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Salient. An Organ of Student Opinion at Victoria College, Wellington, N.Z. Vol. 6, No. 1. March 01, 1943

Tramping Club

Tramping Club.

This a foul day. The drizzly rain makes the muddy track muddier than ever, and the trees and bushes seem always anxious to dash their water laden leaves into your face. But soon the hut is reached. In a few minutes, a warm blaze is making the blood veins tingle. The rain pitter-patters incessantly on the roof, but inside here, we are snug and warm—the stew bubbles enticingly. The crackling flames invite us to sit and contemplate their hidden secrets. Singing and yarning carries us far into the night. Our tummies, are full, and peace is on earth with all men Morning breaks, and the sky is clear. The "feel" of the damp bush is intoxicating—the early sun's rays glitter on the watery foliage—a few yards away, the river bubbles over the stones. It is an easy trip this week-end, and all day we lounge in the sun, plunging into the cool stream when we are too hot, feasting our eyes on the woolly blanket of vegetation climbing the steep hill across the river, gazing meditatively at the writhing whips of smoke still issuing from the hut's chimney. Further up the valley can be seen more hills—bush clad.

Lovers of nature, admirers of beautiful scenery, those desirous of not—too—energetic ambles over the hills, or the really tough hairy man—all are catered for by the V.U.C.T.C. Watch the notice board.