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 by Joan Rigby
-Of course one of the first things I did was to buy the 1:100000 maps
-It all started nearly four years ago, when I moved to Tamworth.
+I wanted to call this article "By George, we did it!" but I rather think that George did __us__.
-.--"-'\ -'----,,
-for the interesting areas nearby and to hunt for possible bushwalks for  /f4:. ,k N
+It all started nearly four years ago, when I moved to Tamworth. Of course one of the first things I did was to buy the 1:100000 maps for the interesting areas nearby and to hunt for possible bushwalks for Frank and myself. Georges Creek, running south from the New England park to the Macleay River seemed a possibility. It lacked the first high fall from the escarpment, characteristic of many of these northern rivers, dropping 1100 metres over its 40-50 km length. Forestry roads on each flanking ridge seemed to offer reasonable access and exit without the need for a car shuffle. When Ruth and John from Armidale spoke of day walks they had done in the area, I scribbled some notes in the margin of the Carrai map, and November 1988 found Frank and myself leaving our car in a convenient gravel pit almost at the head
-%N 1,  Frank and myself. Georges Creek, running south from the New England
+'of the river.
--4
-park to the Macleay River seemed a,possibility. It lacked the first
+It was a pretty creek, small of course, with reasonably open rain forest on the banks. We paddled a little or threaded our way along the edges. A rain forest campsite was found, made memorable by fireflies and glow worms. We enjoyed the differences from our southern creeks, stopping often to wonder and admire, so that it was not until midmorning on Sunday that we began to question just where we were. A distinctive eastern bend gave us our answer - less than five kilometres from our start and an impossible distance from our vaguely conceived exit point. A small canyon at the next bend convinced us that it was better to climb than to swim - an earlier deep wade had been chilly enough for Frank - so we scrambled out up a very scrubby spur to that convenient forestry road and stepped it out to the gravel pit.
-,'--k
-high fall from the escarpment, characteristic of many of these northern ,/i/ j,1\
+We planned to see more of George - he seemed well worth attention. The New England walking guide, which we acquired and studied carefully, described a series of four one-day walks covering the upper two-thirds of the creek. Now one-day walks may be a good idea if you live in Armidale but not so attractive From Tamworth. So, in November 1989, Frank and I set out to make a two-day walk over one of the middle sections. We would descend from the Boulder Flat fire trail by the ridge and creek route described, proceed upstream three or four kilometres (we had become less ambitious) and return to the fire trail by one of the upstream spurs mentioned in the guide.
-rivers, dropping 1100 metres over its 40-50 km length. Forestry roads
-......\
+To aid us we indulged in a 1:25000 map (we had become more aware of navigational difficulties in rain forest), and set out into typical New England weather - unsettled. However we left the car in another gravel pit, followed the fire trail to its end and started down the ridge. There was an unplanned delay while we waterproofed packs but the country, the map and the guide all seemed to agree. The guide recommended a gully rather than the ridge from here down, but this did not appeal to us. Descent into the gully appeared difficult and its use possibly suicidal, so we stuck to the steep ridge. The creek was not so very far below but sounded high and fierce to me, the weather had now settled to a drizzle, the scrub was thick and untrecked and a mist was rolling in. I sat down. It took some talking, but I did convince Frank that I was not going on. By the time we got back to the car he was as relieved as I was. Score was now one-all.
-on each flanking ridge seemed to offer reasonable access and exit without',.,- LS the need for a car shuffle. When Ruth and John from Armidale spoke of day walks they had done in the area, I scribbled some notes in the margin of the: Carrai map, and November 1988 found Frank and myself leaving our Cardin a convenient gravel pit almost at the head 'of the river.
-It was a pretty creek, small of course, with reasonably open rain forest on the banks. We paddled a, little or threaded our way along the edges. A rain forest campsite was found, made memorable by fireflies and glow worms. We enjoyed the differences from our sOuthern creeks, stopping often to wonder
+Over the years we built up a picture of the authors of the walking guide. They were 20-year-old tigers reconstructing walks, probably over a few drinks, after the bruises had faded. Any reference to thick scrub meant bush-bashing, and they had an uncanny ability to give precise map references for points which could not be checked on the ground. However, after translating their descriptions to our terms, we made good use of their work.
