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--- 196210 [2019/10/22 17:05] – joan
+++ 196210 [2019/10/22 17:05] – joan
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 It worked, the start-off was not as auspicious as it was conspicuous, because the hill onward from Fish River is very steep and several-miles long; in fact, it was, is and always will be a fair cow. We rigged a tow-rope and hard hauled on it whilst she humped her swag also I don't think it possible for a woman to do harder manual work than that. The ascent was a great sight for passing local residents and occasional motorists. We really needed Lazarus Pura and his celebrated Volga Boat Song, That theme is the nearest approach to our sustained epic effort, but does not transcend it in any way. In fact the heaving effort and the grade were so lengthy that I'm afraid Maestro Lazarus mould have been articulating in Chinese towards the ends for the sake of better wind and shorter words. When the grade eased to its normal steepness we shipped the tow-line and then the fellow of the party had to show himself no mean pusher. Out in the open one becomes of the earth, earthy. We did. No parents ever slaved for their offspring as we did for our little Question Box, sitting comfortably behind his green mosquito-netting fly screen. The flies were a curse, of course. We were very scantily clad but the sweat trickled down into our boots, for all that. At length the top of the range was attained, also a widened view and another respite. Then came half a mile of sharp loose ballast that chewed chunks of rubber from the little, half inch tyres and rattled Milo 's teeth. This stretch did more damage to the tyres than the rest of the trip's bad places put together, except Kanangra Pass. About the middle of the afternoon we had to stop and give Milo a rest from the constant shaking. At times he must have felt like a blancmange in an earth tremor. About 6 o'clock we camped on Factory Creek reasonably satisfied with the afternoon's experiment. We were learning points about grade and road texture not thought of in either road-walking or motoring.
-Next day opened fine and hot and saw Milo and ourselves in our element about camp. An old bloke breezed up with a nice horse, two friendly dogs and a most impressive caution about tiger snakes. Persistent inquiry elicited the facts that one had been killed hereabout the previous year and another 6 or 7 years before that. Anyway, Milo thought tha horse belonged to Daddy Christmas. Young hopeful took to camp life with avidity enjoyed his bath in the Creek end spent mach time building little dud cook-fires.
+Next day opened fine and hot and saw Milo and ourselves in our element about camp. An old bloke breezed up with a nice horse, two friendly dogs and a most impressive caution about tiger snakes. Persistent inquiry elicited the facts that one had been killed hereabout the previous year and another 6 or 7 years before that. Anyway, Milo thought tha horse belonged to Daddy Christmas. Young hopeful took to camp life with avidity enjoyed his bath in the Creek end spent much time building little dud cook-fires.
 The next half day went merrily enough and we lunched near Duckmaloi Bridge, interrupted by minor observations and disturbances of the ever active and curious infant. The overturned skeleton of an old sulky was "gate" or "pram" according to his changing views. He learned about "crows" and "ko-bra" and other things, including "nakes". Prunes and rice, bread, butter and cocoa filled his little tummy. He definitely drew the line about both condensed milk and lactogen right from the start and could never be enticed to drink either just as they were, warm or cold; but our accidental discovery that a tinge of cocoa in either quite overcame his scruples solved the drink problem.