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--- 198307 [2016/03/24 13:42] – kclacher
+++ 198307 [2016/03/24 15:12] – kclacher
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 | Lonely voices moan over windswept Curra Moors, |
-|    Flower buds lie dormant under spiky stem and leaf. |
+|  Flower buds lie dormant under spiky stem and leaf. |
-| Honeyeaters vie for insects with fruity nectar yet to come, ||
+| Honeyeaters vie for insects with fruity nectar yet to come, |
-|    State of slumber and storage as winter brings relief. |
+|  State of slumber and storage as winter brings relief. |
 | Full-throated chorus of multitudes not yet reborn, |
-|    However this lack of nature's symphony shall be brief. |
+|  However this lack of nature's symphony shall be brief. |
 | |
 | Murmuring Curra Brook matures as surging stream |
-|    Falling freely into ocean's arms, as the fishes it delights. |
+|  Falling freely into ocean's arms, as the fishes it delights. |
 | Eagle Rock's baleful eye, misses not a beat of nature's moods, |
-|    Whilst craggy sandstone cliffs can test our nerve for heights. |
+|  Whilst craggy sandstone cliffs can test our nerve for heights. |
 | Our minds drift over coastline, heathlands and ocean vista |
-|    Joining soaring gannet and sooty tern on migratory flights. |
+|  Joining soaring gannet and sooty tern on migratory flights. |
 | |
 | Corracorang waterhole relieves many a parched throat, |
-|    Crystal clear waters soothe and revive tired, aching hides. |
+|  Crystal clear waters soothe and revive tired, aching hides. |
 | The quietude of its bay belies its closeness to the city, |
-|    A perfect place to let our life flow rythmically with the tides. |
+|  A perfect place to let our life flow rythmically with the tides. |
 | Soon the drab heath will dazzle the eye with a myriad of blooms, |
-|   Colouring our memories of dormant heathlands, whatever fate decides. |
+|  Colouring our memories of dormant heathlands, whatever fate decides. |
 ===== Vale - Kath McKay =====
 On 4th June last and in the presence of her niece, Catherine, old family friends and bushwalkers of other days, the ashes of our loved member were committed to the bush in a quiet corner of one of her favourite areas, the Ku-Ring-Gai Chase National Park. This simple yet dignified ceremony had been arranged by The Dungalla Club. One of Kath's old walking companions, Laurence (Mouldy) Harrison, addressed those assembled, recapping her love of the great outdoors, her unusual qualities and pleasant personality and her contributions to her old Club (Sydney Bush Walkers), not only in good comradeship but in prose and verse in recognition of all of which, in her twilight years, she was elected an Honorary Member.
@@ Line 116: / Line 117: @@
 Anonymous
-Having been a participant on Bill Capon's Anzac Walk in the Ettrema area, I feel I must clear our leader's reputation and set the records straight. (Reference: The.Sydney Bushwalker, June Issue, Pages 2 to 6)
+Having been a participant on Bill Capon's Anzac Walk in the Ettrema area, I feel I must clear our leader's reputation and set the records straight. (Reference: The Sydney Bushwalker, June Issue, Pages 2 to 6)
 Bill's apparent disorganization, his mess of plastic bags and broken yogurt containers, and his holey jumpers and inside-out T-shirts, all disguise the brilliant qualities we look for and admire in a leader. I jest you not, and the Anzac Walk proved my point. Despite the difficulty of the Ettrema area, his navigation was "spot-on", and the error on Danjera Plateau was due to another party member's momentary misplacement. To this end, the article should be altered thus:
@@ Line 133: / Line 134: @@
   * Blending his pears and yogurt in his pack whilst moving along during the walk.
-We-cauld all take a lesson from his "economy of mofion" and navig.ational skills.	I look forward to more of Bill's walks, particularly in
+We could all take a lesson from his "economy of motion" and navig ational skills. I look forward to more of Bill's walks, particularly in this beautiful area.
-this beautiful area.
-,;..:L;c:	.
-===== THE CASE OF THE DIRTY SaNDSHOES =====
+===== The Case of the Dirty Sandshoes =====
 by Jim Brown
-In the May issue of the magazine a Federation newsletter was enclosed: this contained an outline of the search conducted an the Colo River for two young people, Ana Herzel and Nick Gann, who undertook a trip into the Colo Gorge in mid-March this year, and were a few days overdue before walking out under their ovin steam on Friday, 18th March. In the meantime a large Police- organised S. & R. action had been mounted, with some 60 walkers including members of S.B.W. taking part.
+In the May issue of the magazine a Federation newsletter was enclosed: this contained an outline of the search conducted an the Colo River for two young people, Ana Herzel and Nick Gann, who undertook a trip into the Colo Gorge in mid-March this year, and were a few days overdue before walking out under their own steam on Friday, 18th March. In the meantime a large Police-organised S. & R. action had been mounted, with some 60 walkers including members of S.B.W. taking part.
-During the May meeting of Federation, which I actually attended as a Bush Club delegate, a letter from Ana Herzel's mother was read. In addition to enclosing a cheque for S. & R., it spoke eloquently of the kindness, encouragement and assistance given to parents of the missing couple by the S. & R. people present at the Culoul Range base. Now, I won't swear to the
-exact words, but MTS. Herzel wrote something along the lines of "every time
-I see a pair of sand shoes, I will want to step an them and make them dirty like the shoes of the wonderful people who
-The dirty sand shoes: I thought about it as the letter was read, and,
-because none of us is completely free of sinful pride, I recalled that I was
-one of the first S.B.W. to adopt the sand shoe for walking in the N.S.W. bush. That the sand shoes become dirty is, of course, a corollary of bush- walking: that their dirtiness has now become - to one lady at least - a symbol of activity and kindness, well that's just heartening.
-At some stage, about 1948, I decided the boots I had been wearing daring my prospective period and early membership were not for me. Many years later one of my work-fellows, at the close of a particularly crushing day at the office, would say "Well, bye-bye. There must be an easier way to make a living". This was my feeling - there must be an:easier way to go walking.
-In conversation with Tom Moppett, the then President, I learned that
-some pre-war walkers had worn either golf shoes or "sneakers" (leather upper
-with rubber sole). Siane I had worn these sneakers on some of my own freelance pre-war trips, I was easily persuaded and found that, although they had been out of production during the war years, they were once more available.
