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--- 196908 [2016/04/15 21:09] – [Andean Expedition] kennettj
+++ 196908 [2023/08/21 18:10] (current) – Add p15 to text sbw
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 ...... if you would pray brother, pray for a clean death.
-(Furphy wrote of the sleeper cutter with his fingers caught in a split log, the other hand reaching, scrabbling, but never catching the axe to
-chop off the fingers, the skeleton barely holding the cloth together).
+(Furphy wrote of the sleeper cutter with his fingers caught in a split log, the other hand reaching, scrabbling, but never catching the axe to chop off the fingers, the skeleton barely holding the cloth together).
 There is serenity in a lot of Fitzgerald's work, drawn from the knowledge that a peculiarly different type of life survived the trials and is inheritable.
-... I think in your unanswering tombs
-you feel, though me todays known bliss because, you, living, saw such blooms in coloured spring times far from this.
+... I think in your unanswering tombs\\
-The practical surveyor peeps through in "Heemskerk Shoals!?s
+you feel, though me todays known bliss \\
-...... the gain
+because, you, living, saw such blooms \\
+in coloured spring times far from this.
+The practical surveyor peeps through in "Heemskerk Shoals"
+...... the gain\\
 was learning what not to expect.
-Or in "Quayside Meditation", the very stones of Hunters Hill came out
-...... saying which In turn about and face concrete and glass as things familiarknown
-like brick, shell mortar and grey Hawkosbury stone.
-Not surprisingly many of the newer poets took explorers and erectud
-elaborate but very moving symbolic structures around them. Kenneth Slessor,
-an editor of the Sydney Sun, in "Fivo Visions of Captain Cook":
-Men who ride broomsticks with a mesmerist Mock the ty-nhoon. So, too, it was with Cook.
-Although Judith Wright took a rather large volume, "The Generations of Men" to record the misfortunes of her forbears, the Dalwoods of the Hunter
-Valley vineyard, two lines of verse are the crystallisation ... he weathered all the striding years
+Or in "Quayside Meditation", the very stones of Hunters Hill came out\\
-till they ran widdershins in his brain. Or, from an early poem published in wartime:
+...... saying which in turn about and face \\
-... round us, round the company of lovers Death draws his cordons in.
+concrete and glass as things familiar known\\
-There is a lighter side to modern poetry which nevertheless draws its strength from the same sources. David Campbell's "barmaid who knows that men....
+like brick, shell mortar and grey Hawkesbury stone.
+Not surprisingly many of the newer poets took explorers and erected elaborate but very moving symbolic structures around them. Kenneth Slessor, an editor of the Sydney Sun, in "Five Visions of Captain Cook":
+Men who ride broomsticks with a mesmerist \\
+Mock the typhoon. So, too, it was with Cook.
+Although Judith Wright took a rather large volume, "The Generations of Men" to record the misfortunes of her forbears, the Dalwoods of the Hunter Valley vineyard, two lines of verse are the crystallisation ..\\
+he weathered all the striding years\\
+till they ran widdershins in his brain.
+Or, from an early poem published in wartime:\\
+... round us, round the company of lovers \\
+Death draws his cordons in.
+There is a lighter side to modern poetry which nevertheless draws its strength from the same sources. David Campbell's "barmaid who knows that men....\\
 ... look at me as they look for rain.
-Or, A. G. Austin in a dugout in Torbruks
-In my cave lives a solitary rat, (A celibate rat,
+Or A. G. Austin in a dugout in Torbruk\\
-I can vouch for that).
+In my cave lives a solitary rat, \\
-I can't resist John Manifold's odd. person:
+(A celibate rat, I can vouch for that).
-...I knew a most superior camper 'Rhos methods were absurdly wrong. He did not live on tea and damper But took a little stove along.
+I can't resist John Manifold's odd person:\\
+...I knew a most superior camper \\
+Whose methods were absurdly wrong. \\
+He did not live on tea and damper \\
+But took a little stove along.
 There are a whole host of poets, contemporary in the last thirty years. They are worth reading.
