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• • WALK • • A JOURNAL OF THE MELBOURNE BUSHW ALKERS No. 3 1952 llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

EDITORIAL: "BURNT OFFERING" 3 THE TOE OF THE PROM...... K. Grant .... 4

BEYOND THE VALE OF RASSELAS G. Christensen 8 THE CRINOLINE .. G. Coutts 13

VAN TRIP ...... ''Nin" 16 BIG WALKABOUT E. Richards 17 OUR WALKERS .. "Barrani" 23 CLIMBING ON TABLE MOUNTAIN H. Wolff .. 27

THE GATES OF THE MURRAY . . . . K. Middleton 30

PRESERVING OUR WILDFLOWERS 34

THE ...... N. Richards 35

THE YOU-YANGS ...... E. Donath .. 43

BR-R-R; IT'S COLD!! ...... O.M•.. 44 BOOKS FOR THE BUSHWALKER 46 CORINNA AND THE PIEMAN .. H. Gerstman 49 WALLACE'S HUT- Anon•...... 52

SOME NEW MAP ISSUES ...... 53

MOUNTAIN MUSTER 55 WALKS SECTION: Locola - Middle Ridge - Mt. Skene - Licola . . . . 58

Robin Hood - Brandy Creek - Camp Hill - Drouin . . 61

Avonsleigh - Shepherd's Creek - Beer's Hill - Cockatoo 63 OUR FRONT COVER: TERRIBLE HOLLOW, THE RAZOR AND THE VIKING Photo from Mt. Howitt - by Len Barr

Editor: NORMAN RICHARDS Telephone: WX 5450

Clyde Press, Thornbury. JJ 2902 1 ~"Ke MELBOURNE BUSHWALKERS

Office-Bearers, 1951-52 • President: NORMAN E. RICHARDS Vice-Presidents: EGON DONATH FAY PITT Hon. Treasurer: Hon. Secretary : EMIL SLADE FRANK PITT Hon. Walks Secretary: Hon. Social Secretary: GORDON COUTTS MARIE GILLESPIE General Committee: PADDY MURRAY KITTY MITCHELL LORRAINE RICHEY WARREN OLLE LLOYD REYNOLDS FRED SOUTTER Sub-Committees: Walks: GORDON COUTTS, WARREN OLLE, LLOYD REYNOLDS Financial: EMIL SLADE, NORM. RICHARDS, FRED SOUTTER Social: MARIE GILLESPIE, PADDY MURRAY, LORRAINE RICHEY News: FAY PITT, PADDY MURRAY, KITTY MITCHELL Editorial: NORM. RICHARDS, EGON DONATH, FRED SOUTTER Equipment Officer: HAROLD SOUTTER Librarian: KEITH MURRAY THE MELBOURNE BUSHWALKERS Clubroom: Room 110, Victorian Railways Institute, Railway Buildings, Flinders Street, Melbourne, C.l. Advertising : Sales: E. J. DONATH F. SOUTTER 166 Wellington Pde., E. Melb., C.2 60 Road, Auburn, E.3 Telephone: F 0484

"Dedicated to all who appreciate the great outdoors" ... WALK is a voluntary, non-profit venture published in the interests of bushwalking as a healthy recreation.

2 EDITORIAL: Burnt Offering Twelve short months ago one of our members contributed an article which began by asking, "Are you interested in the ownership of a block of land which provides one with splendid scenic grandeur unparalleled anywhere for its delightful fern gullies?" If he were writing that article to-day he would have to commence, "Are you interested in an area of some eighty-thousand acres of fire-blackened tree trunks?"-for that is almost all that remains of our far-famed Wilson's Promontory, the area to which he was alluding. The bride who, out of her inexperience, occasionally produces burnt offerings has always been the butt of comedians; but in this, the year in which we celebrate one hundred years of responsible government and the Jubilee year of our Commonwealth, surely it is hardly possible to blame inexperience for the circumstances which produced such a national burnt offering as the "Prom" is now. An area easily isolated from external in­ fluences, especially such minor ones as a neglected billy :fire, one might have expected that it would never be ravished by bushfires. Last February proved just how ill-founded that hope really was, and the best that we now can hope for is that the rejuvenating plant life will never again experience such a holocaust. All this devastation has received a blaze of publicity, but it is only five years since our largest National Park-Wyperfeld-was seriously gutted. Well away from the cities and in the heart of the Mallee, this catastrophe received only a few perfunctory Press notices. Recriminations are useless now, but what lessons can we learn for the future? Firstly that the present administrative policy for our National Parks is not getting results-useful ones anyway. A policy for their future has already been proposed by a Conference convened specially for the purpose,* and has received the whole­ hearted endorsement of all who appreciate their national significance. It is a matter of regret that local State politics appear to have prevented its adoption. The Editor of WILD LIFE has put forward the interesting sug­ gestion that if the State Governments cannot see their way to implement some such policy, then the Commonwealth might be induced to treat the matter as one of importance to the whole nation and legislate accordingly, even though a referendum would be necessary. Whatever the means finally found to be expedient, some action is urgently required. The "Prom" was probably one of the least vulnerable of our National Parks; what happened there last year-and at Wyperfeld in 1946-might easily happen elsewhere next summer; perhaps in a park with practically no potential for rejuvenation. The economics of the situation should be sufficient to demand action. It seems reasonable to assume that although often valueless for agricultural purposes, our Parks have at least an equal value per acre when viewed from the standpoint of each present and future citizen. If this be conceded, then is it not reasonable to allow the same expenditure for upkeep as one would for any other property? We should consult owners of other hundred­ thousand acre properties to see how much they spend each year on preserv­ ing their asset; even though the analogy may be a poor one the comparison would certainly make present appropriations seem infinitesimal. Victoria is not rich in National Parks. The total area dedicated to such purposes represents only two-thirds of one per cent. of the State. Tasmania now has one square mile in every thirty-two a National Park, while in New Zealand the proportion is approximately one in twenty. It would be good to be able to devote our efforts toward increasing the total area; but at worst let us preserve what we have. To do so should be the constant care of every person interested in the out-of-doors-Let there be no more burnt offerings! •see wALK, 1951 3 Ihe Toe ol The ..Prom••:

CHINAMAN'S BAY TO SEALER'S COVE We had planned to go by sea to Sealer's Cove, a journey of some forty miles along the rugged eastern coastline of Wilson's Promontory, where we were to make camp. The day before we were to leave however, a strong easterly gale blew up making this journey impossible, the fishermen told us, for possibly four or five days. So seven of us, including two girls, worked out an alternative trip to go overland across the little-visited north­ east corner and eventually to Sealer's Cove.

Gramle Is (I

INLrT

"THE TOE OF THE PROM" Sketch Map

We sailed from Port Welshpool about eleven o'clock in brilliant sun­ shine, bound for Chinaman's Long Beach in Corner Inlet. The sea was calm in the shelter of Snake Island, but as we approached the north-eastern tip of the "Prom", where Mt. Singapore stands guard, we had a taste of what the ocean journey would have been like. The waves were soon breaking over the deck of the "Janet lies", and while Bobby was calmly seated astride the prow the rest of us were hard put to it to stay on board at all. We turned south west, however, and were soon in the calm to the west of Singapore. We stopped to fish in Chinaman's Bay before continuing south along the coast of Corner Inlet to the north end of Chinaman's Long Beach. Messrs. Smith, the owners of our shark boat, told us of several places where we might find fresh water, and repeated how "the men who did it last time said they'd never do it again." We were rowed ashore in the dinghy to the wide, clean beach below Mt. Hunter, where the sand was un­ marked by any footprint. The Janet Iles weighed anchor and sailed north­ ward again, and we suddenly felt how entirely alone we were . . . we now could not turn back the way we had come. 4 It was mid-afternoon when we moved off, after an excellent lunch of freshly-steamed flathead. As we began our walk south along Chinaman's Long Beach the tide was receding and the sand was dotted with countless thousands of soldier crabs which burrowed down out of sight as quickly as we walked toward them. We passed two very small freshwater streams on the way south, but had been assured that Chinaman's Creek was good water, and decided to push on and camp there. The beach became a wide swamp before we reached the creek, which we struck about half a mile from the sea, and which we had difficulty in approaching owing to the soft deep mud at the edges. One lass stood in the wrong spot and sank to her hips in black, stinking mud. We threw down sticks to stand on and one of the party tasted the water-salt!! We followed up the creek without any change in the flavour, so we crossed the swamp to higher ground where we camped. We used salt water to cook our de­ hydrated vegetables and to boil our tins in ... yes, we had tins! Since our original proposal had been to fix camp for a few days we had heavy packs containing a number of tins, including tinned fruit which later proved to be well worth carrying.

-K. Grant CROSSING THE PLAINS Chinaman's Beaeh to Five-Mile Beaeh

It was Xmas Eve and we had plum pudding with rum poured on it and lit. Ted distributed small Xmas presents; some got diaries, others combs. It helped us forget about the salty vegetables and lack of a drink. Before breakfast next morning two of us pushed on up the creek in quest of water and in a couple of miles came upon a series of lagoons. On one large lagoon we disturbed a flock of black swans which flapped awkwardly into the air as we approached. Eventually, nearly four miles from the sea, we found water which, although it had a repulsive flavour, was at least not salt. We took a couple of water-bucketsful back to camp to make porridge and cocoa for breakfast. Packing up again, we pushed up the creek, past the lagoons, until it dried out completely, and then pushed through extremely dense scrub for about fifty yards to emerge suddenly on to a beautiful grassy plain which stretched ahead for several miles toward the foothills of Mt. LaTrobe. The plain provided very pleasant walking with a good deal of natural interest. There were several varieties of wild-flower in bloom, also many different grasses and plants, the largest of which were the grass trees, or blackboys. Later we saw quite a few wallabies feeding. We were making in a south­ easterly direction toward the Five Mile Beach on the eastern coast of the "Prom". We began to cross the ends of several spurs running south from Mt. Margaret and came into light, stunted timber, and later into good eucalypt forest. Deep in a gully between two of these spurs we found a 5 rocky stream bed where there were pools of beautiful clear, fresh water. There we had Christmas dinner in the shade of an old gum tree. A mile further on the timber thinned again and we climbed to the top of a rocky ridge from where we had our first view of the sea to the east. Looking back we could see over the entire Corner Inlet, with its two islands- and Benison-and could pick out our route up to here. Facing east again we were able to decide our course ahead. This fairly open grassy country continued almost to the sea, but we were forced to cross a bad mangrove swamp before reaching the beach. Camp that night was at the north end of the Five Mile Beach by a salt creek into which flowed a good freshwater stream. The sandy-bottomed creek made a perfect swimming pool where we enjoyed bathing in the warm sun, well sheltered from the easterly wind. The Five Mile Beach only looked two miles long from the north end, but it really was five miles: in fact it seemed like ten before we reached the other end! Unlike Chinaman's Long Beach, the Five Mile Beach shelved so steeply that we could dive straight into the water; but this meant loose sand which made very heavy walking. The easterly wind was still keeping our weather fine, and provided excellent surf, so that we frequently stopped to bathe. The beach ended abruptly at the foot of The Cathedral, giving us the choice of rock-hopping or scrub-bashing. During luhch we studied the map, estimating that it would be about two and a quarter miles to the next beach at Sealer's Cove, and since the scrub appeared to be impenetrable, we decided to go round by the rocks. Before we had done fifty yards however, the rocks became huge boulders some twenty feet in diameter, with the waves washing around them, suggesting a dangerous, if not impossible, journey . . . so we took to the scrub. The steepness of the hillside rising from the rocks made this difficult right from the start. The initial climb was accomplished with the aid of fifty feet of nylon rope, after which the scrub itself provided sufficient support. Once we had climbed about two hundred feet above the sea we turned to follow the general contour, although gradually rising rather than falling. Progress was slow through the dense undergrowth and we camped when we found a good stream in a fern gully about three hundred feet above the sea, and half a mile from the beach which we had left. Next morning we encountered thicker scrub than previously, and the men took it in turn to go in front to smash a way through. At the end of a twenty minute shift a leader was more than ready to retire to the rear of the party for his rest. We managed about half a mile and crossed two small streams before stopping for lunch at a third which as we were to find later, was our last water before Sealer's Cove. While at lunch we made the acquaintance of several friendly lizards who could not have seen humans before, but who nevertheless enjoyed licking chocolate off a fingertip or eating small pieces of cheese. One courageous little fellow even managed a piece of Vita-Wheat biscuit. Shortly after lunch we struck the thickest scrub of the trip. It was a tangled mixture of swordgrass and wiregrass reinforced with saplings two to four inches thick and spaced about a foot apart. Had there been any alternative at all we would have called it impenetrable. The hands could be used only with care and some of the party suffered from swordgrass cuts. To make a way through this jungle required two leaders. The first would travel backwards facing the party and use the rucksac on his back as a battering ram, while the second would push him in the chest to give added force. In this manner we pushed through the worst stretch of about forty yards, taking nearly forty-five minutes. There were long stretches of thinner scrub in the afternoon, and we had good views back toward the Five Mile Beach, the golden sand in glorious contrast with the deep blue of the sea. We had still not made the cove by dusk so we camped for the second time on the side of The Cathedral. We bent down the scrub to make more or less even beds on the steep slope and, there being no water, divided the last two tins of fruit. They were only small tins but perhaps that made up appreciate them all the more. 6 Not long after breaking camp in the morning we began to turn in toward Sealer's Cove and, through the trees, soon began to obtain good views of the entire cove. We could see Sealer's Creek and the long curved beach, but the greatest thrill was that we could see figures moving on the beach. Real people ! The going was easier now and after a steep descent we reached the rocks at the near end of the cove by midday, our goal to hand. There was a good freshwater stream close by, so we lunched, washed and changed from our hot long trousers and long sleeved jackets into shorts and light shirts again. We walked along the beach to Sealer's Creek where we found a number of people camping. Some had come by boat while others had walked over the track from . A group of Rover Scouts were camping the night on their way to Refuge Cove. We spent a day and a half lazing about the cove, before leaving for Tidal River via the regular track over the Ramsay-Wilson saddle. The first mile or so is through a magnificent fernery where, many years ago, there was a timber mill, and one may see the stumps of huge trees which were the reason for its existence. Leaving the fernery the track winds in and out of gullies, climbing around the side of Mt. Ramsay and providing an excellent view of the very rugged Mt. Wilson. On reaching the Ramsay­ Wilson saddle we were again rewarded with a double view-back to the sea at Sealer's Cove and ahead to Mt. Oberon, Norman Bay and Tidal River. At Tidal River we joined up with another party from the Club in time for New Year's Eve, when we sat around the fire swapping stories of our trips until the early hours of the morning. -Ken Grant

Mountains and Valleys! and Streams! Camp Fires and Bush Tracks! .. THESE ARE YOUR HERITAGE ..

ENJOY THEM- THE. MELBOURNE BUSHWALKERS -The complete Club for all who enjoy walking in the bush­ welcomes enquiries from prospective members

CLUB ROOM: * Room 110, Railway Buildings, Flinders Street, Melbourne (Open 8 to 10.30 p.m. Friday evenings) HON. SECRETARY: F. A. PITT, 51 Birdwood Street, Box Hill, E.ll SUBSCRIPTION: Joining Fee ...... Nil Seniors ...... 15/- per annum Juniors (under 19) ...... 10/- per annum Married Couples (joint sub.) ...... 25/- per annum

7 Beyond the Vale of Rassellas Walking in Central Tasmania

In February this year a party of us comprising "Jock" Low, Don Smellie and self from the M.B.W., with David Brink, of the Hobart Walking Club, decided to see something of the lesser known area of Central Tasmania between the Valley of Rasselas and Frenchman's Cap. In fact it was hoped to traverse this area completely by walking from Maydeena via the Florentine River, the Valley of Rasselas, across the Denison, Spires and Prince of Wales Ranges to the Jane River and the Frenchman, taking approximately seven days for the trip. Arriving at Maydeena by train from Hobart about midday, we set off along the road to the Australian Newsprint Mills timber siding. At this point we were lucky enough to obtain a lift for ten miles or so to the top of "the divide" between Wherrit's Lookout and Tim She, where we picked up the quaint old track still used by the small settlement of osmiridium miners at Adamsfield. This track offers immediate promise of the similar but grander scenery of the Valley of Rasselas as it drops gently to the Florentine River through alternating tracts of buttongrass and myrtle forest. However, the rain which had accompanied us most of the day reduced our views of the surrounding topography to occasional glimpses of the ragged Tiger Hills. We were accordingly very glad of the shelter afforded us by the huts at the Florentine River. Next day saw some improvement in the weather as we swung off along the well-marked track to Ernie Bond's, eleven miles up the Valley of Rasselas. An hour's walking brought us to the low divide between the Florentine and the Gordon Rivers and shortly after we were out in the open button-grass plains of the Valley. This broad glacial valley, lying at this point between the Tiger Hills and the Thumbs, provides an interesting physiographical phenomenon. Rising some thirty miles to the north on the slopes of the King William Range, the Gordon river flows southward along this old glacial valley till it reaches a point west of Mt. Field. Here a line of low hills separates it from the Florentine, which is a tributary of the Derwent, but, instead of breaking through this line, the Gordon turns at right angles (The Gordon Bend) to enter a 700-foot gorge in the Denison Range between The Thumbs and Mt. Wright. This has apparently resulted from headward erosion by the old Gordon river from the West Coast until it has broken into and drained the Rasselas Valley. A flying fox at the Gordon Bend provided an easy crossing and we stopped for an early lunch before setting off on a round trip to the Gordon Gorge. Easy walking across button-grass plains brought us to the entrance of the Gorge. Thence a succession of higher points was climbed each giving magnificent views of the river as it swirled its way through the rocky passes. Low cloud prevented us from climbing Mt. Wright from which a grand view would be expected. After returning to our lunch site a further three miles walking brought us to Ernie Bond's. Here a very warm welcome awaited us as Ernie's hospitality to walkers is legendary. In spite of his geographical isolation (he carries all his stores on foot four miles from the Gordon Bend), he takes a very keen and lively interest in local and national affairs. Surrounded by his own garden of vegetables and fruit trees, he is nearly independent of the outside world for supplies although a gift of a little butter is always appreciated. After a taste of Ernie's special brand of cherry brandy, we were regaled with a feast of roast kangaroo, potatoes and silver beet followed by a huge plateful of freshly picked raspberries. 8 Next day dawned fine and clear and after an equally satisfying break­ fast we resumed our journey. As we continued up the western side of the Valley of Rasselas through the patchwork of button-grass and tree­ lined creeks, Mt. Wright on our left soon fell behind and its place was taken by the rugged Denison Range with its two high points, Reed's and Bond's Peaks. To the north-east lay Wyld's Craig and behind in the distance towered the battlements of Mt. Field West. About four miles from Ernie's, the long grassy spur leading straight towards Reed's Peak was reached and the climb began. As height was gained the extent of the Valley became evident and some of the more distant southerly peaks began to rise into view, especially Mts. Mueller, Anne and Picton. Finally a narrow grassy ridge brought us to the shores of Lake Rhona.