-I invested in a pair. The effect was remarkable, for a lightly-boned person. At the. end of a long day I was still moving fairly easily with my feet shod in 2 lbs of leather and rubber, instead of the massive 4t-5 lbs of leather and metal (all boots were then studded with hobnails). When, at the end of a long day one emerged on the sealed road for the last mile-and-a-half into Katoomba or Blackheath or Kiama, the rubber felt kindly on the feet, while nailed boots send a metallic jar right up the spine.
-After a few, experiments, I began to talk others into it. My boon companions of the time, Ken 'Meadows and Phil Hall, were the first to succumb. In February 1948, Ken and I romped across the Alps, 95 miles from Tumbarumba to Kosciusko to Khancoban,in five days in sneakers. Our only problem was in crossing a-snow slope on the east,face of Twynam when our rubber soles iced up and we began to slither down an unpleasantly steep slope towards the rocks. We realised that rubber was marvellous on dry rocks and sandy tracks, but needed a different walking technique on mud, mossy stones .
-and snow.
-In January 1950, I wore boots for the last time on a trip in Tasmania, where mud, snakes and leeches were deeted-to make -them'essential. I had such a miserable time that I left a ioair of boots in the hut in Mount Field National Park, and used an almost worn-out pair of sneakers down to the National Park railway station.
-.	Of course, some of my converts to sneakers really didntt enjoy it.
-It was a case of the man who "tried it once, didn't like it". I remember I coaxed Roy Braggy into sneakers for a jaunt on the Grose River and he had such. a bad time, slipping and sliding and with battered feet, that he went back to nailed boots.
-The big blow fell about 1951 when the manufacturers decided sneakers were either unprofitable or in insufficient demand, and ceased producing
-them. However, by this time I was so sold an light rubber footwear that I immediately switched to sand shoes - initially the 10s.6th variety sold by
-Coles and Woolworths, which would give me perhaps 80 mileS of hard going
-under wet conditions or 150 miles in kinder circumstances.
-Now, I can't pretend that I persuaded, cajoled or no-erced others to use the same footwear, but somehow people like Snow Brown, Garth Coulter,
-Ross. Laird and Geoff Wags, who came to the Club about 1952-3, all went straight into sand shoes. They were the tiger walkers of the. early 50's, so what they wore -became the "in thins". I know, in due course, I learned from Snow that,
-if you wore )light nylon socks with sand shoes, insteadiof the usual heavy
-woollen sock's, you were less likely to suffer blisters.
-Where boots were once the symbol of the bush walker, it seems now to be
-accepted that, in our easy N.S.T, conditions, sand shoes are the conventonal footwear. I suppose I had some hand in it (should I say "some foot in it"?), but I was happy to hear that, for Mrs. Herzel,'the dirty sand shot has some significance.
-===== SOCIAL NOTES FOR AUGUST =====
+During the May meeting of Federation, which I actually attended as a Bush Club delegate, a letter from Ana Herzel's mother was read. In addition to enclosing a cheque for S. & R., it spoke eloquently of the kindness, encouragement and assistance given to parents of the missing couple by the S. & R. people present at the Culoul Range base. Now, I won't swear to the exact words, but Mrs Herzel wrote something along the lines of "every time I see a pair of sandshoes, I will want to step on them and make them dirty like the shoes of the wonderful people who...
+The dirty sandshoes| I thought about it as the letter was read, and, because none of us is completely free of sinful pride, I recalled that I was one of the first S.B.W. to adopt the sandshoe for walking in the N.S.W. bush. That the sandshoes become dirty is, of course, a corollary of bushwalking: that their dirtiness has now become - to one lady at least - a symbol of activity and kindness, well that's just heartening.
+At some stage, about 1948, I decided the boots I had been wearing during my prospective period and early membership were not for me. Many years later one of my work-fellows, at the close of a particularly crushing day at the office, would say "Well, bye-bye. There must be an easier way to make a living". This was my feeling - there must be an easier way to go walking.
+In conversation with Tom Moppett, the then President, I learned that some pre-war walkers had worn either golf shoes or "sneakers" (leather upper with rubber sole). Since I had worn these sneakers on some of my own freelance pre-war trips, I was easily persuaded and found that, although they had been out of production during the war years, they were once more available. I invested in a pair. The effect was remarkable, for a lightly-boned person. At the end of a long day I was still moving fairly easily with my feet shod in 2 lbs of leather and rubber, instead of the massive 4-5 lbs of leather and metal (all boots were then studded with hobnails). When, at the end of a long day one emerged on the sealed road for the last mile-and-a-half into Katoomba or Blackheath or Kiama, the rubber felt kindly on the feet, while nailed boots send a metallic jar right up the spine.
+After a few, experiments, I began to talk others into it. My boon companions of the time, Ken Meadows and Phil Hall, were the first to succumb. In February 1948, Ken and I romped across the Alps, 95 miles from Tumbarumba to Kosciusko to Khancoban, in five days in sneakers. Our only problem was in crossing a snow slope on the east face of Twynam when our rubber soles iced up and we began to slither down an unpleasantly steep slope towards the rocks. We realised that rubber was marvelous on dry rocks and sandy tracks, but needed a different walking technique on mud, mossy stones and snow.
+In January 1950, I wore boots for the last time on a trip in Tasmania, where mud, snakes and leeches were deemed to make them essential. I had such a miserable time that I left a pair of boots in the hut in Mount Field National Park, and used an almost worn-out pair of sneakers down to the National Park railway station.
+Of course, some of my converts to sneakers really didntt enjoy it. It was a case of the man who "tried it once, didn't like it". I remember I coaxed Roy Bruggy into sneakers for a jaunt on the Grose River and he had such a bad time, slipping and sliding and with battered feet, that he went back to nailed boots.
+The big blow fell about 1951 when the manufacturers decided sneakers were either unprofitable or in insufficient demand, and ceased producing them. However, by this time I was so sold an light rubber footwear that I immediately switched to sand shoes - initially the 10s.6th variety sold by Coles and Woolworths, which would give me perhaps 80 miles of hard going under wet conditions or 150 miles in kinder circumstances.