+---------------
 Recent historical writings suggest that the "unlocking of the land" which came to an end in the nineties, was not a result of genuine "land hunger", whatever that vague symptom is. Reason suggests that there were
-few permanently successful golddiggers once mining and land companies
+few permanently successful gold diggers once mining and land companies began their operations. Pressure for closer settlement came from the middle class of solicitors, doctors and storekeepers in country towns who saw the large squatters bypassing those towns when selling their wool, and backloading, from the ports, their provisions. None of the State systems of land holding were entirely effective, due mainly from basic misconceptions of agriculture  a mistake extending to the Ord River schemes of the present day. The legislation did break the political power of the squatters, leaving them as a still active pressure group. No one, to my knowledge, writes odes or oven couplets to the Country Party.
-began their operations. Pressure for closer settlement came from the middleclass of solicitors, doctors and storekeepers in country towns who saw the large squatters bypassing those towns when selling their wool, and
-backloading, from the ports, their provisions. None of the State systems
-of land holding were entirely effective, due mainly from basic misconceptions
-of agriculture  a mistake extending to the Ord River schemes of the present day. The legislation did break the political power of the squatters, leaving them as a still active pressure group. No one, to my knowledge, writes odes or oven couplets to the Country Party.
-TriZi	13USB7ALKER	August, 1969.
 ====== The Yo-Yos Go Nordic ======
-		.
+A Yo-yo is a person with enough energy to put on skis, ski downhill to the lifts and run, with increasing confidence and diminishing adventure the one run until lunchtime. At lunchtime, he will ski downhill from the top of the lift to the hut and give his day ticket to a similar spirit with less energy who couldn't get out of bed early enough to justify a day ticket. Confusion arises, but invention is not lacking when the yo-yo arrives at the tow to find the ticket has gone back to the hut. One merely pleads that one changed one's parka and could ...... Just this time?
-A Yo-yo is a person with enough energy to put on skis, ski downhill to the lifts and run.,.wit12 increasing confidence and diminishing adventure the one run until lunchtime. At lunchtime, he will ski downhill from the top of the lift to the hilt and give his day ticket to a similar spirit with less energy who couldn't get out of bed early enough to justify a day ticket. Confusion arises, but invention is not lacking when the ye- yo arrives at the tow to find the ticket has gone back to the but One
-. merely pleads that one changed one's parka and could ...... Just this time?
+In a season with little snow, the fall of nearly one foot as we arrived was sufficient to put off our cross country trip. We needed to get back our confidence, this snow will only last another day; how do we wax?, where do we go? These discussions in a warm hut after a superb meal are a wonderful excuse for not washing up and it seems a pity to lose such a fruitful and divisive subject by going.  All theoretical discussions, from the causes of the war - any war - to the state of the stock market, become increasingly abrasive until the point is reached when ...
+Four of us had bought cross country skis. Bill Bourke proved to be a dedicated yo-yo, but Don Matthews, Helen Gray and myself took our skis from the rack and then, from some inner compulsion, secret voice or logical deduction achieved the greatest spread of waxes for the one condition that was possible. I went for sticky purple, Helen for sticky orange, and Don for sticky green with a touch of sticky blue under the foot. The results wore identical - we could walk downhill as fast as we could walk uphill. Don rationalised that the object was to walk uphill and you couldn't tell until you had done half a mile whether the wax was right. We made two major discoveries; the skis, even with all the snow bailed-up on their foot were light and that untracked snow is very beautiful. Somehow, we arrived at Cooma Hut, the Mecca of Cross Country; Mathews swears it was chance, Helen says it was fortuitous because her bindings were falling apart. The Word on Waxing locked at our skis and gave us an hour's free lecture which cost us only two more colours and two rubbing blocks. We scraped and scraped at the stickiness and threw away the chewed-out chewing gum in which we had put our trust. We took The Word back to the hut.
