Trip Reports

CUP WEEKEND IN THE HIGH COUNTRY

Story by Richard Low - November '05

It was sure to be an adventure for us, exploring the area around Dargo on Shunt’s Base Camp trip over the Melbourne Cup long weekend. Shunt and the High Country—it seems like those two just go together, a little like fish and chips!

I just can’t help thinking that leaving at 9.30 am on a weekday from the Westgate Shell servo was an intentional ploy from Shunt to remind us of just what we were getting away from—the hustle and bustle of city traffic.

Soon enough those who were lucky enough to not have to head off to a job on the Friday, were on our way out of the city. Destination for the evening? Redbox campsite at Licola. There was Peter Morley (Shunt), Leigh “Woody” Woodberry, Geoff “Maverick” Lake, Daniel “no-handle yet” Boujean, and ourselves the handle-not-yet-confirmed Low family, on our very merry way.

A leisurely drive saw us cruising out through Traralgon, with a late lunch at Licola before heading a little further up into the hills to our spot at “Red Box campsite”. Keeping us amused along the way was the inevitable banter on the UHF when we came across the wildlife on the road. The living wombat numbers in this area seemed to be about 5 less than in the few days before. There was also the banter surrounding “Maverick” and his fuel problems in his dual fuel pretend patrol. Luckily he was surrounded by Toyotas should he have needed any help! Although, we weren’t even off the Blacktop when I got stuck with the Handle “Smokey”, due to the excessive smoke emanating from the tail pipe of the mighty 80! What happens when it is fixed? Hmmm….

Oh, and while we are on the handle topic, a new handle for young Daniel too, picking up “Shorty” at some stage over the weekend ...

By 3.30 in the afternoon sun it was a great time to be setting up the family tent, and it allowed us time to join John and Rose Parish “Matilda”, and Colin and Cathy Walker “Tonka Toy”, around a nice campfire. There was an air of excitement about what the weekend would bring, having already found ourselves admiring the views along the very scenic drive so far, all of which was while we were still on the blacktop!

Milton “The Rev” Oliver, joined the campsite quite late that night. As the official courier of the spit roast meet for the weekend, it was great to see that he had safely arrived, having only had one kangaroo attempt suicide in front of the big GU.

Next day had us packing up our overnight camp, with the Klenkowski “Brumby” clan joining us after an early morning start from Melbourne.

It was here that we officially signed on for the trip, and were all briefed by Shunt. The plan was to travel in convoy along some mountain roads, and then some tracks later on in the afternoon, and then meet up with the others that were over in the Dargo area at a reasonable time of the afternoon. At least, that was the plan …

Before we even left the campsite, the bonnet was up on the Brumby-mobile, and scratching of heads about a heating problem. With a little TLC from the boys, we were all soon on our way up the terrific Tamboritha mountain road winding our way toward the high plains. The views were great, for those of us that took the time to look around. Unfortunately, for those of us wishing to take the weekend at a slower and more leisurely pace, there were the hoons and yobboes wishing to drive much too fast and create too much dust and danger on the narrow winding gravel roads. This was highlighted at our first unscheduled stop for the morning, when the Brumby-mobile just stalled suddenly after rounding a dusty bend. While we were stopped assessing and repairing the situation, no less than 15 vehicles went past, throwing up stones and hot dry dust.

After fifteen or so attempts to start Brumby’s cruiser, there was much head scratching going on, before Matilda grabbed the guilty (and quite unattached!) distributor lead and reattached it, saying “that’ll fix it”. Low and behold, and to Brumby’s delight the purr of the engine started effortlessly on the next attempt. The bonnet was closed to smiles all round, with Brumby having no idea what we had done! Was it perhaps the “laying of hands” by Milton “The Rev” that fixed it? Perhaps, … but nonetheless, it was good hands that fixed it.

Continuing along our winding, dusty journey, we stopped to enjoy the view at a lookout, now at the 1000m elevation mark. The views were just splendid, although for Brumby things were not looking so grand. Unfortunately, there was an unexplained leak of coolant from the engine bay of the cruiser. Thought to be a welsh plug, there was no alternative but to cut the trip short, and turn around, head back down the mountain, and get it repaired professionally in the big smoke. We were out in the no-smoke region of the world, and continuing on was not considered an option. Heartbreak for the Brumby’s as they said their goodbyes and headed home. There was more than one tear shed in the convoy, having lost the Brumby clan after only a matter of hours. Not to mention the tears being shed by Brumby himself, when on Monday he had the problem diagnosed as a hole in a three inch piece of hose. Hose of the same size that he had spares for in his truck, right there on the mountain! To be fair to all parties involved, in the decision making process to turn Brumby around, the hose was not in plain sight, and the correct decision of not going on with an unknown problem, was made.