+Now, I can't pretend that I persuaded, cajoled or coerced others to use the same footwear, but somehow people like Snow Brown, Garth Coulter, Ross Laird and Geoff Wagg, who came to the Club about 1952-3, all went straight into sandshoes. They were the tiger walkers of the early 50's, so what they wore became the "in thins". I know, in due course, I learned from Snow that, if you wore light nylon socks with sandshoes, instead of the usual heavy woolen socks, you were less likely to suffer blisters.
+Where boots were once the symbol of the bush walker, it seems now to be accepted that, in our easy N.S.W, conditions, sand shoes are the conventional footwear. I suppose I had some hand in it (should I say "some foot in it"?), but I was happy to hear that, for Mrs Herzel, the dirty sandshoe has some significance.
+===== Social Notes fro August =====
 by Jo Van Sommers
- August 17 - Talented Persons Concert.
+|* August 17 | Talented Persons Concert |
-Anyone who would like to join the line-up of singers and players and declaimers please contact
+| | Anyone who would like to join the line-up of singers and players and declaimers please contact
-Owen Marks - Phone 30-187.
+Owen Marks - Phone 30-187. |
-August 24	- Peter Christian will show a series of. slides with
+| August 24 | Peter Christian will show a series of slides with natural sound effects titled -
-natural sound effects titled -
+"Kosciusko to New England". |
-"Kosciusko to New England".
+| August 31 | Bush Dancing, with caller.  8 - 10 pm. Nothing complicated, just good fun. |
-August 31	Bush Dancing, with caller.	- 8 - 10 pm. Nothing complicated, just good fun.
+* Everyone is invited to meet beforehand at the Phuong Vietnamese Restaurant, 6:30 pm.	B.Y.0;
- Everyone is invited to meet beforehand at the Phuong Vietnamese Restaurant,.30 pm.	B.Y.0;
 Willoughby Road, Crow's Nest.
-===== NERRIGA AREA - YADBORO ESCARPMENT - THE CASTLE - DRURY'S =====
+===== Nerriga Area - Yadboro Escarpment - The Castle - Drury's =====
 by Frank Leyden
-//(Following the reprint of Ron Knightley's article on an early trip into the Budawangs, and the reprint of the article by Frank Rigby and Malcolm McGregor of a climb up the east face of The Castle, we are planning to reproduce further write-ups of exploratory walks in this area, now so well known but then only being opened up by walkers. There follows an amusing "horror story" by Frank Leyden of a trip led
+//(Following the reprint of Ron Knightley's article on an early trip into the Budawangs, and the reprint of the article by Frank Rigby and Malcolm McGregor of a climb up the east face of The Castle, we are planning to reproduce further write-ups of exploratory walks in this area, now so well known but then only being opened up by walkers. There follows an amusing "horror story" by Frank Leyden of a trip led by Alex Colley over Easter 1959 and published in the May 1959 issue of the magazine together with reminiscences by other members of the party. The true grit of S.B.W. walkers is clearly revealed.
-by Alex Colley over Easter 1959 and published in the May issue of the magazine together with reminiscences by other members of the party.//
-The true grit of S.B.W. walkers is clearly revealed.
+For those wanting to trace the route on a map it should be pointed out that some place names have been altered since then. Jerricknorra Creek is now Wog Wog Creek, The Peak is now Corang Peak, Mount Renwick, the large rocky plateau west of Monolith Valley. It was first dubbed Mt. Renwick by walkers, and later the portion north of the crevasse which bisects it was called Mount Roswaine. In some subsequent maps Renwick became "Mt Owen" and Roswaine "Mt Cole", and these are the names by which most walkers know the plateau.
-For those wanting to trace the route on a map it should be pointed
-out that some place names have been altered since then. Jerricknorra Creek is now Tog Wog Creek, The Peak is now. Corang Peak, Mount Renwick,
-the large rocky plateau west of Monolith Valley. It was first dubbed Mt. Renwick by walkers, and later the portion north of the crevasse
-which bisects it was called Mount Roswaine. In some subsequent maps Renwick became "Mt .Owen" and Roswaine "Mt .Cole", and these are the names by which most walkers know the plateau. .
-"Drury's" - A property several miles south-west from Milton and not
-far from Pigeon House Mountain.	This was the accepted way of access
-to the Clyde River before construction of the road into Yadboro Flat.)
-A'flack of black cockatoos circled above the tree. tops uttering their screaming "wheelo" cries. But their portent of bad weather seemed so inapprogriate that morning along the green banks of Jerricknorra Creek. The sun shone from a clear sky, and the air was crisp and clear with the
-highland freshness. Anyway how can birds in the sky compete for attention with bull-ants on the ground, especially at lunch time? But not even bull-ants, nor-the-next party's cooking &poke in the eyes, could dispel the'  optimism.of Alex Colley's party of sixteen happy walkers. None suspected that the buoyancy of the spirits on that bright morning would yield, within a few short days, to the buoyancy of the'bodies.
-The line of approach from the Mongarlowe road is normally a compass beering.on The Peak approximately ENE of_Jerrichnorra crossing. Ilex took' a ridge more to the north, to avoid some of the ups and downs and dense scrub. After a.couple of miles a rocky top was reached, the watershed of the Corang - River, and there, straight ahead to the ENE, was The Peak. The direct
-approach, althaugh.descending.and beckoning, some of us had cause to know was pretty exercising. The party sat down and muttered. But when the leader
-reappeared from his reconnaissance they were docile and obedient. About a mile or so and the ridge cathe'around to the east, and lo a-bridle track. Nekt time I think we will follaw the open country on the right bank of the Jerricknorra to the clearings west of "The Twins" where this track would originate.