+**PERISHER GAP**	The next day, 8.30am, Spiro Ketas, Snow Brown, Shirley Dean and Duncan, the advance party have hired skis from the Cooma Hut, presumably waxed for the expected conditions. Helen, Don, Bill Bourke and myself have done the washing up and have joined them for the run into Farm Creek and the crossing of the snowy at Guthega. The weather is magnificent. One by one we slide off. And fall. There is an unbreakable crust of ice. It is of the clear artificial variety encountered in lemon squash. It is possible to stand and run straight, but then there is no turning resistance. Falling is so easy; your bindings take effect half way along the big toe. The Gap is full of brittle laughter and the sound of brittle skis and bodies coming to some sort of accomodation with the ice. Bodies meet the snow in attitudes undreamt, toes have teen turned in arcs on the far side  of astonishment, egos have looked for quiet places in which to hide.
+**GUTHEGA;** We can see Tait peeping over the skyline, The level snow across the dam has been the easiest yet, and spirits are renewed.
+Someone says, "Where now, leader?"  No one replies.
+Everyone looks at Mathews. Mathews is mute. In agony Mathews searches his soul. Finally he speaks.
-In a season with little snow, the fall of nearly one foot as we arrived was sufficient to put off our cross country trip. We needed to get back our confidence, this snow will only last another day; how do we wax?, 'where do we co? These discussions in a.warm hut after a superb meal are a wonderful excuse for not washing up and itaiems a pity to lose such a fruitful and divisive subject by going. .;11 theoretical discussions, from the causes of thu war - any war - to the state of the stock market, become increasingly abrasive until the point is reached when ...
+"I was thinking of going up the Summit Road to Spencers Creek and the Chalet".
-Four of us had bought cross country skis. Bill Bourke proved to be a dedicated yo-yo, but Den Matthews, Helen Gray and myself took our skis from the rack and then, from some inner compulsion, secret voice or logical deduction achieved the greatest spread of waxes for the one condition that was possible. I went for sticky purple, Helen for sticky orange, and Don for sticky green with a touch of sticky blue under the foot. The results wore identical - we could walk downhill as fast as we could walk uphill. Don rationalised that the object was to walk uphill and you couldn't toll until you had s;one half a mile Whether the wax was right. We made two major discoveries; the skis, oven with all the snow bailed-up on their foot were, light and that untracked snow is very beautiful. Somehow, we arrived at Cooma Hut, the Mecca of Cross Country; Mathews swears it was chance, Helen says it was fortuitous because her bindings were falling apart. The Word on Waxing locked at our skis and gave us an hours free lecture which cost us only two more colours and two rubbing blocks. We scraped and scraped at the stickiness and threw away the chewed-out chewing gum in which we had put our trust. We to-k: The Word back to the hut.
+But aren't you the Leader? No. Then who is?
-PERISHER GA.,7	The next day, 8Y)	Spiro Ketas, Snow Brown, Shirley Dean and Duncan, the advance party have hired skis from the Cooma Hut, presumably waxed for the expected conditions. Helen, Don, Bill Bourke and myself have done the washing up and have joined them for the run into Farm Crook and the crossing of the snowy at Guthega. The weather is magnificent. One by one we slide off. And fall. There is an unbreakable crust of ice. It is of the clear artificial variety encountered in lemon squash. It is possible to stand and run straight, but then there is no turning resistance. Falling is so easy; your bindings take effect half way along the big toe.
-The Gap is full of brittle laughter and the sound of brittle skis and bodies coming to some sort of accomodation with the ice. Bodies meet. the 'sr.e.w in -attitudes unCrearat, toes have teen turned in arcs on the far side  of astenishment, egos have looked for cuipt places in which to hidet
+No one wants to be first among equals. I have forgotten who is carrying the roast leg of lamb for lunch. Onwards. Among the trees of Guthega Creek we find new hazards. Snow drifted over the miniature 'schrunds around hidden rocks. Bill Bourke finds one big enough to conceal himself, and from which he escapes by climbing a tree, skis and all. Helen and Duncan try sliding until Duncan loses a stock hundreds of feet above the creek, gives his skis to Helen to carry, retrieves his stock and then foots it until he can persuade Helen to bring his skis down to him. The line of skiers expands, contracts, finally halts with everyone present so that a screwdriver can be found and matches jammed into Helen's bindings.