-and admire, so that it was not until midmorning on Sunday that we began to question just where we were. A distinctive eastern bend gave us our answer - less than five kilometres from our start and an impossible distance from our vaguely conceived exit
-point. A small canyon at the next:bend convinced us that it was better to climb than to swim -
+New Year 1991 and Georges Creek called again. We had looked into the lower third from the Kempsey road and seen a pleasant farming valley. This time we would take the long but sure way in. Six kilometres down the New England ridge trail should put us above the farmed area and we had four days to reach one of the upstream exits. I think I should describe this trip as a "no match". We reached the creek as planned in the late afternoon, found a few cows, a wire fence, giant solanums, lantana and cutting grass. We bypassed the cows successfully to find the narrow creek banks thick with lantana, cutting grass and gympie. However we found a pleasant enough campsite between a myrtle and a gympie and settled down, convinced that the creek would improve on the morrow.
-,
-an earlier deep wade had been chilly enough for Frank - so we scrambled out up a very scrubby spur to,that convenient forestry road and stepped it out to the gravel pit.
+The lantana did peter out the next morning, but the creek was not attractive. Gympie and cutting grass dominated the small stretches of bank, the creek boulders were not suitable for rock hopping and the bed too rough for wading. The base rock was a dull grey, making the water appear black, and it was slippery, wet or dry. Mid morning we stopped for a cuppa after only two slow kilometres. Another 200 metres and a thunderstorm broke over us. While we waited for the rocks to dry a little I looked over to the next stretch of river. It appeared even worse than what we had seen before. No banks, big widely spaced boulders and - A tiny campsite! A decision - we did not like the river, three more days like this would be awful and this was the last likely exit for eight kilometres. Not far but we were walking for fun. We would camp and in the morning, perhaps, explore upstream with day packs. Tent up, wood collected and another thunderstorm with raging winds had us huddled in the tent with parkas on, hoping the tent would hold and trees stay upright. Enough was enough. We walked but the next morning.
-We planned to see more of George - he seemed well worth attention. The New England walking guide, which we acquired and studied carefully, described a series of four one-day walks covering the upper two-thirds of the creek. Now one-day walks may be a good idea, if you live in Armidale but not so attractive From Tamworth. So, in November 1989, Frank and I set out to make a two-day walk over one of,the middle sections. We would descend from the Boulder Flat fire trail by the ridge and 'creek route described, proceed upstream three or four kilometres
-(we had become less ambitious) and return to the fire trail by one of the upstream spurs mentioed in the guide.
+Now, three weeks later we prepared to try again. This time we would descend to the middle river near the Cunnawarra Creek junction, make a base camp and explore up and down stream with day packs.  We followed an old forestry road through wet sclerophyll thick with regrowth to its end according to the map; found with relief that it continued down the side of the ridge, and, although overgrown with everything from raspberry to solanum, and despite the regulation thunderstorm, it took us to a 10 foot wide sawn stump about 200 feet above the river. From there we slithered,  sidled and slipped down a dangerously steep slope to the water. No campsite here, so although it was late, we picked our way upstream. There is always a campsite at creek junctions. Cunnawarra should be our destination. Around the bend I stopped at the first compulsory swim. Frank called me up and we tried to bypass over the ridge, a steep fern-covered slope, falling to cliffs and going on and on with no return to the invisible creek. Finally a gully of wet rock blocked us and we managed to slither, again through raspberry and loose rock, to the creek and a long swim in the dark water. The only possible campsite was a square metre of small rocks; the creek junction, 50 yards ahead, was hopeless and the two creeks seemed to run back into narrow slits.
-To aid LI8 we j.ndulged in a 1:25000 map (we had become more aware of navigational difficulties in rain forest), and set out into typical New England weather - unsettled. However we left the car in another gravel pit, followed the fire trail to its end and started down the ridge. There was an unplanned delay while we waterproofed packs but the country, the map and the guide all seemed to agree. The guide recommended a gully rather than the ridge from here down, but this
-did not appeal to us. Descent into the gully appeared difficult and its use possibly suicidal, so we stuck to the steep ridge. The creek was not so very far below but sounded high and fierce to me, the weather had now settled to a drizzle, the scrub was thick and untracked and a mist
+We filled our wineskins and tried the other option. A scramble three hundred feet up the ridge on the east side where, amongst giant bluegums, we found two small areas flat enough to fit a tent and a fire. There at 7.30 pm, in the last of the daylight, we made camp. Apart from a regular leech hunt, a territorial dispute with a nest of jumping ants and a continual slide from the top to the bottom of the tent, we passed a good night.