-Our ridge now started to,narrow and-the trees gave place to open.high . country with low scrub. A Great gorge to the north, the Peak to the east and 2000 ft Of cliff and steeps to the south (Yadboro Creek Gorge) with  Currockbilly beyond bathed in sunset splendour, was the setting for our camp. Alan Abbott somehow couldn't get aluminium tent pegs to go into rook. In fact, getting in the 81 tent pegs of the party occasioned more than passing caMment.	The camp was elevated and-a'15uff-af wind on that treeleSS slope
-would have aludhilated_us.. _However, it:didn't-puff.	Those whom the gods
-love get saved up for sanething-better. _
-Gurrockbilly drew up layers of mist of varying shades and patterns to base the orange and red cumulus in the glory of the sunset. But the pattern was changing fast, and the saddle just below us misted over. Fortunately it soon cleared. The clouds vanish/id and left a clear starry sky. Then
-came the next performance. A magnificent display of the Aurora Australis,
-Nature's neon signs, filled the sky to the far south. Wide streaks and bands of light of faint pastel shades arose, changed and then vanished.
-Next morning was misty and as we climbed higher the ground got wetter. The summit of The Peak was disappointing, as only fleeting glimpses were
-seen of Pigeon House, the ocean and the rugged gorges around us. The)Peak is practically a perfect cone and is quite treeless. It rises some hundreds
-of feet above its ridge, and is prominent for many miles in most directions.
-To get off the plateau-like area around The Peak means a drop over a cliff. The gentlest drop is to follow a ridge right out to its end, going about NE. Down below the route took us over swamps, keeping the same general direction towards the point called "Battleship Rock" (7 south end of Mt. Tarn). A ridge to the south took us back on to the escarpment above the trees and into the mist, skirting to the north of a smaller grassy peak and on to a
-small creek for lunch. The whole area was oozing with water as if it had been raining for months. In the afternoon we pushed up the north-end clift
-on to Mt. Renwick. Yvonne Renwick, busy with her camera, recorded the mist and the burnt-out beauty of the family mountain.
-'Crossing the top_ to the southward we came to the crevasse that traverses the plateau. Access to this is straight dawn a crack for about 20 feet with a-good stance in the centre.	"I'm not going down there," said a voice.
-"It's nothing.	Even I can do it....Lookl"	"Give us your pack. We'll take it down, and if you don't want to come, we'll bring it 11D again."
-"Don't look down, just put your foot over there, the other one on my shoulder and your back in here. Now lift this and put it on Brian Harvey and the other on John Scott and you're half down."
-.A mighty struggle and we were down, packs and all. Then the white ants collea*d on the ground and the elite climbed up the other side to see the . view from the south end of Mt. Renwick in the mist. This did not take long. In clear weather, however, this view is really fine and takes its place amongst those many outstanding panoramas exclusive to walkers.
-The next move was to get off Mt. R4nwick by going eastward down the crevasSe. We struggled .through dense and tangling undergrowth, with rotting log, loose and slimy rocks in the narrow daric wet chasm, getting rougher and steeper.as we descended. Near the bottom we were stopped by a 15-foot-sheer drop flanked by a deep cavernous pool in a narrow cleft. Bill Rodgers battled down and back with a great effort and relying on matted roots, but the sight of his quivering muscles deterred the party. We managed to get up
-the cliff to the right with another mighty struggle, and went' back to our starting point at the top.	Some chose to go down into the crevasse at .its
-_shallowest point and beat out a caMp site, and the rest camped on the odd
-patches .of swamp between the enormous rock slabs on the southern side of
-the rift.
-Towards the end of the evening meal the mist turned to light rain. Everyone was tired. Tents were braced. Fires and voices became lower. From the crevasse depths about:40 ft below came a continental accent, a flicker of sparks, a faint .glow, then blackness and silence. The rain steadily incresed, drumming on the taut tent sheets. I got out and looked
+"Drury's" - A property several miles south-west from Milton and not far from Pigeon House Mountain. This was the accepted way of access to the Clyde River before construction of the road into Yadboro Flat.//
-. at the back of the tent, behind the bushes which had been selected as a wind-break. A large area of flat rock sloped down, draining towards the tent. Above that, the run-off from the next shelf was descending and so on to the top. The gully towards my tent drained about an acre. So in the event of six inches of rain, 136,000 gallons of water would pass through the tent.	It did!
-There was no escape. The plugs were all pulled out and down it came.
-'At the.start I knew there was nowhere to move to,,so T.pat clothes 41the,:pack and 'got into the bag in swimming trunks. I managed to get the first part of the usuaLnightmare over before being suddenly awakened. Bill Cosgrove was
-WET.. In fact, he was partially submerged. Salvation was in the li-los,
-which were blown up another couple Of notches. A wail came from Jean Harvey in the darkneWs - the tide was rising.. Then came the sounds of Max Gentle's tent giving way, and his going in with David Ingram. I lay half-awahe, submerged to the'knees. The lilo and waterproof pack were invaluable.
-In the morning we had a cold breakfast and, drank the water from the ground in the tent as needed. Sodden gear was packed, and we lost no time in battling up the crack on the other side and so back to the cleft of .our original entry an ton. Renwick (this would be the natural pass between The Donjon and Mt. Cole.) There Were some murmurings and threats of mutiny in vievvof fear of the Clyde River being'impassable. But Alex soon quelled this with soft words, and with docile obedience the.Tplunged into the vegetation-choked chasm
-	and followed him; their'packt.00zing wet tents and wet sleeping bags. -
-A few hundred yards eastward and we pulled out on to a shelf an the right,'leading.,to another great. plift between' the cliffs of Mt. Ejnwick'and
-three great spires as massive as Belougery. After some complicated manoenvring we came to a saddle in a high valley, surrounded by cliffs, spires and
-chasms, with even a "bread-knife" rock thrown in. (Later known as Monolith 'Talley.) Here would be the place for a base camp for a few days. It is really impressive.
-Dropping eastward down a creek below the north -W11, weilescended the roughest and scruffiest of the gorges so far. An hour or more of 'descentto the steep waterfall and below this 'came sidling,below.the cliffs of the "North
-Col" of The Castle. In rain, mist and cold and with time running out, , We
-.struggled down the great rugged slope west from the saddle.
-Yadboro Creek and all side creeks were' in high flood. 'But it was great to be among the trees again and get some big log fire's going to dry out-the sleeping bags.. During .the. evening cooking, that doleful burst of song about "Poor Old Ned" rose in brief Polyphonic crescendo and diedsUcIderilylike-a chorus of cicadas between Showers..