-GUTHEGA; 70 can see Tait peeping over the skyline, The level snow across
+Consett Stephen Pass is a great white bowl of sparkling ice above us. Duncan takes a higher tack at the mountain so that he is above and behind me every time I look up. Helen has found a fluted buttress leading onto a very steep slope. Below the buttress there is an even steeper slope falling off into the creek. Mature consideration tells me I will roll forever if I try below the buttress. It is a damn awkward buttress. Trudge, trudge, trudge. The skis hold an astonishing angle on the ice. Duncan still above and. behind, Helen's orange pack full of waxes and scrapers and rubbing blocks above and ahead, blue skies moving ever so slowly across the white world.
-	.....=
-the dam has been the easiest yet, and spirits are renewed.
-Someone SVS, "77here now, leader?"  No one replies.
-Everyone looks at Mathews. Mathews is soul. Finally he speaks.
-. "I was thinking of going up the Summit the Chalet".
--But aren't you the Leader? -No.
--Then who is?
-mute. In agony he searches his
-Road towards Spencers Creek and
-No one wants to be first among equals. I have forgotten who is carrying the roast leg of lamb for lunch. Onwaxas. Among the trees of Guthega Creek we fina new wazards. Snow drifted over the miniature 'schrunds around
-hidden rocks. Lill Bourke finds one big .enough to conceal himself, and
-from which he escapes by climbing a tree, skis and all. Helen and Duncan try Sliding until Duncan loses a stock hundreds of feet above the creek, gives his skis to Helen to carry, retrieves his stock and then foots it until he can persuade Helen to bring his skis dawn to him. The line of skiers expands, contracts, finally halts with everyone present so that a screwdriver can be founa and matches jammed into Helen's bindings.
-Consett Stephen Pass is a great white bowl of sparkling ice above us. Duncan takes a higher tack at the mountain so that he is above and behind me every time I look up. Helen has found a fluted buttress leading onto a very steep slope. Below the buttress there is an even steepr slope falling off into the creek. Mature consideration tells me I will roll forever if I try below the buttress. It is a damn awkward buttress. Trudge, trudge, trudge. The skis hold an astonishing angle on the ice. Duncan still above and. behind., Helen's orange pack full of waxes and scrapers and rubbing 17.ocks above and ahead, blue skies moving ever so slowly across the white world.
 We have reached the pass.
-Duncan, holen and myself climb a small pinnacle of rock coated in ice. 7o climb to the top on skis. Dill Bourke reaches the pass and takes off
-his skis. The others come into view, toiling, walking, dragging skis across the slope of the pass. We foregather, rest, eat. The leg of lamb is carved and then the bone passed around.
-Tait is too remote, another hour's climb at least. There is a low ridge shielding us from the view of rTatsons Crags. Is it worth while to climb? Duncan, Helen and myself, having rested longer, are the only ones who think so. On the reverse slope the sound of skis on ice is astonishing. The ice is wierdly wind abraded - the view is magnificent, Tatsons Crag close and enormous, far away in Victoria Feathertop looking like the one true mountain.
-Then we turned back Duncan almost immediately disappeared. The pass up which we had trudged must surely "track" now in the warmest part of the sun. It wouldn't, Every fall sent a clattering bucketful of ice down the slope. Stand up, run, fall. No laughter. The party scattered again out of the Pass into the trees and, wonder of wonders, the snow soft and balling under the skis. A body count at Guthega Duncan had. skied effortlessly down the ridge.
+Duncan, Helen and myself climb a small pinnacle of rock coated in ice. We climb to the top on skis. Bill Bourke reaches the pass and takes off his skis. The others come into view, toiling, walking, dragging skis across the slope of the pass. We foregather, rest, eat. The leg of lamb is carved and then the bone passed around.
-There comes a time on any trip when apprehension about getting home at all gives way to the lessor apprehension of getting home before dark. Returning up Farm Creek, Mathews, Helen and myself began again to have binding problems. We formed the steadily plodding rearguard, watching the various styles of the others as they moved up Perisher Gap. Duncan still maintaining a higher track, Shirley marching competitively, Dourke calling on an infantry acquired fatalism, Spiro and Snow moving smoothly.
