This text was read by OCR from a scanned newsletter and has not been proofread yet, so expect odd characters and mistakes.
What better way to start an expedition than a leisurely cruise across the strait. To our surprise our liner was somewhat delayed - shocked by this previously unheard of hiccup in Railways (cops! Interislander’s) corporate Image, refuge was sought at Thistle Inn. Enraptured with the ambience of the establishment, some were a little tardy in returning to the point of departure. All was forgiven once underway (wasn’t it Roger?). After a pleasant crossing, fighting our way through the bustling port of Picton and hurtling through the brooding surrounds of the Mainland, camp was struck by 4am in beautifully still conditions. The unit was quickly and efficiently assembled in the moming (i.e. about 3 or 4 hours later). It was now that suspicions were confirmed. Amongst our numbers were 4 extremely well developed ‘babies’. Presumably some mix up on the Ferry. Aware that creche facilities in Murchison were already stretched, we set off with them in tow. Apart from the odd stop for a change of nappies and a post-brekkie burping, they were surprisingly well behaved infants. Lunch was convened on the shores of the picturesque Lake Matiri. I could wax lyrical about ‘nestling’, *mystical’, ‘shimmering waters’ ... but others would point out the ‘wasps’ and ‘bloody sandflies’, that is those who weren't yet real blokes/blokettes. Personally I think 3 stings out of 19 potential victims was pretty good going. We trudged up to the plateau area, catching views (and sleeping FEs) on the way. An eerie place peppered with sinkholes, bogs and tarns. Interesting rock formations, especially around the bluffs below The Needle. Clear night again, so we dined around a raging fire, swapping stories, seats and wind (prunes for dessert!). A weather change for Saturday - cloudy with fine patches developing by the afternoon. Half the babies chose to stay in bed all day. Understandable considering their tender age. Most of the others, lead by our guide and mentor Roger ‘where's your compass’ Bolam made an assault on The Haystack (get it ... needle ina haystack) after obtaining a 180 degree perspective of the leading spur marking the route up. A bush bash then steady climb, with a lunch stop half way up. Unfortunately cloud spoiled the view - but the glimpses of the smaller plateaux to the west made it worthwhile. It was at this time that revolution reared its ugly head. An initiative to take the ridge along to Larrikins Creek was quashed. As a result F.A.R.T. was formed (Faction Against Roger's Tyranny). , Rain came in time for dinner - which for some was served a la pit. By this time FART had gathered momentum with the dreaded prune being shunned by further converts. Early night for all except hardened insomniacs with cravings forjelly and prunes.
8 found quickly, complete with firepit, card table and ample fuel supply. The four Babes of the
, te clearing weather for a stroll back to Lake Matiri. Mud plugging was the dominant pastime. A Bush volurfigered to be fully responsible for the night’s nosh. So refreshing to see the young of today taking so readily to responsibility. By now prunes had been banned (another FART success) - leaving only Uncle Roger to sing the praises of such a humble wee fruit. Donations were taken for those late for the occasion. Speaking of singing, there were varied attempts to drag up old chestnuts and campfire faves. Such ‘hidden’ talent. Between songs Uncle Roger and Uncle Rod gave very expressive readings of A.A. Milne. This was matched only by the full moon rising up from behind the range bordering the lake. A moments silence was called for. Keeping in line with the tranquility and beauty surrounding us, the night was capped off with several attempts at setting fire to the greater Matiri Range region-with the help of a wax bomb. The conclusion reached after several spectacular attempts (Boom Boom Boom Boom ... says Alice) was that too much water has an uncanny knack of putting a fire out. I can’t speak for anyone else on the trip - but I had a bloody marvellous time.
Prunes forever.
Punters: Roger Bolam, Gail Donaldson, Debbie Douglas, Gerard Galvin, Geoff Fletcher, Byron Anderson, John Hoffeins, Murray Worsop, Mike Pratt, Murray Middleton, Jo McKenzie, Rodney Harris, Andrew McLellan, Julian Wright, David McLellan, and the Babies - Clare Kempster, Bev Boughen, lise Seilas, and Austin.