+A flock of black cockatoos circled above the tree. tops uttering their screaming "wheelo" cries. But their portent of bad weather seemed so inapprogriate that morning along the green banks of Jerricknorra Creek. The sun shone from a clear sky, and the air was crisp and clear with the highland freshness. Anyway how can birds in the sky compete for attention with bull-ants on the ground, especially at lunch time? But not even bull-ants, nor-the-next party's cooking smoke in the eyes, could dispel the  optimism of Alex Colley's party of sixteen happy walkers. None suspected that the buoyancy of the spirits on that bright morning would yield, within a few short days, to the buoyancy of the bodies.
-.
-Next morning we walked half a mile up the' 'Clyde',	to tlhere it was
+The line of approach from the Mongarlowe road is normally a compass bearing on The Peak approximately ENE of_Jerrichnorra crossing. Alex took a ridge more to the north, to avoid some of the ups and downs and dense scrub. After a couple of miles a rocky top was reached, the watershed of the Corang River, and there, straight ahead to the ENE, was The Peak. The direct approach, although descending and beckoning, some of us had cause to know was pretty exercising. The party sat down and muttered. But when the leader reappeared from his reconnaissance they were docile and obedient. About a mile or so and the ridge came around to the east, and lo! a bridle track. Next time I think we will follow the open country on the right bank of the Jerricknorra to the clearings west of "The Twins" where this track would originate.
-wide and deep and the 'current less strong and "floated" over in whatever' could .begot yet. .Some even trielfloating the packs up-side down, but Irene: ' Pridham floated' right-way-Up, as also the "piece de resiStance", David Ingram,
-towed on a lilo.  We even had" to "float' over" the Boyne Creek after a lunch
+Our ridge now started to narrow and the trees gave place to open high country with low scrub. A great gorge to the north, the Peak to the east and 2000 ft of cliff and steeps to the south (Yadboro Creek Gorge) with  Currockbilly beyond bathed in sunset splendour, was the setting for our camp. Alan Abbott somehow couldn't get aluminium tent pegs to go into rook. In fact, getting in the 81 tent pegs of the party occasioned more than passing comment. The camp was elevated and a stiff wind on that treeless slope would have annihilated_us. However, it didn't puff. Those whom the gods love get saved up for something better.
-Page 12	TEE SYDNEY BUSHWALKER	July,. 1983! ...
-frustrated by time and rain.
+Gurrockbilly drew up layers of mist of varying shades and patterns to base the orange and red cumulus in the glory of the sunset. But the pattern was changing fast, and the saddle just below us misted over. Fortunately it soon cleared. The clouds vanished and left a clear starry sky. Then came the next performance. A magnificent display of the Aurora Australis, Nature's neon signs, filled the sky to the far south. Wide streaks and bands of light of faint pastel shades arose, changed and then vanished.
-The last run into Drury's was a gallop, but of no avail. Fortunately,
-our hired bus had waited, but at Nora the lasttrain was missed. We were joined in our bus by a Bush Club party, also delayed by the floods. It was
+Next morning was misty and as we climbed higher the ground got wetter. The summit of The Peak was disappointing, as only fleeting glimpses were seen of Pigeon House, the ocean and the rugged gorges around us. The Peak is practically a perfect cone and is quite treeless. It rises some hundreds of feet above its ridge, and is prominent for many miles in most directions.
-Alex who, by stout efforts to the last, got us out of the predicament, and managed to organize a special bus all the way from Nowra to Sydney. Cheers to the leader
-In the same magazine was published comment by several of the people who survived the "Night on Bare Mountain". A few ..extracts from these accounts follows-
+To get off the plateau-like area around The Peak means a drop over a cliff. The gentlest drop is to follow a ridge right out to its end, going about NE. Down below the route took us over swamps, keeping the same general direction towards the point called "Battleship Rock" (? south end of Mt. Tarn). A ridge to the south took us back on to the escarpment above the trees and into the mist, skirting to the north of a smaller grassy peak and on to a small creek for lunch. The whole area was oozing with water as if it had been raining for months. In the afternoon we pushed up the north-end cleft on to Mt Renwick. Yvonne Renwick, busy with her camera, recorded the mist and the burnt-out beauty of the family mountain.
-From the Leader Alex Colley. - Having spent many a wet weekend at Jamberoo, not far_from.Peter.Page's rain gauge, I think I can estimate precipitation
-	fairly well. For ,long stretches of the night the rate of fall must have been at least an inch an hour, and the night's total a good six inches (150 mm).
+Crossing the top to the southward we came to the crevasse that traverses the plateau. Access to this is straight dawn a crack for about 20 feet with a-good stance in the centre. "I'm not going down there," said a voice. "It's nothing.	Even I can do it....Look!" "Give us your pack. We'll take it down, and if you don't want to come, we'll bring it 11D again." "Don't look down, just put your foot over there, the other one on my shoulder and your back in here. Now lift this and put it on Brian Harvey and the other on John Scott and you're half down."
-. As the deluge intensified I recalled Frank Barlow's recent experience at
-Lamington during a similar downpour. The only place he could camp was on the track with groundsheet spread over the rivulet which ran dawn it. . During the night four large crayfish left the stream to share his couch. The morning after our wetting I asked Frank whether thebbsters had annoyed him, but he was too busy wringing the water out of his sleeping bag to heed my joke....
+A mighty struggle and we were down, packs and all. Then the white ants collapsed on the ground and the elite climbed up the other side to see the view from the south end of Mt Renwick in the mist. This did not take long. In clear weather, however, this view is really fine and takes its place amongst those many outstanding panoramas exclusive to walkers.
-From Yvonne Renwick -..Colley Constructions were furiously digging a canal around-the.tent, through which a three-inch stream of water moved at about
-knots. Alan continued the canal around the other end of the tent while I watched to see nothing was swept away by the tide.... Alex crawled outside
+The next move was to get off Mt Renwick by going eastward down the crevasse. We struggled through dense and tangling undergrowth, with rotting log, loose and slimy rocks in the narrow dark wet chasm, getting rougher and steeper as we descended. Near the bottom we were stopped by a 15-foot sheer drop flanked by a deep cavernous pool in a narrow cleft. Bill Rodgers battled down and back with a great effort and relying on matted roots, but the sight of his quivering muscles deterred the party. We managed to get up the cliff to the right with another mighty struggle, and went back to our starting point at the top. Some chose to go down into the crevasse at its shallowest point and beat out a camp site, and the rest camped on the odd patches of swamp between the enormous rock slabs on the southern side of the rift.
