THUNDERBOLTS WAY AND WARRUMBUNGLES
2,200km – 9 days – great times.
Trip Leaders
Forewords
Just a quick foreword to say that we started at 8am Sat 7th
Nov ’09 on the Hawkesbury River, went to Coolah Tops NP, The Warrumbungle
NP, Bingara, Bald Rock NP. Dumaresq Dam, Bretti Reserve then finished up on
Sunday morning 15th November just north of Hexham.
So for a bunch of pensioners [as we were called] we did a bloody lot,
not only driving, but walking i.e. The Warrumbungle Gould track, and Bald Rock
(twice).
We all had a great time and I would like to thank: Robyn and Dave, Ken and Marie, Rod and
Michele, Jennifer and Paul, Beryl and Wal, Greg, & Barbara and Neil, for
making this trip so easy to run.
If you wanted to know more you should have been there, but read the BIG
trip report to find out the lies they told…
Thanks,
Ken.
CHAPTER ONE
The Best Laid Plans…
Day 1 – Sat 7th Nov 2009
The Pensioners assembled by 8am above the
Ken Clarke Jackaroo Trip leader
Greg Martineer Suzuki Jimny Navigator
Wal & Beryl Phelps Jackaroo Photographer
emeritus
Rod & Michelle Davis Prado Bargain hunters & collectors.
Ken & Marie Root Rodeo Fossickers,astronomers
Paul &
Neil & Barbara Ryan
Robyn & David Hastings Jackaroo (Tweetie)
The weather where we were wandering was wet. ( &
Tweetie wuvs awitterwation).
Neil informed us that the Warrumbungles, our final
destination, was hosting an outdoor concert (Jon English) at the time we would
be there (13th), so Trip Leader Ken cunningly confused us by
reversing the trip direction. Confusion continued when a ring-in took the lead
of the convoy – Sue Cornish ,in her shiny new Holden Cruze, was on her way
through the
After travelling 320km through Broke, Sandy Hollow
and Merriwa, plus some truly awful puns, we made camp at
David Hastings
Trip Reporter Day 1
CHAPTER TWO.
Beyond the truth.
Day 2 - Sunday 8th November 2009.
This IS a true story, only the facts have been
changed to protect the innocent.
The fog was thick as we drove along the narrow rutted track, which was
lined with fences built from rocks and stones.
The trees were barren of leaves and appeared as stark skeletons against
a gray backdrop. A minute or so earlier
we had caught a glimpse of the lake. The
water was black, tossing and its icy waters looked seriously uninviting; the
span of the suspension bridge near the edge of the water was barely visible
through the fog. Time was running out; fuel was low and the horrible knocking
sound from the engine was getting louder.
Would we make it before ….
Now that I have your attention, read the trip report for day 2 of
Captain Ken's Bald Rock trip.
The night was still, there was no wind, the storm clouds had cleared
and the sky was now a mass of bright stars. Rodney woke with a start and he
looked at the digital clock on the wall of his van; it made no sense to him;
what time was it? The LED numerals lit up the van but it still made
no sense. 00:01. It was just too much for him, so he rolled over and went back
to sleep with the intention of having this problem resolved in the morning.
Next morning there were a number of suggestions how it would be said in
military time, but I'm not sure Rod was convinced that any one of them were
correct.
We had camped overnight at Coolah Tops; a spot the club had been to
some years ago and it was still as nice as it had been back then.
For those that had not gone for the short walk to see the giant Grass
Trees the previous day set-off early. This area is a mass of giant, sometimes
distorted, Grass Trees which must be hundreds of years old. It was like walking through one of those
haunted forests you see illustrated in those kids’ scary storybooks.
A short trip around the park was the first thing on the agenda for
today. As we were leaving we stopped to inspect a rather good looking canopy on
the back of a Hilux traytop. Captain Ken
was the first to comment that he thought it was brilliant, making some vague
reference to being able to put Kerry in one of the drawers in the back. He particularly asked me not to report these
comments, at which I agreed.....NOT.
