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-A BREAK IN TIME.
+===== A Break In Time. =====
-South Coast, Xmas 1985.  by Joan Rigby.
-The air fell still, warm and heavy over me as I slithered down the dune face. Before me lay a basin in the forest, a shallow reed-filled lagoon, with the stocky, twisted, dark casuarinas of the coast growing low
+=== South Coast, Xmas 1985. ===
-over the flat shore. Nearby, a strip of short grass sloped to the water's
-edge, but water and land had no margin, one merged into the other, grass growing underwater, while water rose through the grass beneath my feet. OL the lagoon's edge drifted a few white feathers as though here some Australian Odette had barely escaped her fate.
+by Joan Rigby.
+The air fell still, warm and heavy over me as I slithered down the dune face. Before me lay a basin in the forest, a shallow reed-filled lagoon, with the stocky, twisted, dark casuarinas of the coast growing low over the flat shore. Nearby, a strip of short grass sloped to the water's edge, but water and land had no margin, one merged into the other, grass growing underwater, while water rose through the grass beneath my feet. On the lagoon's edge drifted a few white feathers as though here some Australian Odette had barely escaped her fate.
 This was a place to conjure dark legends and secret fears of unknown worlds, a place to flee, back over the dune into the lighter world beyond.
-That afternoon we had wandered along the sunlit beaches, enjoying the company, the sea and the soft breeze until, by the great log on the sands, someone had rested and we had gathered in the stragglers, the talkers and
-the energetic. Camp that night was to be a few kilometres away, just beyond
+That afternoon we had wandered along the sunlit beaches, enjoying the company, the sea and the soft breeze until, by the great log on the sands, someone had rested and we had gathered in the stragglers, the talkers and the energetic. Camp that night was to be a few kilometres away, just beyond the smooth headland, green against the sky and sea; but someone mentioned a possible camp "behind the dune", and one by one the curious had looked and returned quietly to the group. Yes it was a campsite, yes to wood and water, but no enthusiasm. How could you explain that brooding, heavy silence? Was this what Lawson felt when he wrote of the threatening solitude of the bush? So, accepting, we followed over the dune, missing already the gentle sea airs, and watched the mood settle over all.
-the smooth headland, green against the sky and sea; but someone mentioned a possible camp "behind the dune", and one by one the curious had looked and
-returned quietly to the group. Yes it was a campsite, yes to wood and water,
+Packs were emptied beneath the dark casuarinas, bright tents were strung between their trunks, a spread of violets claimed attention and became the chosen tent site, a fire was lit and voices rose in friendly talk. I moved away to sit on the dune rim and see the golden beach and the bright land beyond, but turned to see the lagoon with fresh eyes. Now there was colour, movement, even the air seemed cooler and the sound of the sea was a soothing background to laughter and chatter.
-but no enthusiasm. How could you explain that brooding, heavy silence?
-Was this what Lawson felt when he wrote of the threatening solitude of the
+So we passed a pleasant night and woke to sunshine and our memorable, unusual campsite. The others packed slowly and started down the beach for another day. I had to return home from this place so walked packless with them to the next inlet, then returned alone to the lagoon.
-bush? So, accepting, we followed over the dune, missing already the gentle sea airs, and watched the mood settle over all.
-Packs were emptied beneath the dark casuarinas, bright tents were
-strung between their trunks, a spread of violets claimed attention and became the chosen tent site, a fire was lit and voices rose in friendly talk. I moved away to sit on the dune rim and see the golden beach and the bright land
-beyond, but turned to see the lagoon with fresh eyes. Now there was colour,
-movement, even the air seemed cooler and the sound of the sea was a soothing background to laughter and chatter.
-So we passed a pleasant night and woke to sunshine and our memorable,
-unusual campsite. The others packed slowly and started down the beach for
-another day. I had to return home from this place so walked packless with
-them to the next inlet, then returned alone to the lagoon.
 The air fell warm and heavy around me as I walked through the brooding silence under the casuarinas. The darkness just beyond our knowledge threatened me and Odette had fled again, leaving a few feathers on the violets.
-************
-FEDERATION OF BUSHWALKING CLUBS.