From here, Shunt led us on toward our lunch break, past the horse-less Horseyard Flat, and on to the Pinnacles. Little did we know that half of the four wheel drives in the area had descended on the parking lot at the Pinnacles, and we were unable to find sufficient space for our convoy. A small clearing nearby allowed us all to stop for a late lunch, experiencing the “cool” breeze that was keeping the temperature a lot lower than most had anticipated. Everyone was reaching into their luggage for that extra layer for a bit of warmth, and matching colours was certainly not high on the priority list, was it Rose?

After lunch, we were warmed up to the fact that we were in the High Country, good and proper, and loving every scenic adventurous moment of it. Time for some four wheelin’. Continuing along through freshly bloomed wattle, and many a snow gum, Shunt led us down a track, which after no more than 50m had us doing our first U-turn for the afternoon. Due to the storms in the area, and the tracks only being declared open again on this weekend, the fallen trees were too much to try to tackle with the two chainsaws we had in the convoy. Shunt’s excellent leadership, contingency and navigation skills soon had us on our next track within minutes, but to no avail. Several kilometres down the next track, we came across a bog hole which looked quite inviting. Only real problem was that there was a tree right the way across it! Bugger! Little Shunt (Josh), and his mate Brad, headed off on the bikes to see what lay ahead, and soon enough, we were turning around again. The news filtered back, more trees down, best to turn around now. Second U-turn for the weekend! This time though, with some careful negotiating of the scrub, courtesy of the two camper trailers (Matilda and Tonka Toy) had in tow. Shunt got his little trailer turned around and we headed back up the top for a “decision making cuppa”, as opposed to just another cuppa. The choices were to tackle the famous and dangerous Billy Goat Bluff Track across the mountain tops toward Dargo, or to track all the way back around the way we had come, via Licola, about a 4 hour trip!. The decision was made to send out Woody and The Rev, ahead, on an “As you go” recce, down Billy Goat Bluff Track. Little did we know at the time that it would be one of the true scenic highlights of the entire weekend. The track was in excellent condition, and due to fairly recent grading. We were afforded the glorious views that the track offered as we proceeded down some 1200m of vertical elevation, over several kilometres of great easy to medium track—in the dry. There was a light threat of rain brewing,  The Rev up ahead could see it coming down the valley, and the gathering mist certainly added to the eerie mountainous feel of the place. This was fantastic!

Woody had requested some rain earlier in the day to keep the “hoon-dust” down, but so far, we had evaded the slippery clutches of the rain clouds. During our misty decent, down in the distance on one of the many emergency helipad clearings scattered throughout the high country, there appeared a “beacon of hope” in the gathering gloom. Or were they just Helicopter Landing beacons being held aloft by the dedicated Medic, Reverend, Spit Roaster, and Helicopter Landing Officer for the trip? Talk about multi-skilling, he sure has my vote for President!

Meeting up at the bottom of Billy Goat Bluff Track, we had made contact with the “CITYWEST Base Camp”, informing them of our progress toward them, and the reasons for our delays. From here, it was down across an old trestle bridge, to Crooked River Road, where the convoy slowly meandered along through 6 river crossings, and some wonderful riverside farming lands to the site of Base Camp at Talbotville.

According to the banter on the UHF, we were possibly now to feast on Beef and Pork, (care of the Rev), and if we so chose, more (somewhat fresher) beef, and possibly some lamb, to join the possible wombat that we missed out on collecting on the way, hey Woody?

Waiting for us at the “CITYWEST Base Camp” were the Andrews family “Pajman”, and the Montalto clan “Rambo”. The rain-clouds that Woody had asked for, decided to let loose on us—just as we were setting up our “Taj Mahal” of tents at Base Camp. We thought that we had the biggest tent, and perhaps so, but one thing was for sure, the “Pajman” had the biggest tarp!

Soon enough though, as the darkness and wetness engulfed us, we were all established in our chosen spots, and turned in for the night just hoping that the next day’s weather would be finer than this one had ended. But … wasn’t to be.

We awoke on Sunday to continual rain. The low level cloud cover swallowed the tops of the surrounding mountains, not allowing us to see further than the campsite itself, which was populated by around 7 or 8 different groups of adventurers. The rain allowed us to rest, and for the mechanically gifted, to delve beneath the Maverick’s bonnet to see what fuel problems they could find or fix, or preferably both. It was determined that he would run on gas, and once that was gone, he would be at the mercy of a tow, (by a Toyota?) should he need to be helped out of the high country.

