The following weekend turns out to be the long 4 day weekend that is Easter. Sort of like the thanksgiving of Australia. It’s in the autumn; everyone gets together with friends and family and eats themselves sick. I however skip that and head to the woods for some camping. This time to the Snowy River National Park in North Eastern Victoria near the New South Wales border.I pick up the rental car, a silver Ford Falcon, Thursday evening get some of the gear loaded before heading to band practice. In my usual fashion I’m up and ready to go by 6am. The weather is supposed to be great and everyone is going to be on the roads going somewhere. This is the number one road travel weekend in Australia. I want to beat the RVs, hippy vans and car loads of kids out of the city. As I get farther and farther from town the freeway dwindles from a multi lane fully separated highway, you and I are used to, into a single lane in each direction roadway going thru every little town looking so cute, but you never really want to stop at. By 9am the roadway is just a line of cars headed east for as far in front of me and behind me as I can see. Thank god we are doing 80 to 100 kph (50 to 63 mph). The cops are out in force and only the greatly brave and stupid are travelling over the speed limit (no I’m not one of them). Driving demerit points are doubled over holiday weekends and a single moving violation can not only be a financial set back but cost you your licence for a period of time. I finally stop in the town of Sale Victoria. It looks big enough to have a grocery store maybe even 2. I make my way to Safeway and find out everything is closed for Good Friday. The nice lady at the coffee shop, the only thing open, knows of a small mom and pop grocery store across town that’s forgone the religious down time and are open, 3 U turns and I find it. Its here I get the final supplies to eat well in the woods. Fresh veggies and fruit, some meat to marinate, ice and chocolate. Don’t worry I got the booze already in the cooler chilling! I’m back on the road in no time and looking for Waratah Flats campground. About 100 km (63m) north of Orbost and another 25 km (15m) back into the woods along dirt roads. It’s been a long day of driving when I arrive around 3pm. The forest is dense, the camp ground is hard to find and I haven’t seen another car for over an hour, at least. The place is totally empty giving me the best camping site and all the prepped fire woods left behind. This site does have picnic tables and a good fire pit, but nothing else. No streams, no hiking trails, nor a view. I soon realize this won’t be a home for more than a single night. The week earlier we changed our clocks back for fall and I had about 3 hours of good light left. I decide I’m not going to set up the tent at all and prep the fire pit for what I hope will be an evening of solitude by the fire. Once it’s all ready to go I break out my sax to practice the new techniques my instructor has given me for home work. The sounds of the sultry saxophone fill the forest. Reverberating through the trees, rattling leaves and I’m sure scaring away every creature within a kilometre. It was pure heaven! Sorry but as a look back at the pictures I realized I didn’t get any photos here.
As night starts to fall I build a fire and cosy up to the crackling heat. Just as I have a good pile of coals going and think I’m going to prepare my chicken dinner it starts to rain. With no place to hide but in the car, dinner quickly changes to a turkey sandwich, a diet Dr. Pepper (from the USA food store) and of course some of that chocolate. I watch my campfire fight the water drops flaring up, dying back then repeating the cycle. All the time I keep my fingers crossed the rain will stop and I can get back outside before drifting off to slumber land. Alas it’s to no avail after an hour it’s totally dark, raining buckets, with the occasional clap of thunder or flash of lighting. I decide today’s been long enough, tilt the seat back, surround myself with pillows and cover myself with mom’s quilt before calling it a night.