-was rolling in. I sat dawn. It took some talking, but I did convince Frank.that I was not going on. By the time we got back to the car he was as relieved as I was. Score was now one-all.
-Over the years we built up a picture of the authors of the walking guide. They were 20-year-old tigers reconstructing walks, probably over a few drinks, after the bruises had fiaded. Any reference to thick scrub meant bush-bashing, and they had an uncanny ability to give precise
+Next morning we moved cautiously up Cunnawarra Creek. After less than half a kilometre we found the lowest of the falls on this creek. Water shot from a narrow cleft to split into hundreds of milky streams on the face below. Two dark pools were cradled in the surrounding rocks. The map suggested that the creek above, where it falls a hundred metres in about four hundred metres could be worth seeing, but possibly for the first time in the bush we were feeling uncomfortable. The creek, though not deep like Claustral or impressive like Davies, seemed dangerous. The rocks and wet leaves made our progress slow. There was no relaxation from care. The roads were only a few kilometres away and three hundred vertical metres, but the country between was difficult. Wet, scrubby and thorny, even after using the old track we were scratched and bleeding. If we were unable to reach that track again it would be a fight to escape the creek. Never have I felt so vulnerable to an accident.
-map 'referenxces for points which could not be checked on the ground. However, after translating their descriptions to our terms, we made good use of their work.
-New Year 1991 and Georges Creek celled again. We had looked into the lower third from
+We turned back from the falls and went a little way up Georges Creek. The suggested route out was from here but the steep sides looked unpleasant. The creek was pretty, and possibly easier, but still required caution. We had had enough. Lunch by a pool, a swim and sunbake, then we filled our wineskins and clambered again from trunk to trunk up the steep siding to our camp. Here we resolved our territorial problems with the ants and settled back with a double rum and lemon. This evening, despite intimidating rumbles and a spectacular lightning display all around the horizon, the regulation storm held off until 2 am.
-the Kempsey road and seen a pleasant farming valley. This time we would take the long but sure
-way in. Six kilometres down the New England ridge trail should put us above the farmed area
+We broke camp in the morning and started back the way we had come. The first long swim was a relief after the slippery wet rocks. It was followed by three or four shorter swims, including one through a narrow high-walled canyon. I enjoyed this until I remembered it was above these sheer walls that I had been slipping on wet ferns two evenings before.
-I wanted to call this article "By George, we did it!" but I rather think that George did us.
-;< lk
-r...-. J 1
-ik
-, :
-FOUR TALES - OF A C'REECREEK'
-.
-iN\
-")fil
-( 4/147,,
-March..1991 The Sydney dushwalker Page 5
-and we 'had four days to reach one of the upstream exits. I think I should describe this
-trip as a "no match". We reached the creek as planned in the late afternoon, found a few cows, a wire fence, giant solanums, lantana and cutting grass. We bypassed the cows successfully to find the narrow creek banks thick with lantana, cutting grass and gympie. However we found a pleasant enough campsite between a myrtle and a gympie and settled down, convinced that the creek would improve on the morrow.
-The lantana did peter out the next morning, but the creek was not attractive. Gympie and cutting grass dominated the small stretches of bank, theitreek boulders were not suitable for rock hopping and the bed too rough for wading. The base rock was a dull grey, making the water appear black; and it was slippery, wet or dry. Mid morning we stopped for a cuppa after only two slow kilometres. Another 200 metres and a thunderstorm broke over us. While we waited for the rocks to dry a little I looked over to the next stretch orriver. It appeared even worse than what we had seen before. No banks, big widely spaced boulders and - A. tiny campsite! A'decision - we did not like the river, three more days like this
-would be awful and this was the last likely exit for eight kilometres. Not far but we were walking for fun. We would camp and in the morning, perhaps, explore upstream with day packs. Tent up, wood collected and another thunderstorm with raging winds had us huddled in the tent with parkas on, hoping the tent wsauld hold and trees stay upright. Enough was enough.
-We walked but the next Morning.
