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-THE SYDNEY BUSHW.A.LKER
+====== The Sydney Bushwalker. ======
-Established June 1931
-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX*XXXXXXXXIXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-XXXXXXXXXXXXX
-A monthly bulletin of matters of interest to The Sydney Bush Walkers, Box 4476 G.P.O., Sydney, 2001.	Club meetings are held every Wednesday evening from 7.30 pm at the Wireless Institute Building, 14 Atchison Street, St. Leonards. Eftquiries concerning the Club should be referred to AnnRavn, Telephone 798,8607.
-* * * * * * * * * *
-EDITOR:	Helen Gray, 209 Malton Road, Epping, 2121.
+Established June 1931.
-Telephone 86,6263.
-BUSINESS MANAGER:	Bill Burke, 3 Coral Tree Drive, Carlingford, 2118. Telephone 871,1207.
+A monthly bulletin of matters of interest to the Sydney Bush Walkers, Box 4476, G.P.O., Sydney, 2001. Club meetings are held every Wednesday evening from 7.30 pm at the Wireless Institute Building, 14 Atchison Street, St. Leonards. Enquiries concerning the Club should be referred to Ann Ravn, Telephone 798,8607.
-TYPIST:	Kath Brown.
-DUPLICATOR OPERATOR: Phil Butt.
+----
-*-* * * * * ** * *
-JANUARY, 1962.
+|**Editor**|Helen Gray, 209 Malton Road, Epping, 2121. Telephone 86,6263.|
-Page Spowy Mountains - Dec 27 to Jan 2	by Jo van Sommers	2
+|**Business Manager**|Bill Burke, 3 Coral Tree Drive, Carlingford, 2118. Telephone 871,1207.|
+|**Typist**|Kath Brown.|
+|**Duplicator Operator**|Phil Butt.|
+=== January, 1982 ===
+===== In This Issue: =====
+| | |Page|
+|Snowy Mountains - Dec 27 to Jan 2|Jo van Sommers| 2|
+|Three Months' Long Service Leave - Lindos|Evelyn Walker| 5|
+|Letter to the Editor| | 8|
+|Notices| | 9|
+|The Heaphy|Bill Gamble|11|
+|The December General Meeting|Barry Wallace|14|
+|Social Notes for February|Peter Miller|15|
+|Nature Notes - Uloola Track|Kath Brown|16|
+===== Advertisements: =====
+| |Page|
+|Eastwood Camping Centre|10|
+----
+===== Snowy mountains - Dec 27 to Jan 2. =====
+by Jo van Sommers.
+Main Range - Jagungal - Main Range.
+Led by Jim Percy and Barrie Murdoch.
+On Christmas Day 1981, Two Triple Jay, aamittedly not a particularly reliable source, announced the prospect of a White Christmas at Perisher Valley. This gave me some pause. The following day was to be the start of seven days walking on the Main Range and out to Jagungal and back. Every other time I had been to the Snowy Mountains, summer or winter, there had been the comfort of a lodge to return to. Obviously I needed some advice. I knew that Bill Burke had a private party of seasoned members at his Perisher Valley Lodge at the same time as I was going to be bravely exposing myself to the elements. Besides, the food list I'd dug out ftom the last long walk I'd done (ssh, it was 1957!) was full of strange items like dehydrated vegetable stew, hanks of bacon and Ry Vita biscuits. Surely something good must have happened to lightweight food in the interval. Sure enough, Bill provided me with a terrific list which I followed faithfully to the last gram. He also regaled me with tales of previous disasters. Had I heard of the time he was rung up at Perisher from Charlotte's Pass by a bedraggled party who asked him to come and get them before they froze? What about the time he was marooned in Mawson's Hut for nearly three days in a Christmastime blizzard? Did the leaders know to head for a hut and stay there if the weather turned nasty? Had I remembered to pack my beanie, gloves, long trousers, heavy rainjacket and stormproof tent?