-when the rain cased a little and, returning about 10 minutes later, reported
-he had cleared a space on the crest of the rise, and if we moved camp we should have no more trouble with water rushing through the tent.... We stuffed our gear into our packs, which were swirling around in the .deeper pools, up-rooted the tent and.faught our way through the wet scrub to the cleared space. Alex and Alan re-erected the tent - an awkward business as all the cords had become hopelessly tangled and had to be cut and re-tied. Looking through the-Saplings I could see two grotesque figures crawling around in the mud, making strange noises and passing an evil-looking knife from.ane to the other'
+Towards the end of the evening meal the mist turned to light rain. Everyone was tired. Tents were braced. Fires and voices became lower. From the crevasse depths about 40 ft below came a continental accent, a flicker of sparks, a faint glow, then blackness and silence. The rain steadily increased, drumming on the taut tent sheets. I got out and looked at the back of the tent, behind the bushes which had been selected as a wind-break. A large area of flat rock sloped down, draining towards the tent. Above that, the run-off from the next shelf was descending and so on to the top. The gully towards my tent drained about an acre. So in the event of six inches of rain, 136,000 gallons of water would pass through the tent. It did!
-From Jean Harve. -....All were averse to braving the elements to dig trenches, so, still in our bags, we turned on to our tummies and, advancing bare hands under the edge of the tent, we dug, finger to finger, a series of ingenious channels which eventually turned the stream of water away from our heads.
-Brian suggested we get out of our sodden sleeping bags and spend the night
+There was no escape. The plugs were all pulled out and down it came. At the start I knew there was nowhere to move to, so I put clothes into the pack and got into the bag in swimming trunks. I managed to get the first part of the usual nightmare over before being suddenly awakened. Bill Cosgrove was //**wet**//. In fact, he was actually submerged. Salvation was in the li-los, which were blown up another couple Of notches. A wail came from Jean Harvey in the darkness - the tide was rising. Then came the sounds of Max Gentle's tent giving way, and his going in with David Ingram. I lay half-awake, submerged to the knees. The lilo and waterproof pack were invaluable.
-sitting up. As it was not yet midnight, Irene and I protested volubly against such folly, preferring pneumonia recumbent, enclosed in bag, to pneumonia
+In the morning we had a cold breakfast and drank the water from the ground in the tent as needed. Sodden gear was packed, and we lost no time in battling up the crack on the other side and so back to the cleft of our original entry on to Mt Renwick (this would be the natural pass between Mt Donjon and Mt Cole.) There were some murmurings and threats of mutiny in view of fear of the Clyde River being impassable. But Alex soon quelled this with soft words, and with docile obedience they plunged into the vegetation-choked chasm and followed him, their packs oozing wet tents and wet sleeping bags.
+A few hundred yards eastward and we pulled out on to a shelf on the right, leading to another great cleft between the cliffs of Mt Renwick and three great spires as massive as Belougery. After some complicated maneuvering we came to a saddle in a high valley, surrounded by cliffs, spires and chasms, with even a "bread-knife" rock thrown in. (Later known as Monolith Valley.) Here would be the place for a base camp for a few days. It is really impressive.
+Dropping eastward down a creek below the north wall, we descended the roughest and scruffiest of the gorges so far. An hour or more of descent to the steep waterfall and below this came sidling below the cliffs of the "North Col" of The Castle. In rain, mist and cold and with time running out, we struggled down the great rugged slope west from the saddle.
+Yadboro Creek and all side creeks were in high flood. But it was great to be among the trees again and get some big log fires going to dry out the sleeping bags. During the evening cooking, that doleful burst of song about "Poor Old Ned" rose in brief polyphonic crescendo and died suddenly like a chorus of cicadas between showers.
+Next morning we walked half a mile up the Clyde River to where it was wide and deep and the current less strong and "floated" over in whatever could be got wet. Some even tried floating the packs upside down, but Irene Pridham floated right-way-Up, as also the "piece de resistance", David Ingram, towed on a lilo.  We even had" to "float' over" the Boyne Creek after a lunch frustrated by time and rain.
+The last run into Drury's was a gallop, but of no avail. Fortunately, our hired bus had waited, but at Nowra the last train was missed. We were joined in our bus by a Bush Club party, also delayed by the floods. It was
+Alex who, by stout efforts to the last, got us out of the predicament, and managed to organize a special bus all the way from Nowra to Sydney. Cheers to the leader!
+//In the same magazine was published comment by several of the people who survived the "Night on Bare Mountain". A few extracts from these accounts follows://
+__From the Leader Alex Colley.__ - Having spent many a wet weekend at Jamberoo, not far from Peter Page's rain gauge, I think I can estimate precipitation fairly well. For long stretches of the night the rate of fall must have been at least an inch an hour, and the night's total a good six inches (150 mm). As the deluge intensified I recalled Frank Barlow's recent experience at Lamington during a similar downpour. The only place he could camp was on the track with groundsheet spread over the rivulet which ran down it. During the night four large crayfish left the stream to share his couch. The morning after our wetting I asked Frank whether the lobsters had annoyed him, but he was too busy wringing the water out of his sleeping bag to heed my joke....
+__From Yvonne Renwick__ - Colley Constructions were furiously digging a canal around the.tent, through which a three-inch stream of water moved at about 8 knots. Alan continued the canal around the other end of the tent while I watched to see nothing was swept away by the tide.... Alex crawled outside when the rain eased a little and, returning about 10 minutes later, reported he had cleared a space on the crest of the rise, and if we moved camp we should have no more trouble with water rushing through the tent.... We stuffed our gear into our packs, which were swirling around in the deeper pools, up-rooted the tent and fought our way through the wet scrub to the cleared space. Alex and Alan re-erected the tent - an awkward business as all the cords had become hopelessly tangled and had to be cut and re-tied. Looking through the saplings I could see two grotesque figures crawling around in the mud, making strange noises and passing an evil-looking knife from one to the other,
+__From Jean Harvey__ - All were averse to braving the elements to dig trenches, so, still in our bags, we turned on to our tummies and, advancing bare hands under the edge of the tent, we dug, finger to finger, a series of ingenious channels which eventually turned the stream of water away from our heads. Brian suggested we get out of our sodden sleeping bags and spend the night sitting up. As it was not yet midnight, Irene and I protested volubly against such folly, preferring pneumonia recumbent, enclosed in bag, to pneumonia
 sitting up, without bag.