+----
+===== Federation Of Bushwalking Clubs. =====
 Spiro Hajinakitas stood down as Secretary to the Federation at the last meeting, but he will continue as Minutes Secretary. John Berry from C.M.W. was then elected as Secretary until the A.G.M. to be held in July.
-Gordon Lee (Federation President) reported that the REUNION at Dharug
-National Park on 1st and 2nd March was very well run by C.M.W. with a beaut
+Gordon Lee (Federation President) reported that the Reunion at Dharug National Park on 1st and 2nd March was very well run by C.M.W. with a beaut supper. A number of families were there. It is extraordinary that back in the 1940's, S.B.W. would have 100 people at a Federation Reunion, and this year only one other S.B.W. member attended. How about a group of us going next year and meeting walkers from other clubs?
-supper. A number of families were there. It is extraordinary that back in
-the 1940's, S.B.W. would have 100 people at a Federation Reunion, and this
+----
-year only one other S.B.W. member attended. How about a group of us going
-next year and meeting walkers from other clubs?
+===== Breaking The Rules. =====
-Page 12 THE SYDNEY BUSHWALKER March, 1986..
-BREAKING THE RULES.
 by Frank Rigby.
-Following the recent publication of Phil Butt's story (the title of which escapes me) about an intrepid solo walk in Tasmania, I thought it
-might be appropriate to follow up with my own solo experience on that island. The two adventures are as different as chalk and cheese. Any why not? Bushwalkers, to be sure, are not produced from set moulds!
+Following the recent publication of Phil Butt's story (the title of which escapes me) about an intrepid solo walk in Tasmania, I thought it might be appropriate to follow up with my own solo experience on that island. The two adventures are as different as chalk and cheese. Any why not? Bushwalkers, to be sure, are not produced from set moulds!
-I arrived in Hobart on June 14, 1984 to a chilly reception. The sky
-was threatening, the temperature at noon was 70 and a freezing wind tore
+I arrived in Hobart on June 14, 1984 to a chilly reception. The sky was threatening, the temperature at noon was 7° and a freezing wind tore through the narrow streets. The Hobartians were rugged up to their ears. The forecast for the next day was "cold, rain throughout"! I began to have second thoughts and if my return ticket had not been immovably dated I might have thrown in the towel there and then. Of course, I was breaking all the rules and I knew it! A week's solo bushwalk to the south coast of Tasmania in the middle of winter would not exactly be recommended by anyone in the game. But I had experienced an overwhelming desire to do something out of the ordinary, to rebel against the accepted wisdom. Mixed up in all this were vague notions of wanting to suffer physically and of "proving" something, something I could not quite pin down.
-through the narrow streets. The Hobartians were rugged up to their ears.
-The forecast for the next day was "cold, rain throughout"! I began to have
-second thoughts and if my return ticket had not been immovably dated I might
-have thrown in the towel there and then. Of course, I was breaking all the
-rules and I knew it! A week's solo bushwalk to the south coast of Tasmania
-in the middle of winter would not exactly be recommended by anyone in the
-game. But I had experienced an overwhelming desire to do something out of
-the ordinary, to rebel against the accepted wisdom. Mixed up in all this
-were vague notions of wanting to suffer physically and of "proving" something, something I could not quite pin down.
 I had made my bed of nails and now I had to lie on it, so I boarded the bus for Dover that afternoon and the die was cast.
-After overnighting in a friendly local pub a kindly orchardist lifted me to the Ida Bay Scenic Railway and, with a final 19 kilometres to the end of the road at Cockle Creek, I shouldered the heaviest pack (19 kg or 42 lbs) I could ever remember. I had wanted to suffer and my wish was granted for
-weary kilometres before a rare tourist "who wanted to reach (by car) the most southerly point in Australia" mercifully picked me up.
+After overnighting in a friendly local pub a kindly orchardist lifted me to the Ida Bay Scenic Railway and, with a final 19 kilometres to the end of the road at Cockle Creek, I shouldered the heaviest pack (19 kg or 42 lbs) I could ever remember. I had wanted to suffer and my wish was granted for 12 weary kilometres before a rare tourist "who wanted to reach (by car) the most southerly point in Australia" mercifully picked me up.