+By this time I was starting to think I was preparing for a trip to Antarctica. However, I was glad I took all those items. We drove up on boxing Day and made a cold camp at Sawpit Creek. Next day we rendezvoused at Charlotte's Pass in a freezing wind. Our party was preceded by a group of giant Atlases with incredible legs, who moved off smartly into the bleakness, slapping their goitres and ignoring the gale. I felt suddenly frail and puny. We were supposed to climb Kosci from Merritt's Creek, but by the time we got to the creek the rain and mist forced us into Seaman's Hut for a soggy lunch. We zipped across the fields of alpine flowers to Albina Hut, which is being nicely maintained by a group of volunteers and was not full before our party of eleven got there. However it was cold even inside, and there is no way of cooking unless you have brought a stove or carried firewood. We had a somewhat subdued cold dinner. Laurie endeared himself to everyone by making us all cups of tea on his backpacked stove. Despite the rain, the aroma from downstairs drove several of the party to the dubious shelter of their tents. Barbara and John almost got washed away and decided that wet sleeping bags, swirling mists and very cold weather made it advisable to return to Charlotte's Pass. Keith and Kathy and Laurie went with them, so the party was almost halved at one blow. The rump set off through the mist; those who had been there before described to those who hadn't the splendours of the scenery. At this stage my thoughts turned to the crowd at Kandahar. Perhaps they were sitting around at this moment, having a second cup of coffee and planning gourmet meals!
+We had lunch in the spartan surroundings of the hydrology hut near Blue Lake. Joan had spent nearly three days alone in the basement of this hut during the previous Christmas, when it had snowed heavily. Just as well I hadn't rung her up as well, or I may never have gone. This time however, the hut itself was open, sort-of. One stood on a convenient deck-chair and climbed into the second-storey door, which had been opened (but not forced) by previous visitors. Another cold hut without any cooking facilities. At Kandahar, I thought wistfully as I bit into my lightweight lunch biscuit, they would be having pots of hot soup, substantial sandwiches, even quiche or spaghetti marinara; accompanied by copious amounts of fermented products. I had another glass of delicious Tang.
+We struggled off into the mist on the Twynam track (marked 'Closed'). Our co-leader, Barry, was going to decide whether to proceed or not, depending on what could be seen from the trig. Fortunately, the mist lifted briefly and we pushed on to Pounds Creek, where we camped early. This put us half a day behind schedule but we figured we had battled bravely enough for one day. There was a lot of snow about and we had had some anxious moments trying to re-locate the track after it had disappeared into the subterranean depths of large snowdrifts. The weather got better the lower we went, and by sunset we had a good fire to sit around and drink a toast (in tea of course) to Laurie the Teamaker.
+Next day we set off at eight a.m. to conquer Mt. Tate, Dickie Cooper Bogong, a million prickly bushes, a road bash, and 23 kilometres. We camped near Valentine's Hut, where the supply of wood was depleted by the numerous users of the hut. However, we found enough to yarn around the fire by and guess at the implications of the sky patterns. A thick hogsback hung in the east; a crescent moon in the west; peaceful stars in the north and scudding clouds in the south. It must have all cancelled itself out, for the morning was beautiful. Winter followed by spring! Off we galloped at eight a.m. again, still making up time, arriving at Grey Mare Hut in mid-morning and inspecting the famous Rat Menu. The reputation of this hut may need to be revised, as it too was clean and tidy and being maintained by a volunteer group.
+We followed the Strumbo Range, avoiding the Strawberry Hill approach to Jagungal and tackling ridges to the west. It was a long climb through tenacious bushes that fought back gamely and often needed two or three assaults before they conceded defeat. We camped in a delightful spot on the edge of a glacial cirque about an hour's walk from the summit of Jagungal. Next morning we rocketed up to the peak, packless, and were astonished to find that Keith and Kathy, whom we had not seen for days, had been there just two hours before.
+The seasons had changed again, and we now had summer weather for the trip to Mawson's Hut, which meant two things - one good, swimming, and one bad, hordes of march flies. This was supposed to be an easy day of 12 km as programmed, since we had made up the ground lost by the first two days of bad weather, but somehow it turned into another 19 km day. It was New Year's Eve, too, and a less likely set of celebrants you never saw. It seemed time before dinner to bring out the demon rum and give everyone a bit of a kick-start. Under the circumstances, it was decreed that midnight would be at 10 o'clock. Strange and exotic delicacies appeared, boisterous games were played, and by ten o'clock we found we were quite wide awake! We managed to stay awake until eleven after all, helped along by Jim's popcorn made in a billy.