We took the short drive out to Bendella lookout which gave us some
magnificent views out across the
It then back into the vehicles where we backtracked passed the campsite
and then along the track to Breeza lookout.
The track here was a lot more slippery than the first track and there
were some quite spectacular fish-tails occurring when going around some of the
bends.
At a point signposted “Ramp 5” the track, which was covered here with
deep slippery mud and showed a number of wheel tracks going in all directions,
went up a short incline. This was the
most challenging part of the track so far.
Most of us got through without any real problems but Rod, Michele, Paul
and Jennifer decided to turn around and have their morning tea stop there
before heading back to camp. The view from Breeza Lookout was not as great as
from the other two but the challenge of the drive out along the slippery track
made up for the less impressive view.
Before setting of back to camp we all lowered our tyre pressures and
this made a big difference to the trip back.
Part of the talk over morning tea at Breeza was concerning what Captain
Ken was going to have for tea that night.
He decided that he was going to swap Sunday night's meal for Monday
night's for no good reason other than he couldn't have veggies with stew. Which in turn had something to do with what
he was having wouldn't go with what Greg was having. I'll leave you to work that one out; I
couldn't. Captain Ken reckoned that if
these and his earlier comments about Kerry were reported then there was no
point in coming home as Kerry would kill him so he'd better just keep going
north.
Obviously Muttley had been to Breeza before, or at least his reputation
had preceded him. On the information board there gave a warning about rocks
(and cliffs) with a drawing of a person who looked remarkably like Muttley
hanging on to a warning sign as he was falling off a cliff.
On the way back to camp from Breeza we stopped briefly to have a quick
look at the Giant Snowgum tree a short walk down a signposted track. Those of us that had been here before
remembered it being much bigger. Oh! How
time affects the memory.
Captain Ken insisted that it be recorded that Greg, his passenger for
the day, wanted to have a nanny nap on the way back but wouldn't let him
because there would not be anyone to feed him his lollies.
With our tyre pressure reduced the trip back was far less
challenging. Along the way someone asked
David if he could explain why the track was so slippery with such little mud on
it. His immediate reply was “..that the moisture and clay form a hydroxyl
bond that prevents it from drying out”.
David is such a wealth of information, you only have to ask him and he
has an answer at hand. Some days he
makes answers out of clay, other days out of…
We had lunch back at the Barracks Campsite before setting off at 13:10
hours for the Warrumbungles. Rod was
leading the convey into Coonabarabran and got there well before the others who
stopped at Coolah to re-fuel. When we
made contact with him as to directions he really had us all confused. “At the clocktower turn right to Coles or
left to Woolies” were his only instructions.
When challenged as to what he meant his reply was, “ What more do you
want?” That was it; that was all we got;
nothing else. He had us all completely
confused. We wanted to go to the Warrumbungles
and he could only tell us, “Turn right at the clocktower to Coles or left to
Woolies”. Finally I found a signpost to
The Warrumbungles, passed the info on the others and soon we were all together
again heading for our destination. While
in Coonabarabran Captain Ken made a phone call to his darling wife, Kerry (his
words reported here are at his insistence). We all suspect that it was to check with Kerry
if it was OK to swap Sunday night's meal with Monday night's. After talking to Kerry he reported he felt
warm and fuzzy inside.
Happy Hour that night was at the Davis' van where Rod really sucked-up
big time to the trip reporter (and so he should, but it would still not make
him immune from any facts or fiction about him being reported) by offering me a nice cold beer, which was
gracefully accepted.
Nobody else got offered one.
During the course of happy hour Beryl jumped up out of her chair at a
speed befitting an olympic athelete. She
had had a little accident and wet her chair.
She still maintains that she had just spilled some of her Bourbon and
Coke and that it was just a wee accident.
(I think I’d better leave that one alone). After a couple of hours of
pleasant company and some good laughs we all went back to our respective vans
for tea and a good night's sleep.
Wal Phelps.
Trip Reporter, Day 2.
More gripping
episodes in coming months.