It was Xmas
1946. A time
when one could rely on
seasonal weather.
TV and Computers were unknown and the concept of space travel was only read about in comic books! As for the Ozone layer ... it might well have been a new brand of fly spray.
"Mum - I’m going away for four days bushwalking. We are leaving Xmas afternoon, so could you get this food on my list for me?"
"Bushwalking for FOUR days?" My mother shook her head in disbelief. "Leaving Xmas day! What is happening to the young people of to-day." She held out her hand. "Give me the list." As for me, I was excited. This was my first big trip. I can use my new sleeping bag and rucksack.Paddy was a ‘one man to supply light weight camp gear. He only made a few bags each month, and on’sale’ day you had to be there early or miss out. My rucksack was a Paddy’s Ladies three pocket A frame. Both these items cost me almost four weeks pay! With what change I had left, I crossed George street to Sterns Disposals and bought a compactum set (knife/fork/spoon) for two shillings a square army mess tin with handle for one and sixpence and a pair of army leather boots, a bargain at nineteen shillings and sixpence! I was well prepared. Not like my first trip ... a fiasco of borrowed gear and an army pack that had fallen out the trains dog box window just after leaving Sydney Central! But ‘that’s another story.
Christmas dinner over, I incurred the wrath of relatives as I donned my boots and walking gear. Swinging my A frame on my back, I bid them all a haughty goodbye. Everyone came out the front and stood at the gate to watch my progress to the bus stop. My brother, a World War II veteran yelled out ..."You’ll be sorry!" I ignored him and the others. Admittedly my pack was heavy, at least 301bs but back then, dried food as we know it to-day was unheard of. What there was was ex-army rations and very unpalatable. One good thing from Army ration kits was the miniature can opener which also doubled as a spoon. Everyone carried one of these. Snack food was pretty much like that of to-day ... dried apricots, sultanas, cheese and Vita wheat biscuits and a special glucose treat, BMI solid form jelly. The squares of solid jelly provided instant energy.
Bushwalkers always met ‘under the clock’ at Central Railway Station. This clock is now in the Powerhouse Museum at Darling Harbour.
Not many girls did full pack walks in those days, and to see us among a group of young men drew many disapproving glances.
Soon we were settled in the train . It had two long seats facing each other, a door in one corner leading to an attached toilet, and a large glass bottle of water beside the elevated luggage racks. We began to move .... Moss Vale, here we come!
The walk: Moss Vale - Fitzroy Falls - Belmore Falls - Yeola Gorge in Upper Kangaroo Valley - Junction of Kangaroo river and Fitzgeralds Creek - the Old Buderoo trail - Jamberoo - Kiama - train to Sydney.
It was a hard road bash from Moss Vale to our camp at Fitzroy Falls, but it was a glorious night, studded with stars. Too tired to pitch tents, we spread out our groundsheets and crawled into our sleeping bags dead tired. I woke to the smell of gum leaves. They crackled on the fire while the billy boiled merrily. A quick breakfast, rucksackpacked, and a look at Fitzroy Falls. It was truly beautiful, sending up a misty spray as the water cascaded into the valley below.
Packs on ... another road bash to Belmore Falls. The weather was hot. The sky a cloudless blue. The dirt road crunched beneath our feet as we walked. The sign had said three miles to Belmore Falls. We found later that local signs were not reliable We arrived at last. Time for lunch and marvelled at these new falls, different to the one at Fitzroy, but equally as beautiful. ‘Packs On!’ called our leader.
We left the road and I gained an education in bush bashing. The leader led us a merry dance trying to locate McAndrews Gap and the trail down to the Upper Valley. It was extremely hot by now and we encountered several false trails all along the escarpment. Eventually we hit pay dirt and began our descent. The trail was indistinct and petered out in many places, but one or other of the boys soon picked it up again. Those of us without gaiters were covered in scratches. I stared at my scratched and bleeding legs. I wont be able to shave them for a week! The trail led into a grassy clearing. Below us the narrow ribbon of river glistened in the sunlight as it gushed noisily over some rocks. There was a deserted cabin amongst the trees surrounded by some wild fruit trees and cactus plants, strangely out of place, nearby.
‘This is Yeola, and that is the Watchmakers Cabin’ said our leader. ‘We camp here to-night.’
Dumping our packs we inspected the fruit
trees.. After pitching tents and collecting firewood, we went for
a swim. The water was crystal clear, a little cold at first, but
very refreshing. As we yarned around the fire that night I wanted
to know who the watchmaker was. No one knew. We presumed he was a
recluse who had turned his back on city life and built a cabin in
an ideallic spot. We drank the water freely. Polluted streams and
purifying tablets were not an issue in 1946.
Twittering birds woke us early. To-day was an ‘easy’ day we were told. We made our way down the valley. The faint trail followed the river. Later, it became a rough dirt road which serviced the isolated farms we began to see on either side of the river. The valley was lush. We discovered a suspension bridge and had loads of fun running across, swaying as we went. The boys got us girls in the middle and we had to hang on like grim death. We reached the junction of Fitzgerald Creek round midday.
We stopped for ten minutes, eating oranges from the trees at the Watchmakers Cabin. From here we headed along the narrow creek, picking our way carefully. As we got closer to the towering valley walls, we found a clearing where we made camp. It was early afternoon. We found a deep pool in the creek free of leeches, so we had a quick swim. Relaxing around the campfire that evening, we yarned and talked of tomorrow. The Old Buderoo trail was a tough climb, It was one of the original trails in and out of the Valley used by pioneers. It led over the mountain into the hamlet of Jamberoo.
If those early explorers could see Jamberoo now, with its Fun Park and large tourist population ... it would stop them in their tracks, My husband and I had never been back until late last year. A nostalgic journey 50 years later into the past to locate the creek where we pitched our tents and find the old hall where we went to the pictures that night. Did we find them? No. They are lost forever in the mainstream of progress and tourist activity.
The sweat poured out of me as I trudged up that mountain trail. This was my apprenticeship into the art of bushwalking. A new vista of discovery had opened for me. I would walk many hundreds of miles in the next few years. Climb many mountains. Gaze at Nature’s beauty from escarpments that only the true bushwalker knew, At the end of the sweat and toil was achievement. I supposed that this was how the early explorers felt. Yes ... I experienced sights and sounds not found in the city. It was the beginning of a lifetime of outdoor activity.
To-day, as I gaze into the windows of the Outdoor shops at the vast array of tents, packs and gear of a new age technology; and read and listen to tales of the continuing destruction of the wilderness ... I recall the days when a fire trail did.not exist on Katoomba’s Narrow Neck, and there was no Warragamba Dam to stop us canoeing the Lower Wollondilly river in the beautiful Burragorang Valley. The shops have detailed books on all areas and on all outdoor pursuits Our maps were ex-army survey or if lucky like me... a copy of a genuine Mile Dumphy map of the Blue Mountains.
The cars rush by .... our transport was mostly by steam train, or as a group in an uncomfortable and draughty army blitz truck to areas not serviced by train. It was tough - but then ... so were we! My husband Bruce and I agree that we experienced the best years for both walking and canoeing. We are still active in both sports and proud members of two clubs, Sutherland Bushwalkers and the Sutherland Shire Canoe club.
I'm a walker Boot's and all
I bought a pair of leather boots,