+wild and stormy dawn drove Brian and his tent into the safety of the nearby hut. It wasn't that he thought he'd get blown away, he explained, but he wasn't going to carry that rotten tent wet again. We'd had winter, spring, summer; and now it was autumnal as we set off at the all too familiar hour of eight a.m. for White's River Hut. By autumnal I mean it looked as if the day was going to be a repeat of the first two days but less cold. We got to the hut so early we decided to knock off the Rolling Ground and Mt. Tate as well and get back to our happy spot at Pounds Creek. The 26 km was too much for Brian's feet, which looked pre-masticated by the time we got there. The wind, which had been strong all day, really got going and made cooking very difficult. Once again my thoughts turned to the Perisher Mob. No doubt they were planning the execution of wonderful culinary feats over a few pre-dinner drinks. I discovered a teaspoon each of the good stuff left over from the night before. My dinner of scrambled powdered egg, eaten in the shelter of a tent, was quite delicious, thank you!
+Up till the last day we had all been quite serious about this strange bushwalking business. Barry had co-led, mostly from the front; and Jim had co-led, mostly from the rear; giving succour to the wounded and faith to the fainthearted. Although we had walked a long way already, on the last day we decided to add a bit more to our trip and whizz out to The Sentinal and back. Since I was the only one who had been there before, the co-leaders naively entrusted me with route-finding. We did have a lovely walk out to the end of Watson's Crags!. Those who pronounced this effort to be superior to The Sentinal anyway got hugs.
+A huge drift hung above Blue Lake. Out came pieces of plastic, garbage bags, rubber mats, anything that would slide, and we took the slope the 'easy' way - on our bottoms. This part of the mountain was alive with people; some heard us shrieking with laughter as we tramped back up the slope for another go. One of these innocents caused quite a stir when she said she hoped she would be like us when she was as old as we were! There was another big drift above Hedley Tarn which we treated with more respect as it sloped steeply into icy water. We made Charlotte's Pass by six p.m. I wanted to visit Kandahar; but the thought of six bedraggled bods arriving smack in the middle of dinner would be too much even for B.B., I reckoned. Instead we went back to Sawpit for hot showers and into Jindabyne, where we finished the walk in fine style at the Bowling Club. This is a good spot to know about, although Colin wishes he'd never heard of it! We had had a terrific week with lots of variety, and our little party had worked well as a group. Joan was pushing our luck a bit when she tried to convince the ranger that we were a family and should only pay for one campsite at Sawpit, but we all will remember the ambiance of this trip for a long time.
+----
-Three Months' Long Service Leave - Lindos	Evelyn Walker	5
-Letter to the Editor	8
-Notices	9
-Advertisement - Eastwood Camping Centre	10
-The Heaphy	Bill Gamble	11
-The December General Meeting	Barry Wallace	14
-Social Notes for February	'Peter Miller	15
-Nature Notes - Uloola Track	Kath Brown	16
-Page 2	THE SYDNEY BUSHWALKER	January, 1982.
-SNOWY MOUNTAINS - DEC 27 to JAN 2,.
-by Jo van Sommers. Main Range - Jagungal Main Range.
-and.
-On Christmas Day 1981, TwO.Triple.Jay, aamittedly not a particularly reliable source, announced the prospect of a White Christmas at Perisher Valley. This gave me some pause. The following day was to be the start Of seven days walking on the Main Range and out to Jagungal and back.