Early to bed means early to rise and at 3:30am I’m wide awake wondering what to do. Continue to lay here and keep tossing and turning or hit the road to get the day started? Being the incredibly patience person I am (no laughing anyone) I hit the proverbial dirt road. High beams on and going slow to be ready for the nocturnal animals I start making my way back towards civilization, 100+ km away. After maybe 15 km I see a right turn for Aberdeen Road. A road I had passed yesterday, that I saw off the main road going into the forest. But it wasn’t on the map in the nation park book. The temptation to go down the road travelled road is too great and I make the left into what can only be classified as not one of my smarter choices in life! Quickly the forest closes in on me, the branches hanging down almost touching the top of my full size sedan. The weeds and forest ground cover filling the middle of 2 slightly muddy ruts. The thought of turning around did cross my mind and I confidently told myself I can do this I know the road comes out to pavement near a yellow (maybe green) house. Another kilometre and I come to my first dirt berm. Up and over no problem so I keep going! The road way narrows and I’m glad I can’t see any farther than the forest allows the high beams to go. Before me is a fairly steep downhill with multiple berms. It’s here that I start seriously reconsider my choice. I stop for a minute, look at the clock shine 4:04am, look at the road in front of me, glance at the road behind me, wonder if I should turn around, to my left the road way drops off and to my right the hillside climbs. Both reaching distances I’d rather not think about at the moment. I’m never going to be able to back up over those berms. I have to go forward until I can find a good spot to turn around. Focusing on what is within the next 10’ at a time I start off slowly moving forward. Keeping my hands firmly gripped to the steering wheel, trying to push the bad thoughts out of my mind. Thoughts like “I’m way out in the woods, at 4am; no one truly knows where I am. I have 3 more days before Michael will even begin to wonder. Not to mention that cell phone coverage in Australia quickly dies away the moment you leave any city limits.” Up down, up down, up down, as I go down the steep roadway. Once clearing the hurdles and finding a good spot where the road and forest have opened up a little. I decide I’m almost there and what’s in front can’t be as bad as what I just managed to maneuver! A total of 7 kilometres from the initial bad decision and I finally come to an obstacle I can’t get around. A fire gate claiming a 4x4 is needed to go farther and no trespassing beyond this point. After 10 point turn later I’m headed back the way I came with my fingers crossed, on a wing and a prayer! At least now I know what to expect! Hoping that’s the silver lining to this predicament I’ve gotten myself into. When I get back to my nicely levelled, fairly modern dirt road I breathe a sigh of relief and think to myself lesson learn there! No more 4x4 in the middle of the night and stick to the main roads stupid! About 6:30are when I make back to Orbost. Where I pull over and call one of my camping buddies, Eddie, in Portland. After filling him in on
my morning adventures I jump in the passenger’s seat again and grab another hour of sleep waiting for the local cafe to open up for some reassuringly comforting home cooked by someone else food. I review my reference manuals hoping to find a place to camp closer to the coast and a few other people. I spend a few hours learning that every camping site in the coastal national parks has been booked up for holiday and head back to the mountains. This time deciding on an area with 4 campgrounds close to each other on the north side of the same national park. 5 hours of driving to end up 50km from where I started. Getting to Bull Flats campground near the McKillops Bridge by early afternoon.
Here the forest lies on top of a short ridge only mere meters off the paved road, the open forest giving me views of the nearby hill sides and a decent size stream bubbling nearby. The 3 campsites are all about 50 meters apart and once again I get to pick out the best spot. I quickly find my new home with the fire pit, a nice place for me to pitch the tent and even an area to string up a tarp to hide under if those evening storms come back. It’s here that I know I’ll spend the next 2 nights. I set up the tent and prepare the fire wood for what I hope is my evening by the campfire. I practice the sax some more and this time get started a little earlier on dinner. Once again shortly after dark a few thunderstorm roll through. This time I’m prepared! I dash under my tarp and watch the flashes of light. Tonight’s storms are much more intense or maybe it’s just my perspective of being outside to view them this time. Once I’ve had my fill and there’s a lull in the rain drops I climb into my tent. Air mattress all pumped up, Mom’s quilt spread out to keep me warm. As soon as I’m tucked into bed and shut off the headlamp the rain once again stats to come down in buckets. All is fine for about 5 minutes until I get beamed in the forehead with a drop of water. I lay there praying it’s a fluke rain drop that made its way somehow through the tent fly. As it turns out I’m not so lucky. One rain drop turns into another then another and before I know it there are rain drops falling all over inside the tent. This first band of showers much has soaked the tent enough and the second band was just too much for it to handle. The tent itself is about 5 or 6 years old and has been having some problems the last few trips. I had decided before leaving town to give it one more chance and to try to get a new one after this trip. But I digress... there I am sitting in the tent with my clothes back on blankets and pillow bundled up trying to keep them dry and waiting for the rain to subside enough to make a dash for the car. Once back inside I know the drill to quickly make myself as comfortable as possible in the passenger’s seat, cursing the rain and my old tent.Sunday, Easter morning the happy hopper doesn’t bring my chocolate but does leaves me some eggs to scramble up for breakfast by the campfire. After my morning meal and the cleanup I head to the only hiking trail in the area. An 18 km loop along the Snowy River. At the trail head I study the wall map fairly well. Since there don’t seem to be any paper copies of the route for me to take and my national park book doesn’t detail it out either. Stay left at the first turn and then 3 rights should take me along the correct path. But like much of this trip nothing turns out like I’d hoped for at the start. The trail itself is identified with orange triangular markers nail to the trees. In spots, because the forest is somewhat open, the path is really hard to define. Along the way I realize there are several other trails that didn’t seem to be on the map I studied. I have a good general understanding of the way I want to go and I need to keep the river to my right.