After Mave’s Maverick was operated on, we headed up the adjacent track, McMillans Track. Up, up and up we went. Following the edge of the mountains, it was an eerie feeling reaching the cloud line. Steep up on the right, steep down on the left, and follow the leader up the narrow winding dirt road, which was disappearing into the cloud before our very eyes. This was amazing! What would anyone rather be doing on this weekend?

Shunt led us expertly through the thick wet cloud, (read as “still raining”!), to the Grant historic area: The remains of a goldmining village. The streets remain, but the buildings are long gone. The Toyota Landcruiser club, (Go you good thing Toyota Landcruisers!), popped by for a visit also, and we exchanged pleasantries, before heading down to Dargo, for a nice warm brewski. Hot Cockies and Coffees all round, and a chance for a much needed visit to the rest rooms. But be warned, as we found out that day, the Police in Dargo are very protective of their rest rooms. They had a Police breath testing and licence checking vehicle stationed right outside, which after successfully negotiating, you were allowed to continue on and use the facilities!

Venturing back toward Base Camp, Shunt decided to let us explore McGuires Track, which was a nice little track up, and then back down again. A great spot for future trips if we want to camp somewhere a little more out of the way.

But for us, enough fun was had for the day, so time to head back to camp for a well earned rest. But for one unfortunate Nissan driver, not in our convoy, the day’s events were far from over! While going a bit too fast in slippery conditions, his vehicle slipped off the track, stopping on a very precarious side angle. When we arrived, the vehicle was lurched on a very “photogenic” angle to say the least, and secured to trees by some snatch straps. Parks Victoria (who were on scene already), decided that the vehicle was not to be recovered by any of the well -intentioned passers by, and we were soon moved on. As we passed by many other vehicles on the one lane road, much more care was given to passing, having witnessed first hand how quickly one can come to grief. The 15 metre fall to the river below was quite daunting when you think of the potentially tragic possibilities of an accident such as this. (We later heard that an inexperienced attempt at the recovery actually sent the vehicle rolling and crashing into the river.) We continued carefully, and successfully conquered the now deeper river crossings because of all the heavy rain.

So, back to Base Camp we found ourselves—later than expected for dinner. And it was still raining!

Monday morning had Sandy at the helm for our four wheeling adventures. She was stoked at successfully crossing her first river crossing! On to Pioneer Racecourse Road, and after another crossing, we found ourselves U-Turning again. Unfortunately, for all of us, a track on which Shunt had planned taking us was closed. Collingwood Spur Track was our next challenge then. This slippery track was more daunting than it looked, (well done Sandy with some great driving!), before we found ourselves further up the track with Daniel in a bit of a jam. Being the lightest of the vehicles, he lost traction on a short steep slippery wet patch coming out of a spoon drain. Is this the time we tell everyone that ARB couldn’t supply Daniel with his ARB locker when it was arranged to be fitted prior to this weekend? I guess that locker probably would have come in handy and allowed him to walk up the slope comfortably, hey Shorty?

The Rev headed on up, and while recovering Daniel with multiple snatch straps, the back end of the convoy was greeted by a group of around 14 or so other drivers who were very loud and “happy”, and certainly not giving the right impression of the average four wheel driver. It was only 10:30 am! The rest of our convoy eventually headed up successfully, although Matilda did need a hand to get himself started on quite a hairy slippery slope! Oh the joys of rain. Nothing like a little moisture to liven things up on the tracks!

It was indeed a great track, and at the morning tea stop on a very clouded in helipad, it was decided that the spit roast was now to have priority over all things! We needed to set a course for Base Camp to get the pig and cow a cookin’. Descending the McMillans track was an adventure, and the views had opened up only slightly allowing us nothing but a teaser of what was in the distance. Back at Base Camp, the Rev, (aka Medic/Reverend/Helicopter Landing Officer) put on his spit roasting “hat”, and prepared the meat for the entire camp, a “feast for friends” that even Pooh Bear would be proud of! The club has three Auspits which were donated by Rhett Thompson of PMT Leisure, who manufacture these amazing spits. They work really, really well as the photos attest—and we were witnesses of the wonderful results. The Rev got the meat on and we all watched it slowly cook, until dinner time!