-Every other time I had been to the Snowy Mountains, summer or winter, there had been the comfort of a lodge to return to. Obviously I needed same advice. I knew that Bill Burke had a private party of seasoned members at his Perisher Valley Lodge at the same time as I was going to be bravely exposing myself to the elements. Besides, the food list I'd dug out ftom the last long walk I'd done (ash, it was 1957!) was fall of strange items like dehydrated vegetable stew, hanks of bacon and Ry Vita bi6auits.' Surely something good must have happened to lightweight 'food. in 'the' interval. Sure enough, Bill provided me with a terrific list which I followed faithfully to the last gram. He also regaled me with tales of previous disasters. Had T heard of the time he was rung up at Perisher from Charlotte's Pass by a Ttedraggled party who asked him to come and get them before they froze? What about the time he was marooned in Mawson's Hut for nearly three days in a Christmastime blizzard? Did the leaders know to head for a hut and stay there if the weather turned nasty? Had I remembered to pack my beanie, gloves, long trousers, heavy rainjacket and stormproof tent?
-By this time I was starting to think I was preparing for a trip to Antarctica. However, I was glad I took all those items. We drove up on boxing Day and made a cold camp at Sawpit Creek. Next day we rendezvoused at Charlotte's Pass in a freezing wind. Our party was preceded by a group of giant Atlases with incredible legs, who moved off smartly into the bleakness, slapping their goitres and ignoring the gale. I felt suddenly frail and puny. We were supposed to climb Kosci fromMerritt's Creek, but by the
-time we got to the creek the rain and mist forced us into Seaman's Hut for.
-a soggy lunch. We zipped across the fields of alpine flowers to Albino Hut,
-which is being nicely maintained by a group of volunteers and was not full
-before our party of eleven got there. However it was cold even inside, and there is no way of.cOoking unless you have brought a stove or carried firewood.
-We had a somewhat subdued cold dinner. Laurie endeared himself to everyan6
-by making us all cups of tea on his backpacked stove. Despite the rain,
-the aroma from downstairs drove several of the party to the dubious shelter' of their tents. Barbara and John almost got washed away and decided that met sleeping bags, swirling mists and very cold weather made it advisable to return to Charlotte's Pass. Keith and Kathy and Laurie went with them po the party was almost halved at one blow. The rump set off through the Mist; those who had been there before described to those who hadn't the splendours of the scenery. At this stage my thoughts turned to the crowd.
-at Kandahar. Perhaps they were sitting around at this imment, having a second cup of coffee and planning gourmet meals!
-We had lunch in the spartaa surroundings of the hydrology hut near
-Blue Lake. Joan had spent nearly three days alone in the basement of this hut during the previous Christmas, when it had snowed heavily. Just as well I hadn't rung her up as well, or I may never have gone. This time however, the hut itself was open, sort-of. One stood on a convenient deck-
-chair and climbed into the second-storey door, which had been opened (but
-not forced) by previous visitors. Another cold hut without any cooking facilities. At Kandahar, I thought wistfully as I bit into my lightweight,
-lunch biscuit, they would be having pots of hot soup, substantial sandwiches, even quiche or spaghetti marinara; accompanied by copious amounts of fermented products, I had another glass of delicious Tang.
-We struggled off into the mist on the Twynam track (marked 'Closed'). Our co-leader, Barry, was going to decide whether to proceed or not, depending on what could be seen from the trig. Fortunately, the mist lifted
-briefly and we pushed on to Pounds Creek, where we camped early. This put 1,1B half a day behind schedule but we figured we had battled bravely enough for one day. There was a lot of snow about and we had had some anxious moments trying to re-locate the track after it had disappeared into the
-subterranean depths of large snowdrifts. The weather got better the lower we went, and by sunset we had a good fire to sit around and drink a toast (in tea of course) to Laurie the Teamaker.
-Next day we set off at eight a.m. to conquer Mt. Tate, Dickie Cooper
-Bogong, a million prickly bushes, a road bash, and 23 kilometres. We camped near Valentine's Hut, where the supply of wood was depleted by the numerous users of the hut. However, we found enough to yarn around the
-fire by and guess at the implications of the sky patterns. A thick hogsback
-jalang in the east; a crescent moon in the west; peaceful stars in the north
-and scudding clouds in the south. It must have all cancelled itself out, for the morning was beautiful. Winter followed by spring: Off we galloped at eight a.m. again, still making up time, arriving at Grey Mare Hut in mid-morning and inspecting the famous Rat Menu. The reputation of this hut may need to be revised, as it too was clean and tidy and being maintained by a volunteer group.