-G. Christensen " .. J-JAS TO BE SEEN TO BE BELIEVED" Lake Rhona

Lake Rhona has to be seen to be believed. Nestling silently beneath the sheer conglomerite crags of Reed's Peak, this little brown lake with its miraculous beach of dazzling white sand, lined with bushes and a few stately pines, formed a never-to-be-forgotten picture. Such a delightful spot could not be left behind lightly so we decided to spend the night. The opportunity was then taken to make a circuit of the tops, climbing Reed's Peak on the way. This took about two and a half hours for which we were rewarded with a truly glorious view of the countless ridges, peaks and valleys that go to make up south-western Tasmania. Typical alpine vege­ tation clothes the southern and eastern slopes of Reed's Peak which marks the limit reached by the fires that have devastated much of the country to the west as far as the Spires Range. Particularly attractive at this time were the clumps of white everlasting (Helichrysum MiJJigani),

9 Next morning our way again led over Reed's Peak but this time with packs. Climbing via the shallow gully at the eastern end of the beach, the top was reached in about an hour and a quarter and before us in the light of the morning sun was revealed the tangle of quartzite ridges that lay between us and the Frenchman. To the immediate north-west lay the clear button-grass slopes of the tributaries of the Little Gell River and towards these we headed. This took us round the shoulder of Bond's Peak over scree slopes, burnt snowgum and tea-tree, forms of impedimenta that we were to encounter for several days. On reaching the open button-grass, progress was rapid and by mid­ afternoon the Little Gell River was reached. We had been walking steadily in the direction of the southern end of the Spires Range but this was now no longer in sight, the skyline to the south-west being dominated by the profile of Mt. Curley. At the head of the Little Gell valley lay Lake Curley, and of this an excellent view was obtained as we climbed the long ridge on its northern side. A broad fiat saddle about three­ quarters of the way up this ridge provided our camp site for the night. Unfortunately swept by fire, most of the native shrubs of this area have succumbed. However a few late-flowering specimens of the magnificent Blandfordia marginata, with its red and orange bells, the almost jet black lily Hewardia tasmanica and the less significant Campynema lineare were still to be seen. Next morning brought a sunrise that gave promise of a hot day ahead. A short climb brought us to the top of the ridge from which our approach to the Spires was planned. The rugged slopes of the Spires now seemed very close but a considerable drop into the Gell River lay between us and them. A circuitous approach to the south-west appeared most interesting, involving the climbing of two high points before crossing the connecting saddle to the Spires between the Gell and Holley rivers. An hour's climb ending in jagged quartzite crags interspersed with the inevitable burnt snow gum brought us to the top of the first peak, which, in the absence of a cairn we took to be previously unclimbed. Everywhere about us here were dazzling quartzite ridges, behind us Mt. Curley and the Denison Range of yesterday, ahead the Spires, and half hidden in the haze the massive Prince of Wales Range of tomorrow (we hoped). A scramble down and up soon brought us to the second high point and a disappointment. The connecting saddle to the Spires was almost as low as the Gell Valley itself. "Downhill all the way" was the order of the day and in an hour we were lunching in the shade of some banksias at the head of the Gell. The ascent of The Spires began through a mercifully brief sample of unburnt scrub, thence into a grizzly maze of burnt snow gum and finally a scramble over rocky crags to the top of the ridge. In front below us spread the inviting grassy fiats of the Denison River, but another disappoint­ ment was in store as a heavily timbered intervening ridge barred the way. An easier button-grass descent several miles to the north was apparent, and accordingly we set out along the Spires Range with this as our next objective. Now on the western slopes of the Spires with an unrelenting afternoon sun, no shade and dazzling quartzite cliffs behind to complete the cooking process, we spent the rest of the afternoon battling through a forest of burnt snow gums whose sole purpose appeared to be to rip every stitch of clothing from our backs. Two hours later we emerged battered and torn, on to a grassy saddle but with no hope of reaching the Denison River before midday next day. A camp was made in a saddle on the range about a mile south of the northern Spires. On reviewing the food position that night, we decided, owing to low food supplies and limited time, to give the Frenchman away for this time and to proceed out to Butler's Gorge via Mt. Hobhouse or the King William Range, whichever appeared the more attractive. Accordingly, next morning we set out to return to the Gell River which was reached in an hour and a half several miles below our lunch site of the previous day. Turning down- 10 stream we followed the Gell River till we reached the Gordon. This was a most pleasant part of the trip, watching the river increase gradually in size as we passed over button-grass plains, across rocky spurs and finally along tree-lined banks, crossing and re-crossing where necessary. Finally the Gell swung sharply south to enter the broad Valley of Rasselas and the Gordon River. At this point we struck east across big button-grass, and by late afternoon, entered the fringe of myrtle forest which here bordered the Gordon.

-G. Christensen DAZZLING, RUGGED QUARTZITE CLIFFS" The Spires Range

Our way from here lay upstream along the Gordon. We had travelled only a short distance through the thick myrtle forest, however, when a threatening storm encouraged us to pitch camp. All vestiges of open button-grass had now been left behind and on climbing a tall sassafras we could see that the valley was heavily timbered on all sides. A camp in the myrtle forest was thus inevitable but in view of the preceding hot weather all was dry. The storm did not eventuate and a comfortable night was had by all. A particular feature of this campsite was a huge decaying log which glowed in the darkness. Close inspection revealed the presence of myriads of tiny glow-worms, each with its luminescent tail. Next day a break in the weather with low cloud brought drizzle and rain more or less continuously. Reasonably rapid progress upstream was made through all types of vegetation, and in fact the Gordon River provided us with a very good cross-section of the types of scrub for which Tasmania is notorious. There was the comparatively easy going through the myrtle forest with its Ieatherwood, sassafras and pines. This was interspersed in turn with horizontal, bauera and tree-tree, each of which gave us the sample of its own particular brand of obstruction. Lunch time found us still on the Gordon River about six miles upstream and close to a point where the Gordon appeared to swing west to King William Range. Here a creek entering from the north was reached and we decided to make for Mt. Hobhouse. A lucky break showed us a good button-grass lead on the eastern side of the creek which took us to the crown of a spur which we surmised would lead up on to Mt. Hobhouse. Progress up this spur was very slow at first owing to a profusion of bauera, tea-tree and young celery top pine, but improved when this gave way to clear myrtle forest. For some miles an easy steady climb continued

11 but as the grade got steeper more bauera, cutting grass and tea-tree were encountered. Low cloud reduced visibility, but a momentary glimpse about half way up the spur showed us our objective. A final effort up a steep gully of pandani (Richea pandanifolia) brought us out on to the top of the main ridge thick with bauera, richea (Richea scoparia) and a beautiful pink heathy shrub (Trochocarpa thymifolia). Once again a lucky break in the cloud showed us Butler's Gorge, but as it was nearly dark, no hope of reaching it was held. Wet to the skin as we had been all day, we pitched camp in the lee of the ridge, obtaining water from a hole dug in pineapple grass. A good fire, hot tea and promise of fine weather for the morrow sent us to bed in good spirits on our last night before our return to civilisation. A brief reconnaisance in the morning showed that we were about a mile and a half east of Mt. Hobhouse to which we then proceeded. A potentially magnificent view was badly marred by haze so that Lake King William

* SLEEPING BAGS * CAMP LANTERNS * RUCKSACS * STRETCHERS * CAMP STOVES * GROUND SHEETS

HARTLEYS LTD. 270 FLINDERS ST. 's Foremost Sporting House

12 'The Crinoline

A trip to The Crinoline, the unique landmark on the Macallister-Welling­ ton divide, had been in my mind for some time so, with Jock Low and Ron Eaton, Cup week-end, 1950, saw me taking advantage of an industrial idleness to at last fulfil my wish. As there were no trains running we relied on the generosity of motorists and were able to travel as far as Glenmaggie Reservoir by the end of the first day. Rain seemed to be brewing so we pitched our tents near the water's edge, and settled down for the night. About midnight a terrific wind storm blew up; but as we had pitched wisely the noise of the wind was our only worry. During the night the wind was strong enough to blow over a caravan belonging to a C.R.B. employe who was camped a short distance from us.

-G. Coutts THE CRINOLINE A Stift' Climb Lies Ahead

We arose at 5.15 next morning and were off along the track early. The C.R.B. man whose caravan had been blown over caught up to us towing the caravan behind a grader, and we accepted his offer of a lift. Progress was slow and noisy; but it at least gave plenty of time to admire the river flats and the not-too-pleasant cloud formations blowing across the mountains. Eastward Mts. Wellington and Ben Cruachan were easily identified. We journeyed on with our companion for some miles until, on looking back across a valley, we could see in the distance a timber jinker approach­ ing. Hurriedly thanking our driver we hailed a lift in the jinker to Licola. Our new driver said that he would take us along the new road-which was then nearly through to Mt. Skene-to the turn-off. The offer was accepted as we realized that this turn-off would bring us to Riggall's (Primrose) Gap. When the time came to leave our jinker I was somewhat reluctant to do so, while for some reason the other two seemed to be rather thankful. Perhaps it was because just after leaving Licola steady rain had set in, and as I rode in the cabin while the others rode outside-well, at any rate after I helped scrape some of the red mud off them they forgave me as I promised them a good trip ahead; after all we were only just starting. 13 From this junction our walk really commenced. It was about a mile to Riggall's Gap, and we then followed the road past the Gap for a further mile and a half, from this point taking a short cut down to the bridge over the Barkly River. We left the road after crossing the bridge and followed the river downstream along a well-formed pad slightly overgrown with light scrub; but this was easily brushed aside. The Glencairn Creek was crossed and in a short distance our first crossing of the Barkly reached. We were rather surprised as to the swiftness and depth of the river, due to the recent rains, but with the aid of suitable sticks managed to cross without mishap. Proceeding around the nose of a spur, the second crossing was reached; but after I had advanced waist-high into the swiftly-flowing stream and was still only just offshore we decided that this was not a very suitable place to cross, so we continued downstream about half a mile with the idea of crossing the Macallister below its junction with the Barkly. The prospects of crossing the Macallister were rather small as the river appeared to be a mixture of deep holes and large stones which made it very turbulent. On pushing through the scrub back upstream along the Barkly Jock discovered a fallen log across the river. This provided us with a suitable crossing and we were soon walking across Lyndon's Flat, the tongue of land at the junction of the two rivers. We still had to cross the Macallister which is a bigger stream than the Barkly; but after scouting around for some time decided on what we considered to be the easiest and safest way. Keeping together, and again with the help of sticks. we slowly felt our way step by step across the stream, gradually working downstream. Once across, we dropped our packs for a well-earned lunch and, most needed of all, a rest. It had taken us just over 21; hours to come about H miles from the Barkly bridge, normally a half-hour stroll. On summing up the position we decided that a good spell would do us all good so decided to stay the rest of the day and spend the night by the river. We pitched the tents, as it was now starting to rain in earnest. A real mountain thunderstorm accompanied the rain. In the afternoon Ron was detailed to look after the fire between soothing ( ?) shrieks on his clarinet which he had brought along to keep him company. Jock and I did the right­ and only-thing to do and left him to it. We picked up the old blazed mining track without any difficulty and, mainly to keep warm, followed it up the spur for a short distance before returning to camp to have an early tea and a good night's rest. Although both tents were pitched we decided that the three of us would sleep in the two-man tent to help keep each other warm as it was bitterly cold. There is a saying that a person is never too old to learn. Well, we had pitched our tents some distance from the edge of the water, but below the six-foot banks, to shelter ourselves from the wind as much as possible. During the night the river rose and in the morning the edge of the water was very close to us, in fact the foot of the spare tent was in the water. When we awoke we felt refreshed, and broke camp just after eight o'clock. It was cloudy, but there was no rain as we began the steady climb up the blazed track which kept to the crown of the spur until some scrub gum was reached. Apparently the track swings off to the left here but we kept going straight up through the scrub as we reckoned on it being only a short distance to the top of the ridge After picking our way through the scrub we came on to the blazed track which was now side cut, and zig-zagging up the steep face of the spur to a saddle on the top of the ridge. This saddle was reached in just under an hour and a half from camp. We dropped our packs here and went south to the top of the first knob from where we could look down to our last night's camp by the Macallister opposite Lyndon's Flat. Although visibility was poor snow could be clearly seen on Mt. Skene. The impres­ sive Crinoline (Mt. Ligar) and the Sugarloaf were clearly visible north­ ward along the ridge. The Wellington Valley could also be seen as the ridge we were on separates the Macallister river and its tributaries from the . We did not stay long as the weather was too cold; so after taking a few compass bearings and photos, we retraced steps to our packs and continued along the track to Bruni's Nob. This is not a very outstanding peak but it is the point at which the blazed track leaves 14 the ridge and drops down a spur eastward to the Wellington River. It does not go over Bruni's Nob but sidles around on the Wellington fall. We followed the track to the crown of the spur and then kept sidling around to the saddle beyond. From here we kept to the ridge and after a very steep climb reached the top of the Sugarloaf. The good view from here was spoilt by the cold, misty weather, and these conditions made our stay very short. We walked on to the second saddle, where we found water for lunch. After lunch we reached our main objective for the trip, the Crino­ line; but had to sidle around on the Macallister fall until we found a suitable spot from which to reach the top. The Crinoline is a fascinating peak, unique in its outlines and views, and bare of trees at the top. A reasonable view was had from the top, but again the cold prevented us staying long.

-G. Coutts FALLS ON SHAW'S CREEK One of a Series of Falls and Cascades

On leaving the summit of the Crinoline we continued on our way around the Macallister fall, soon striking some thick scrub and large rocks, making progress slow and tedious. Reaching the saddle to the north of the Crinoline the walking once more became easier, and so enabled us to make steady progress to Long Hill. We camped near a waterfall on a head of Breakfast Creek, a tributary of the Wellington River. This fall had been seen ahead for some time as we approached. Next morning once again saw us up early and, after taking a few bearings-some of the better known points visible from here were Mt. Wellington, The Crinoline, Mt. Skene and Peter's Gorge-we walked on in glorious sunshine, generally in a north-westerly direction until we came out on the northern face of Long Hill. It is here that the ridge swings around from north to east, and a glorious panorama of the from Spring Hill to Mt. Howitt is unfolded to view. We stayed here for some time in the warm sunshine taking photos and compass bearings, and admiring the fold upon fold of spurs leading up to the Great Divide, 15 Long Hill is actually a small wooded plateau, and was traversed on the Macallister fall, as this fall is very open, whereas the Wellington fall soon becomes scrubby. As we left Long Hill we obtained a view over the Crinoline to Licola. The ridge now narrowed again and ahead of us we could see Mts. Reynard and Tamboritha. The view to the left down into the valley of Shaw's Creek was splendid, and as we continued along the ridge the falls on the creek could be seen. A dry lunch was had on the top of the ridge-after Jock and Ron had dropped down some distance with­ out finding water. Mt. Tamboritha was reached in the late afternoon and through the trees we could see the Bennison Plains beyond. Arriving on the plains we found that due to the recent heavy rains Shaw's Creek was flooded and had swamped them. Camp was made near where the Bennison Spur track leaves the plains-to my surprise adjacent to a rabbit warren. This was the first time that I had seen rabbits around these parts. Next morning we set off down Shaw's Creek, and after three hours scrub-bashing, scrambling over rocks and crawling along the precipitous sides of the by now roaring creek, we reached the falls. These are rather extensive consisting mainly of a series of small falls and cascades, and were well worth the effort we put into reaching them. It was decided that we would return to camp the easy way, so we cut up on to the ridge which we had travelled the day before and arrived back at camp for lunch after an hour and a half. Mid-afternoon saw us on the track down Bennison Spur to the Wellington River; the stockyard on the river being reached in good time for camp. The following morning the sky was overcast as we walked down the river. Nineteen of the twenty-one crossings were made before a halt was called for lunch, which was not completed in time to beat the rain. By the time we were ready to move off it had increased to a steady downpour. Licola was reached as the rain ceased in the middle of the afternoon, and we were just in time to obtain a lift back as far as Moe, where we camped the night in the local reserve. Next day, after our short break, we were back home with the worrying odds and ends of everyday life. Although some stages of this trip were perhaps a little harder than one would normally desire, I consider this route to the Bennison Plains an excellent one, providing a variety of splendid panoramic views and really not so much harder than the usual track up the Bennison Spur. -Gordon Coutts lllllllllllllllfiiiiiiiUIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIllllllllllllllllllllltlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllflllllllfllfl VAN TRIP Morning, grey gums sweeping by, Mists rising. Quiet hikers, gazing, pensive, Some thinking of beeches, cedars - not Grey gums ... Sunshine and autumn poplars gleaming, Spirits rising. Active walkers, alert, smiling, Springing along the winding track­ Cares behind them. Nightfall and stars a'twinkle, Moon rising. Noisy walkers, laughing, singing Song after song, while speeding homeward Past dark gums. -"Nin" 16 Big Walkabout NUNNIONG PLATEAU-INGEEGOODBEE-SUGGAN BUGGAN

I held my breath, Click-Click!* The* porter gave me my ticket; I was through the gate. "This is it", I thought, "this very second the year's big walk begins. Not the night I work over food lists and maps and hours I spend mending gear but this, the moment I slip through the gates to the train." Then Bet came through (big-grin), then Warren (big-pack) and last but not least Norm (big-chief). Our part of the train was heading for Bairnsdale, but Bairnsdale was floating around my brain with such thrilling names as Ensay, Nugong, Nunniong, Jam Tin, Limestone, Quambatt, Cobberas, Ingeegoodbee, Suggan Buggan and Black Mountain; so I let the others find the carriage with the happy thought that I could always blame them if we were in the wrong part of the train.

