with a large lump of skin hanging stupidly from my left
-hand which was the first point of contact with the rock. Volubly expressing my opinion of the Northern Blue Mountains in general and the creeks and ridges north of Uraterer in particular, I dropped to the creek to wash and bandage the hand. There was 'a clean, convenient strip of white sand to set down my pack - and along
-it went some cattle hoof marks, some horse shoe prints and dog-paw impressions.
-The lost II- hours put any thought of getting through that day qiite out of reasonable reckoning, but once on the track I clung tenaciously to it, passing at 10.0 o'clock the side spur to Nt. Wirraba and Wollerie Creek I had travelled before (after all, I had wanted for years to see There the track got to).
-Yes, I clung to that track, which continued reasonably strong and clearnon to the ridge south of, and parallel to, the Mrraba Range: then swung more to the south, once descended obligingly to the head of a creek, climbed again on to the
-ridge and to ry amazement - plunged right down into the bed of a creek flowing south east and began to chase it downstream. I know now that it was here I lost contact with the map. I believed I was on an unnamed stream -which flows into the
-Wbllerie about 2i miles below the junction of Putty Creek: instead it could only
-be Gobo Creek, Which takes a much more southerly course and ultimately joins the
-N011erie opposite the northern side of the Culoul Range.
-The track remained alongside the creek far over a hour, until about 3.0 o'clock
-when I was smugly expecting to come to Wollerie any time, it turned away UP a side
-stream entering from the north. Hereabouts the canvas of the left sandshoe ripped right across: at least, watching its slow disintegration had given me time to think out a possible repair. I removed the lace from the two bottom eyelets, used my tin opener to bore holes in the still sound rubber of the toe cap and strung a niece of tent cord like two reins from the cap back to the eyelets. It worked, and in ten
-.
-minutes I was mobile again, pursuing the track: up through a little swamp on to a ridge. Then it dived dawn into the next valley to the north, which I assessed (wrong) as Dumbell Creek.
-Here, at last, I mislaid the trail, which must go up and over yet another ridge, possibly over two, before coming to Wollerie Creek somewhere near Putty Creek. I can't say I regretted losing the trail. By this time I was heartily sick of its intransigence. Surely. Putty stockmen must have spent years seeking the most roundabout course between Wollerie Creek and Uraterer. I went on down 'Dumbell Creek!' - (actually the unnamed stream Which I fanced I'd been on before!) and found' the going fair, but with piles of slippery rocks in places. At 5.25 having given myself another 10 minutes before' sitting down to camp, I -waked out on to a sandbar overlooldng Wollemi Creek and, as I hastily Made camp in the failing light, marvelled at the wild nature of Vie valley thereabeuts. (Of course
-I thought I was only a mile below Putty Creek and civilisation, insi-ead of something like three miles.)
-I had never proposed to go cut via Putty Volley. That would entail walling
-miles almost north before ,r-ettinE nut on to the Singleton Rr.)1C.1 nc1 would place
-me probably 25 miles north from the cer baci: at Culoul. 1.t7plan wns to strike generally eaSt, allow a bit of a curve north tn -et ar-und. a deep part of Long Nheehy Creek, then firmly east to intersect the road.
-This was still my plot on Thursday morning, which was very misty with visibility dawn to 100 yards or less. Worse, the mist rose as I wc mb up the eastern wall of Wollerie Creek on a steady grade. I kept trying to detour to the north east, each time finding the ground falling away and finally, with no view of the landscape, decided t5 keep going with the rise of the ground.
-It kept going on up - far more than the 500' or 600' I expected to gain - and the higher ground bore steadily to the south east. I knew I was not where I had believed the previous night but it was a "good" direction for me and presently two hours from the Wollemi, the haze cleared away, I could look back to Wirraba
-and work out where I was. Then the second sandshoe packed up and as I worked at it on a lofty shelf of rock I felt a lift of spirits. Well, I had been wrong about
-my location. the previous night but now I was poised almost on top of a range between the Wollemi and Molong Swamp.
-If I:dropped over east into Nblong Swamp I should have easy going four miles north and east and come put on to the Singleton Road near Stoney Waterhole, only eleven miles north fromCuloul... With the seat ripped out Of both Illy longs and shorts, scratched and dirty, -I mould be lucky to get a lift, but at least I should be able t&walk
-I reached Molong Swamp at 10.0
-I reached Singleton Putty. Road at 11.20
 I lunched and shaved at Howes Waterhole from 11.50 to 1.10.
-At 3,50, ex.-S.B.W. member David KinE stopped his utility and offered me a lift (he i4 now on the land at Uralla nd was travelling with his wife to Sydney) At 3.50i I declined because I 1,J,Is almost back to the car
-At 3:55 I resumed and David drove on
+At 3.50, ex.S.B.W. member David King stopped his utility and offered me a lift (he is now on the land at Uralla and was travelling with his wife to Sydney).
-At 3059 I reached the car  .
-And yes, after a week across the Colo, the roast pnrk and the couple of middies at Windsor tasted very good.
+At 3.50 1/2 I declined because I was almost back to the car.
-DAY,"
-.
+At 3.55 I resumed and David drove on.
-JULY 16
-JULY 23
+At 3.59 I reached the car...
-JULY 30
-Palm Beach - ferry to The Basin - West Head Road - Cottage Rock - Yeoman's Bay - The Basin. 12 miles. A 600' climb out of, and later, back into the Basin.
+And yes, after a week across the Colo, the roast pork and the couple of middies at Windsor tasted very good.
-Excellent views out over Pittwater and the lower Hawkesbury River. 8.12 a m. bus from Wyward Square to Palm Beach (Goddards Wharf). 10.0 a m. ferry Goddard's Wharf to The Basin.