On this trip the Kookaburras are the most seen animal. They’re muscle bound woodpeckers and not really afraid of much. I can hear their monkey like calls in the trees and see a few following me along. They’re meat eaters so I don’t think they are waiting for me to drop something like the magpies do. But I can’t help but wonder if this is a gang came to rough me up a little. The walk progresses and I find myself enjoying the many facets of beauty Mother Nature has built around me. After some time I know I’m no longer on the correct trail but like I said the river is to the right and the car behind me someplace.
After 3 hours of hiking I find the back woods camping spot I’d seen on the map near the river’s edge. It’s here that I stop for a snack before deciding what to do. The trail itself follows the river then heads deep into the forest along a tributary before making its way back to the McKillop Bridge and parking area. I decide, in my infinite wisdom, that I’ll just follow the river’s edge back to the car and forgo the long hike deep into the bush. My track record for this trip has left my usually good sense of direction a little worse wear. How hard can it be to follow the river I think! I start out along a nice rocky edge and enjoy the sounds of the water rushing past. In no time at all the rock disappear and a densely packed region of 3 meter (9’+/-) high scrub bush replaces it. As I start to make my way though these dry scratchy leafless bushes I begin to realize that shorts and a t-shirt may not be the best outfit to protect my extremities. I along the way I find wallaby and wombat trails that help guide me near the river’s edge. The only problem with following them is that I’m considerably taller than both animals. At several points I had to crouch down on my hands and knees to get by. On this trek I also wonder should I turn around or keep going. I’m confident that if I see a fire gate I can get around it. After all I am on foot this time. So I try to keep following the flat area along the river bank but at time the scrub brush prove to be just too much and I head to the hillside to get a better view and to make sure I’m still on track back towards the car park. This view allows me to see a clearing at the river’s edge. I make my way back thru the brush and for a few minutes enjoy a leisurely stroll once again. This time the obstacle in front of me isn’t scratchy branches but 3’ meter high cat tails for about 100’ maybe more. At the beginning I can see a clearly defined path the animals have made for me to follow. The reeds are all bent and trodden down keeping my feet high and dry above the marshy soils. About 20’ into the grass lands I realize this is the point at which the stupid ass American gets bit by one of those famously venomous snake this continent is known for. I’m paralysed by these thoughts for a moment. But what can I do? Go back the way I came or keep trudging along hoping for the best. It’s unlike me to go back once I’ve started a journey and this trip is no different. So I just start paying very close attention to every foot step. Another 10’ or so I find a 5’ long stick and it becomes my trusty blind man’s cane. I proceed now poking every piece of grass within my reach hoping to scare away those nasty killer creatures before making the next step. My trek continues like this for the rest of the way back to the car park. Some spots its hands and knees through dense brush scratching every inch of exposed skin. Sometimes it’s reeds in the marsh and every so often it’s nice open rocks. After about 3 hours of very slow progress I finally reach the safety of a trail about 500 meters before reaching the car again. Lesson here... and one I’m ashamed to say I’ve known for years, Stick to the trail stupid!