Shunt, (with Shorty on board), Woody, and myself (with Maverick on board), headed off for an afternoon “Toyotas only” play, while the rest of the camp took it easy. The afternoon was fantastic. Shunt led us up to the “Toyota Track”, (otherwise known as Cynthia Range Track), where it was reportedly heard over the UHF that Woody had found himself on two wheels…. Perhaps. Great track hey Woody? Okay, so it may be a little bit of an exaggeration, but the views from the end of the track at the helipad, were nothing short of breathtaking. We were afforded 360 degree views of the surrounding valleys and mountains, and although they were still covered in low level cloud, a feeling of smallness overwhelmed us, as we realised just how vast these magnificent ranges are.

Heading back to camp, it was our duty to retrieve firewood for the final campfire of the weekend. Enough until midnight should have been enough one would have thought? Well, let’s just see what we could rustle up.

In a great little clearing, some downed trees were found, and the chainsaws were let loose. One of them anyway. Shunt couldn’t get his firing, so Woody was responsible for the sawing part. We stacked up a fair amount, and after doubting how much wood we actually had, a voice (which sounded very similar to mine), said “If we use all that by midnight, I’ll run around the campfire 5 times…naked!” Well, you could just see where this had the potential to go! Meandering back along the Crooked River Road, through the river crossings that were becoming like second nature, the jokes were already starting about how quickly we could burn all this wood. (Believe me, there was a lot of wood!)

When almost within smelling distance of the awaiting spit roast back at Base Camp, a “Breaker Breaker” interrupted the cheerful UHF chatting. It turned out that our assistance with communications was being sought. A young girl who had come a cropper off her trail bike, and had a potentially broken leg. The vehicle with young Rebecca on board, followed us back in to “CITYWEST” M.A.S.H. Unit, and to the makeshift ER laid out on rugs on the ground. Our trusty Chef donned the medic’s hat, and expertly looked after young Rebecca’s splinting and immobilising needs, with Elaine Montalto taking her pulse every few minutes. Before long Rebecca, although in a lot of pain, was stable and reassured. Meanwhile, our silent hero, John “Matilda” Parish, was contacting the medics on HF radio for Evac asap. He got on to a station at Alice Springs, who relayed via Newcastle to Melbourne. What a way to christen the new HF, hey John? Although handpassing the HF comms to myself part way, John clearly demonstrated that even if you only have to use a piece of emergency equipment once, it is good value. Rebecca was splinted and rugged up and soon on her way to Dargo to meet up with the road ambulance to transport her to Bairnsdale Hospital for treatment. That’s was a story in itself as we later discovered! The splint must have been pretty darn good because the Ambo’s left it on! So, it was that yet another team exercise was successfully completed. Now it was time for the great  Cup Eve feast!

The fire was now roaring away, and with a very large single pile of timber sitting nearby, there was no way all that would be burned by midnight. Was there? I lived in hope that my boast would not need to be tested! Woody was in the Cup mood well and truly, albeit a little prematurely, and asked before eating, “Who won the cup?”. Hmmmm……. It is a cup eve party Woody, cup EVE!

The chefs and cooks had the meal prepared more expertly than any of the TV shows could have done it, and the feast was not far away now. The Cup Eve dinner party had a hat theme, and the hats were donned by all. Though I must say that some were more utensil looking in their nature than others, hey Shunt? Top points to our trip leader for improvisation though! There were many great hats, but by far the unanimously voted best dressed man, or should we say person, was the pink fluffy jockey. Also known as Colin “Tonka Toy” Walker. What an outrageous picture in pink he was! Kathy disowned him!

Dinner was an event for sure, and everyone enjoyed the fruits of a super team effort. Everyone had contributed in part, be it serviettes, veggies, desserts or even an all you can eat apple sauce jar for that beautiful pork crackling. Carolyn did a great job co-ordinating the event, so well done Mrs Pajman! Throughout the afternoon, and evening, there was damper, apple cake, bread, scones and, of course, not to mention what we had for dinner! (Although I am not too sure where the lamb and wombat got to?)

The night of merriment continued, and sure enough, there was a lot of timber being burned. Woody explained that it was extremely cold, even though he was in a tee-shirt. It looked like the pile was going to be used a little before midnight. Mind you, everyone had heard about the comments made during the firewood collection, and were watching their clocks, eagerly awaiting midnight and for maximum wood consumption! With a raging inferno that could have been seen from planet Pluto, there wasn’t much timber left before too long. Excuses to throw another log on the fire continued, and ranged from needing more light, (yeah, like on the dark side of the moon?), and more warmth, (yeah, like boiling water in a billy at 10 paces from the fire wasn’t warm enough?), and my favourite, “just for the heck of throwing another log on the fire”, and watching me squirm in my seat. But if truth be known, the logs were disappearing a little quicker than the fire could probably consume them.