-B. Horsley SOMETIMES TOGETHER AND SOMETIMES STRUNG OUT" On the Track to Quambatt Settled in, packs up on the rack, sun streaming through the window and four of us sitting far back on our seats relaxing, for we knew this would be our last chance for the next week or so, as soon our hips would be swinging the packs along many and varied mountain tracks and miles. Station after station flew past till Sale, where the engine was switched to the other end and we were off again, this time to Bairnsdale. On the Omeo bus, I must remark here something that I think I had not noticed before, but it seemed that the ordinary passengers who were transferring from train to bus couldn't have cared less about their luggage, it was a necessary evil; but not so the four "tough" walkers they fussed and watched over their old packs like four clucky hens. Still I will admit they did have our entire food and bedding for fourteen days; and no chance of popping in to purchase more. What you didn't carry you didn't get. The bus dropped us off about 5.30 p.m. at Ensay, 50 miles from Bairns­ dale; there is a hotel (pub)-the Inn, and it was here we decided that we would have our last conventionally cooked meal. It is a real old country pub; you step straight off the bus on to the verandah. 17 When we arrived, there were two dogs fighting in the dust of the road. A chap who was holding up one of the verandah posts, turned his head to see who came off the bus, but the effort must have put him off his balance because he silently slid from the post and folded up in the dust on top of the dogs. He had "had" it. This was rather peculiar because when we booked in for a meal we were told it would be about an hour, as the beer had just arrived. What difference that made to having our dinner I do not know. The thing that had me really puzzled was just what had our friend, the post-leaner, been drinking. Perhaps it did matter about the beer because when the meal did eventuate it was excellent. The time had arrived for us to put on the packs. It was now about seven o'clock and a lovely summer evening. We thought we would walk a few miles then camp for the night. About i mile along the road we heard a vehicle coming our way; it passed, stopped and the driver yelled back. "Like a lift?" The next seven miles went very quickly until we came to a fork in the road, and it was here we parted. The driver wished us luck, and as the truck travelled off to the right there drifted back to us, "Don't forget to see old Bill". "Old Bill" must be Bill Ah Chow, whom we did intend to see. Another few miles and in the soft summer night with millions of stars above we made our first camp. Next morning up bright and early to inspect the weather, and we all agreed it was going to be a super day-breakfast; and just as we were breaking camp we heard a "something" coming up the road. It was Mr. Newcomen in his Land Rover, going up for some sheep. He stopped and we chatted. Usually people ask where we are going, and when told they do either one of two things (a) Look at you queerly and pass you off as quite mad or (b) Start to tell you what they did when they were young or what they would do if they were twenty years younger. Mr. Newcomen was the exception, he just grinned and said, "Well don't forget to call on old Bill." Well there it was again. We all agreed that if we didn't do anything else we must "see Bill or bust". We stopped on the ridge for lunch, dropping down into a gully for water. The day was beautiful and the smell of the gums still fresh enough for us to remark upon. It was about 3.30 p.m. when we turned a corner, and we knew we had arrived at Bill's. We could see the old hut and stables, and grazing peacefully were Bill's two fat sleek horses. We left our packs on a little rise and walked up the track to the new hut; I looked back and there were the horses sniffing at our strange packs. Bill's summer quarters are situated on Bentley's Plains, named after Bentley the notorious bushranger who also lived there (it was here he corralled his illicit cattle). We had by now arrived at the door of the hut and out stepped Mr. William Ah Chow. Bill is a big chap and with his shining jolly face and twinkling Chinese eyes he makes you like him straight-away. He is also a tease, but if you are not certain whether you are being taken for a ride or not you only need to look at his eyes, and if they are twinkling then you know. The hut, staggering under the nom-de-plume of "Moscow Villa", is scrupulously clean, It didn't take us long to realise Bill would give you his skin if he thought you wanted it, whether he needed it or not; this we found rather embarrassing, as he had things such as fresh potatoes, condensed milk, soft drinks and fruit that we were not carrying, and it took all our will-power to refuse him. Even so, we partook of Bill's hospitality to a greater extent than we were entitled to, or should have. That night around the fire we were entertained by our host. We were perfectly content to lie back in our comfortable chairs and listen. This, our second night, we had expected to be under canvas around our own camp fire, but when any of us took stock of our surroundings we would exclaim, "I can't believe it, real chairs, and cups and saucers, too." That 18 night when Bet and your's truly turned in, we really couldn't believe it. There were sheets and pillow cases on the bed. I rubbed my hand over the pillow to make sure it was real-lovely!-! reverently turned back the sheet and that was the last I remembered until next morning. To a loud knock the door slowly opened to admit our host with a tray and there upon two cups of tea and biscuits-what bliss-what luxury! At this moment we both decided we had gone beyond everything, and wouldn't dare face Norm and Warren, let alone the club on a Friday night. " ... 24 calling ... calling ... ready Bill, over, over-14 calling-calling; yes, I got that, over, over ..." and our fire watchers are on the air. Every morning they have a pow-wow and we were privileged to sit in and listen. It made me feel very secure and proud with the thought of this fine type of Australian keeping vigil over our forests; usually alone at their out-posts, connected only by their wireless. Five days later I was to look back to Nugong (5,000 feet) and imagine I could see Bill's keen eyes sweeping the valleys and mountains. Bill's outlook on life is very clear and very wise; perhaps it is this solitude and grandness of high places from which he gains his wisdom. In the morning, from the hut we followed Bill to his fire-watching station up the winding track to Nugong. The scenery from here is magni­ ficent; but it is to the hundreds of flowers that cover the track and mass themselves at the top that full praise must go; breathe out, and then a big breath in, and you have this scene and perfume for always. Third night on the track at Bill's; then in the morning we left all this luxury behind. It was fortunate that our host had to go to one of his huts that day so we trailed along with him. On our way we saw our first brumbies and we were to see many of these little families of wild horses ir. the days to follow, usually a stallion, mare and foal. It became a common sight to look up on the ridge and see them, their mains flying and their necks stretched out; or suddenly to come on to a stallion and his mate and to hear them thunder away down into the gully. There are chestnuts, browns, greys and lovely shining blacks. If you should come on them at a reasonable distance and keep perfectly still, after the first panic they will stop and turn round and advance a few steps toward you, curiosity overcoming their natural instinct to flee; but move toward them and you have lost them; they are off like a flash. The old timers never catch or try to tame the adult brumby; they are too chalky in the bone and too wily and old in the head, but the foals are caught, fed the civilized food and tamed. Nasty thought, because, I can't but believe that they leave some part of their wild hearts up in the mountain ridges and valleys where they were born. Up in our Alps there is a lagoon named after Bill, and called the Ah Chow Lake. We sat on the side and heard the big bull frogs croaking. Lunch at Nunniong Hut with Bill, then across the plains past the old Nunniong homestead site (where long ago a pioneer mother looked after her family and bore her children without medical assistance -one of these same children still lives away down in Bindi) to where our track started to climb toward Big Nunniong. It was here we said good bye to our friend. We started off about 2.15 p.m., the sun blazing down on to our packs with their millions of flies. Looking back down the track, away in the distance, we could still see Bill. I raised my arm to wave and the next moment he disappeared from sight behind a clump of gums. From the ridge we first saw the Cobberas. In two days we hoped to be climbing along their rocky uneven tops. We camped that night, our fourth, up on the tops. We found a little trickle of water about 6.30 p.m.; it was very hot and the sky very angry. About 8 o'clock we could see flashes of lightning over on the next ridge. We made doubly sure of our tents. The thunder and lightning and buckets and buckets of rain caught us about 2 a.m.; the thunder seemed to crack all around us and the lightning lit up the tents. We breakfasted and started next morning in the rain; we passed Jam Tin one mile further on; there was plenty of water here. 19 Still raining! - and in the first lull from rain since breakfast we had lunch, still up on the top. Just as we were finishing it came over dull again and we hastily put on the old packs and capes, and plodded on. About 3 p.m. the weather cleared and we then were walking in pale sunlight. The maps of this area are lacking in detail and we were only judging our distances (at least Norm was judging for us). Afternoon faded into evening as we passed the Marengo track- from Benambra- which linked up with ours. We kept on, preferring to get into a hut if possible that' night; we knew that there was one at Limestone. Bet and I were starting to tire; it was now pitch dark but the thought of a nice dry hut kept us going. Not far to go now- we turned a corner and lights blazed out of the hut. Our hopes were dashed. We found there was a party of people fishing, shooting and having a look at the caves that are about one mile from there. They invited us into the roaring fire, we pitched our tents and came back and cooked our tea- our fifth camp. The fifth day out started in brilliant sunshine and for the next six days the Sun God favoured us, and we willingly paid homage to him. There were camps in the late sunshine, and sunny mornings when day begins, lunch spots bathed in sunshine, and smoke-ohs when we lay on our backs and the sun just soaked in. We trotted along the miles of track, sometimes together and sometimes strung out, each thinking his or her private thoughts, or just breathing in the lovely bush air, or wondering what the little lizard that just scuttled across the track would think if he knew about cities and such. Lunch on the track on the way to the top of the Divide; crossed quite a few small streams flowing generally west-ward; passed a brumby trap. Arrived at the cairn which marks the most convenient point at which to leave the track to go to No. 1 Cobberas. This is the cairn that was erected by a party from the Club, Xmas 1947-48. Camped that night, sixth camp, at Rest Home Creek. It was at this camp we heard the Bittern booming, an eerie cry with just enough pause between each boom to let you think it has ceased. The other three had camped here the year before and kept telling me what a good camp it was- and it is; nestling in a valley with plenty of fresh water and fire wood. Seventh day out and we could see No. 3 Cobbera clearly to our right and at times straight ahead. Still wonderful weather. Arrived at Quambatt 10.30 a.m., sunbathed till 3 o'clock. It was here I had a long awaited wish fullfilled. Norm stood in N.S.W. and I in Vic. and we shook hands across where the Murray begins. Seventh camp and we were on the Pilot saddle. To get water we had to retrace our steps about six or seven hundred yards. We arrived about 4 o'clock, dropped the packs and made for the top of the Pilot (6005 ft.). From the top the view is breathtaking; nothing but silence can pay tribute to its beauty, its peaks and distances and grandeur. Kossie stood out, and we could pick out our routes of previous years. The Cobberas were bathed in blues and mauves and nearer to us down in the valley we followed with our eyes the course of the lngeegoodbee that tomorrow would be our track. From out of the warm rocks of the cairn the fat Bogong moth came to life, and I couldn't help thinking "You stupid fat things living up here in all this beauty, and what do you care?'' As the sun slowly faded and turned the blues and mauves to blacks we reluctantly scrambled down to our packs and camp. It is said "See Naples and die", but see the magnificence of the shadows deepen from the Pilot and you live for ever. Eighth day, and we hoped to see our first human in a week; Charles Carter the Hermit of Tin Mine. This tin mine is a relic of the early war years when it was expected to mine the tin and fly it out. Things did not turn out as expected, but Charlie has stayed, and still digs and writes, and 20 lives his life alone. He has to go to Jindabyne to get supplies every two months, and we presumed he had gone there as he was not at home when we arrived. It was at lunch this day that we found the green-hood orchid. Bet lent over from gorging herself to remove a too adventuresome ant, and who should be looking at her but a greenhood. We found several more at intervals along the track for several miles after leaving our lunch spot. Eighth camp, and we were still on the at Freebody'S. There is a hut (no fireplace), and millions and millions of flies. The old Victorian Government track from Monaro, N.S.W. to Benambra and Omeo came into here from the , and headed South-west to go around the foot of the Cobbera. Of the old homestead only four posts are standing.