Once back at my campground all sweaty and cut up I decide it’s time sooth my wounds by taking
a little dip in the stream nearby. It’s been more than 48 hours and several sweaty periods since I’ve bathed and while the afternoon is still warm I’d be smart to clean up in a nice babbling brook. I grab a change of clothes, a towel and some soap along with my camera before heading to the water’s edge. I manage to find a nice big mostly flat rock with an indentation in the middle of it to wash away the grime and clean myself up. One of the perks about being in Australia is these streams don't run down from mountain snow pack like the ones in Oregon and the water is a pleasant cool bath temperature, not a fridge ice 
pack. I linger here for a while enjoying the fresh feeling of cool water rushing over me. I also spot these 5 or 6 lorikeets at the water's edge. When I try to closer for a photo they hide in the trees and this was the best shot I could get.Once back up at the campsite I take down the leaky tent (no sense sleeping in it if it’s going to rain again) and prepare for my final evening in the woods. More saxophone practice and dinner
by campfire. On this, my third and final night, I get lucky (and there hasn’t been much of that on this trip). The storms stay away and the clear night sky ushers in a blanket of starts to gaze upon while I sit by the crackling campfire. As you sometimes do alone by the fire I drift in and out of sleep. Fighting the urge to climb into the car. I don’t want this night to end and I still have fire wood to burn. Finally, I succumb and pack up everything I can before jumping into the car for one more night of false slumber. Sleeping in a passenger’s seat of a car for multiple nights doesn’t really qualify as sleep. It’s more like a series of short naps in a airplane seat that reclines a bit more, has a few more pillows and a few more blankets. It’s not horrible (trust me a wet tent and blankets it worse) but it’s not a 5 star accommodation either!
On my final morning I cook a hearty breakfast and break down the remaining items. Tossing everything into the car any way I can. In a few hours I’ll be at home where I’ll have to unpack everything, clean it and repack it into the nooks and crannies of my flat. The drive home is about 7 hours long. It’s full of small towns, bumper to bumper traffic and cops with radar guns hoping to and easily increasing the shire's (county) coffers. Once I reach the comforts of city life I go about unpacking my gear, throwing away that damn tent, and cleaning up as much as I can. A quick run to the store and some prep for returning to work on Tuesday morning. But the story doesn’t end there.
On my final morning I cook a hearty breakfast and break down the remaining items. Tossing everything into the car any way I can. In a few hours I’ll be at home where I’ll have to unpack everything, clean it and repack it into the nooks and crannies of my flat. The drive home is about 7 hours long. It’s full of small towns, bumper to bumper traffic and cops with radar guns hoping to and easily increasing the shire's (county) coffers. Once I reach the comforts of city life I go about unpacking my gear, throwing away that damn tent, and cleaning up as much as I can. A quick run to the store and some prep for returning to work on Tuesday morning. But the story doesn’t end there.
Remember the 4x4 excursion at 4am the first morning. Well that morning when I reached the town of Orbost I notice a little something missing from the back of the car. As you can see from the picture. It’s not really a bumper but a plastic
piece covering the under carriage. Now when I picked up the car it was backed up against a wall and while it does seem obvious that something was there. I wasn’t 100% sure I had been the one to lose it? In any case there was no way in HELL I was driving back up those 100km and down that dirt road just to get a piece of plastic and maybe I’d get lucky and the rental agency wouldn’t notice! Did I just say “I’d get lucky” this trip had very little of that and there was none left at all by the time I got the rental company lot Tuesday morning. Before I even got out of the car the maintenance man asked me what happen to the back end of the car. I pleaded ignorance for a little while and then when the sales man came out. I just said bill me I got to go to work! I’m still waiting for the final notice on the charges but so far Europcar has placed a $1000 hold on my credit card. Lesson here get the extra damn insurance if you’re going to take a sedan 4x4 at 4am! In 40 years I can’t say I’ve never done a little damage to a rental car but I can say this is the first time I got busted for it!Now we all know if I’d actually owned that car I would have NEVER gone down that road. I have been saving my money in hopes of buying a car of my own in the near future. This was the final push I needed to get my own car. Today I made a deposit and plan to pick up the vehicle on Friday. You’ll have to tune in to see what kind I bought... Until then my friends may the April showers bring you all the lovely May flowers?
Happy birthday to Marian on the 23rd of April.
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