-Fares: 8/2d. return bus to Palm Beach, plus 4./- return by ferry. Map s BroIon Bay Military or Hawkesbury River Tourist. Leader: Stuart Brooks.
+=====Day Walks.=====
-Hornsby - bus to Crossland's Road - Knight Trig. - charlton's Creek - Birrilee.
-Don't let the short distance fool you. Interesting country to find one's way through, but gaiters or slacks recommended. NOT SUITIOLE as a first walk.
+|July 16|Palm Beach - ferry to The Basin - West Head Road - Cottage Rock - Yeoman's Bay - The Basin. 12 miles. A 600' climb out of, and later, back into the Basin. Excellent views out over Pittwater and the lower Hawkesbury River. 8.12 a.m. bus from Wyward Square to Palm Beach (Goddards Wharf). 10.0 a.m. ferry Goddard's Wharf to The Basin. Fares: 8/2d. return bus to Palm Beach, plus 4/- return by ferry. Maps: Broken Bay Military or Hawkesbury River Tourist. Leader: Stuart Brooks.|
-Train: 8.40 a m. Central Electric Station to Hornsby via Bridge. Tickets: Hornsby Return via Bridge at 5/3d. plus about 6/- bus fares. Maps: Broken Bay 11-111tary or Hawkesbury River Tourist.
+|July 23|Hornsby - bus to Crossland's Road - Knight Trig. - Charlton's Creek - Birrilee. Don't let the short distance fool you. Interesting country to find one's way through, but gaiters or slacks recommended. NOT SUITABLE as a first walk. Train: 8.40 a.m. Central Electric Station to Hornsby via Bridge. Tickets: Hornsby Return via Bridge at 5/3d. plus about 6/- bus fares. Maps: Broken Bay Military or Hawkesbury River Tourist. Leader: David Ingram.|
-Leader: David Ingram.
+|July 30|Wondabyne - Kariong - Koolewong. 10 miles. A bit early for the wildflowers which abound in this area, but the surroundings will make up for that. An excellent view from Kariong Trig. Well worth the extra rail fare. Train: 8.15 a.m. Gosford train from Central Steam Station. Tickets: Koolewong Return at 15/6d. Maps: Gosford Military or Hawkesbury River Tourist. Leader: Reg Meakins.|
-Wondabyne - Kariong - Koolewong. 10 miles.
+|August 6|Pymble - bus to St. Ives (Douglas Street) Bungaroo - Middle Harbour Creek - Lindfield. 11 miles. This used to be a favourite walk, but hasn't been progrmmed for years. A scramble along the upper reaches of Middle Harbour Creek, then mainly track. Lindfield Park is an attractive setting for tea. Train: 8.10 a.m. Central Electric Station to Pymble. Tickets: Pymble Return at 5/3d. plus 1/- bus fare. Maps: Sydney Military or any good suburban street Directory. Leader: Molly Rodgers.|
-A bit early for the wildflowers which abound in this area, but the surroundings will mice up for that. An excellent view from Kariong Trig. Well worth the extra rail fare.
+|August 13|Leumeah - Bushwalkers' Basin - Kalibucca Pool - Freer's Crossing - Minto. Bushwalkers' Basin is a splendid pool and Punchbowl Creek, leading to Kalibucca Pool, is largely unspoilt. There could be some attractive colour shots of the wattle in flower at this time of the year. Train: 8.25 a.m. Goulburn train from Central Steam Station. Tickets: Leumeah Return at 7/-. Map: Camden Military. Leader: Jack Gentle.|
-Train: 8.15 a m. Gosford train from Central Steam Station.
-Tickets: Koolewong Return at 15/6d.
+=====Paddy Made=====
-Maps: Gosford Military cr Hawkesbury River Tourist.
-Leader: Reg NeAki ns.
+Purchased in '35\\
-AUGUST 6 Pymble - bus to St. Ives (Douglas Street) BunE,-aroo -Middle Harbour
+And still in use\\
-Creek - Lindfield. 11 miles.
+Despite the bashing it got\\
-This used to be a favourite walk, but hasn't been pr6)grmmed for years. A scramble along the upper reaches of Middle Harbour Creek, then mainly track. Lindfield Park is an attractive setting for tea.
+Down many a mountain side.\\
-Train: 8.10 a m. Central Electric Station to Pymblo.'
+You must design them well\\
-Tickets: Pymble Return at 4.,(3d. plus 1/- bus fare.
+More in them than meets the eye\\
-Maps: Sydney Military or any good suburban street Directory. Leader: Molly Rodgers. -
+A constant friend on all my trips\\
-AUGUST 13 Leumeah Bu shwalkers' Basin - Kalibucca Pool - Freer's Crossing - Hint. Bushwalkers' Basin is a splendid pool and Punchbowl Creek, leading to Kalibucca Pool, is largely unspoilt. There could be some attractive colour shots of the wattle in flower at this time of the year. Train: 8.25 a m. Goulburn train from Central Steam Station.
+Damn good value for my money\\
-Tickets: Leumeah Return at 7/-.
+Easily the best investment I have made.\\
-Map: Camden Military.
+It all adds up to PADLYMADE!
-Leader: Jack Gentle.
-Purchased in '35
+Paddy Pallin Pty. Ltd. Lightweight Camp Gear.
-And still in use
-Despite the bashing it got
+ Castlereagh St Sydney BM2685
-Down many a mountain side.
-You must design them well
-More in them than meets the eye
-A constant friend on all my trips
-Damn good value for my money
-Easily the best investment I have made.
-It all adds up to PADLYMADE
-, ,
-PA V P ill j
-lightweight Camp Gear
- CASTLEREAGH St SYDNEY
-BM2685
 LETTER FROM DOROTHY LAMY IN NEW ZEAL/AND.
 "95 St. Andrews Road,