-B. Horsley THE PEACE OF SUGGAN BUGGAN Camp on the Old Homestead Clearing Life took a turn for the worst here, everybody became very busy. Firstly we put up the tents and built a fire in the out-of-doors fireplace, and it was at this moment that someone decided to do their weekly wash; so not to be outdone, so did everyone else. I think, and that is as far as I will commit myself; but I think I rinsed a pair of sox five, or was it six, times; and the water still looked like mud. Mr. and Mrs. Swallow who had a nest and family in the hut definitely thought humans go too far in this washing business, and hoped we would not start on them. At tea-time we were visited by two very tame and very beautiful parrots. The night was warm and we sat around drying clothes, and of course eating. Our tent was pitched in a little hollow. It was very snug and cosy and I was soon asleep. It must have been about 2 o'clock I was awakened. It was still warm and I rolled over on my tummy and reached up and pushed back the flaps of the tent. Everything was bathed in bright moonlight and it was so quiet I was afraid to breathe. I eased a little further out of the tent, and I could see on the rise the four posts of the homestead. In the moonlight the posts had walls; there was a path and the fence had a gate, and there were dogs and horses. Going up the path and through the door I came to the kitchen-come-living room; and there I saw her. I would liked to have spoken; but she seemed so still, as if waiting, as perhaps she had waited many a time before; for supplies or for men to return ... or was it her mind had just drifted off to cities and dresses and company? I let my mind follow here and there with her. This was not true of course, but it was easy to believe in the moonlight on the Ingeegoodbee; and I would let it be true until tomorrow. 21 Wham!, and the sun hit us early and we were up and off, flies and all. Strange thing there was not one fly in the hut. When crossing and saying goodbye to the Ingeegoodbee we flushed seven wild ducks. About another hour's walk and we came to the last water we were to find till we made camp that night. Walking was very pleasant with an occasional rise so we headed toward the Suggan Buggan Range. Lunch was dry. We were perched up on the Suggan Buggan Range; to our right, in the distance, we could see Kossie in full sunshine, and over on the left the Cobberas in black, thundery skies. Six or seven brumbies came thundering past us headed by a beautiful chestnut stallion. These horses were in excellent condition. They must feed down in the gullies for where we were, and back along the track for several miles, there wasn't a blade of grass. The weather looked threatening to say the least of it and we decided to push on. We followed the main ridge, dry and dusty, but the scenery excellent. We took the short cut out to the homestead. The range comes to an abrupt end, and it's over you go. The grade is so steep you just let yourself go and hope you connect with a tree a little further down. You leave the protection of one and run for the next until you reach the bottom; intact, you hope. When cattle are brought down this track there must be a terrific din with men shouting, whips cracking and beasts bellowing as the poor things become scared stiff. From the end of the range until you arrive at the homestead, about another three miles, the earth is red and ridged where the torrential rain has worn great gashes in it. There isn't any grass and it looks as if there never has been. You are introduced to the insect called the "ant" among other things; gradually at first, to prepare you for what is to come. You brush them off and pick your spot to eat and sit down. A day later you wade across the Tonginbooka (Suggan Buggan) River with good sized bullants all over your boots and up your legs; but by this time you are so used to them that they no longer worry you. Through the afternoon the weather had kept on improving until we had perfect conditions once again, and it was in late afternoon sunshine that we first came upon the Suggan Buggan homestead. You do not need moonlight to bring to life the pioneer atmosphere here, it hits you from the first. The old homestead with its shingled roof and news-papered interior is rapidly giving up its hold. Nature is taking back her own. The school house I found very friendly. It is easy to imagine the little ones on a warm day wriggling their little tails on the hard seats and sucking their pencils with the frustrating thought that the sparkling cool tree-lined Tonginbooka is only 200 yards away inviting them in. Just as the sun was setting, we camped this evening under foreign trees that had been planted many years ago. Usually we chi-acked each other or laughed about the day's walk as we made camp, but to-night was different. We were silent thinking about the roaring O'Rourke's that really lived here years ago, and of the land itself. The earth was red, hard and cracked, and there was not a blade of grass. Ants-there are millions and millions from sugar ants to big two inch bullants. There is not a spot that doesn't accommodate an ant, and the rabbit of course is there too. There is plenty of water, clear and cool, but with all this it has a beauty and tranquillity that endures. The Murray Pine is found in very few places, this being the most southernly that it grows. It was a glorious night, and as the moon came up we decided to have a swim. I was content to lie in the shallows and let the Tonginbooka flow over me, but not so Bet, she had to show just how much energy she still had left. Was it here Warren that we found the big white huntsman spider on your dark tent just as we were retiring? Our route next day was to take us down to the Snowy River, along the Snowy and out that way. We were up early and decided to have a look at the Suggan Buggan Road. This road is famous for its scenery and, as we were to find out later, its fame is fully justified. It is red of course, and - Continued on Page 26 22 OIJR WALKERS and other miscellanea Dear Reader, meet some of our walkers-not that there is any reason why you should. Most of their friends dodge them if they can; but accidents sometimes happen. Of course we have all types, even some who are almost normal citizens, and like all ancient companies even have our skeleton to hide. We make a point of hiding him whenever we're asking some kind publican to let us stay the night at his hostelry after a long trip. This is advisable because of his most un-skeleton-like appetite. Walkers come in all sizes; S., W., O.S., O.O.S., etc. (i.e., short, wide, odd size and 'orribly odd size). They also come in all shapes but these have defied definition, except that quite often they appear to be in very bad shape after climbing a couple of thousand feet on a hot day. Come to think of it no two would ever dream of being alike in any way, As far as can be discovered from police records no walking club has ever had Siamese twins. Don't get me wrong, anything a walking club gave birth to would be unusual, but I mean that no club has ever had a pair of members who were Siamese twins. It would be rather awkward for them as one just couldn't help crawling under a log if the other was climbing over it. Talking about logs, some of our members sleep like 'em, especially in the morning when the leader is trying to get everyone up for an early start-and then again some don't. In one district the locals still talk of the time someone left their sawmill running all night. I would have liked to introduce you to some of our photographers, but it appears that these people are akin to the bunyip, a myth. We have numerous shutter-clickers; but they are all too hard-up to buy any film; at least this appears to be so as we rarely see any prints. This ephemeral genus comes in three species-black and white, colour and composite. The last are identified by their having two little black boxes instead of one. We sometimes see some of the colour results, although the cynical pretend to think that this has something to do with the fact that their films must be processed commercially. This is all that can be said at present; the theme may be developed further some other time. Before we go any further let's meet some of our leaders. Many of these are in the X.X .... O.O.S. category. Some of them were apparently once "milk-ohs", or more probably burglars, because before the night seems half over they delight in going around the tents calling out, "Come on, off in half an hour!" I think I'll take a bobby's helmet on my next trip; see if it will scare off this type of renegade Bill Sykes. On second thoughts maybe I won't, probably be a bit messy after some character had mixed custard in it. Custard did I say? No such luck; you ought to see the con­ coctions that hide under that nom-de-plume. It covers more sins than a walker's beard. All the way from the thin and watery to the thick and pasty, from the palest white to the deepest yellow, and with maybe a garnishing of specks of black ash and little twigs. The black ash is due to the fire. There are two types of fire-the blackfellows, and the magpie's nest or haystack. The former is the result of placing a large amount of tinder under a number of damp logs, and has such a grip on its devotees that they clear away nice dry timber to make way for it. This is done as a fire precaution. Ha! Ha! As if their fire would worry a keg of gunpowder? The magpie's nest is made by gathering first a large heap of twigs and leaves about the size of a small haystack, adding a two-foot layer of branches and capping the lot with any dead trees which happen to be lying around. The only safe place for this type of fire is on an island in the middle of a large lake. The fire is lit by setting fire to the twigs at half a dozen places; if it doesn't catch at the first try there is still plenty of room for another. Both types are equally efficient at putting ash in custard or smoking tea. The main difference is that the blackfellow type burns your fingers when you pick up a piece of wood you didn't think was hot, while the magpie's nest browns you nicely all over as you try to get near enough to remove your billy. With this type of fire it is definitely a mistake to place your billy on the fire before the fire is lit! 23 There,s a glass and a half of full cream milk in every half pound of CADBURY'S DAIRY MILK CHOCOLATE 24 Fires are malicious things; when you want to get one going you can't, and when you get one going you can't put it out. The only really efficient way of putting out a fire is to forget to curse certain The only really efficient way of putting out a fire is to forget to curse certain people every time they come near. These people-no prizes for naming some of them-find that all the best spots to tread on are occupied by the ends of sticks poking out of the fire. Such sticks have many of the pro­ perties of an atom bomb. Once touched they shake the whole fire and spill the contents of every billy out on to it. The owners of the fire regard this as a catastrophe, but such is the spirit in a walking club that the members just laugh at such annoyances-well all except the aforesaid fire owners. One of the leading features of a band of walkers is this willingness to share each others' misfortunes; you have the misfortunes and we'll share in them, that is we'll do the laughing. This is called humour. Many humourous incidents happen on walks-subtle little things such as someone picking up a red-hot billy handle; the next bloke's tent dripping water all night; or maybe someone, preferably the leader, removing the seat of their pants on a barb wire fence-all the best of fun and the very spirit of humour; provided you take a quick glance at the barb wire first to make sure that it's someone else's garment hanging there. Maybe you didn't get through a fence and it's only someone's washing hanging out to dry. Now there is a sight for sore eyes. It's not often that walkers bother to have a washday, they've usually got nothing worth washing anyway. But when they do the Sunday night purveyors of soap opera must wilt before their microphones. Anything from a delicate smoky grey to a rich, rusty brown passes for clean, and even toothpaste has been known to serve as a cleanser. Toothpaste is the sickly white stuff that comes in cute tubes which you squeeze. When squeezed amid a rucksac full of clothes they are not cute, they are --??!! ?- Tut! Tut! That language will scare the ladies (. .. really!). They're the female persons whose presence in a party is sufficient to make the less hardbitten gents take along a razor in the hope that they will look a little less like the desperadoes they really are. Gener­ ally shaving proves to be too much even under such an urge, and a spare razor blade is handy in the snakebite outfit anyway. This is the kit which presumably is carried to render First Aid to any snake which may have been bitten by some walker a little madder than his fellows; we can't imagine any self-respecting snake frequenting the same area just to bite one of a walking party. The latter of course, is really only a courtesy title, such a thing as a walking party doesn't exist. Most parties encountered in the bush spend their nights sleeping and their days eating or sitting down. A little walking is sometimes done between sittings-down, but this appears to be merely to add zest to the eating section of the programme. The walking of course is not done to programme. The leader nearly always claims to have a programme, but no matter where a party arrives or when it gets there the leader claims to be on schedule, the result of having an elastic programme. About the only things which could be as elastic as this are the stomachs of the walkers themselves. If all alibis fail the weather can be blamed. The weather is the bane of all walkers. When it's hot, climbing hills is too much like hard work, so don't climb 'em. When it's cold, it's freezing on top so we don't go to the top. When it's raining, it's misty on top-and it's no use going if there's nothing to see! In dry weather the dust and leaves fall down your shirt, and you pray for rain. In the rain you get wet to your "foundations", and you pray for sunshine. There's just no pleasing your type. Some walks are known as Winter Walks. This is because they are lousy walks at any time, but in the winter they are com­ paratively less lousy than the other lousy walks which were not so lousy walks in the summer. Those walks specifically labelled Summer Walks are usually trips through swamps and across numerous creeks and rivers. The swamps at this time of the year are alive with tiger snakes and mosquitoes, and these trips usually occur just after torrential rains have swollen the numerous streams and rivers so that there are no numerous streams, only numerous rivers. The old hands who could perhaps negotiate the crossings­ and who probably merit no better death anyway-stay at home while the new chums go along; and wish they'd never left mother. Rivers have no 25 political convictions; no sooner do you become accustomed to having a river on the left than you find that it's crossed to the right-although it's you who does the crossing, the river just moves to the right. Next thing you know you're crossing back to the left as the river moves right. Double­ crossings criss-cross every track along a river. Most rivers finally come to the stage of just meandering their way across featureless country-which is about the stage at which I appear to be now, so I guess I'd better just trickle along. Who cares what they look like, whether the weather is hot or cold, or whether the fire flares or fades? It doesn't really matter just so long as the bush is there to walk in and some kindred spirits to walk with. Let's get away on a walk where nothing really matters and no one will bother whether the previous sentence ends with a preposition or not. If you've read this far you've met the caricature, come and meet the real thing. As we said in the beginning, "Meet some of our walkers." - "Barrani"

Co11linued from Page 22- Hi~;' Walkabout the surface is level and wide enough to take a double load of traffic. One side has the mountain and the other side has nothing; it just drops away into the gullies. We changed our plans and decided to follow the road, feeling like the trio in the Wizard of Oz who followed the yellow brick road. From Suggan Buggan it winds its way upwards twisting and writhing until it comes out at Black Mountain, eight miles away. Storms with the inevitable torrents of rain have washed great gashes right through the road, and at times to cross you have to press against the side of the mountain. The sun was terrific; it beat down on us without mercy, but not once did I think "It is not worth it." We found water once trickling down the side where it had been caught in a hollow in the rocks below. On and on till you get nearer to the gap at the top of the ridge, and it's here that the most amazing thing happens, You are breathing in all the beauty that in the last eight miles you have come to accept, when, in a few yards, everything is changed, and you find yourself on a plateau with the scenery more in keeping with an English countryside. It is quite domesticated, there are fences and milking cattle and houses, and you can smell sheep. It is nine days since we saw a house. I wanted to turn, and run back and have a last look at my mountains; but I didn't, I kept following the others and knew that every step was taking me further on. We camped at Little River with its trout; we could see them flashing past. We had lunch and after a pow-wow decided to visit Black Mountain homestead. Living on the wealthy property is Mr. and Mrs. Loder, three sons and one daughter -lucky people. We knocked timidly on the door and met Mrs. Loder who was gracious enough to ask us in; big boots, torn shorts and all. "Would you care for a cup of tea?" Tea with all the trimmings, real milk and sugar. Did ever tea and fruit cake taste as good? "Would you care for a lettuce and some radish?" Fresh vegetables after dehydrated ones. Mr. Loder and his three sons were working out in the paddocks so we ambled over to inspect, and were made to feel very lazy at the way these men were working. Tea with all the odds and ends out of the packs shared together, plus the lettuce. In the warm evening we built a fire to dry off some of our clothes as we would be back in civilization tomorrow. The Loder family came wandering down for a chat. And we heard the story of the little O'Rourke girl who once wandered away from Black Mountain and was not found until too late. Her father found her little skeleton twelve months later at the top of a waterfall on the Snowy. She is buried in the little cemetry with its two graves just inside the gates at the homestead. Very warm we slept on our bags, not in them, that night. Toot, Toot, and it was day; and Mr Loder was there with his car to take us to Wulgulmerang, mail car to Buchan, bus to Bairnsdale, train home-home­ home. Unpacking the pack two or three days (or was it weeks) later, the smell all packs have and all walkers know drifted up to me, and the lounge faded to camp fires on the ranges and along the Ingeegoodbee and the heady perfume of sun and earth. Ed. Richards 26 Climbing on 'Table 3v!outain

Many Australians, whose ship has called for a few hours at Cape Town on the way to or from England, must have admired the beautiful position of the "Mother City" of South Africa at the foot of the famous Table Mountain. The combination of sea and mountains, which one finds near Cape Town, has often been compared with Norway, the Riviera, or Rio de Janeiro, and it offers ideal facilities for walking and especially climbing. How easy it is at Cape Town. You can leave the centre of the city by trolley bus at 8.40 a.m., and at 8.55 you are at the "Kloof Nek" at an altitude of 700 feet. Kloof Nek is the saddle between Table Mountain and another peak, Lion's. Head, and because of its convenient position to the city and to the northern and western sides of Table Mountain, it is the most popular meeting place for climbs and walks. You find that your friends are already there, and if you have bad luck, you will spend the next hour at Kloof Nek discussing which route to take. But this time your luck is in, agreement about the route has been reached quickly, and at 9 o'clock you set off. After half an hour's "slogging" up a steep grassy slope you are at the first rock pitch of the "Kloof Corner" climb, only fifty minutes after leaving the Cape Town equivalent of Collins Street.

-S. Afr. Informn. Office LION'S HEAD (Right) AND THE TWELVE APOSTLES Kloof Nek is Saddle in Centre of Photo As we have started on the Kloof Corner climb, let us continue along it. This is a moderately difficult rock climb ascending on the north-western ridge of Table Mountain. It offers good views to the south, where the western side of the Mountain rises straight out of the blue expanse of the Atlantic, and to the north-east, where the city, a few of the nearer suburbs, and the harbor occupy the limited and comparatively level area between Table Bay and the northern side of the Mountain. Rock pitches alternate with a steep track, and on some of the pitches we appreciate the "moral support" which the rope affords. About half way up we come to the most interesting part of the climb. After passing through a natural cut between two masses of rock, we step out on to the face of the rock and have to climb up on it. I climbed Kloof Corner for the first time on a misty day, and when we came to this spot and the leader told me to rope in, I said that this pitch looked quite easy, and that I would be able to climb it without a rope. However, the leader insisted on my using the rope, and when I got out of the rope at the end of the pitch he said: "I see, you had no 27 difficulty; but if the mist had lifted, you would have seen 500 feet of empty space below you." Kloof Corner comes to an end 500 feet below the summit. But it is time for lunch, and as we happen to be near"Africa Water Hole", one of the few perennial sources of water on Table Mountain, this gives us a good excuse to have an hour's rest. Africa Water Hole is a small pool surrounded by arum lilies with their white and yellow flowers and dark green leaves. The water, like all water on Table Mountain, looks brown, but tastes excellent. While the billy boils over the fire, we watch the toy-like town below us, and the ships making their way to or from the harbor. We can resist the call of the summit no longer, and after just over an hour we are on our feet again. We can see the summit immediately above us; but the climbs on the buttress separating us from it are among the most difficult on the Mountain. So we rather follow the track which ascends round the back of the buttress. Another thirty minutes, and we have reached the plateau of the summit, 3,500 feet above the sea which stretches out below us. We have reached the top of the Mountain at the "Front Table", and this is the only part where it has the flat and table-like appearance which everyone expects to find. The remainder of the "Table" is a continuous sequence of rocky hills and valleys, and gradually slopes down to the "Back Table" which-though still the "top" of the Mountain-is 1,100 feet lower than the Front Table. We have now satisfied our ambition to reach the highest point of the Mountain, and also admired the view, and so we make our way to the Back Table which is far more interesting than the Front Table. Here we find the five reservoirs which supply a large part of Cape Town's water. After a hot day's climb the brown, but clear water in these dams may look inviting for a swim. Only rich people, however, can afford this. The fee of admission, at least £5 per person, will be collected by the Magistrate at Cape Town after you have had your swim. Near one of the larger reservoirs the Mountain Club has built its hut. Rooms are still being added to this hut, and whenever some building material has to be taken up to the hut, a member of the committee is posted at Kloof Nek on a fine Sunday morning and gives each climber a fair load of cement, or timber, or whatever else it may be, to carry. At one part of the Back Table are the "Wynberg Caves", a surprisingly little known labyrinth of caves and subterranean passages. If you come to one of the entrances of the caves, you are bound to disturb the midday sleep of hundreds of bats, and if you have an adequate supply of torches, candles and thread (the latter in order to find your way back a-la-Theseus). it is well worth while climbing down some of the caves and passages and exploring the crystal formations and underground streams. Numerous as the bats may be near the Wynberg Caves, they are not the most common animals on Table Mountain. This honour goes to the graceful "dassie", or rock rabbit, a small marmot-like creature which, however, is zoologically related to the elephant, and not to the marmot or rabbit. There are also some baboons, many interesting birds, and a fair number of snakes, among them the deadly cobra. Table Mountain has lost a large part of its original vegetation, partly through the numerous bush fires, and partly through afforestation with pine trees which do not permit any other plants to grow near them. But on some of the slopes, and in most of the ravines, the original bush vegetation, the ferny gullies, and the many wild flowers can still be found. Among the latter, South Africa's national flower, the Protea, with its pincushion­ like appearance, deserves special mention. Altogether there are over 250 recognised routes from the foot of the Mountain to the plateau on top, from easy walks to the most severe rock climbs. The number of climbs still increases from year to year because new routes are being opened over parts of the Mountain which have previously been believed to be unclimbable. There is a fair number of easy routes, and even mountaineers who do not like rock climbing have a good variety of interesting ascents to choose from. If you have been 28 bitten by the rock-climbing bug, a new and large field is open to you. Even among the easier rock climbs there are some routes, such as "Carrell's Ledge", "Grotto to Fountain Ravine Traverse", and especially "Right Face to Africa Face Traverse", which are very sensational and yet require no particular skill apart from the ability to remain unconcerned at a sheer drop of several hundred feet below you. Often I was asked the question "How long does it take to reach the top?" I have always been at a loss what to answer, because some of the ascents are easy walks, and others difficult rock climbs, because some parts of the top are 2,400 feet above sea level, and others 3,500 feet, and because the rate of progress depends very much on the members of the party. Along an easy route such as "Kasteels Poort'' the Mountain Club Hut can be reached comfortably in just over one hour (a competition, more enthu­ siastic than wise, exists for the fastest descent on Kasteels Poort, and the "record" stands at somewhere near 9 minutes), and there have been occa­ sions when we reached the summit, over a difficult route, only shortly before sunset after leaving Kloof Nek in the morning.

-S. Afr. Informn. Office RUGGED PEAKS DOMINATE THE UNIVERSITY OF CAPE TOWN Table Mt. on Left Naturally Table Mountain has its dangers and claims some victims nearly every year. Most of these accidents are due to novices who set out on climbs without sufficient knowledge of the Mountain. They lose their way and suddenly find themselves in a position from where they are unable to move either forward or back, and eventually lose their precarious hold and fall. But now and again also experienced mountaineers have to pay the supreme price for the pleasure of mountaineering. In 1946 the Dutch Consul, a mountaineer of many years standing, climbed Table Mountain after a week of heavy rains. Suddenly the boulder, to which he was holding on, came loose, he slipped, and was killed by the boulder falling on top of him. In March, 1951, a well-known Cape Town surgeon, with many climbs in Europe and South Africa to his credit, lost his foothold while climbing "Postern Buttress" and fell seventy feet to his death. His widow is Prunella Stack, known throughout the English world as "The Perfect Woman", and I have very pleasant memories of a climb which I did less than a year ago with this charming and friendly couple. One of the greatest dangers on Table Mountain is the mist which may come over within a few minutes, obliterating the well-known landmarks, and reducing visibility to a few yards. Then one has to rely on the compass, on the way the ground is sloping, and on the various minor rock and tree formations which one passes and which one may remember from previous occasions. Once we were walking across the Front Table in such a thick 29 mist when we suddenly came across two other climbers who had erred around in the mist for over two hours and asked us where they were. They were very surprised to hear that they were within a hundred feet of the beacon marking the summit. I could also quote a few occasions when our party got lost in the mist or darkness, but a certain pride, and reluc­ tance to admit defeat, makes me draw the veil over this part of my climb­ ing experience. The great mountaineering event in Cape Town is the annual memorial service which is held towards the end of February in the open air on the highest point of Table Mountain. This service commemorates the members of the Mountain Club who lost their lives in the two World Wars, and it is attended by several hundred climbers. Until a few years ago the sun­ tanned and white-haired figure of General Smuts could regularly be seen among those who attended the service. Up to his seventy-seventh year the General often climbed Table Mountain and enjoyed the pleasures of mountaineering. Little is known outside South Africa of this side of his life. Here he lost the appearance of greatness, or rather his greatness consisted in not trying to be more than just one climber among many others, but still beloved by all his fellow mountaineers. South Africa may not be able to produce many brains like Smuts in the political field; but there are thousands at Cape Town alone willing and able to carry on his tradition of mountaineering. -H. Wolff

THE GATES 4tF THE MURRAY

If you look at some of the *current * *road maps of Victoria and trace the road along the Murray on the Victorian side to its upper limit, it will be found to terminate at a point some sixteen miles (by map) short of Tom Groggin, an old outlying homestead. The road terminates near a place called Biggera, but some maps show a dotted line, representing a track, extending from this point to Tom Groggin along the Murray. Road maps usually show only major tracks, so it is reasonable to conclude that the track is a well-defined one. Since little seemed to be known, in walking circles, of this approach to Tom Groggin, a party of seven male members of the Melbourne Bush­ walkers decided to investigate this track as the first stage of the Xmas 1950 trip to Kosciusko. Led by Geoff Christensen, it comprised three Australians, one Englishman, one Scotsman, one American and one New Zealander-the result of accident, not design. We found that the road went a few miles beyond Biggera to Coleman's Flat (now Whitsed's). Of three farms in this area, Whitsed's is the one to the left of the road. Having little or no information about the track, we were encouraged by the remarks of a local resident that we would "probably get through". If all else failed, we learned that a track could be picked up leaving Whitsed's on the N.S.W. side and joining with the Geehi Road, the usual approach to Tom Groggin. From Whitsed's we followed a vehicle track over a small spur through a gate to an old shack which marked our lunch spot. From here a track was followed for about a mile and a half to a "junction". The left fork, which appeared to be the main track, and which we now know to be the only track although not the one we were hoping to find, seemed to drop down to the river. Since there was reputed to be a hut in the area, we con­ cluded this track merely led to the hut, and took the right branch, which was barred by dead timber. Here our troubles began. The track soon disappeared and contrary to expectations, the river proceeded through country that resembled the Lerderderg Gorge on a grand scale. We sidled for some time, two hundred feet above the river. However, after rounding a spur, we saw, perhaps a mile away, a steep grassy slope with what appeared to be a well-cut track sidling it. This we eventually reached, crossing two small creeks on the way. It turned out to be a very old 30 track, not nearly as traversible as the sidecutting had made it appear, being interspersed with blackberries and land slides, but it had obviously been a good track in its day. The presence of old mines in the area suggested it was once used for this purpose. Below the steep slope on the opposite (N.S.W.) bank of the river we were surprised to see an old tent, close to the water's edge. After sidling around the slope, the track swung sharply to the right, to become overgrown with wattles. The river at this point formed a hairpin bend around the spur and we decided to make camp on the south side. Our hopes of reaching Tom Groggin early the next day were fading slowly at this stage. The next morning the track sidled another steep slope, and was at this stage more scrubby than its surroundings. It merely served to indicate possible short cuts around bends. After about one mile, it crossed a clear, grassy, almost flat stretch, but soon disappeared. The river valley steepened, scrub increased, and our feet were beginning to feel the effects of the steep sidling with a left hand fall.

