We all met up at Rupertswood keen to get going.  The trip leader was the last to arrive.

All up we had 11 cars (9 Toyotas. 1 Nissan and 1 Isuzu), 3 trailers, 4 dogs, 3 kids, 2 kitchen sinks and a sense of adventure. The drive up was pretty easy being black tar to the turn-off, then good dirt road to the campsite..  It was just a few kms along the bush track where we stopped at the creek to let our  tyres down before crossing the creek and selecting our campsite.

A quick bite for lunch then the group broke into two.  Andrew led the adventurous ones off to explore some of the area’s mining history (including a boiler dated 1847) and hoping the whole time that no one fell down a ventilation shaft.  It was then off to explore some tracks identified as possibilities, but unfortunately after sending up a drone it spied a number of rock falls blocking these tracks, so this was cut short.

The second group were content to stay at the campsite, do a bit of rock hopping, photographing, sitting in waterfalls or simply doing nothing.

It turned into a very hot afternoon, so the gazebo was promptly set up in the water which proved to be a major drawcard.  Our visitors set up their own miniature gazebo slightly off to the side.  We couldn’t decide if this was the naughty corner, or some high society by invitation only zone.

We sat in the water for hours as the water gradually warmed. 

Somehow the conversation led to embarrassing moments we’ve had with a trailer and everyone told their own tale about trailer mishaps and loosing loads.  No details provided here as what happens in the creek stays in the creek, but a word of advice to the rest of our club members and visitors –  I’d be very careful if you end up following us in any future convoy.

A couple of fishing lines were thrown, and pots submerged but neither fish or red claw were cooked up for dinner later that night.

Once roasted and wrinkled it was time to collect some firewood.  The chainsaw went like a knife through wood.  Nothing happened.  We had to slowly feed the long logs into the fire.

There’s a picture of thick black smoke blowing directly into Mary.  At times we couldn’t see Mary through the smoke.  I don’t know how Mary remained so calm and continued to sit there, however with a few adjustments, twists and turns of the log the smoke did eventually settle down.

Now Wayne is a bit of a show-off.  No, he doesn’t own a single jaffle iron, no Wayne is too good for even a double jaffle iron.  He has a three-jaffle iron.  Personally, I think it’s a bit of a risk.  With a single iron you get to practice on the first two to make sure you can have a perfect third jaffle.  If you are doing three at a time and it all goes wrong, there is no recovery. 

The usual campfire banter ensued as we shared stories well into the night.

The next morning there was a goal to get out before it got too hot.  10 o’clock was the mark (about 4 hours too late).  In most cases this allowed time to pack up and freshen up with a swim.  Thankfully the water had cooled overnight with some complaining it was “freezing”.

The trip organisers dropped into the property owner’s residence for a quick chat and thank you.  The rest of us regrouped and got some more drone shots while waiting at the turnoff.

Our radio seemed to be playing up for most of the trip home, but we did clearly hear one confusing snippet.

After passing a very skittish emu we heard “That emu must be a female, he didn’t know which way he wanted to go”

Thank you to Andrew for getting us there and back, all the prework negotiations with the property owner and the time taken to clear the campsite to the track a couple of weeks earlier.

Trip report: Errol K