-From Frank Barlow (this perhaps has some slight exaggerations) -
-heard-was exactly like that thunderous sound one hears when standing at the foot of Niagara Falls. As a wall of water 6 inches deep washes through my tent
-I see my pack disappear through the flaps and slide away down the slope. Leaping
-out into the deluge I rescued it 100 ft down.the slope.  To get back to the
-tent I had to swim and leap up the rapids like a salmon. Into the flapping tent
-I flung myself only to discover that the graandsheet had disappeared.. I found
-it together with my sleeping bag caught against a large rock.....
-===== TREKKING THROUGH THE MCPHERSON RANGES, NOVEMBER 1982 PART 10 =====
+__From Frank Barlow__ (this perhaps has some slight exaggerations) - What I heard was exactly like that thunderous sound one hears when standing at the foot of Niagara Falls. As a wall of water 6 inches deep washes through my tent I see my pack disappear through the flaps and slide away down the slope. Leaping
-by "'Rai. Liddle
+out into the deluge I rescued it 100 ft down the slope.  To get back to the tent I had to swim and leap up the rapids like a salmon. Into the flapping tent I flung myself only to discover that the groundsheet had disappeared. I found it together with my sleeping bag caught against a large rock.....
+===== Trekking Through the McPherson Ranges, November 1982 Part I =====
+by Wal. Liddle
+Through a break in the white fairy floss clouds we could see the high rise apartment towers of the Gold Coast silhouetted against the blue-gray of the coastline. The pilot's voice came over the intercom "Fasten seat belts, extinguish all cigarettes." as the plane started on its descent flight path.
+The airbus 200 landed at Brisbane airport one hour twenty minutes after take off from Mascot. Our group of three were greeted by the tour leader Pat and co-leader Mark (a biologist) and escorted to a waiting minibus. The bus then proceeded to the South Brisbane interstate railway station where another of the Sydney people was waiting, having traveled by train the night before. A further stop in one of the suburbs to pick up a local walker and we were on our way to the McPherson Ranges. At Nerang 45 miles from Brisbane Pat stopped the bus and loaded our victuals on board.
+From here we proceeded to Beechmont and stopped at Rosettas Lookout which is situated on a high road at the top of the mountain. The vantage spot presented a breath-taking view looking down into a deep but wide valley, the light green of the cleared farm areas standing out against the dark green bush of the mountain side. A wire fence plunged down the steep slope on our left with three high tension power lines above effectively diving the boundaries of the land. Two brightly coloured hang gliders could be seen in the distance, the pilots taking advantage of the updrafts to soar like eagles, whilst a young man was navigating a radio controlled model plane at the top of the slope.
+Resuming our journey we proceeded to Natural Bridge which consisted of a cave and natural stone arch above a deep crystal blue waterhole in a beautiful bush setting. Picnickers from the city were having lunch under the trees whilst the younger members were swimming in the waterhole. The more adventurous were climbing the sides of the cave and then diving into the pool. A stone flagged path led upwards from the creek and waterhole to a rustic timber bridge halfway up the gully from where a sweeping view of the scenery and activities below was obtained.
+Our luncheon spot was on a dirt road near an A-frame house not far from Natural Bridge. As the luncheon was being prepared a strange cooing sound came from around the bend. Further investigation revealed that the sound emanated from a large fat pigeon that was waddling across the road. The bird was brown in colour with a white lower breast and was feeding on fallen berries and grass seeds. Mark indicated that this was a Wonga Pigeon.
+We then saw a black-faced fly catcher flying between the trees. This small bird was coloured blue-grey on its upper parts with an orange under belly and a black face.
+After devouring the last of our cheese sandwiches and finishing off the black tea the group piled into the bus and were driven to Binna Burra, a camping area adjacent to Lamington National Park. We pitched the two-man tents on a terraced area at the edge. of a mountain plateau with views towards the ocean. While setting up the tents we were introduced to Graham, a tree surgeon from Northern N.S.W. who was joining us as the last member of the bushwalking group.
+After dinner that evening Mark produced a large spotlight and attempted to show the party some of the animal and bird life that lived in the trees. Alas, all we found was a brown Boo Book Owl that seemed to be fast asleep in the fork of a low branched tree.
+We awoke the next morning to a hot and sunny day. Pat indicated that the bus would drive on to our next camping spot and we would only need the bare essentials for the day's walking. Whilst the breakfast was being prepared I strolled over to a cleared area close to the thick bush. Joyce was there before me taking photos of a family of pademelon wallabies that were grazing on grass seeds and small plants. Here also a scrub turkey was scratching in the dirt and undergrowth for berries and insects. The bird's plumage was black with a red head and a yellow band of colour around its scrawny neck.
+After breakfast Pat called the group together and indicated on the map our route for the day. Mark looked resplendent in khaki shorts, grey shirt, leather leggings and boots, complete with a Forestry Commission yellow hard hat. In addition to his haversack he was carrying a briefcase full of reference books and key maps.
-Through a break in the white fairy floss clouds we could.see the high rise apartment towers of the Gold Coast silhouetted againthe.blue-gray of the coast line.	The pilot's voice came over the interco4"Faste1 seat belts, extinguish all cigarettes," as the plane started on its descent' flight .path.
-The airbus 200 landed at Brisbane airport one hour twenty minutes 'after-take off from Mascot.