+Tait is too remote, another hour's climb at least. There is a low ridge shielding us from the view of Watsons Crags. Is it worth while to climb? Duncan, Helen and myself, having rested longer, are the only ones who think so. On the reverse slope the sound of skis on ice is astonishing. The ice is weirdly wind abraded - the view is magnificent, Watsons Crag close and enormous, far away in Victoria Feathertop looking like the one true mountain.
-Sunset and the Rearguard ci.;me to the Gap at the same time. We looked back at the Main Range and the sculptured pink ice of the Gap. Ahead of us the shadow of the Earth crept into the skye Perisher Gap astonishingly delineated. In darkness we skied gingerly down. Irony of irony the skis ran, turned, checked. In the light of the drying room there were long patches of white wood rubbed free of all wax and tar.
-In the all-electric kitchen, Joan Rigby had soup and coffee waiting for us.
+When we turned back Duncan almost immediately disappeared. The pass up which we had trudged must surely "track" now in the warmest part of the sun. It wouldn't, Every fall sent a clattering bucketful of ice down the slope. Stand up, run, fall. No laughter. The party scattered again out of the Pass into the trees and, wonder of wonders, the snow soft and balling under the skis. A body count at Guthega ;Duncan had. skied effortlessly down the ridge.
+There comes a time on any trip when apprehension about getting home at all gives way to the lessor apprehension of getting home before dark. Returning up Farm Creek, Mathews, Helen and myself began again to have binding problems. We formed the steadily plodding rearguard, watching the various styles of the others as they moved up Perisher Gap. Duncan still maintaining a higher track, Shirley marching competitively, Bourke calling on an infantry acquired fatalism, Spiro and Snow moving smoothly.
+Sunset and the Rearguard came to the Gap at the same time. We looked back at the Main Range and the sculptured pink ice of the Gap. Ahead of us the shadow of the Earth crept into the sky. Perisher Gap astonishingly delineated. In darkness we skied gingerly down. Irony of irony the skis ran, turned, checked. In the light of the drying room there were long patches of white wood rubbed free of all wax and tar.
+In the all electric kitchen, Joan Rigby had soup and coffee waiting for us.
 ====== Andean Expedition ======
@@ Line 193: / Line 206: @@
 Today we are having a rest day at base camp. Some Indians have been up to see us from the village of Yanama, 7 kms. down the Rio de Yanama Valley, about 3,000 ft. below us. They came bearing potatoes (papas) which they bartered for a block of Cadbury's chocolate and two biscuits, and three empty fruit tins which are highly sought after articles in this primitive community. Tomorrow they will come again bringing us half a sack of potatoes which they will exchange for the sack we gave them to carry them in. They seem delighted with the bartering bargains they make, so we are being careful not to inflate the local prices by offering what they would consider overpayment. 5 eggs are exchanged. for one block of chocolate.
-Cows pasture to l6,000ft in the high upland pastures and our camp is frequently invaded by the inquisitive beasts who won't take no for an answer but come right up to the camp browsing inquisitively right against the tents although they look rather fearsome with long sharp horns they are really quite pleasant beasts and give an air of romance with their thick hairy coats and playful butting of each other. Some days an Indian will come up from the valley settlement below to check up on his cattle and we all shake hands all round and do our best at conversation in sign language and a bit of Quechua-con-Spanish, all to the accompaniment of broad grins on the part of the local lads.
+Cows pasture to 16,000ft in the high upland pastures and our camp is frequently invaded by the inquisitive beasts who won't take no for an answer but come right up to the camp browsing inquisitively right against the tents although they look rather fearsome with long sharp horns they are really quite pleasant beasts and give an air of romance with their thick hairy coats and playful butting of each other. Some days an Indian will come up from the valley settlement below to check up on his cattle and we all shake hands all round and do our best at conversation in sign language and a bit of Quechua-con-Spanish, all to the accompaniment of broad grins on the part of the local lads.