-J. Low ~ll!RRAY RIVER, BELOW MURRAY GATES

Since our map contained no detail of the Victorian side of the river, we decided to climb to a higher point to get an idea of the shape of the valley ahead. After a climb of perhaps four hundred feet, it became obvious that a large creek entered the Murray ahead of us, and we had no choice but to drop down to it. The drop was steep, and the scrub became thicker and thicker as we approached the junction of the river and creek. However, we were rewarded with a "swim", naked but for our boots and socks, and then lunch. At this stage the party was divided between those who wanted to wade upstream to get past the very thick scrub in the area and those who favoured striking up, through the scrub. Fortunately the leader was of the latter opinion, for, soon after climbing up from the river we came upon a track following the river a few hundred feet above it. This was presumably our earlier track, which must have left the river to avoid the steep slopes which we had negotiated. This track was now fairly clear of scrub, and our speed, although halted repeatedly by fallen timber must 31 have averaged nearly 3 m.p.h. at times. After a time the track dropped to the river, crossing two small creeks. Blackberries now became trouble­ some, and the track at times obscure. A small grassy flat at the second creek provided a possible camp site, the last for several miles. The track now began to climb steadily up the steep sides of the valley. We felt we must be entering the section known as the "Murray Gates". As we rose the views of the valley became more and more inspiring. The line of the valley changed gradually from east to south, and the track began to fall again. About six miles from our lunch spot, we came upon the remains of an old hut. Here a creek is crossed, the track rising partly up the face of a spur then turning off to sidle the river again. At times it is a little indistinct. After some hesitation we made camp at the next creek. The hesitation was due to a belief that we could not be far from Tom Groggin.

-G. Christensen THE FLATS OF TOM GROGGIN Murray Gates among Spurs in Centre, Distance The next morning we followed a track along the steep sides of the Murray Gates. It soon disappeared. Since a track had also appeared to follow up the spur from the camp site we decided to climb to the crown of the spur. To put it mildly we had "had" sidling. The climb up occupied quite some time, due to its extreme steepness, our sore feet and the muggy morning. On reaching the crown of the spur we found semblances of a track and fresh blazes. The track continued to rise, becoming clearer as it skirted a high rocky knob some 1500 feet above the river. Old triangular blazes were frequent. After crossing the spur the track became indistinct again as it descended through hopbush. Here our first views of Kosciusko, Townsend and the Ramshead were obtained. After dropping slightly to a gully and on to the crown of the next spur we lost the track completely but were "rewarded" with a view of Tom Groggin, still some two or three miles ahead of us, and some very stiff country in between. We decided to drop straight down towards Tom Groggin, not in the orthodox bushwalking manner down the face of the spur, but along a creek bed which seemed to provide the easiest going. We had lunch at a junction where the creek seemed to swing hard left towards the river; it is not recommended as a lunch site for those who like reasonable comfort. Crossing out of the creek we crossed through some very heavy scrub across gullies and spurs, at one stage finding a single blaze and twenty yards of track. 32 Bush walking and Wild L1je go hand in hand

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Published by The Herald and Weekly Times Ltd., 44-74 Flinders Street, Melbourne.

33 Eventually we hit the Geehi-Tom Groggin track and proceeded over the flats to the homestead. It was then evening. Having travelled for two and a half days we were one to one and a half days behind schedule. The continual sidling had made at least one pair of feet a little the worse for their experience. The writer strongly recommends that this trip should not be attempted with new boots (that is, if it is attempted at am. However, in retrospect, the trials and tribulations appear negligible, but the pleasanter memories of this little known, rugged and heavily timbered section of the Murray Valley linger. It is fittingly named "The Gates of the Murray". -Ken Middleton

PRESERVING OUR WILDFLOWERS Many of our Victorian wildflowers have for long been fighting a losing battle against the rabbit, the cow and the sheep; not to mention the person with a lighted match. Their continued survival is wholly dependent on their being provided with an environment natural to them and protected from these introduced menaces to their existence. As an effectively practical means of doing this the Native Plants Preservation Group of the Field Naturalist' Club of Victoria has adopted the policy of endeavoring to have small reservations created in various localities. This would provide an appropriate area for the preservation of each type of flora. The scheme is capable of being implemented piecemeal, so that the work can be fitted to the resources available, a very real advantage at present when such work never seems quite able to rate enough official importance to get on to the Budget estimates. The Convenor of the Group, Miss Winifred Waddell, has been most successful in implementing the policy, and, although the Group has been in existence for only 2! years, there is already a large number of wildflower reserves in various parts of the State. The Melbourne Bushwalkers have been most interested in the one established at Sydenham to perpetuate the flora of the basalt plains, now progressing rapidly on the P.M.G. area in the shade of the big radio mast. The work being achieved there only needs repeating in other areas to ensure that at least a few representative type flowers will continue to exist to delight our children and our children's children. Public authorities and private individuals are showing their active support of the scheme by granting the group use of land for the establish­ ment of rabbit-proof sanctuaries, in many cases also assisting greatly in its preparation and fencing. There are now rabbit-proof sanctuaries at: Longwood (C.R.B.), Boulton Wildflower Sanctuary (Tallarook Rec. Res. Comm); Sydenham (P.M.G.); two reserves on Great Ocean Road (C.R.B.); Eumeralla (Mr Hurst); Anglesea (Shire of Barrabool); Heather Hill (Shire of Frankston); Springvale Road (City of Nunawading). Still to be completed are a number of other sites at Warrandyte, Croydon, Ferntree Gully and Mt. Martha. The Forests Commission, with the support of the Bendigo Field Nats. and Taradale Progress Association is making two enclosures near Bendigo and one near Taradale. These will provide protection for the rare flowers Phebalium obcordatum, crowea exalta, Boronia dentigera, and Leucopogon biftorus. The Commission has agreed also that provision of wildflower sanc­ tuaries is a public service and has invited the Group's recommendations. Progress largely depends on financial support, and the Group cannot urge trouble and expense unless it is prepared to help, at any rate with the latter. So far the work has been financed by the F.N.C.V., by a number of associates who give active and financial support, and by local represent­ atives who take responsibility for work in their district. There are representatives at Castlemaine, Croydon, Euroa, Gembrook, Marlo, Mary­ borough, Rushworth, St. Mary's, Tallarook and Taradale. At practically no charge to the community this Group is performing a very real public service. Last year the work cost them £130. If any readers feel that they would like to assist in some way they will find Miss Waddell at 3 Denham Place, Toorak (UY 6676), and she will be only too happy to hear from them. For the small investment of a few hours spent in transplanting and weeding, or the ten shilling associate's fee, one may reap a deal of satisfaction and pleasure as well as acquiring a more intimate knowledge of our native wildflowers. 34 The Snowy Mountains llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll!!l/,111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111JIIIIlllllltlltlllllllllltllll111111111111111111 A walking trip to Kosciusko is worthwhile at any time but with the present activity on the Snowy Mountains hydro-electric scheme it has greatly increased in topicality. There are a number of routes by which the Plateau may be traversed, but probably the most varied and interesting is to go from Khancoban to Geehi and Tom Groggin, thence up the Leather­ barrel Spur to Dead Horse Gap.· From the Gap the top of the range is soon reached, with Mt. Kosciusko just ahead and the Plateau extending more than ten miles northward to way beyond Jagungal. Such a trip begins on the Murray fiats around Towong and Khancoban, visits the picturesque valley of the Geehi and leads to the sheltered vale of Groggin, after which the valleys are left behind as the spur is climbed, the treeline passed and the open alpine areas reached. Australia's highest mountain peaks all march into view, one after the other, and after sampling their expansive grandness the trip finishes once more in the valley as we return to Khan­ coban.

-J. Smith DEAD HORSE GAP The usual way of commencing this trip is to beg or steal a ride to Khancoban, a rather ambiguous locality as there is a pastoral station, a ford and a post office of that name. The ford is a mile beyond the station and the post office eight miles beyond the ford, and if you are not careful you may be landed at the wrong one with quite a bit of road bashing neces­ sary before things are righted. Even beyond the post office the track is now a road as far as the Geehi which is fast becoming a tourist camp area. Beyond here the track to Tom Groggin winds out over the spurs which separate the from the Murray and, although even this track is being improved into the road class, the going is extremely pleasant. As the Murray is approached the spurs of Pinnabar can be seen ahead while downstream to the east the country of the Murray Gates is distinguished by the many converging ridges. The Vale of Groggin, as it is known, is back in Victoria and is the site of an old homestead-still kept in good order and used as an outstation­ which was the final home of John Riley, reputedly the "Man from Snowy River" of Banjo Patterson's famous ballad. He died during preparations for the packhorse trip to hospital at Corryong, and now the local bark huts where he was supposed once to have lived are becoming as numerous 35 as Queen Elizabeth's beds. His attachment to the place can be appreciated easily; the old homestead with its neat, orderly barn, its saddle room and its tall Lombardy poplars; set in this remote valley with the Murray at its feet and the hills brooding over it. Seen in the lazy summer sunlight they all form part of a scene of rest and spiritual contentment. The old garden with its gooseberries and Kentish cherry trees brings more of the atmosphere of the past-and sometimes helps the larder. The Murray is here quite a lusty stream and not to be taken too lightly. I was convinced of this once when a false step on a loose pebble allowed the stream to triumph and ignominiously upend me, much to the detriment of my watch, compass, matches and shorts, all of which had to be drained out and dried. This incident was also the cause of a figure being seen in the area apparently advertising a well-known brand of shirts and pyjamas. From the homestead the way wends across the flats for a mile until we are forced to ford the Murray again back to . This ford is wider and shallower than the lower one and provides a much safer and easier crossing. Leaving the Murray we find ourselves at Snowy Creek, and soon the climb begins. The way is now upward, at first gradually but soon quickening as we approach Little Mick. We are actually on a spur to the Ramshead, but at Little Mick the track suddenly dives off down the side of the spur to the Leatherbarrel Creek, only to cross Dinner Flat­ a most convenient and pleasant lunch spot-and then just as abruptly toll up three or four hundred feet to the top of the next spur, to the point known as Big Mick. It is at the top of Little Mick that there is a most unique tree, commonly called the totem tree. Apparently something has arrested its growth at intervals so that its trunk has a number of horizontal swellings, each a few inches apart. It is worth seeing for itself; but also being near the track turn-off it is a useful signpost as a side track continues up the spur, a trap for the unwary. We toiled up the spur on a hot day and were mightily glad to arrive at The Springs; where the grade once more levels as the track again turns right soon to drop into the next valley, the valley of Dead Horse Creek. The way is now straight ahead as the creek is followed to its source at the top of the Great Divide. As this is reached the smooth saddle of Dead Horse Gap shows ahead with what appears to be a romantic willow-pattern sil­ houette-actually a bush gate, a fence and a far-from-romantic killing frame. It was at Dead Horse that we once had the experience of simul­ taneously seeing the sun set and the moon rise, the valley of Dead Horse Creek framing the setting sun as it sank redly behind Gibbo and Pinnabar, and the Crackenback Valley cradling the pale golden disc of the moon emerging in the east; a most satisfying experience seen in the calm of a warm summer's evening. At Dead Horse we dallied a day for a breather before leaving the trees behind for the open tops. In the afternoon, hands in pockets, we strolled off up the Crackenback. Just below Dead Horse Gap the Crackenback River turns abruptly from its north-westerly course to flow to the north­ east toward the Snowy. South of Dead Horse its valley is comparatively wide and shallow, the stream making a number of small horseshoe bends; and it was here that one of the famous gold rushes of the past took place, many miners pegging out claims on the alluvial flats of the Crackenback. Dead Horse Gap is at an altitude of 5,200 feet and is dominated by the rocky slopes of the Ramshead which towers over it. 'This peak is the southern outpost of the Kosciusko Plateau and Australia's most southerly seven thousand foot-er. As we leave the hut, cross the rushing waters of Bogong Creek and then begin to climb, the track soon becomes steep and toilsome. Although hard work for a mile or so the going is never dull as altitude is gained and the Ramshead's rocky outlines to the left constantly assume new forms. To the south we look back along the Great Divide and up the Crackenback to the far mountains of the border -Pilot The Cobberas Trooper, Big Nunniong, Gibbo, Pinnabar, Misery. The Ramshead is passed half a mile away to the left and, now on open plateau, we gradually approach the just perceptible saddle to the east 36 of the North Ramshead. To me there is something essentially dramatic about this part of the trip. Here the rise is gentle and with each step forward we inch our way higher until, nearing the saddle and directly ahead, there gradually comes into view as though being elevated slowly but remorselessly, the symmetrical peak of that ". . . insignificant, smooth, grassy knoll on the Main Dividing Range" that is Australia's highest peak, Mt. Kosciusko. Although much derided as being unworthy of its position, especially by the motorists who approach it from the east, Kosciusko from the south is a distinctive and shapely peak. As we head for Kosciusko's summit we can't help being attracted by the small glacial lake sheltering under its flank. Named Cootapatamba ("Where the eagle drinks") by the aborigines, an attempt has been made to rename it Lake May; definitely a bad thing. The snow of the Coota­ patamba drift normally covers the wall of Kosciusko until late in summer, so unless we care to essay its high cornice we must head for the road in Rawson Pass and from there work our way to the summit. This drift, and others further down the road, usually keep car traffic away at Christmas time but the last couple of years the scene has been marred by the sight of cars parked almost against the cairn; a distinct shock to the system after being out walking for some days. Adjacent to the cairn is the memorial tablet erected in 1940 to commemorate the centenary of Strzlecki's ascent of "these " on 15th February, 1840. The wording on the tablet reminds of the controversy over which peak he really did climb. For years the dispute has raged, some favouring Kosciusko and some Townsend, Strzlecki having built no cairn to mark the peak. The confusion has been added to by the wording of his description and notes, by the various official maps differing on the point, and allegedly by the lack of veracity of early guides who chose whichever happened to be the most convenient peak to show their party as being the highest in Australia. A footnote of Elyne Mitchell's book states that the controversy has lately been settled in favour of a third peak, Mt. Alice Rawson, to the north of Townsend, but no details are given. The summit of Kosciusko was once the site of an observatory, built in 1897 by Clement Wragg, at that time Government Meteorologist of Queensland. Initially it was merely an alpine tent but this was soon replaced by a small timber building erected within a few feet of the cairn. It was manned through three of four winters and quite a lot of high-altitude weather data collected. In passing it might be mentioned that Strzlecki called himself (phonetically) "Sh' letska" and his mountain "K'shooska" (so I am told). From the cairn on Kosciusko a bridle track winds north to the North­ cote Pass, which is between Mt. Northcote and Mueller's Peak. Below the Pass, nestles picturesquely in the steep-sided valley, and climbing around the northern face of Mueller's Peak we seemed to look straight down into the lake a thousand feet below. We had left our packs in the pass, and the rest of the walk out to Townsend was easy. The huge rocks which form its summit and the mile-high views down to the Geehi flats make a visit to Townsend most impressive. The altitude is only sixty-seven feet less than Kosciusko and the view is uninterrupted to the north, west and south. Retracing our footsteps back to the pass and our packs we found that the two girls who had returned ahead of us had achieved the impossible and boiled a billy using handsful of dead gorse-like shrubbery, the only inflammable material within sight. The track now wound up around the side of Mt. Northcote and we paused a while to gaze over the edge for a view of Club Lake before hurrying on to Carruther's Peak. Although the day was sunny the wind blew as it nearly always does along the Main Range; just as though it had come straight off the Antarctic. On Carruther's the breeze was too strong to allow us to stand upright, a pronounced lean being necessary as a 37 precaution against being blown over. In the late afternoon sun the Blue Lake generally looks anything but blue as it is passed on the way to Foreman's crossing on the Snowy River. This crossing poses the classical dilemma-To be or not to be? ... too deep to cross without getting wet feet or doing a lot of searching for routes, and too late in the day to get wet. Once a decision has been reached a short climb brings us to Charlotte's Pass, with the Chalet just below. Modelled on the Palace of the Dages at Venice, this edifice of camouflaged asbestos cement sheeting seems somewhat incongruous in its local setting, although apparently a great improvement over the old building destroyed in a 1938 midnight fire. Internally the Chalet is a commodious and well-appointed building, and the service and amenities are much appreciated even by the itinerant walker calling to pick up a food parcel previously sent ahead. It is here that the first signs of the hydro-electric scheme are encountered. The Spencer Creek valley adjacent to the Chalet is a natural basin which will be dammed by a short wall in its valley between the road and the Snowy River. We could have come from the summit of Kosciusko to the Chalet by following the road rather than doing the trip around the peaks. This is not so interesting, but the scenery is expansive as the road sweeps around ahead of the Snowy to Seamen's Hut. This hut was erected following the death of Seaman and Hayes in 1928 when returning on skis from a trip to the summit. It is near the spot where Seaman died apparently waiting for his companion to meet him as arranged when they left the cairn. Hayes had apparently lost his directions as his body was later found toward the Ramshead. The hut is intended mainly as a shelter on trips between the Chalet and the summit. Leaving the hut a large bend of the road can be cut off by crossing the upper Snowy. There are numerous small falls and cascades along the river which are full of interest. Leaving the Chalet our aim is to get back on to the Main Range and this can be accomplished either by going back to Carruther's Peak or going down Spencer's Creek, crossing the Snowy River and ascending the Tate East Ridge to Mt. Tate. Retracing steps to Carruther's provides a spectacular trip along the tops, as it includes many of Australia's highest points, nearly all the way from Kosciusko to Dicky Cooper Bogong, the top of the ridge being higher than Victoria's Mt. Bogong, each of the named peaks being merely rocky eminences on it. With White's River as the evening's goal for camp, the way becomes a little weary as the miles pass by. Unlike similar country in Victoria where cattle are grazed, here the sheep reign supreme, and each year the sheep men of Monaro may be met as they repair their fences which run along the top of the Divide. Before winter comes the fences are slackened off to avoid the weight of snow, some being made so that they can be lowered flat on the ground. One of these men is Ray Adams, the owner of White's River hut which he leases to the Kosciusko Alpine Club during the snow season. A bronzed, well built horse­ man, he is the very essence of the man generally thought of as the typical outdoor Australian. The track up the Tate East Ridge meets the Main Range at Mt. Tate, and although the rocks and cliffs of Watson's Crags, and Mts. Twynam and Anderson are omitted, there yet remains much of interest as the deep grassy saddle of Consett Stephen is passed through with the high Tate West Ridge on the left and then the large boulder-like outcrops of the Rolling Grounds, looking as if the giants have left their game of marbles to have lunch. It is about here that a road is planned to cross on its way to the Geehi, even perhaps eventually to go as far as Mitta and Mt. Bogong. Leaving Consett Stephen Pass we turn north parallel with the main fence as we head for the small rocky mound ahead that is the summit of Dicky Cooper Bogong, a funny little peak when it is remembered to be sixty feet higher than our Mt. Bogong. If we are going to White's River hut we turn right some distance short of Dicky Cooper and are soon plung­ ing down into the valley of the Munyang-alias White's River; but if we decide on Dicky Cooper hut we continue on over the peak and are soon 38 keeping an eye open for the track through the timber to the hut. It is a typical rough cattlemen's timber hut, in contrast to the galvanised iron and timber-framed elegance of White's River hut with its emergency radio equipment for the winter. Next morning we return to the main ridge and with the symmetrical trig of Gungartan to the east continue our trek. Soon we are in a real plateau area. The rocky knobs dotted here and there are connected only by gently sloping saddles. Each time we pass through one of them the peak of Jagungal comes into view, only to be lost again as we drop down the other side. These views of Jagungal well merit the soubriquet of the "sleeping lion" which is often applied to it. From here it looks just like a great tawny lion half submerged in the level of the surrounding country. The walking is now easy and pleasant; but we find it hard to decide on our route. Shall we turn left to the or right to the Tin Hut at the head of the Valentine River? The falls are well worth visiting despite a somewhat scrubby approach and the difficulty of getting a clear view, while the Tin Hut calls for a visit mainly because of its claim to be the highest habitation in Australia-based apparently on the contention that Seaman's Hut, Kosciusko, and Summit Hut on Bogong (Vic.) are bivouac huts rather than habitations. Whichever we choose we are still