So before long, we were apparently out of firewood from the pile, and midnight was not close enough for my liking that was for sure. With the raging inferno now a pleasant campfire, most people adjourned to their tents and camper vans, leaving only the diehard few around the fire until midnight nibbling on leftover feast.

Although there is no evidence to support their claims, and eye witness accounts are somewhat dubious, there are unsubstantiated claims and rumours, that there was indeed an unidentified “near naked” man that visited the campfire around about the time of midnight. It is suggested that the man did in fact run around the campfire five times, although, we will have to ask Shunt and Woody for testimony as to what exactly the man was claimed to be wearing at the time. Perhaps, if the scantily clad man had indeed known that the entire campsite was in on the “relocate the firewood to another hidden pile” conspiracy, the rumours surrounding the man’s appearance may not have been quite so colourful as suggested in this story. Again, the author must re-iterate, that all these details are not backed by any photographic or video evidence, (I hope!), and the claims will possibly remain just another campfire story in annals of CITYWEST history.

Tuesday—SUNSHINE!! Great day to be breaking camp. After the mandatory group car shot, we headed off in the glorious sunshine up McMillans Track once again toward the Dargo High Plains. This day however, there were no teasers by mother nature. It was clear as far as the eye could see. Magnificent. The views were worth camping out for four days in the rain just to see them, if nothing else!

Morning tea had us stopped at the Dargo High Plains intersection, ready for our dirt road trek back toward Bright. Fuel was sought in Dargo by those who needed it, while the rest of us aired up enjoying each others company. Before long though, Dr Milton was at it again, helping young Chelsea cope with a bull ant bite on the ankle—Ouch! Some anti-sting jell and an antihistamine tab and all was well again.

We passed a few members of the LROCV (Land Rover Owners Club), along the Dargo High Plains Road, as well as numerous other clubs throughout the weekend. Solid Rock club with Woody’s UHF chat pal “Twinkles”, the Pajero club, and the Landcruiser Clubs and the Victorian Four Wheel Drive Club to name but a few of the identified ones. The High Country area is a mecca for clubs over this weekend…

Our 10-vehicle CITYWEST convoy, the largest of any time during the weekend, continued North, and stopped for lunch up on the emu-less Emu Plains.

The cloud threatened to engulf us with rain again, but it came and went, leaving us with the fantastic scenery of the mountains in all directions. Snow could be seen on Mt Hotham in the distance shortly after lunch, and it was simply an amazing sight. Soon enough though, it was back to the blacktop, although Woody’s HiLux did stop shy of the blacktop, appearing to have some sort of off-road withdrawal problem for a few minutes there. Geoff Lake was running low on LPG and so tried once more to fire the Maverick on petrol—he got it going, and was able to limp into Bright without needing a tow. What a relief!

Slowly winding down the blacktop to Bright to say the official goodbyes, we were witness to some of the finest countryside that Victoria has to offer. Looking in the rear vision mirror into the distance from where we had come was simply awesome. We stopped to have afternoon tea and listened to the radio as we licked our ice creams, and cheered as Makybe Diva made racing history.

This weekend had it all: sunshine, rain, great tracks, rain, great views, rain, great food, rain, great moments, and a little more rain, but most of all it was the great company in which to enjoy it all. We all had an absolute ball, the only downer being the missing Brumbies who were so looking forward to it all. The Cup weekend trip may in fact become a ‘must do’ for all CITYWESTERS in the years to come, and I hope it does. Already, there is talk of a bigger and better event, with perhaps several convoys with their own separate leaders all using Talbotville as Base Camp—maybe one group could camp up at the Maguires Track spot we discovered?

Shunt ran a fantastic trip, and I am sure that I speak for all when I say a very special ‘thank you’ for putting it all together for everyone to enjoy. Thanks Shunt. And let’s not forget our tail end Charlie, Woody “Dirt Dog” from CITYWEST four wheel drive club, of Melton, Victoria, Australia, best in the west! Well done Woody on your tail end work, er, so to speak!

Thanks to all those on the trip for making it such a memorable chapter in our CITYWEST story so far….

See you all out on the tracks soon.

- Richard “Smokey” Low #25

NB: For those wanting to see more actual photographic evidence of things that did actually occur on the weekend, pics can be seen at www.homepage.mac.com/richardlow