-Now, three weeks later we prepared to try again. This time we would descend to the middle river near the Cunnawarra Creek junction, make a base camp and explore up and down. stream with day packs.  We followed an 'old forestry road through wet sclerophyll thick with regrowth to its end according to the map; found with relief that it continued down the side.-- of the ridge, and, although overgrown with everything from raspberry to solanum, and despite the regulation thunderstorm, it took us to a 10 foot wide sawn. stump about 200 feet above the river. -Frovethere we slithered,  sidled and slipped down a dangerously steep slope to the water. No campsite here, so although it was late, we picked our way upstream. There is always a campsite at creek junctions. Cunnawarra should be our destination. Around the bend I stopped at the first compulsory swim. Frank called me up and we tried  to bypass over the ridge, a steep fern.: covered slope, falling to cliffs and going on and on with no return to the
-invisible creek. Finally a gully of wet rock blocked us and we managed to slither, again through raspberry and
-loose rock; to' the creek a long' swim in the dark water. The only possible campsite was a square metre of small rocks; the creek junction, 50 yards ahead, was hopeless and the two creeks seemed to run back into narrout slits.
-We filled our wineskins and tried the other option. A scramble three hundred feet up the ridge on the east side where; amongst giant bluegums, we found two small areas flat enough to fit a tent and a fire. There at 7.30 pm, in the last of the daylight, we made
-camp. Apart from a regular leech hunt, a territorial dispute with a nest of jumping ants and a continual slide from the top to the bottom of the tent, we passed a good night.
-Next morning we moved cautiously up Cunnawarra Creek. After less than half a kilometre we found the lowest of the falls on this creek. Water shot from a narrow cleft to split into hundreds of milky streams on the face below. Two dark pools were cradled in the surrounding
-rocks. The map suggested that the creek above, where it falls a hundred metres in about
-Page 6 ifte'Sydnipy aushwalker March. 1991
-four hundred metres could be worth seeing, but possibly, for the first time in the bush we were feeling uncomfortable. The creek, though not deep like Claustral or impressive like Davies, seemed dangerous. The rocks and wet leaves made our progress slow. There was no relaxation-from care. The roads were only a few kilometres away and three hundred vertical metres, but the country between was difficult. Wet, scrubby and thorny, even after using the old track we were scratched and bleeding. If we were unable to reach that track again it would be a fight to escape the creek. Never have I felt so vulnerable to an accident.
-We turned back from the fent and went a little way up Georges Creek. The suggested route out was from here but the steep sides looked unpleasant. The creek was pretty, and possibly easier, but still required caution. We had had enough. Lunch by a pool, a swim and sunbake, then we filled our wineskins and clambered again from trunk to trunk up the steep siding to our camp. Here we resolved our territorial problems with the ants and settled back with a double rum and lemon. This evening, despite intimidating rumbles and a spectacular lightning display all around the horizon, the regulation storm held off until 2 am.
-, We broke camp in the morning and started back the way we had Come. The first long swim was a relief after the slippery wet rocks. It was followed by three or four shorter swims, including one through a narrow high-walled canyon. I enjoyed this until I remembered it was above these sheer walls that I had been slipping on wet ferns two evenings before.
 We found our marker for where we entered the creek and a somewhat easier route up the first one hundred feet. With care we found our downward track and followed it up to the giant sawn stump. I greeted it like a long-lost friend. In this country you could be two metres from the overgrown road and never know it.
-Back at the car we removed another population of leeches and swore never again to visit Georges Creek. It has its beauties, but its defenses are strong. Frank and I have given it best,- game,. set and match.
-If-Michelehowurites about some lazy summer trip Bob King led there one Christmas -- I don't want toread-lt!!
+Back at the car we removed another population of leeches and swore never again to visit Georges Creek. It has its beauties, but its defenses are strong. Frank and I have given it best, game, set and match.
-'
-BLACKHEATH TAXIS & TOURIST SERVICES
+If Michele now writes about some lazy summer trip Bob King led there one Christmas -- I don't want to read it!!
-& 18 SEATER MINI BUS TAXI
--87 8366
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-PICK UP ANYWHERE FOR START OR FINISH OF YOUR WALK - BY PRIOR ARRANGEMENT
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-March 1991 Till'80mey ButhWelkor Page 7
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 by Jim Brown