The Spirit of Anzac
by Stephanie Cuthbert
The entry on the walks program invited us to "join in this epic in the spirit of ANZAC - they didn't know where they were going either", but I didn't think Doug meant that literally. Then again, this was only my second walk with the club so I suppose I had a bit to learn about true SUBW spirit - luckily a more senior club member was on hand to demonstrate...
We began at Yalwal, in Morton National Park, on the crisp, sunny morning of Anzac Day, having spent the night variously at Committee meetings, catching trains, chartering taxis and being kindly entertained by happy campers at the picnic site where we were sleeping. Following an old mining road and then a track, we headed south west to Belmore Flat then climbed Fletcher's Spur to Morley's Saddle. The view from here was spectacular and apparently even better from the top of a nearby cliff - the only catch was one had to climb a rather tricky-looking chimney to reach it. We left that to Mr Bean and went to inspect the aboriginal sharpening grooves in some rocks. After lunch we descended Atkinson's spur to our campsite next to Bundundah Creek. Following an icy (and hence extremely brief) swim we set up camp, the rapidly advancing darkness occasionally punctuated by a yell as we mapped the positions of the holes belonging to the local wombat population.
In anticipation of a relatively easy day ahead we set off the next morning at a leisurely hour to climb Twelve Apostles Spur. The slope on the other side was quite steep and required a couple of interesting manoeuvres involving rope and heights. We stumbled, slipped and tripped down the ridge, trying not to look over the edge at the forest of giant stinging trees on either side. It grew dark soon after we reached Cinch Creek but a quick survey of the area revealed an ideal location for the second night. Of course, there was no room for luxuries like flies, and two people had to sleep in rather close proximity to the creek, but nobody seemed to mind much and cared even less after a hidden bottle of rum emerged from Mr Bean's pack.
The next morning I learnt first hand the meaning of the term "alpine start" as we stumbled bleary-eyed out of our sleeping bags at six am. However, Tullyangela creek was at its best in the cool of the morning and soon the gentle sounds of creek-bashing could be discerned as we made our way from boulder to boulder, stopping for a strictly regulated five minutes in every hour if you were last, which I was, or about thirty minutes in the hour for the person who was leading (which doesn't say much for my rock-hopping skills!). Sally's green fizz (added to water) was consumed in large quantities and declared an essential for future expeditions, and Matt produced bag after bag of lollies to keep us on a sugar high. After a quick lunch, in the interests of catching the last train to Sydney the next day, we sacrificed dry feet and waded the most direct route through the creek, squelched up a spur and began a night time road bash during which we collected water from a swamp that we happily drank until the next morning when we could actually see what was in it! Mr Bean provided comic relief by losing a tomato near the swamp which he searched in vain with much distress. In fact we saw rather a lot more of Mr Bean that evening as he was slowed to our pace by a sore ankle which much to Nick's vexation he refused to treat apart from pain relief and anaesthesia in the form of the last of his rum!
Much debate was held the next morning (after yet another alpine start) as to which route would be best for crossing the farm which stood between us and the Shoalhaven River. Eventually, Emma (being an Ag Science student) was sent to negotiate with the farmer and his ferocious-looking pair of dogs. This successfully accomplished, we all traipsed through the farmyard looking in amazement at the piles of empties (and the full one in the farmer's hand), the car graveyard, and his livestock, the sum total of which appeared to be five sheep and a few cows. Oh yes, and a couple of bulls - the amount and distribution of red clothing being worn was quickly assessed and everyone edged slightly away from Sally with her bright red pack on, but we all reached the cliff line in one piece. We made a quick detour to Warrigal Lookout (on the farmer's recommendation) so the more daring members of the party could pose on a little ledge of rock high above the gorge while the rest of us took photos from a more stable position.
After bashing around in the scrub a bit and hurtling along a winding fire trail for a while it was somehow decided that in the interests of getting back to Sydney that evening (as opposed to six am the next morning) the party should split up. Doug and Emma were going to "take it easy" (a ploy to get rid of us?!?) so the rest of us donated our spare food, including yet another bag of lollies from Matt, then charged off down a spur in the hope of catching the train. Unfortunately, two things happened: Doug stopped Sally to get her matches, and Nick, Mr Bean, Vanessa, Matt and I made a sharp turn to the right about half-way down the spur - Exit Sally. Assuming Sally was with Emma and Doug, we crossed the Shoalhaven and began the last hill before the road bash that would take us to Tallong station and the 3:38pm train. About half way up, I decided that I would be prepared to forgo catching the train if I could have a break so I said as much, then stopped while the others disappeared up the hill. Continuing at my own pace, I contemplated the prospect of spending the night by myself with only tomato paste and stock cubes to eat if Doug, Emma and Sally didn't catch up. I was very glad to see Mr Bean again not long afterwards shouting encouragement at me - they had procured a lift back to the station from a Texan couple with a pick-up truck, thus avoiding a seven kilometre road bash and ensuring that we would Catch The Train, an event that had achieved an immense significance during the past few hours! We piled ourselves and our packs into the back of the truck and sat grinning with glee at each other with this unexpected luck as we bounced and bumped our way to Tallong.
Tallong is not a large town to say the least, so in our two hours there we were able to fully explore its attractions, the main ones being the phone booth and the Big Apple, both of which enjoyed our patronage several times that afternoon. At about three-thirty, just as we were finishing off a picnic of apples, chocolate and Matt's lollies, up pulled a car and out tumbled Doug and Emma looking euphoric at the prospect of catching the train...but hang on, where was Sally? "We thought she was with you!" said everyone at the same time, edging towards the platform as the 3:38 quickly approached. What happened next is very unclear, and what happened to Sally is another story, one which she may be willing to tell you herself. Suffice to say that we all made it back to Sydney that night but "the spirit of Anzac" is alive and well in SUBW and Doug, if you don't BYO matches next time, look out!