-J. Smith JAGUNGAL FROM THE WEST left in a dilemma; if we go to the falls we can continue either west to the Grey Mare goldmine or north-west to Mawson's Hut, while having visited the Tin Hut we can continue down the valley of the Valentine to Mawson's Hut or steer a direct course to Jagungal through the little saddles ahead of us. All ways eventually lead to Jagungal, but every way is full of interest. The old goldmine at Grey Mare has now been re-opened and connected by jeep track with Tumut. The old residence, half of which, like Ben Bolt's old rustic bridge, lies in ruins on the ground, reputedly pulled over by a drover's tethered horse, is a good centre for trips out along the Grey Mare Range with its magnificent views of the gorge of the Geehi and across to the cliffs, crags and waterfalls of Twynam, Carruther's and Townsend; or for having a look around the mine workings. Mawson's Hut is near open alpine meadows, the wide sweep of the Valentine with its mountain trout almost at the door. If the weather is fine and sunny the trip to it from the Tin Hut is an experience in relaxation; the widening river with its series of little cascades some distance above the hut, the broad or>en grassy valley with its edging of small rocky outcrops, and a few cattle lazily chewing the cud; you could just sit down and become part of it all. 39 The aim is now to visit Jagungal, the seemingly far-off peak first seen days before from Kosciusko, and since then ever bobbing up and disappear­ ing again. As we now finally set course for it, we feel that to reach its summit will solve a riddle so far unanswerable-where does the Plateau end? Coming from Grey Mare over the Bogong swamp the summit of Jagungal impressively beckons us on, but if we approach from the south­ east we cannot avoid a sense of disappointment for as we come nearer the mighty lion seems to shrink into the ground, until it is merely a row of small hills with a large rocky out-crop which was the lion's head. As we climb to the summit however, the steepening grade brings back respect until finally we stand on the cairn absorbed in the far-reaching views. Momentarily we disagree with the cairn builders but soon talk ourselves into accepting their decision. From the summit we can see the whole of the Plateau and miles beyond it, south to the and north to the mountains surrounding Canberra. At Jagungal most Victorians must turn their steps homeward as they head for the toward Pretty Plains Hut. As we near the hut we are once again back in forested country, but the plain is fairly open. Plenty of hut accommodation is provided by the capacious new log hut and the old slab hut a little upstream. Next day we are really on our way home as we leave on the track for Khancoban. Maybe if we have an hour to spare we can walk out among the open snowgums that clothe the spur to Toolong Trig, where we can sit and enjoy our last view of the big hills; or perhaps the really fortunate may have enough time for a trip north to the Inkbottle and the Big Darga!; but in any case we are soon headed steeply downward. The five thousand foot contour, which to me always seems to be the limit of the real mountains, is soon passed and a little later we suddenly realise that the snowgums abruptly cease as we see the timber thicken ahead. The track is well defined, but steep and eroded in places, until the grassy flats near the site of Everard's old homestead are reached. This must have been a most delightful spot when it was in­ habited; the open luscious green flat, rambling briars and ancient fruit trees still have a real charm. A glimpse of a fair size waterfall lends interest along the way to the Khancoban Creek crossing where a short sharp rise makes us breathe heavily as we begin the final breakneck drop to the open country of Swampy Plains Creek. Farms border the road as the three miles is covered to bring us back to Khancoban Ford and the road home. In our wanderings since last passing here we have seen as wide a range of country as one could hope to appreciate in such a short period, and have traversed the highest peaks in Australia. Day after day we have walked in country above five thousand feet, and our eyes have glowed at the sight of the distant views. We have a new conception of the extensive­ ness of the mighty plateau of Kosciusko, and perhaps we can even be resigned to the thought of leaving it all, for if we stayed maybe our senses would be sated and we would not be able to look forward to our next visit with the yearning it truly deserves. -Norm Richards

TRUE STORY Jill (dishing out the food): "Bill's a nuisance washing up between courses and leaving his plate full of dirty water." Bill (returning): "Hi! Who's thrown out my soup?"

40 ORDER NOW! The Australian Snow Pictorial The Ski Club of Victoria announces this magnificent pictorial of 96 pages, cloth bound, containing 150 plates on art paper, depicting all Australian snow fields. Georgian House - renowned publishers of art productions - advise that this book, now with the printers, will be available early in the New Year. Take advantage of the pre-publication price of 19/6 plus 6d. postage, by ordering now. Send your friend a special free Xmas card obtainable at S.C.V. office, advising that a copy has been ordered on his behalf, and will be forwarded to him early in the New Year. Further information is available from the S.C.V. Office, 330 Little Collins Street, Melbourne.

ORDER FORM Secretary, Ski Club of Victoria, Box 2405V, G.P.O., Melbourne I hereby order ...... copies of ''THE AUSTRALIAN SNOW PICTORIAL" at the pre- publication price of 19/6 (postage 6d.) and enclose remittance for £...... to cover cost and postage.

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41 BAKERS OF THE BE.ST BISCUITS S/9620

42 The

Going over our walks programmes for the last ten years I have come across a number of walks which each year seem to be very popular. Among these annual "musts" there are the Bayswater "cream hunt", One Tree Hill, Mt. Macedon in autumn, and the You Yangs. It is not surprising that the You Yangs attract us every year; they are very interesting and the view from them is unusual. You see the near-by Anakies, the Brisbane Ranges and the many industrial establishments of ; also right across Bay to Arthur's Seat. Further away is Mt. Elephant-the volcanic landmark of the Western District; the seldom­ visited Otway Ranges; Mt. Macedon; the Blackwood Ranges which hide the famous Lerderderg Gorge; and Mts. Buninyong and Warrenheip, the extinct volcanoes guarding the entrance to Ballarat. The reason one has such a good view from the You Yangs is not because of their absolute height, but because of their position in the middle of a huge plain. From Melbourne right across the State to the border of South Australia extends a large volcanic plain-in fact the second largest in the world. Basalt, or Bluestone as we call it, has filled-in practically all previous undulations and the You Yangs tower up 800 feet above the resulting plain. This basalt is the foundation of the wealth of the Western District but on our journey to Little River or Lara we see very little of agricultural or pastoral activity. The soil is very shallow and one sees a great number of rock fences. It is mainly very poor grazing country and you can very often see basalt outcrops in the paddocks. The rock fences make me a little homesick as they remind me of those in the Austrian Alps which surround the "Almen", the summer pastures of the cattle. The geologists call a range such as the You Yangs, a monadnock; that is a mountain which has been able to resist erosion better than its surround­ ings. Usually they consist of harder rock, in our case granite. Now you will understand why the You Yangs have often been called a miniature Mt. Buffalo; they are composed of the same type of rock with similar huge boulders and "tors" ... and there is even a little "monolith"!

BR-R·R·R' It's ()old • • YOU'D BE BETTER OUT OF THE WIND' ' There is probably no colder place than an exposed mountain peak with a winter gale howling across the summit. The low temperature and high wind combine to cause one to "do a freeze", and of course if wearing wet clothes the evaporation of moisture still further lowers the temperature Visitors to the high, bare peaks, such as Bogong, Kosciusko or Buller, become particularly aware of the unpleasant effects involved, and only the hardiest of souls brave the tops when the winds sweep in from the west. It is then that they doubt the wisdom of their ambitions to become polar explorers or gold-seekers in the Yukon, and think more of glowing fires and ample meals. To increase the efficiency and help alleviate the lot of those of its men who must live in the Arctic, the U.S. Army has carried out extensive researches into the effect of extreme environments on the human body and some of the published results make interesting reading for the walker or skier. A recent report includes some data regarding the combined effects of cold and wind. These two effects combine to make a person feel colder than would either one singly and it has been found possible to express their com­ bined effect numerically by means of a "wind chill factor". Value of this 44 factor can be read from the curves reproduced below and from them it may be seen that the "windchill factor" for a temperature of 35' F. and a wind velocity of 45 miles-per-hour is 1,100 which is the same as that for -35' F. and H miles-per-hour. This means, of course, that you would feel just as cold under either set of conditions although there is an actual tem­ perature difference of 70' F. (These values refer to dry shade temperatures. If the sun were shining, its radiant heat would make you feel warmer; or if you were wet the wind would cause increased chilling in the former case). In hot weather the reverse applies in that as soon as the mercury climbs near the hundred, we sigh for a cooling breeze, to help make conditions more pleasant. Here, too, the windchill is playing its part and the following table gives the sensation experienced by the average person under conditions appropriate to various windchill factors.

90 ...... Hot 800 ...... Cold 100 .. Warm 1,100 ...... Very Cold 200 ...... Pleasant 1,300 ...... Bitterly Cold 400 ...... Cool 1,400 . Special Clothing essential 600 ...... Very Cool 1,500 . . . . Exposed flesh freezes Still on the subject of keeping warm, it is interesting to consider the matter of wearing woollen clothes. It is claimed for wool that the natural crimp is not duplicated in other materials, and this increases its efficiency in entrapping air, so greatly enhancing its insulating properties. However. perhaps wool's main asset is its reaction to the absorption of water vapor. If taken from a warm dry room out into a cold damp atmosphere most materials soon come to the outside temperature; but when wool, which is a highly hyroscopic material, undergoes the same change of conditions heat is evolved as the wool absorbs moisture. (The heat is due to the heat of wetting which is released as the water becomes chemically attached to the molecules of the wool). This heat serves to buffer the cooling action of the cold atmosphere and it is claimed that under favourable conditions a 5 lb. overcoat may absorb twelve ounces of water-vapor, with a resultant heat evolution sufficient to boil two-thirds of a pint of water, This hardly provides an easy method of boiling the billy in the rain, but it does mean something as regards keeping warm for a longer period. Obviously, if exposed to the wind this amount of heat will be quite insignificant, but if protected by an outer windproof garment, such as a cape or parka, a woollen sweater will help keep the body warm even though it gets damp. The beautiful "comfy" feeling experienced when a soft dry woollen garment is pulled on next to the skin after the wearer has been damp all day is due to this same effect. All walkers must have experienced it many times as the dry wool absorbed the moisture from the damp skin. -"O.M." 45 'Books for the 'Bushwalker

Some topical books re'Viewed WILDFLOWERS: Most walkers are keenly interested in our wildflowers; but until the advent of this book there was no handy reference on the subject. In it, the main Victorian species have been described most ably, and, although lacking a complete key, the system of dividing the plants into a hundred sections, beginning with the ferns and ending with the composites, makes for easy reference once a few "type" flowers are known to the searcher. The book is illustrated with one hundred and seventy-five black and white photographs most of them excellent examples of plant photography, and is well referenced. A large corrigenda sheet is rather frightening; but the altera­ tions are easily incorporated and many of them would cause little inconveni­ ence to the novice if neglected. -N.R. Wildflowers of Victoria, by Jean Galbraith; Colorgravure Publications. 224 pages; Price, 12/6. CRADLE MT.- TASMANIA: A 64-page booklet published by the Tasmanian Scenery Preservation Board is the ideal guide book to an area deservedly popular with both local and mainland walkers alike. Obviously written by an enthusiast, the actual walk through the Cradle Mt.-Lake St. Clair Reserve occupies a dozen pages, while other sections deal with its history, scenery, flora, fauna and geology. It is well illustrated and of real interest are the sections dealing with the origins of the names of the peaks, rivers, lakes and waterfalls. Further sections cover advice to walkers in the area, first aid and snakebite treatment. The whole has been written in conjunction with the two new maps of the area (see page 53), and together they provide a complete reference work for the walker in the Park; a small, but thoroughly justified, overhead expense for any visitor. -N.R. Peaks and High Places-Cradle Mt.-Lake St. Clair Reserve, by Ian R. Boss­ Walker. Published by The Scenery Preservation Board, Hobart. 64 pages; Price, 3/-. THE AUSTRALIAN BUSHLAND: Every thoughtful bushwalker has waited for this book. We roam the bush for sheer pleasure, but we also want to understand the "why" of what we see and hear. In a language easily understood by the non-botanist, the flora of each State is dealt with, and of special interest to us are the detailed descriptions of eighteen excursions to practically every part of Victoria

WALKING EQUIPMENT: There are probably no more controversial subjects among walkers than equipment and food. No two persons agree, even husbands venturing to differ from their wives, so it is rather surprising that three co-editors have been able-and game enough-to produce this 42-page cyclostyled book. In it they have tackled practically every worry met by a walker preparing for a trip; from cosmetics to waterproofing, camp gear to alpine ropes, and equipment for women to a list of shops worth knowing. They are all there, and all have been ably dealt with by the editors (although their action in refusing to accept responsibility for the section "Equipment for Women" savors of discretion rather than chivalry). The book has been written primarily for M.U.M.C. members, but all walkers will find it of value, and although few will agree with all it contains its issue helps fill a real need. Perhaps the main criticism is that it is based more on S.W. Tasmanian conditions than Victorian, due no doubt to the M.U.M.C. pre­ occupation in that area of late. . -N.R. Report on Equipment, Edited by W. G. Bewsher, P. W. Crohn and W. G. Laver, Melbourne University Mountaineering Club. 42 pages; Price, 2/-.

THE WEATHER: The most talked-about subject in human affairs is undoubtedly the weather. It vitally affects the life of each of us, particularly those who tempt the fates by carrying their board and lodging on their back, and the walker under a dripping cape or reposing in a one-man tent cannot help taking an interest in its workings. A small book recently published by two meteorologists of the Department of Interior will be found most valuable by all such persons, especially as regards the Australian climate and fore­ casting from local weather conditions. The latter is of major importance to all walkers and they will appreciate the straight-forward and basic way this book explains the subject. The book is extremely well illustrated with photos of cloud formations and numerous typical weather maps. -N.R. Australian Forecasting and Climate, by H. T. Ashton and J. V. Maher. Published by the authors, P.O. Box 6, Fairfield, Victoria. Price, 3/6. 47 "W aldheim" FARM GUEST HOUSE On the Mountain Highway BAYSWATER Swiss Alpine Village

BIG ACREAGE including Large Pine Forest and Delightful Hill and Forest Walks, Shady House Garden. Own Farm Produce. Home Cooking. Dinners, Morning and Afternoon Teas are Always Provided for Motorists.