-Our group of three were greeted by the tour leader Pat and. .co-leader
-Mark (a biologist) and gscorted to a waiting mini-bus. The bus then proce9ded to the South Brisbane interstate railway station where another of the Sydney people was waiting, having travelled by train the night before. A further 4 stop in one of the suburbs to pick up a. local walker and we wereon our way. the McPherson Ranges. At Nerang 45 miles' from Brisbane Pat stopiped the bus and loaded our victuals on board,
-From here we proceeded to Beechmont and stopped at Rosettas Lookout w ich is situated on a high road at the top of the mountain. The vantage spot presented a breath-taking view looking down into a deep but wide valley, the light green of the cleared farm areas standing out against the dark green bush of the mountain side .',A 'wire fence plunged down the steep slope on our left with three high tensiOn power lines above effectively diving the boundaries
-of the land. Two brightly coloured hang gliders could be see- in the distance, the pilots taking advantage of the updrafts to soar like eagles, whilst a young man was navigating a radiocontrolled mO4el.plane at the top of the slope.
-Resuming our journey we proceeded to Natural Bridge which consisted of
-a cave and natural stane:arbh above a deep crystal blue waterhole in a beautiful bush setting. Picnickers from the city wer&haVing lunch under the trees whilst the younger members were swimming in te'waterhole. ..The more adventurous were climbing the sides of the cave and then diving into the pool. A stone flagged path led upwards from the creek and waterhole to a rustic timber bridge halfway up the gully from where"a'sweeping vfe'w.of theZ:acenery and activities below was obtained.
-Our luncheon spot was on a dirt road near an A-frame house not far from
-Natural Bridge. As the luncheon was being prepared a strange cooing sound came from around the bend. Further investigation revealed that the sound emanated from a large fat pigeon that was waddling across the road. The bird
-was brown in colour with a white lower breast and.was feeding on fallen berries and grass seeds. Mark indicated that this was a'Wonga Pigeon.
-We then saw alplack-faced fly catcher flying between the trees.. This
-small bird was coloured blue grey on its upper parts with an orange under- -t belly and a black face-
-After devouring the last'Of our cheese sandwiches and finishing off t4e black tea the group piled into the bus'and.were driven to Binna Burra, a camping area adjacent to :Lamington National Park. We pitched the two-man tents on a terraced area at the edge. of a mountain'Plateau with views towards the ocean. aile setting':up the tents we were introduced to Graham, a tree surgeon from Northern. N.S.W. who was joining us as the last member of the bushwalking group.	-	.
-After dinner that evening Mark produced a large spotlight and attempted to show the party some of the animal and bird life that lived in the trees.
-Alas, all we found was a brown Boo Book Owl that seemed to be fast asleep in the fork of a low branched tree.
-We awoke the next morning to a hot and sunny day. Pat indicated that the bus would drive on to our next camping spot and we would only need the bare essentials for the day's walking. Whilst the breakfast was being prepared I strolled over to a cleared area close to the thick bush. Joyce was there before me taking photos of a family of paddemelon wallabies that were grazing on grass seeds and small plants. Here also a scrub turkey was scratching in the dirt and undergrowth for berries and insects. The bird's plumage was black with a red head and a yellow band of colour around its scrawny neck.
-After breakfast Pat called the group together and indicated on the map Our route for the day. Mark looked resplendent in khaki shorts, grey shirt, leather leggings and boots, complete with a Forestry Commission yellow hard hat. In addition to his haversack he was carrying a briefcase full of reference books and key maps.
 Shortly afterwards we set off on the well-defined graded Border Track. In a few minutes the temperature had dropped considerably because of the tall trees and dense canopy overhead that blocked out the rays of the sun.
-Mark said that all of the trees in this section of the plateau were rainforest species and that eucalypts did not grow here. He pointed out some of the species as we proceeded along the path - Red Carabeens 100 to 140 feet high, Rose Mahoganys, White Walnuts, the Silver Quandang, the Mock Orange tree, down to the smallest, a Finger Lime only 50 mm in diameter with tiny 'bananas' that a persoh can eat. At each bend in the trcck the forest opened up new vistas for the walkers. The light that filtered through the trees accentuated the different colours and textures of the vegetation.
+Mark said that all of the trees in this section of the plateau were rainforest species and that eucalypts did not grow here. He pointed out some of the species as we proceeded along the path - Red Carabeens 100 to 140 feet high, Rose Mahoganys, White Walnuts, the Silver Quandang, the Mock Orange tree, down to the smallest, a Finger Lime only 50 mm in diameter with tiny 'bananas' that a persoh can eat. At each bend in the track the forest opened up new vistas for the walkers. The light that filtered through the trees accentuated the different colours and textures of the vegetation.
 Suddenly a sharp sound like a rifle shot rang out. This call repeated at intervals came from a Rifle Bird. The bird was black in colour with a white cheek.
 Many of the tall trees that we passed were 'buttressed', a method devised by nature to widen their base to support the immense height of the tree. Here and there the group came across a deep gully filled with tree ferns of different varieties.
-As the walkers came over a rise in the track a strange sight met our eyes - two tall trees were growing together, one over the other. The outer one was the notorious strangler Fig which was actually choking to death the Mahogany tree underneath. The Fig starts its life via a seed which is dropped by a' bird or possum at the top of the host tree. The seed germinates and spreads its leaves to the sun whilst its roots drop to the ground below. Soon a curtain of slender roots enclose the trunk of the host tree, thickening and fusing together in an ever tightening lacework until eventually the host tree dies and rots away. The Fig then stands unaided as a huge hollow column.
+As the walkers came over a rise in the track a strange sight met our eyes - two tall trees were growing together, one over the other. The outer one was the notorious Strangler Fig which was actually choking to death the Mahogany tree underneath. The Fig starts its life via a seed which is dropped by a bird or possum at the top of the host tree. The seed germinates and spreads its leaves to the sun whilst its roots drop to the ground below. Soon a curtain of slender roots enclose the trunk of the host tree, thickening and fusing together in an ever tightening lacework until eventually the host tree dies and rots away. The Fig then stands unaided as a huge hollow column.
 The bushwalkers broke out of the cool of the forest into bright sunlight at 10 am near the Joalah Lookout. The lookout commands an awe-inspiring breathtaking view of the lush Tweed Valley below. The valley, extends for
 miles. In the far distance' a bright orange/red flame tree stood out from the dark green of the surrounding trees. Our view was partly obsuured by fog over _the distant mountains but Mt. Warning could be seen some ten miles away at the western side of the valley. Mt. Warning was originally the plug of