 The days are fine and sunny. But as soon as the sun sinks below the surrounding mountains the temperature drops sharply and we rug up in our down jackets. It is quite pleasant during the day in shorts and shirt, but the night temperatures drop to 20 degrees below zero at base camp, and probably 5 or 10 degrees lower at the high camps at 16,000 feet. In the high camps up on the glacier ice the insides of the tents ice up at night and food taken from the pressure cooker is cold before it is eaten.  Nevertheless, we find that Paddy's marvellous sleeping bags are completely adequate,  even without the half-bag and down jacket which we have with us for emergency occasions. You can strip off to your underwear inside the sleeping bag, put your clothes under you, and be as snug as a bug in a rug inside the Meade tent with the sleeve doors three-quarters closed. At base camp we have a big Community tent where we do the cooking on primuses and into this tent everyone crowds at meal times, sitting on petrol drums and sacks and being careful to keep their elbows at their sides while they eat so as not to knock their next door neighbours off their drums. One night Mike took the lid off the pressure cooker before it had cooled down sufficiently and the resulting explosion of super-heated steam caused pandemonium in the tightly packed crowd, Three people are still being treated by Johnno the Sutton for burns. Incidentally, Dr. John Sutton now bears the name of El Vampiro (the Vampire) duo to his fiendish desire to take the blood of his victims for his medical project. He thinks he is really on to something, quite original in the way of studying the presence of growth hormones in the blood at high altitudes. He is already planning his next venture, which will be to Mt. Kenya. Once bitten by the expedition bug and you're infected for life, or so it would seem in Johnno's case.
@@ Line 211: / Line 224: @@
 Marion Lloyd
-Well, after packing Landrover, we couldn't find the maps, so unpacked, then repacked. But it was uncomfortable for our backseat passenger so we had to unpack etc, About 8 p,m., we set off at long last after what was to be a 6 pm start. It was quite an eventful trip with Alan Round, Dot Noble, John Campbell and myself singing in different keys. We stopped at Mount Victoria to be refuelled, We decided we wouldn't take the short cut via Jenolan Caves Road, but be on the safe side, and take the road to Oberon. One smart club member told Alan about a beaut short cut which was a very good road, and we decided to take his advice even though it was getting late and was a longer way to go. This route was through Oberon and to turn off onto such and such a road which led into a pine forest so many miles from Black Springs.
+Well, after packing Landrover, we couldn't find the maps, so unpacked, then repacked. But it was uncomfortable for our backseat passenger so we had to unpack etc, About 8 p.m. we set off at long last after what was to be a 6 pm start. It was quite an eventful trip with Alan Round, Dot Noble, John Campbell and myself singing in different keys. We stopped at Mount Victoria to be refuelled, We decided we wouldn't take the short cut via Jenolan Caves Road, but be on the safe side, and take the road to Oberon. One smart club member told Alan about a beaut short cut which was a very good road, and we decided to take his advice even though it was getting late and was a longer way to go. This route was through Oberon and to turn off onto such and such a road which led into a pine forest so many miles from Black Springs.
 We passed through Oberon about midnight, then headed towards Black Springs. Unfortunately Alan was very mixed up about the directions and of course the road map of N.S.W. was over 30 years old and everything was out added to this we were of the firm opinion that we are NEVER wrong. However we eventually got to Black Springs and then Alan couldn't remember if it was before or after the Shell garage so we took a road to the left and chuffed up this for about 10 miles. After a while we reckoned it was the wrong road, so decided to go all the way back; pass through Black Springs once more and start again. After chuffing up and down the road several times arguing our heads off at every turn off we came to, even if it was going in the wrong direction, we agreed to abandon the attempt of getting through at all costs that night, and return to Oberon. About 3 miles out of Oberon there was a huge campfire by the side of the road, completely abandoned. It called invitingly to us and of course we accepted at once. There was already about 3" of frost on the ground.
@@ Line 229: / Line 242: @@
 About 1.5 miles up the road was the residential section. Most of those dwellings were made of mud bricks. The Church's foundation is in excellent condition, but was a complete shell inside. However, seeing as it was Sunday, we held a mock service. I think the services must have been modernised because where the altar had been and under the floor boards were dozens of beer cans and bottles. I have since found out that one of the former ministers in Orange was born here and his father was rector of this particular church.
