It's the Watagans - One should know!A better forecast could not be
had. Mostly open 'light forest' was the promise. One should realise that course
setters bringing such 'gifts' in the promo material are at best false prophets!
Or good sales persons with an eye to registration numbers.
An effective start with a robust map. I didn't even take out my A3 plastic -
it wasn't going to rain. What forethought with 4 light pens at the early
controls. No scramble. Trevor Gollan was still eating his sandwich as Phil and I
passed enroute to 24.
No problems with control 30, despite rumblings overheard at the hash house.
The map was very clear but a little light on the multitude of west to east
gullies running of the escarpment.
As most bush walkers know the base of cliffs are usually drier and a
navigable route. The lantana from 38 to 46 was Watagan best. Blood was given
freely. I'll pass on my next scheduled Red Cross donation!
Afternoon views west and north from the 43 and 44 ridge were worth the
journey. The rolling and entangled descent to 71 from immediately west of the
cliff line was successful despite the final 'briefing' advice.
Our only regret was that the creek walk wasn't at noon with overhead filtered
sun. The dogs in the western 'out of bounds' area sounded as they were ready for
any number of lean and mean rogainers who had ventured to find 51. One
retreating team looking unsuccessfully for the creek take-off to the elusive
control confirmed our suspicions.
Evening arrived with a gentle wind on the tops and still warm in the 'upper'
forest. We wondered why were the towers were not included on the current map
sheet.
The hash house at 10.30 pm was like an ice box. We enjoyed our evening meal,
warmed front and back by a welcoming fire and two weary super vets shuffled off
to our sleeping bags. As I rolled over I momentarily though of Trevor and his
mate [and many others] still doing 'it tough' too far from the hash house to
make it back by 12.00!
The setting team did the Watagans proud again. Use the roads and tracks as
your flexible navigating spine. Grief is likely for those who tackle innocent
looking gullies, It's the Watagans - if you didn't know or your bravado took
control, reflect again!
Ted Booth
http://www.grundlefly.com/rogaining_lake_macquarie_2009.html
Report from team 74:
Beneath a starry sky we sit and reminisce on the journey’s many twists and
turns. Phantom checkpoints and mysterious trails haunt the tale’s telling, with
every point scored a triumph that grows with the retelling. The hash house is
abuzz with people seeking a slice of the abundant feast. Plates of pasta and
sausages jostle with bowls of soup and salad. The dessert table groans beneath
the weight of its spread. Aches and pains are soon dulled and forgotten,
replaced by a well earned sense of satisfaction for the day’s achievements.
It began with a winter’s days to rival one’s greatest expectations. Routes
were planned and plotted but were soon to be forgotten as the start was called
and we set out in pursuit of our goals. Not three checkpoints in, though, and we
were scratching our heads as we danced a merry dance around our elusive prey.
Having despaired of ever finding it we finally spotted it afar and at last we
could continue on our way. A maze of hills and gullies hindered our progress
overland as our watches ticked unceasingly and checkpoints were hunted down all
too slowly.
Some time later, having spent much of our remaining time in conflict with
the contours, we stumbled upon a blessed water drop. However, a fast-setting sun
would not let us linger, and so, our thirst slaked, we moved on quickly seeking
our final markers. Pushing through snaring vines and stinging branches we
somehow made good time, indeed finishing early, much to the relief of legs loud
in their protests.
And we return again to the starry sky, our feet stretched towards the
blaze, and a swag of fond memories to take home with us.
The Novice Perspective
- Richard Old & Rob Marlow
Report from Team 144 Two mums, two teenage boys: the 18th Lake
Macquarie Rogaine was to serve as a final test-run before we allowed our sons to
form their own Junior team. Melanie and I agreed that we would only interfere
with the boys’ navigation decisions in cases of safety. This arrangement lasted
until about 12.05pm, as we fell into a pit behind the machinery shed. The
unexpectedly crowded conditions around 20, 21 and 22 meant that our intrepid
explorers merely joined the queue snaking through the scrub, and it was not
without difficulty that we persuaded the boys to stop, study the map, and take
responsibility for our position and direction regardless of other walkers. After
a few arguments over the exact use of a compass, they took the initiative and
the next couple of hours spent in the gullies with lantana and leeches proved
that although the briefing session was attended, it was not attended to. Our
love affair with the jungle and its creatures continued through the swamps of 62
and 63 before a joyful race to the water supply at 23. Boys may gulp gallons,
but mums know how to ration mouthfuls when over-consumption means a comfort stop
in the bush. The occasional mum-rest up Heartbreak Hill to point 34 attracted
some derisive comments from one impatient son, but we countered with the
assertion that when it came to stamina and fortitude, young people who
complained of fatigue when asked to unpack the dishwasher were hardly in a
position to criticise.
Our noses turned for home, we all picked up the pace downhill and made good
time, despite the cruelty of the younger pair insisting we scramble up to 35 on
the way. As we strode purposefully towards the finish at 5.30pm, the boys’
suggestion that we “just run down to 24 and back” was firmly ignored: a hot
dinner cooked by someone else and followed by a lovely cup of tea - what mum
could resist?
Report from team 12
- "What could have been" by Michael Free and Lisa Grant
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