Devonshire Tea* our Specialty WEEK-END RENDEZVOUS FOR ALL TOURISTS ~~~... ~~~~-# A Place True to N arne, Restful and Satisfying. Mr. and Mrs. HOF* BUSCH, Prop. Phone: 62 BAYSWATER

48 Corinna and the Pieman River

A part of Western Tasmania which is not yet as well-known to the tourist as it deserves is the Pieman River country. The Pieman starts near Rosebery in the Central Highlands and, after flowing generally in a westerly direction, reaches the sea at the Tasmanian west coast. It is a magnificent river, wide and deep yet without a very strong current. The very beautiful hilly country of large forests through which the river flows is practically uninhabited. The only accessible place on the lower Pieman is Corinna, once a flour­ ishing township with two hotels and a post office. Forty to fifty years ago about five hundred people lived there; but now the lower Pieman River and its shores are a scenic reserve and to-day Corinna is nothing but three or four wooden buildings where the ranger of the reserve lives and keeps an accommodation house. Until the Emu Bay Railway (Burnie-Zeehan) was completed, Corinna was the link connecting Zeehan-once Tasmania's third largest town, but to-day a depressing-looking ghost town-with the outside world. Steamers from the north coast and the mainland went up the Pieman to Corinna, from where a packhorse track was used for the twenty-eight miles to Zeehan.

-H. Gerstman PIEMAN RIVER, AT CORINNA Waratah, forty-one miles to the north-west, is the nearest township to Corrina and to get there you have to pass Waratah which is reached from Burnie either by bus, via the Hellyer Gorge (50 miles), or by the Emu Bay railway to Guildford and from there by service-car (11 miles). From Waratah (another ghost town since the Mt. Bishoff tin mine stopped producing) a good motor road, the end of the Waratah Highway, leads to

49 Corinna. The road crosses hilly country with nice, wide views and impres­ sive forests; for a long distance remaining close to the Whyte river, a tributary of the Pieman. There are no homes all the way from Waratah to Corinna, except the three small huts of some old prospectors who live there, still doing a bit of prospecting and dreaming of old times when this part of Tasmania was visited by many others who located gold and other minerals, took the part of the mineral wealth which was easy to get, and later departed or died. When you come to Corinna you feel as though you've arrived at the last outpost at the end of the world, but you can't feel lonely as the wonder­ ful hospitality of the ranger, Mr. Saunders, his father-in-law Mr. Baxter, and his family make you at home at once. Most plentiful and appetising food (including home-made bread) and extreme cleanliness are sidelights of a stay in Corinna. The main attraction is the Pieman River, dark and deep, one hundred and fifty-eight yards wide; and inviting to river trips and swimming. The ranger takes you in a motor launch along the river; you can go twelve miles up to the rapids or fourteen miles down to the heads, and each trip offers an ever-changing view of the dark river with its surrounding forests of myrtle, Ieatherwood, Huon pine and other Tasmanian trees. Most impressive are the reflections which can often be observed in the surface of the stream. This country is a paradise for nature lovers and fishermen. Apart from the motor launch the best means of travel is a dinghy which may be obtained from the ranger. Using the dinghy, you can travel not only along the Pieman but also up a few of its tributaries; the Donald­ son, Savage and Whyte rivers. All these are rather deep near the mouth and navigable for a fair distance, passing rocks and snags. The trip to the heads discloses a most beautiful ocean beach with some interesting rock formations. One of two small huts situated on the left river bank near the heads may be rented from the ranger. The nearby landing place is called Ahlborg Pier in memory of a Scandinavian who lived there for many years, a lonely ferryman. Walking, too, can be done at Corinna. There arc a few tracks, mostly originating from the road, and the majority of them dating back to the previous settlement period and therefore partly overgrown. An excellent walk is to Mt. Donaldson near the lower part of the river. You have to go down the river about three miles from Corinna until, a bit below the mouth of the Savage River, you find a signpost "Mt. Donaldson Track" (a fireplace is near the river at a small creek). Follow the clearly-defined track which climbs at first through dense myrtle forest and afterwards comes out on the open button-grass, where some traces of former mining activity are still discernable. Having reached the main ridge the track - which according to old maps once went further to Stanley and Circular Head-is left and the ridge followed up to the left to the summit which is reached in less than two hours from the river. From the summit an overwhelming view is obtained including the ocean and many mountain ranges, among them the mountains of the Cradle Mt.-Lake St. Clair Reserve and the bare mountains of Queenstown. Another walk from Corinna is along the opposite bank of the river, where two lonely graves with "tombstones" made of age-resisting Huon pine can be visited by the old packhorse track, now rather overgrown. Walkers occasionally cover the twenty-eight miles to Zeehan, but two motorcyclists, who attempted the trip on their bikes a few years ago, had to turn back. A motor road to connect Zeehan with Corinna, and including a suspension bridge over the Pieman, has been planned, but the plans probably have been pigeon-holed and won't wake up the sleeping beauty of the Pieman. The country is fertile and has a good rainfall; but, as we were told, is too remote to be settled. Mineral wealth has been proved as well; not only gold but also other minerals including rich iron ore deposits. Native animals are abundant and it is strange that here, as also further to the south, there are no, or at most a negligible number, of rabbits. We were told that the native cats (tiger cats) keep them in check, an interesting sidelight to the rabbit pest on the Australian mainland and in Tasmania. -Helen Gerstman 50 Start off on the C[?Jght . . .

By Planning Your Walk at . Foot Victorian Government Tourist Bureau 272 Collins Street, Melbourne. C.l Telephone F 0404 Wallace's Hut BOGONG HIGH PLAINS Wallaces's Hut was built in February, 1889, by the three Wallace Brothers, whose father was a pioneer land-holder at Kergunyah on the . The dimensions of the hut are 20 feet by 10 feet, and the building occupied the spare time of five or six weeks. There were few cattlemen up there that year, but the Wallaces had taken up a mob and decided to fill in their time usefully by putting up a solid shelter for them­ selves and others. The uprights, rafters, wall-plates, and slabs are snow gum, of which there was a very plentiful supply in the immediate vicinity of the hut in those days. (It has probably been all cut for firewood by the cattlemen using the hut since.) The snow gums had to be split straight down the centre, and for this reason it was necessary to select those with a straight grain which considerably narrowed down the choice. There are six upright posts. When five of these were erected (in holes three feet deep) the builders in sinking the sixth hole struck sandstone rock, six inches below the surface. They had only a long-handled spade with which to deal with this, but they persevered and succeeded in chipping away the rock to the required depth. This is the post in the south-east corner. The battens and shingles are Mountain Ash. To obtain this it was necessary to cut a track about 400 yards through the mountain scrub, down a very steep gully, to a branch of the Big River. The shingles were split there, and packed in bags on horse up to the hut site. The roof was built up steeply so that it would shoot the snow off, and thus not be subjected to the strain of carrying a great weight, and this has doubtless contributed to its longevity. One day while rounding up their cattle out in Pretty Valley the brothers found a large roughly rectangular fiat stone, 4 feet by 2i feet by 7 inches approximately. They made a rough sledge out of a forked sapling, and brought the stone in to serve as the back of the fire-place. The walls of the fireplace they lined with mud and stones. So was the hut fashioned, in the pioneering days of the past. (David Wallace, his wife, and three sons, the eldest aged seven years, natives of the North of Ireland, left Liverpool in the Lightning in 1869. The voyage to Melbourne occupied 72 days, and the passengers supplied much of their own food (bacon, eggs, butter and honey). The first land they sighted after leaving Land's End behind was Cape Otway. The family left Melbourne one day at 4 p.m., and travelling all night by coach, reached Beechworth at noon the following day. There were frequent changes of horses. On approaching a changing station the coach­ man blew his horn, and immediately fresh horses, already harnessed, were driven out. The coachman remained seated on the box; the reins of the tired team were taken from his hands, and the change of horses quickly effected; the reins of the new team were placed in his hands, and he drove on. The Wallaces lived in a cottage attached to Baldwin's Hotel at Beech­ worth for six months, before they moved out to Kergunyah. Dances were held in the hotel, and at that time Power, the bushranger, was at large in the district, and often used to come in to these dances. No one ever recognised him. Power, however, never killed anyone, and when he was captured said he had never had any such intention. I mention these facts just to give you some idea of the times when the Wallaces came to the district and when the hut was built. Mr. Wallace, who is now 90 years, at present lives in Melbourne, His daughters, the Misses Wallaces, visited the hut bearing their name for the first time during April, 1950. [These notes were kindly supplied by Mr. Toni St. Elmo, of Falls Creek, and are based on a talk with Mr. Wallace.] 52 Some :New Map Issues

1. CRADLE MT.-LAKE ST. CLAIR (TASMANIA) Mapping Branch-Lands and Survey Dept. (Hobart). Two sheets (North and South sections). 1 mile to 1 inch. Although beyond the borders of our own State, Cradle Mt. National Park is much visited by Victorian walkers, so that maps of it are of general interest here. Even if this were not so, the above maps would be noteworthy because of the excellent standard attained. Printed in three colours, show­ ing practically all features of interest and with 250 feet. form lines these maps of one of Tasmania's National Parks could well be emulated nearer home. To round off a fine achievement, they have been issued in conjunction with the booklet "Peaks and High Places", mentioned elsewhere in this issue. Date of Issue: 1950 2. WALHALLA Melbourne Bushwalkers (after the Mines Dept.) 1 mile to 10 inches. Club members have often been intrigued by the history of this old mining town but have found it difficult to borrow a print of the map from the 1901 Walhalla Goldfields report as it is now out of print. In connection with a Club project to produce an up-to-date map of the area it has often been necessary to refer to this map. For this reason, and also because of its historic interest, a tracing has been made based substantially on the above­ mentioned original. Blueprint Map. Date of Issue: (Copy) 1951 8. NORTH-EASTERN VICTORIA Govt. Tourist Bureau. 7 miles to 1 inch (approx.). This map is the post-war version of the old map of the same name, but is not as good as the original. The latter was a very useful locality map; but the new version at best is accurate only so far as the major roads are concerned. The majority of the tracks shown are those of the old Mines Dept. map, and mostly went back to the bush fifty years ago. To quote a few minor errors: the old furphy of Tarli Karng draining in into a head of the Moroko is resurrected; the S.E.C. road to Rocky Valley has been badly misplaced; the Tin Mine "Route" is shown as a road as far as the N.S.W. border; and a track descends Mt. Howitt by plunging down the side of Terrible Hollow. None of these errors were perpetrated in the old map and one cannot escape the conviction that its reissue would have been much more useful than the new map. Date of Issue: Undated

REISSUES: During the year routine amendments have been made to the Club's Buller-Cobbler-Howitt-McDonald map (now Issue D), and during the pro­ cess of incorporating amendments the map of the Approaches to Mt. Wel­ lington (now Issue B) has been redrawn.

FOOTNOTE: The Federation of Victorian Walking Clubs mapping sub-committee has compiled a tabulated list of maps held by the various walking clubs, and has circulated it to each club. It is confidently expected that this will prove to be the first step in establishing a co-ordinated scheme for efficiently pooling their mapping resources so that all areas in the State which are of interest to walkers may be adequately mapped and the maps subsequently kept up-to-date. One immediate result hoped for is that anyone seeking map information will not have to hunt around the various Government depart­ ments, etc.; but will be able to get it immediately by referring to an affiliated club. Of greater importance, probably, is the fact that this scheme will relieve the Departments of much time and effort now spent on enquiries. 53 LADS and LASSES

* 6 Good Reasons HOW You Can Live and Learn the Out­ door Way - At Reasonable Cost • BUSH WALKING • CYCLING • CANOEING • SKIING • HORSE RIDING • SURFING *

For Further Enquiries-Call, Write or 'Phone Y.H.A. OFFICE, 161 FLINDERS LANE, MELBOURNE

54 Mountain Muster

Some brief Pars from the Peaks

Mounts Buller and Stirling have now been linked by a bulldozer track which was cut last February as a fire-precaution measure. The track, good enough to be traversed by Jeep or Landrover, commences on the open top of Buller east of the summit, then follows the ridge past Cow Camp and over the top of One Tree Hill and Corn Hill. A side track traverses the spur leading to the Howqua past Corn Hill, but was apparently abandoned when the grade became too steep. Dropping to Woolybutt saddle the main track continues north and links with the "jeep track" continuation of the Mt. Stirling road from Mirimbah. The new track will probably make for easier walking, but there will be some regret felt as it will inevitably be less interesting than the old pad. The limbo of the past has claimed the old Cow Camp Hut on Buller. Demolished under official instructions during the King's Birthday week-end, 1951, the passing of the old cattlemen's hut will be like the loss of an old home to many walkers. Although dictated by considerations affecting the safety of the adjacent alpine village its loss will be one more link in the chain of events gradually barring the mountain to walkers; even the most inveterate campers-out occasionally appreciate the shelter of a hut, and of course none of the privately-owned ski huts come within the walker's ambit. By way of footnote it is to be hoped that all the new habitations will be able to boast the same safety record as the old hut. Mt. Baw Baw is the focal point of an interesting proposal contained in the State Development Committee's report (see page 47) regarding a suggested new road between Tanjil Bren and Mt. Baw Baw for the purpose of opening up the Baw Baw snowfield. Alternatives considered were, (a) improve existing road to Neulyne's winch, and extend to the Ski Club hut by a road up the same spur as the existing track, but sidling for grade, (b) extend the road, which runs north from Tanjil Bren to Saxton's Mill, up the spur east and east-south-east to the hut, this scheme involving 6~ miles of new road, and (c) build a new road leaving the Neulyne's road one mile before the mill and sidling the spur to give an easy grade to the winch, then as in (a). Alternative (c) is the one recommended at an estimated minimum first cost of £19,500 (1950).

Kosciusko Plateau is seeing an outbreak of ski-hut building. A number of clubs had huts in the blueprint stage, but with the loss by fire of the Hotel Kosciusko the building pace has been accelerated. Although these huts will be of little use to walkers, they are undoubtedly landmarks. The most spectacular project is a 16-berth cabin which the Ski Tourers' Association has erected above Lake Albina. Not far below the summit of Mt. Townsend, Australia's second highest peak, they have really got away from the civilized area around Charlotte's Pass. The Snowy Mountains hydro-electric scheme is already making great changes along the Upper Snowy. A road has been pushed along the river to Pound's Creek hut, and another brought in to meet it along the Spencers Creek valley from the summit road. Probably of most interest to walkers are the two temporary bridges across the Snowy just below the Guthega and just above the Munyang (White's River); the former in particular assuring a safe crossing, when travelling between Pound's Creek and White's River huts, irrespective of the height of the stream.

55 Fringe

,, \).. ·.\ ; __.," L I'·' . ·.<:i~:_y/·,,~. . . ~ .

Griffin

56 Donna Buang.-The old track along the firebreak leading north from Donna Buang was the scene of the Federation of Victorian Walking Club's 1951 annual track clearing. Parties based on Donna Buang and Acheron Gap, cut along the ridge towards each other and eventually met in the deep saddle north of the Boobyalla Plateau. The resulting track is well blazed and, although not always first class, is easily followed without any scrub bashing. A few parties traversing it will soon make it a very useful link in a round trip from Warburton to Acheron Gap, thence to Donna Buang and so back to Warburton. Visitors to the mountain during April and May were interested in the explosive efforts of Ski Club members improving the ski jump and run-out in preparation for the coming winter. Much gelignite was expended in removing large boulders from the track and it was hoped that the weather gods would send a little more snow than usual during the winter.

The Ubiquitous Bulldozer continues to push into the hills. Hitherto remote areas are now passing under its all-powerful blade, and with its passage the old foot and cattle tracks are soon lost to us through disuse. Among the latest areas to be affected are Mt. Skene, on the Great Divide east of Jamieson, and the Nuoniong Plateau in East between the headwaters of the Tambo and Buchan Rivers. Mt. Skene is now traversed by a continuation of the timber road from Licola. Its terminus is unknown at the time of writing, but it proceeds some distance north of Skene toward the Jamieson. The road is trafficable for fifteen miles beyond Licola, and timber-getters are busy in the fine country many of us loved so well; it is almost certainly too much to hope that their labors will not ruin it irretriev­ ably. Nunniong is untouched as yet by logging, but is apparently destined for early despoilation. The bulldozer in this case merely traversed the area "blade-up" as the best means of going from Ensay to Benambra without damaging the road-no one pondered its effect on the bush, although so far this has not been great as the only sign of its presence are a few side­ cuttings and an open strip, still grassed, through the timber; except at the Marengo end where extensive forming has been done north of Mt. Leinster and down on to the Marengo road.

Alpine Signposts: Four or five years ago the State Tourist Committee undertook to prepare, and have erected, a number of track fingerposts in the Mt. Wellington, Snowy Plains and Howqua areas. Most of them have been lying around various places for some time, but during last summer quite a few finally were erected. Although many walkers will feel that the erection of signposts, track markers and the like introduces an unwanted urban touch to the mountains, there are some obscure track junctions which justify their use, and in misty weather many of the remainder help keep one out of trouble.

