This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
OVER HILL, OVER DALE Ho hum, here we are, Wellington Railway Station. Its hosing down and where the hell is Murray? Megan and Murray finally arrive with the van, “Wevdidn't wait to hear the excuses, it was.off and away. (You wouldn't: ‘ibelieve us if we told you —- Ed). Greg was voted Morals Officer for the weekend and promptly declared. that this be a morals free weekend. Lots of dirty. jokes were told about bones; Barbara just pinched her leg and thought of England. We arrived at the roadend and Dale (Leader) allocated sleeping places and generally directed proceedings like any good dictator would. Barbara found two hedgehogs ‘at it' — "I wasn't really looking for them." Soon it was beddy byes, and the gentle flapping of the leader's fly § soon put me to sleep. Who. was it belting those bloody billy lids at 5.30? If I wasn't half dead myself I could have killed him. Greg said sémething like "Argfurgbhew" © and wént back to sleep. The day had begun. As usual it was one big rush. As usual I was the last one ready. I loathe mornings. Greg hit me, I hit Greg then we both hit the track. We. followed the leader as she led us down the garden path. We retreated and it began raining. I loathe mornings. , We plodded up the Tukituki River and milled around the bottom of a spur. "Is this it?". "Dunno, is there a label on it?" "Barbara". Leader showed us the way and we followed like sheep. We grunted to the top of Govern= ment Spur and admired the view; "Lovely view eh? Never seen such delightful clag before!" After a whole lot of shivering and. shaking we plodded onto Black Ridge. "Lovely view, I can see my nose:" — We stopped by a tarn and had lunch. Greg told us all -we didn't want to. know about frontal lobotomies. We then discussed leeches and parasitic worms. It was a short lunch. Grovel, grunt, slide, grab, lunge. Oh this is the life for me, maximum suffering, none of this pansy enjoyment or inner satisfaction. That's for hermaphrodite woofters and hippies. After about another hour of this I was all for being a wimp and piking down the next spur. Paul took a shot at some deer and visions of venison steak bounded off into the sunset. Rats! Only one person was willing to grovel up the last diabolical stack of broken crockery, the rest wanted to make for the spur. The odds were 10 to 1 but our leader in spite of this, fakiing rocks, and heaps of abuse, forced us to carry On. /2 '
I bow to this display of superior stupidity and nominate Dale Parsons (Leader, Superior Being and Demi-God) to take the title of Honorary Real Man, a title that she/he well deserves. Finally our leader relented and allowed us to leave the ridge and drop into Pinnacle Creek. "Thank you oh gracious leader." After a short amble along the creek we arrived at Waterfall Hut. "Can we sit down now gracious leader?" Later we ate heaps of macaroni and bread that Peter cooked in a camp oven. Yum. I prised my eyelids open and needles of pain shot through my body. Arghhh: It must be morning. Everybody else is half packed and I'm half dead. "Bury me here," I begged. They didn't. After a lot of map consulting and abuse we found a spur. "This is a lovely little spur, let's follow it." Lucky for us it led up to Broken Ridge. Why is it called Broken Ridge, you ask. The reason is obvious when you are standing on loosely stacked gravel held together by pees fortune and deer droppings. ‘s The tops. opened out @nd we had an enjoyable trot dowri to Hinerua Hut
where :we had lunch. After we had stuffed ourselves we left for an easy stroll along the ridge! and out to the vans. Barbara and her troops were late so we waited and ae? Then we adeed a bit) longer. We read the maintenance manual, the W.0.F. and the Hire Contract. We debated Barbara's level of intelligence and pushed all the buttons on the dashboard. Dave drove up the road a couple of metres and back. After. recovering from the excitement we. read the W.O.PF: sticker again. We thought of 38 uses for an Avis rubbish bag and told all the dirty bone jokes again. ‘Things’ were looking grim when out of the. dies doom, despondency, and “despair emergea Barbara and’ troops. Excuses were ig al and Bpnkogses ‘accepted as we raced home to watch the Sunday Horrors. . Thanks to all the participants in. this. thoroughly immoral weekend, especially our leader of. the flock Dale Parsons (Superhero and. Man.’ ae “Real Man), .sThe flock consisted of Flotsam and gutter scum like: Mark Neeson, Peter Jackson, Megan Rodden, Greg Ord, Dave: Humm, _ Paul Driscoll, Malcolm Thomas , Murray Worsop, Nick Winter. aad Me, 2 Matt Comeskey.