-Next day I got stuck into what I had come to do: bushwalking with
-suffering. The "rain throughout" forecast had apparently been 24 hours too
+Next day I got stuck into what I had come to do: bushwalking with suffering. The "rain throughout" forecast had apparently been 24 hours too early and was laying in wait for me on the route to South Cape Bay. But actually, the track was so abominable, with bog up to the knees, that I barely noticed the deluge from above. With some relief I sighted the Southern Ocean and, with a degree of danger, skirted the coastline around Lion Rock and Coal Bluff to find what I had been looking for - a pleasant and spacious campsite above the bay into which flows South Cape Rivulet.
-early and was laying in wait for me on the route to South Cape Bay. But
-actually, the track was so abominable, with bog up to the knees, that I
+During a break in the showers I put up the tent and settled in. The darkness came swiftly so I cooked dinner in comfortable style inside the tent, using gas stove and candle. In this protected place, inside my spacious tent and with all the necessities at hand, I began to feel utterly secure, even somewhat smug. This rosy glow was short-lived. The rain restarted and the tent began to leak all over! My freshly-proofed Stormtite tent leaking? Panic! I looked up and was astonished to find the inside covered with leaf litter picked up when I had laid out the tent on the moist ground.
-barely noticed the deluge from above. With some relief I sighted the
-Southern Ocean and, with a degree of danger, skirted the coastline around Lion Rock and Coal Bluff to find what I had been looking for - a pleasant and spacious campsite above the bay into which flows South Cape Rivulet.
+Painstakingly I removed this, remembering all the stories about hypothermia in the Tasmanian wilds. Of course the leaks would never stop until the inside surface had dried out. So I sat up into that rainy night directing the flows as best I could. Fortunately for me, the rain ceased at about the same time as I fell asleep, exhausted. The leaf litter was similar to hundreds of fingers touching the fabric, though in 33 years of bushing this had never happened to me before. There is always something new to learn!
-During a break in the showers I put up the tent and settled in. The
-darkness came swiftly so I cooked dinner in comfortable style inside the tent, using gas stove and candle. In this protected place, inside my spacious tent and with all the necessities at hand, I began to feel utterly
+Next morning I explored my exclusive bit of territory. Just below my campsite on the high bank was a fine, wide beach extending westwards for half a kilometre to South Cape Rivulet which flowed into the sea through a tea-coloured channel at the far end. The Rivulet formed an extensive lagoon before it entered the channel, ideal for swimming except for its temperature. The scudding clouds and occasional drizzle clothes the landscape in that soft-light atmosphere so appropriate to the Tasmanian coast. The ocean pounded the beach day and night, lulling the mind into a state of quiet contentment. It was indeed a beautiful place, peaceful and harmonious, into which the turmoil of civilisation could not enter.
-secure, even somewhat smug. This rosy glow was short-lived. The rain
-restarted and the tent began to leak all over! My freshly-proofed Stormtite
+I crossed the channel and found the depth to be up to my chest, and freezing cold! At that moment, I remember, I first toyed with the idea of going no further westwards along the coast. That evening the toying gradually evolved into a firm conviction. It was not just the channel; why abandon your own piece of paradise just when you have found it?
-tent leaking? Panic! I looked up and was astonished to find the inside
-covered with leaf litter picked up when I had laid out the tent on the moist ground.
+And so followed a succession of relaxed days and nights, of showers and sunshine, wind and calm, soft low light, and always the thundering surf on my doorstep. The weather, quite unpredictable, was always cool but never bitingly cold. (My diary records a temperature range of 3° to 14° for the week.) No other human being, or any sign of the outside world, intruded. My own activities included gathering wood and water, cooking, eating, reading, walking along the beach and sleeping. But mostly sleeping, it seemed.
