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Easter Tripping

Friday

Having followed the Medium party around for the last 2 days it was now time for us to go our separate ways, so, after waving goodbye as they set off up the hill we took the easier route downstream. An hour later at the junction of the Leslie River and Wilkinson Stream we paused -"should we camp here?" - but no - it was decided that we hadn't gone nearly far enough for the afternoon. We would go to the top of the Bluffs. "Must be only a couple of hundred feet" said one. A long 200 feet later one of the disadvantages of Limestone country was obvious - streams appeared, or rather disappeared, to run underground. We were all thirsty and could hear the stream, but couldn't find it. Problem - should we keep going or go back to the Leslie to camp? But by this time only the keenest of us were prepared to climb back up the following day so on we went. Laziness, for once, was rewarded. A short climb further and the ideal campsite was found. Tea that night saw an incident that was repeated each night: "Salt" said Bill, putting handfuls in the stew, "prevents cramp." He may have been right. Nobody got cramp during the trip.

Saturday

"To the Top" was the cry, turning to a whisper after an hour or two of steep climbing. But the view when we got there -" well worth the climb," we all agreed as we sunbathed and pushed rocks off the top. After a survey, the proposed route along the Arthur range was reluctantly abandoned so it was back the way we had come up. We were going to stay at Leslie Clearing Hutt. But 9 (of us) plus 3 (already there) divided by 4 (the number of bunks) equals ..."crowded" everyone agreed. So it was tents in the rain shared with wasps and sandflies.

Sunday

A wet night, wet pits and hungry sandflies ensured the earliest start of the trip. Three very wet hours later saw us in the new, but cold, Salisbury Hut. "Paper Roses..." sang the tape recorder belonging to 3 cowboys who were already there. Comments had no effect. At 8 o'clock that night action was called for. "Hit it with us" was the cry as people leapt from their bunks and grabbed mattresses, torches and the tape recorder. Then silence - broken only by our leader's snores. The following misty Monday saw us rejoin the other parties, exchange stories and declare the trip to have been one of the best.

M.B.

Ably led by Trev. Those who came: Bill Foster, Chris Mitchell, Chris McArthur, Ash Morton, Stephen Williams, Peter Struthers, Nick Hancox