-In one backyard was an old relic of a T model Ford; about 10 yards away was half a rusty old bikeframe. Margaret Wyborn informs me that it is probably the sorrowful remains of Ross's old bike that was abandoned on the last successful Mittagong - Katoomba trip. Coincidence again - Dot Noble took a photo of me attempting to ride this bike; there were several peaks in the background. Later, Dot showed a photo of a man on a horse in almost exactly the same position where I posed. It had been taken many years before by Mrs. Noble whilst doing a geology thesis at Yerranderie when she was at University.
+In one backyard was an old relic of a T model Ford; about 10 yards away was half a rusty old bike frame. Margaret Wyborn informs me that it is probably the sorrowful remains of Ross's old bike that was abandoned on the last successful Mittagong - Katoomba trip. Coincidence again - Dot Noble took a photo of me attempting to ride this bike; there were several peaks in the background. Later, Dot showed a photo of a man on a horse in almost exactly the same position where I posed. It had been taken many years before by Mrs. Noble whilst doing a geology thesis at Yerranderie when she was at University.
 To our delight, in another backyard was a double seater outhouse, so We all had to take it in turns in pairs to try it out. At one stage there was quite a queue. This little episode reminded me of a hilarious book called "The Specialist". He went from town to town out west specialising in this particular art. His pride and joy was a seven seater.
@@ Line 253: / Line 266: @@
 The happiest people are those who think the most interesting thoughts. Those who decide to use leisure as a means of mental development, who love good music, good books, good pictures, good company, good conversation, are the happiest people in the world. And they are not only happy in themselves, they are the Cause of happiness in others".
-W. C. Phelps. (Many thanks to Marian & Owen),
+W. C. Phelps. (Many thanks to Marian & Owen).
@@ Line 259: / Line 272: @@
 Barry Pacey
+GAMBOLLING IN THE GANGHERANGS
+Barry Pacey.
+I opened my eyes and peeped at the world outside from the scourity of
+my flea bag. My gaze fell back to the luminous dial of my watch, My Godl
+Only five to six and there was nothing outside but darkness and four inches
+of snowe
+The stop-off at the Ivanhoe the night before had left me somewhat re~ .
+luctant to ¢et up so I happily went back to sleep.
+I again woke to find someone knocking at the door. I opened it and
+found Owen's hairy fist beating my heal. He informed me it was ten to seven
+and suggested I go outside and make the cup of tea I had promised everyone.
+My Porta-gas sto0d waiting to be lit, so I did, and soon had two large
+billies bubbling ready to be made intc ten. Within 15 minutes each momber
+of the party had come forwarl from his tent or his car and had surveyed the
+surroundings with cbvicous distaste.
+They crawled snd shuffled their way to the Porta-gas mumbling things
+about cold winds and cloudy skies and there was a little man complaining of
+someone who had woken him at 2 aems to tell him that they were allright ~
+they had a Lilo to slecp on.
+After the hot tea and an otherwise cold breakfast we packed up and drove
+out to Kanangra Walls in a somewhat happier state of mind.
+We were soon on our way and, after a short stop to count heads and re-
+move jumpers, pushed on again morrily singing a medley of Corsican comic
+opera, Atop the walls we met Henry Gold who had been up since 4 ame wait—
+ing for the early start I had been insisting upon. We ambled on past various
+mountains and along Kilpatricks Causoway where a sweet thing of a prospective
+wanted to know who the hell Kilpatrick was.
+On to Gabes Gap where a well earned rest was had in the warm autumn
+sunshine and pleasant mountain breeze. It was here, appropriately enough,
+that we heard the legend of our delightful little rest spot. It seems that
+many years aso a gentle shepherd named Gabriel was moving his flock from
+North Weatherbury, or some such place, to agistment in more suitable pastures.
+Passing Kanangra Walls (which he named after his best ram) he moved on to -
+what is now Gabes Gap and established there quite a profitatle sheep station.
+Apparently his downfall came when he tricd to puil the wool over the eyes of
+the local customs man by disguising his sheep as wallabies thus avoiding ox~
+cessive import duties impored at that time ~ but that's another story.