Walhalla's poplars are no more. Many Australians are not very keen on the introduced Lombardy poplar as a tree of our countryside, believing rather that it should be confined locally to the more formalized settings of parks and gardens. There is no doubt however, that there are places where it can be in keeping with the background supplied by our native flora; especially where its vertical symmetry and fine colouring can be shown to advantage. Such a setting was provided by the winding course of Walhalla's main street, with its tinkling stream and backdrop of steep hillsides and sombre eucalypt forest. In the autumn, particularly, this was all high­ lighted and set off by the magnificent row of stately poplars which burst into gold along a section of the street. Few photographs of the town ignored some angle or other of these photogenic trees, and to many a traveller they must have been part of the very synthesis of Walhalla. Now, alas, age and decay have run their natural course and in the interests of public safety the famous old trees have been removed. 5'7 Walk's Section .fl TRIP FO?t EASTER LICOLA-MIDDLE RIDGE-MT. SKENE-LICOLA 55 Miles Licola is a small settlement 30 miles north of Heyfield and on the . There is an infrequent mail service from Maffra, but the best ways of reaching it are by private car or hire car from Heyfield. There is also a steady timber traffic between Heyfield and the new mill at Licola and the logging areas out toward Spring Hill, so that "hitches" are usually not very hard to come by for those prepared to risk the possible delays associated with this method of procuring transport. For the car driver, there is a excellent road to Licola. FIRST DAY-Licola-Rumpff's Flat 14 miles Immediately after crossing Licola Bridge over the Macalister River turn right on an old road which goes upstream parallel to the river (DO NOT follow the new timber road which leads straight ahead off the bridge.) In about ! a mile the road turns left (N.) and follows up the Target Creek valley. Keeping to the road a shed and stable is passed on the left and at 3 miles, Chester's hut on the right. Primrose Gap is reached about 5 miles from Licola Bridge and from the Gap there are good views of Mt. Skene to the N.W. and The Crinoline to E. of N. Mt. Wellington shows through a gap in the hills to the east. There is a gate across the road at the Gap but continue on rough road through gate. At U miles from the gap a track leads off to the right, and enables a large bend in the road to be cut off. Regaining the road the Barkly River is reached (2 miles from Primrose Gap). The Barkly is here a good stream and well justifies a little time off for a bathe. After crossmg the bridge the dirt road turns left (N.W.> and proceeds to follow Glencairn Creek until Gregory's is reached, on left (2l! miles from bridge). From here there are two alternative routes to the top of the Mt. Lookout ridge which forms the divide between Glencairn Creek and the Barkly River. One track, which is rather scrubby in places, leads W. up a dry gully at Gregory's, and in about 200 yards turns N.W. up the spur on the right. It then generally follows the spur, with the track indistinct and scrubby as it climbs steeply for about i mile, when it turns W. and then in a further l! mile turns N.W. on the main ridge. It soon sidles to the right as the ridge rises then it crosses through the saddle before Grimme's Hill (2 miles from Gregory's). There is a good hut, with water from a tank, just S. of Grimme's Hill on the right of the track. We understand it belongs to Mr. C. Reeves. Track sidles to the left (W.) of Grimme's Hill and in further t mile swings left (W.) toward the Barkly River. Another track comes in on the right (see next paragraph). The other track is much better defined and less scrubby. Continue on road past Gregory's for about i mile until end of road is reached at the gate into Sweetapple's property. Skirting N.W. around Sweetapple's the track proceeds W. up the valley of Mt. Lookout Creek to the saddle between Mt. Lookout and Grimme's Hill, about H miles from the roadhead. In the saddle the track passes through a gate and leads S.W. with the fence on the right for about 600 yards, when it crosses through the fence but keeps following it, now W. and W.N.W. The track is now dropping to the Barkly and at !- mile from the saddle the track commences to zig-zag as the final steep descent to the river is negotiated. The main stream of the Barkly is then crossed about 100 yards below the of its Skene and Main branches. Continue on good pad which crosses nose of small spur and then leads S.W. along the S. bank of the stream. At l; mile from the crossing the pad crosses to the N. bank and continues to follow the stream until in further i mile a turnoff to the right is seen. This is the track to the Middle Ridge. Immediately to the left is a river crossing which leads, in about 50 yards, to Rumpff's Flat, a good campsite with fireplace, etc. 58 SECOND DAY-Rumpff's Flat-Hoskin's-Skene Hut iH miles From Rumpff's Flat cross river and take track which sidles up spur opposite. The track is very steep at first, but well-defined and blazed, as it climbs generally on the E. fall overlooking the Skene branch of the Barkly. About 1 mile from the river the grade lessens somewhat. After a further mile the spur has levelled off but the track is partly overgrown with nettles and is rather ill-defined. There are, however, large and distinctive blazes at regular intervals and no difficulty should be experienced in keeping to the track. The Ridge continues to rise gradually, with the direction generally N.W. and the ridge well-defined. At 3l; miles from the river Dingo Spring is reached. There is a tree blazed with a large arrow and W., but the water does not appear to be perennial. The track here goes to the top of the ridge, which continues well defined and bearing N.W. At 6 miles the track shifts to the left (W.> fall. The spur here flattens out for a while but the blazes continue N.W. until a stockyard is reached (8 miles). There are some rocky outcrops as the track continues N.W., still well blazed, and in t mile the ruins of Hoskin's hut will be seen on a flat boggy area to the left, a little below and off the track. Continuing on track past the hut ruins the Main Divide is reached in about 300 yards. Here a fair pad turns S. and there are a few blazes in the next 21& miles to Skene hut. Between Hoskin's and Skene hut the Divide is fairly flat with open snowgrass areas. The pad generally follows the Divide, sometimes on theW. (Jamieson) fall. The hut is good but small and has no windows. A recent "improvement" has produced a door composed of slats spaced about four inches apart, and just a little draughty!

:;,tlllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllfllllllflllllllllllllllllllll,. I I 1 MAPS ~ g I ~:;~!~~~~;.~:~City I _Iii 3 ~ ~ FULL RANGE ~ I IN STOCK I

1=1 One Mile to One Ineh, Fouc Mil" to One Ineh __ i Also Maps of Overseas Countries s~_-=-=~ I JOHN DONNE & SON ! i I ~lllllllnliHRUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIUIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII·~ 59 SKETCH Mll.P MTSKENE a MtooLERtoGE

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~\ ~(' A_ 1('< "'p ·.rz~ (;, li' <.}.,~ ·~o ~ "1'~ THIRD DAY-Skene Hut-Mt. Skene-Licola Rd. 14 miles From hut a good pad leads S. along ridge and soon enters some scrubby timber. About 1t mile from the hut the track turns to the right, generally S.W., and commences to zig-zag very steeply to the top of the Skene massif. The track is good and at i mile from the hut the snowgrass top of Mt. Skene is reached. Keeping on the path, a dirt track will soon be reached. This road runs S.S.E. and N.N.W.; in the former direction to Mt. Shillinglaw and in the latter toward the summit. To visit the summit turn N.N.W. on the road until at 1 mile a saddle is reached beyond which (W) is a long flat ridge which leads to the summit in a further ~ mile. The summit is the least interesting part of Mt. Skene, but good views to Buller, McDonald, The Bluff, Goulburn Valley and Mt. Torbreck may be had by moving about a little. From the summit return to the dirt road and follow it S.S.E. for about two miles, when it drops off the Skene massif but continues along the Divide until 6 miles from track junction it passes over Mt. Shillinglaw (a poor mountain with absolutely no view, due to its timbered top). About 3 miles from Shillinglaw the dirt road becomes a modern forestry timber road, and a large camp is reached in a further mile. This is the road which was left at Licola Bridge on the outward trip. From the roadhead to Licola Bridge is about 15 miles and the country is still worthwhile spending a day walking through but for those not desirous of walking the distance it might be mentioned that the timber trucks leave the camp for Licola in the morning and evening and do not mind picking people up; they only stop at the tops of the rises. Notes amended to: JUNE, 1951 MAP REFERENCE: There appears to be no suitable map of the whole area, but the accompanying sketch map should be sufficient for most purposes as the area is one in which fineness of detail is not really essential. An M.B.W. map of the Barkly Watershed covers the southern section in some detail, while by the time this appears In print the Club may have completed its Skene­ Shillinglaw map, covering the whole area. VAY TRIP ROBIN HOOD-BRANDY CREEK-CAMP HILL 11 miles At Robin Hood the Prince's Highway turns south-easterly and the old road to Sale continues east. At the junction an old country road leads off to the left (N.). Take this road which crosses the Tar ago river in l mile and soon becomes a country lane, and later a bush track. Keep following it until at 2! miles its end is reached. From here a cattle track is followed which turns N.E. and in a further i mile leads to an old unmade road. Turn E. along road, but in t mile leave it and go S. through the timber and climbing uphill. About 10 minutes climb will bring you to the top of the hill and there turn E. until a pipeline is met running N. and S. (This pipe line is not shown on the map but will be found running between refer­ ence points 859072 and 855057). Follow the pipe track S. to a large clearing at the far side of which will be found a track leading E. Follow this track which takes a few turns as it leads to a hut in about i mile. From hut proceed N. for about 100 yards along a rough road until a track is seen on the right. This is only a rough track but follow it for about ~ mile E. through scrubby country until another clearing is reached which leads to a river flat on the banks of the -5! miles from Robin Hood and a good spot for lunch. (As the crow flies this spot is about 2! miles from Robin Hood). After lunch proceed upstream on N. bank of river, soon crossing Iron­ side Creek and then reaching the Drouin West-Tarago road. Here turn right (S.) on the old Sale road for about 2 miles to a point just before Brandy Creek where a country lane leads off to the right (S.l. Take this lane which, avoiding turn-off to the right or left, leads over the top of Camp Hill about 1 mile from the Sale Road. Although only 827 feet high Camp Hill is the highest point for some miles around and a good view is obtained from it. Continuing S. the Princes Highway is met in further 2 miles at a point about 2t miles on the Warragul side of Drouin. Notes amended to: FEBRUARY, 1951 61 MAP REFERENCE: Drouin military Broadly Speaking !

A. R. Broad

of 64 ELIZABETH STREET

has the FINEST COLLECTION of Walking Gear

1Oth FLOOR, THE STRAND. CENT. 4599

62 DAY Tf[?.IP

AVONSLEIGH-SHEPHERD'S CREEK-BEER'S HILL -COCKATOO 12 Miles Take electric train to Upper Ferntree Gully, and Gembrook bus to Avonsleigh. Alight about a quarter of a mile past Avonsleigh Store-P.O., where a road leads up the hill to the left. Take this road, but in about 50 yards of road it branches R. so that it parallels the main Gembrook road. Follow this road E. At about i mile is a good view down the valley towards Cockatoo, and road swings E.N.E., keeping level, and then swings N.E. and drops, becoming more rutted, finally fading out as it comes out on to a good gravel road E.-W., with bridge over Cockatoo Creek 100 yards on R., with Cockatoo-Woori Yallock Road a further 80 yards. Turn L. 1 mile along this road (N. and N.E.) until a small creek is crossed at a small bridge. Turn into paddocks and climb hill ~ mile to ridge by a house of mud-and-cement bricks (being constructed July, 1951). Keep along this ridge S.E., until, within ! mile, a vehicle track will be found, running along ridge southerly. The track is confused by timber-snigging, but keep on the ridge along what is obviously an older track than the snig marks. At about U miles a track of similar quality forks R. A tree is blazed at this junction. Keep L. to a loading platform, about 100 yards. Go downhill past this platform, swinging L. to keep on the spur and in a few minutes a branch of Shepherd's Creek will be reached in the valley, a good place for lunch. ·:··-----0-0____ ,_0_)_0_,, ___ ,,_,_,,_,_,,_,,_,_,., l I I ARMY MAPS i I I LARGE RANGE ON ALL STATES ~~- I VARlO US SCALES ~ I IDEAL FOR I I HIKERS AND MOTORISTS I I ._ I 1 THE BOOK DEPOT ,I I 288 LITTLE COLLINS STREET, MELBOURNE I Telephone: Central 4587 I I •:•,._,~,_.,,_.c,.-.c,._,.,_,,_.,,._.,~,,._f,._,,,._,,,._,,,._.,,._.,,_ ._.,,._,,,._.c,.-.c,.-.c,_c,._.c,.-.n •:•• 63 After lunch, climb back to the ridge and go along to the track fork at the blaze, now taking the R.H. track southerly about 1 mile. This comes out on to a vehicle track along the lower fence of extensive sloping culti­ vated land. Turn L. and follow the track about 1 mile E. coming out onto a good gravel road N.-S. Turn R. and follow the road H miles to a junction where there is a small church on the S.W. corner. This is Beer's Hill. Turn R. and follow the road H miles (splendid views) to a cross-roads with three or four houses around (poultry farm N.E. corner). Turn L. and follow gravel road 2 miles into Cockatoo, finishing along Woori Yallock Road. Instead of following the road into Cockatoo, a good walk through the bush may be followed; a few yards before reaching the cross-roads mentioned above, a building with a peculiarly battlemented top will be noticed (frame only, July, 1951). Go into the bush past this building and swing W.S.W., striking a logging track. Follow this track down the spur W.S.W. until almost at the bottom a track crosses it, following the creek valley. Turn R., cross the creek in 200 yards and in 400 yards more an open valley is reached, where there has been a rifle range. There is a fair-sized tributary of Cockatoo Creek flowing to the R. Turn L., go through a fence 80 yards on and follow the good wheel track another 200 yards to cross the creek on a log bridge. Immediately after crossing creek, strike up the hill to the R. through the light scrub to the ridge, which is just above the main road. Turn left and follow a track out among some houses. Look out for a house named "Gwandalan" and opposite it a small foot track will be found going smartly down to the R., past a couple of houses, coming out through the grounds of Scots Church onto the main road, with Cockatoo i mile on L. Note: No buses from Cockatoo between 5.15 and 9.15 p.m. on Sundays. Notes amended to: JULY, 1951 MAP REFERENCE: Jamboree Scout Map, Western Sheet ------..... ------····--··------WALKING? May We Suggest You TAKE A TELESCOPE And Improve That Distant View! We have a large selection of light and portable j instruments with magnifications j from 15-40 times From £6/3/6, plus postage Also BINOCULARS, ANEROID BAROMETERS, MAP MEASURES, PRISMATIC COMPASSES, Etc. Consult us for your Instrument needs - Price Lists available INSPECT OUR BOOK DEPARTMENT For a large range of titles on Natural History, Botany, Geology, Ornithology, Astronomy, etc. Also General Literature FULL LISTS ON REQUEST

•N. H. SEWARD PTY. LTD. 457 BOURKE STREET, MELBOURNE- MU 6129 ..... ______.._.... ------··-----~ 64 MELBOURNE, BALLARAT, GEELONG KODAK CA/asiaJ PTY. LTD. Kodak Dealers Everywhere OTHER BROADBENT MAPS AND GUIDES ON CATALOGUE "M" • IJOCROf CARD MAPS • 6d • • l~~Qt ~(~lt REPRODUCTIONS. 1/­ WAlL PlAQUES or DESK STANDS . 6/6 Produaed• by BROADBENT'S OFFICIAL ROAD GUIDES COMPANY Winfield Buildings, 495 Collins Street. Melbourne Telephone MB 2021 Map No. Map No. 100 Victoria and Riverina (Key Roads) 217 Renmark 101 Melbourne---City and South (with 218 Warrnambool Street Numbers) 219 Kingston-Bordertown-Mt Gambier 102 To and From Melbourne's Beaches District (Melbourne-Mordialloc) 220 Warrandyte District 103 Mordialloc-Frankston District 223 The Spa Country 104 canberra 224 Colac-Terang District 106 Sydney (City) ~~~ ~~~~~~~:arsh District 137 Murray Bridge-Adelaide District 227 142 Castle maine 228 warragul 146 To and From Phillip Island and 230 Approaches to wonga Park Mornington Peninsula 231 Eildon and The Acheron Valley 148 Phillip Island 233 To and From Mt. Macedon 149 Sale 237 Frankston 1S9 Albury 238 Mornington 161 Wagga Wagga 239 Dromana 162 Warburton District 240 Rosebud 163 Marysville and District 241 Sorrento and Portsea 165 Mornington Peninsula 242 Greensborough 166 Frankston-Mt Martha District 243 The Barossa Valley 167 Lorne District 244 Kerang Lakes District 168 Phillip Island (Inverted) 245 Rye 169 Daylesford and Hepburn Springs 246 Bendigo-Daylesford District 170 Apollo Bay District ~:~ b'::~:e':.~~e: District 171 Geelong-Lorne-Colac District 249 Mt. Martha Public Park 172 Bellarine Peninsula 250 Ballarat District 173 Port Phillip Heads 251 Latrobe Valley 174 Sir Colin Mackenzie Sanctuary 252 lnverloch District 175 Dromana District 253 Eltham 176 Healesville and District 254 Mt. Buffalo 177 Ballarat 255 Goulbourne Valley 178 Geelong 257 Beaches of western Port 179 Mt. Macedon District 259 Traralgon 180 Melbourne to and fro ('Pocket' 260 Morwell Scale) 261 Yallourn 184 262 Moe and Newborough 185 Lakes Entrance District 263 Korumburra 186 Bairnsdale-Lakes Entrance District 264 Leongatha 187 Buchan Caves-Lakes Entrance 265 Wonthaggi District 266 Drouin 188 Bairnsdale 268 Colac 189 Yarram ~~~ ~ua:;;:orough 190 Adelaide (City) 273 Benalla 191 Adelaide Environs 274 wangaratta 192 The Dandenongs 275 Ferntree Gully and Boronia 193 Bendigo 276 Melbourne's Mountain Suburbs 194 Horsham (Belgrave, Tecoma, Upwey) 197 Wilson's Promontory 277 Kyneton 198 Albury and the Upper Murray 278 Emerald-Gem brook Dist. 200 Sherbrooke Forest 279 Macedon-Kyneton-Castlemaine 202 Kangaroo Island District 203 Shepparton 280 Yarra Hill Country 205 The Grampians 281 To and From The Dandenongs 206 Nowra-jervis Bay District 282 Croydon 207 Warrnambooi-Port Fairy District 283 Blackburn-Nunawading-Mitcham 208 Portland and District 284 Lilydale 209 Mt Gambier-Portland District 285 Upper Yarra Hill Country 210 Portland-Warrnambool District 286 ~~~~~~~~e Routes: Melbourne- 211 Warrnambooi-Port Campbell 287 Interstate Routes: Melbourne- District Sydney 212 Mt. Gambier 289 Eildon Weir District ~~!~~=~:II 290 Camperdown 215 Hamilton AND MANY OTHERS 216 Mildura