-Painstakingly I removed this, remembering all the stories about hypo-
-thermia in the Tasmanian wilds. Of course the leaks would never stop until
+At the winter solstice the days at latitude 43°36' are quite short; one has about 9 hours of effective daylight. Students of mathematics could calculate that there are, correspondingly, 15 hours of darkness. I wondered how I would cope with this situation for extended campfires at night were out of the question in that place. For hyperactive types it might prove a problem. For me I found that I quickly adapted to 12 hours of sleep even though I should not have needed such rest. Only the muted daylight eventually seeping into the campsite could awaken me.
-the inside surface had dried out. So I sat up into that rainy night
-directing the flows as best I could. Fortunately for me, the rain ceased
+One morning, though, about the middle of my stay, the light did not seem quite so muted. Outside the tent something was different. Ah yes, that rocky headland enclosing the bay was bathed in sunlight, standing out starkly for the first time. Not only that, but the whole sky was blue and the air uncannily still. Since these unusual conditions persisted into the late morning I arrived at the momentous conclusion that I should attempt my first dip in the Southern Ocean. "Invigorating" is one word, but there are others (sea temperature 12°). Rinsing off in the Rivulet was "painful" (rivulet temperature 8°). Unbelievably, I was then able to sunbake for an hour on the beach, even though the air temperature at noon was a mere 6°. Then a wisp of a breeze coming in from the sea had me scurrying for warm clothes. You can beat the Tasmanian winter for only a tiny fraction of the time.
-at about the same time as I fell asleep, exhausted. The leaf litter was
-similar to hudnreds of fingers touching the fabric, though in 33 years of
+After seven days my allotted time had expired and, with some sadness, I packed up and departed, returning to whence I had come. It was, after all, only an interlude, could not be anything else. As I plodded the boggy track back to the roadhead I was full of reflections. Had I suffered physically? No, not to any degree. With all the modern wonders of technological civilisation which can be stuffed into a rucksack, life was secure, comfortable and relatively, easy. And here was the uneasy contrdiction: to enjoy a sojourn in the wilderness I was absolutely dependent upon the material goods I had brought from civilisation. Had I proved anything? Not so much. Only that I could thoroughly enjoy my own company for a week in a remote and lovely place. There had also been something else: a quiet simplicity that I had not previously experienced in communal bushwalking. Perhaps that was enough.
-bushing this had never happened to me before. There is always something new
-to learn!
-Next morning I explored my exclusive bit of territory. Just below my
-campsite on the high bank was a fine, wide beach extending westwards for
-March, 1986. THE SYDNEY BUSHWALKER Page 13
-half a.kilometre to South Cape Rivulet which flowed into the sea through a tea-coloured channel at the far end. The Rivulet formed an extensive lagoon before it entered the channel, ideal for swimming except for its temperature. The scudding clouds and occasional drizzle clothes the landscape in that soft-light atmosphere so appropriate to the Tasmanian
-coast. The ocean pounded the beach day and night, lulling the mind into
-a state of quiet contentment. It was indeed a beautiful place, peaceful
-and harmonious, into which the turmoil of civilisation could not enter.
-I crossed the channel and found the depth to be up to my chest, and freezing cold! At that moment, I remember, I first toyed with the idea of
-going no further westwards along the coast. That evening the toying
-gradually evolved into a firm conviction. It was not just the channel;
-why abandon your own piece of paradise just when you have found it?
-And so followed a succession of relaxed days and nights, of showers and sunshine, wind and calm, soft low light, and always the thundering surf on my doorstep. The weather, quite unpredictable, was always cool but never bitingly cold. (My diary records a temperature range of 30 to 14 for the
-week.) No other human being, or any sign of the outside world, intruded.
-My own activities included gathering wood and water, cooking, eating, reading, walking along the beach and sleeping. But mostly sleeping, it seemed.
-At the winter solstice the days at latitude 4336' are quite short;
-one has about 9 hours of effective daylight. Students of mathematics could
-calculate that there are, correspondingly, 15 hours of darkness. I wondered how I would cope with this situation for extended campfires at night were out of the question in that place. For hyperactive types it might prove a problem. For me I found that I quickly adapted to 12 hours of sleep even
-though I should not have needed such rest. Only the muted daylight event-
-ually seeping into the campsite could awaken me.