-We followed the Strumbo Range, avoiding the Strawberry Hill approach
-to Jagungal and tackling ridges to the west. It was a long climb through
-tenacious bushes that fought back gamely and often needed two or three assaults before they conceded defeat. We camped in a delightful spot on
-the edge of a glacial cirque about an hour's walk from the summit of Jagungal.
-Next morning we rocketed up to the peak, packless, and were astonished to find that Keith and Kathy, whom we had not seen for days, had been there just
-two hours before.
-The seasons had changed again, and we now had summer weather for the trip to Mawson's Hut, which meant two things - one good, swimming, and one bad, hordes of march flies. This was supposed to be an easy day of 12 km as programmed, since ae had made up the ground lost by the first two days of bad weather, but somehow it turned into another 19 km day. It was New Year's Eve, too, and a less likely set of celebrants you never saw. It seemed time before dinner to bring out the demon rum and give everyone a
-bit of a kick-start. Under the circumstances, it was decreed that midnight
-Page 4	THE SYDNEY BUSHWALKER	January, 1982.
-would be at 10 o'clock. Strange and exotic delicacies appeared, boisterous games were played, and by ten o'clock we found we were quite wide awake:
-We managed to stay awake until eleven after all, helped along by Jim's
-popcorn made in a billy.
-wild and stormy dawn drove Brian and his tent into the safety of
-the nearby hut. It wasn't that he thought he'd get blown away, he explained,
-but he wasn't going to carry that rotten tent wet again. We'd had winter, spring, summer; and now it was autumnal as we set off at the all too familiar
-hour of eight a.m. for 'Mite's River Hut. By autumnal I mean it looked as if the day was going to be a repeat of the first two days but less cold.
-We got to the hut so early we decided to knock off the Rolling Ground and
-Mt. Tate as well and get back to our happy spot at Pounds Creek. The 26 km was too much for Brian's feet, which looked pre-masticated by the time w6 got there. The wind, which had been strong all day, really got going and niade cooking very difficult. Once again my thoughts turned to the Perisher Mob. No doubt they were planning the execution of wonderful culinary feats
-over a few pre-dinner drinks. I discovered a teaspoon each of the good stuff
-left over from the night before. My dinner of scrambled powdered egg, eaten' in the shelter of a tent, was quite delicious, thank you:
-Up till the last day we had all .been quite serious about this strange
-bushwalking business. Barry had co-led, mostly from the front; and Jim had co-led, mostly from the rear; giving succour to the wounded and faith
-to the fainthearted. Although we had walked a long way already, on the
-lp,st day we decided to add a bit more to our trip and whizz out to The Sentinal and back. Since I was the only one who had been there before, the co-leaders
-naively entrusted me with route-finding. We did have a lovely walk out to the end of Watson's Crags!. Those who pronounced this effort to be superior to The Sentinal anyway got hugs.
-A huge drift hung above Blue Lake. Out came pieces of plastic, garbage bags, rubber bats, anything that would slide, and we took the slope the 'easy' way - on our bottoms. This part of the mountain was alive with people; some heard us shrieking with laughter as we tramped back up the
-slope for another go. One of these innocents caused quite a stir when she
-said she hoped she would be like us when she was as old as we were: There
-was another big drift above Healey Tarn which we treated with more respect
-a4_ it sloped steeply into icy water. We made Charlotte's Pass by six p.m. ',wanted to visit Kandahar; but the thought of six bedraggled bods arriving snack in the middle of dinner would be too much even for B.B., I reckoned. Instead we went back to Sawpit for hot showers and into Jindabyne, where we
-finished the walk in fine style at the Bowling Club. This is a good spot to know about, although Colin wishes he'd never heard of itl We had had atterrific week with lots of variety, and our little party had worked well as a group. Joan was pushing our luck a bit when she tried to convince
-the ranger that we were a family and should only pay for one campsite at Sawpit, but we all will remember the ambiance of this trip for a long time.
-* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
-Page ._.5	THE SYDNEY Med
-January, 1982.
-'
 =MONTHS' LONG SERVICE LEA...1TE
 by Evelyn Walker. LINDOS.