+Up and down we went for the next three hours occasionally supported by
+a saddle, occasionally a mountain. After all signing the book atop Cloudmaker,
+we descended to a little known creck between said mountain and Ti Willa
+Plateau where a long awaited lunch was enjoyed by everyone. Early afternoon
+saw us ambling along the Plateau where wo were lucky enough to come across a
+herd of Gibson's flightless mongoosese It was truly a magnificent sight to
+see them bounding through the stubby bushes back to their cliff—top homes.
 Up and over Ti-Willa Mountain, and thanks to Galloping Callaway, we landed on Compagnoni Pass. We descended onto Ti Willa	Buttress aided only by steel spikes and safety chains and as we heard night falling we found ourselves confronted by a formidable obstacle. The descent of Stockyard Spur in darkness had left many a wretched walker's heart palpitating and wanting for happier situations. With nostrils twitching and tongues wetting parched dry lips we began to walk, nay slide toward the icy crook thousands of foot below.
@@ Line 299: / Line 368: @@
 Yours faithfully,\\
 L. G. Harrison.
-====== Notices ======
-Here under copy of circular received from the Nature Conservation Council of N.S.W.:
-"Proposal to Establish a Recruitment Committee". The Nature Conservation Council of N.S.W. is anxious to expand (within the boundaries of its Constitution) membership: firstly, in order to represent a much wider part of the community; secondly, to co-ordinate the conservation efforts of many more organisations;
-thirdly, to influence more people to think about conservation matters and to revitalise pre-conceived ideas; fourthly, to tap the efforts of the most able people in the community; and fifthly, to secure an increasing source of income for the work of the Council.
-The Executive would like the Recruitment Committee to be made up of persons not members of the Executive in order to spread the load of work and expand service and interest. We have one Starter already. We only need four or five members, preferably all from different Societies and presumably, for convenience and to save financial problems from the Sydney Region.
-The Recruitment Committee would be asked to draw up its terms of reference for approval of the Executive and subsequently to prepare a list of recommendations to the Executive. The Committee might also plan to undertake work in contacting prospective members.
-I would be pleased if you would publicise this matter through your Society meetings and journals and invite Members to contact me at their earliest convenience.
-Honorary Secretary\\
-Alan Strom, 5 Coopernook Avenue,GIMEA BAY 2227
-**Obituary**
-Walter Tarr (Tarro), one of our oldest members, passed away on Wednesday night, 13th August, 1969, aged 90 years.
@@ Line 343: / Line 391: @@
 The letter is signed by J.A. Lothian, Chairman of the Federation's, Conservation Panel, and is surely food for thought for all who love the bush.
+====== Notices ======
+Here under copy of circular received from the Nature Conservation Council of N.S.W.:
+"Proposal to Establish a Recruitment Committee". The Nature Conservation Council of N.S.W. is anxious to expand (within the boundaries of its Constitution) membership: firstly, in order to represent a much wider part of the community; secondly, to co-ordinate the conservation efforts of many more organisations;
+thirdly, to influence more people to think about conservation matters and to revitalise pre-conceived ideas; fourthly, to tap the efforts of the most able people in the community; and fifthly, to secure an increasing source of income for the work of the Council.
+The Executive would like the Recruitment Committee to be made up of persons not members of the Executive in order to spread the load of work and expand service and interest. We have one Starter already. We only need four or five members, preferably all from different Societies and presumably, for convenience and to save financial problems from the Sydney Region.
+The Recruitment Committee would be asked to draw up its terms of reference for approval of the Executive and subsequently to prepare a list of recommendations to the Executive. The Committee might also plan to undertake work in contacting prospective members.
+I would be pleased if you would publicise this matter through your Society meetings and journals and invite Members to contact me at their earliest convenience.
+Honorary Secretary\\
+Alan Strom, 5 Coopernook Avenue,GIMEA BAY 2227
+**Obituary**
+Walter Tarr (Tarro), one of our oldest members, passed away on Wednesday night, 13th August, 1969, aged 90 years.