-One morning, though, about the middle of my stay, the light did not seem quite so muted. Outside the tent something was different. Ah yes, that
-rocky headland enclosing the bay was bathed in sunlight, standing out starkly for the first time. Not only that, but the whole sky was blue and the air
-uncannily still. Since these unusual conditions persisted into the late
-morning I arrived at the momentous conclusion that I should attempt my first
-dip in the Southern Ocean. "Invigorating" is one word, but there are others
-(sea temperature 12'). Rinsing off in the Rivulet was "painful" (rivulet
-temperature 8'). Unbelievably, I was then able to sunbake for an hour on
-the beach, even though the air temperature at noon was a mere 6. Then a wisp of a breeze coming in from the sea had me scurrying for warm clothes. You can beat the Tasmanian winter for only a tiny fraction of the time.
-After seven days my allotted time had expired and, with some sadness, I packed up and departed, returning to whence I had come. It was, after all, only an interlude, could not be anything else. As I plodded the boggy track
-back to the roadhead I was full of reflections. Had I suffered physically? No, not to any degree. With all the modern wonders of technological civilisation which can be stuffed into a rucksack, life was secure, comfortable
-and relatively, easy. And here was the uneasy contrdiction: to enjoy a
-sojourn in the wilderness I was absolutely dependent upon the material goods I had brought from civilisation. Had I proved anything? Not so much. Only that I could thoroughly enjoy my own company for a week in a remote and lovely place. There had also been something else: a quiet simplicity that I had not previously experienced in communal bushwalking. Perhaps that was enough.
 Breaking the rules may not always prove wise, but it can be supremely rewarding.
-* * * * * * * *
-THE SYDNEY BUSH ; 'Ll<=
+----
- VICTORIA ROAD GLADESVILLE, 2111 PHONE (02) 817 5590 HOURS - MON.-FRI. 9-6
-THURS. 9-8
+=== Canoe & Camping. ===
-SAT. 9-4
-(PARKING AT REAR OFF PITTWATER ROAD)
+ Victoria Road, Gladesville, 2111. Phone (02) 817 5590. Hours: Mon.-Fri. 9-6, Thurs. 9-8, Sat. 9-4. (Parking at rear off Pittwater Road).
-A LARGE RANGE OF LIGHTWEIGHT, QUALITY, BUSHWALKING Et CAMPING GEAR
- LIGHTWEIGHT FOOD FOR BACKPACKERS AND CANOEISTS
+A large range of lightweight, quality, bushwalking & camping gear:
- COLD WEATHER PROTECTION CLOTHING AND RAINGEAR
- MAPS, BOOKS AND LEAFLETS
+  * Lightweight food for backpackers and canoeists
- INFORMATION SERVICE FOR CANOEISTS AND WALKERS
+  * Cold weather protection clothing and raingear
- KNIVES  COMPASSES  SURVIVAL GEAR
+  * Maps, books and leaflets
-WE STOCK THE LARGEST RANGE OF CANOEING GEAR IN N.S.W.
+  * Information service for canoeists and walkers
-QUALITY TOURING CRAFT OF ALL TYPES HIGH QUALITY, PERFORMANCE COMPETITION CRAFT
+  * Knives
- A HUGE RANGE OF PADDLES FOR ALL TYPES OF CANOEING  WETSUITS  SURF SKIS
+  * Compasses
- ALL TYPES OF SPRAY COVERS  WIDE RANGE OF JACKETS & CAGS  FACE MASKS
+  * Survival gear
- FOOTWEAR  MANY TYPES OF BUOYANCY & LIFE VESTS  HELMETS
-March, 1986. THE SYDNEY BUSHWALKER Page 15
+We stock the largest range of canoeing gear in N.S.W.
+Quality touring craft of all types. High quality, performance competition craft.
+  * A huge range of paddles for all types of canoeing
+  * Wetsuits
+  * Surf skis
+  * All types of spray covers
+  * Wide range of jackets & cags
+  * Face masks
+  * Footwear
+  * Many types of buoyancy & life vests
+  * Helmets
+----
 NOW WHAT?
 FIRST AID ANSWERS. by Ainslie Morris.