Julie and Darren got to the meeting point on late xmas day, after xmas lunch at the swimming hole/billabong at Omeo.

Day 2 - 26th December 2003
The flies were worse than normal, though the breeze was helping keep the warm day more comfortable while we waited for the rest of the crew to cross the Murray and meet up with us at the Dogmas hut. A few people got on the radio and expressed some concern on the Murray River, but the water was murky, but only top of the wheel deep, and everyone was across over the Boxing day safely, and without a hiccup.

Day 3 - 27th December 2003
The Yatras Clan were going to be a day behind, so we left on the 27th
heading for Davies plain morning tea, leaving the Gordon's in the Dogmans hut camp to meet with the Yatras' and catch us up on the rest
day at Limestone Creek. The drive was easy on the well maintained track over Davies Plain, and the hut made a good smoko stop. From here we headed for Charlies Creek, where the hut was destroyed by last years fires for a look. We then headed to the Poplars for lunch, but they were closed due to fire damage also from the year before, so we went straight to Limestone creek, camping on the river, for  a late lunch.

We were spending 2 days here, so everyone made themselves comfy, though getting comfy in the waters of the creek were made a little more difficult after  Darren had a snake swimming downstream follow the water between his knee's before heading for the bank and disappearing.

Day 4 - 28th December 2003
The Gordon and Yatras stragglers made it to the Limestone creek camp the next day, following our route from the day before, while we took a drive over the Cobbora's, one of the most remote parts of the High Country, to walk the 6km to the start of the Mighty Murray River, but the 4wding was very slow going, and although we had lunch at the start of the walking track, we decided to drive the rest of the Cobbora's and get back to camp at a reasonable time, which worked out to be a good move, with one climb from one of the silted creeks climbing over 700m up, with only one switchback and hardly a change in angle before cresting the top at Indeegoodbe Track, where we headed for "the lighthouse" lookout, where we could see snow on Kozi, and the Snowy river. It was dirt roads from here to camp, and the day had seen us driving 8 odd hours, but the 4wding and views had made it a great day.

Day 5 - 29th December 2003
We followed Native cat track to Tea pot creek track working our way into Benambra and then Omeo for lunch and restocking supplies, with Travis wishing he had restocked with fuel at least, before getting just into Native cat track and Steve and Mrs Warwick were able to "donate" a jerry of diseasel to get Travis mobile again. Everyone enjoyed a pie or ice cream, at the billabong in Omeo, before we headed through Ensay, and turned right at Wattle circle, onto Sterling track, and along the Haunted stream, where after some searching we found a good little camp at Dogtown, but along the way, Mr Gordon managed to get 2 new stickers for his car, one which said "left" and one which said "right" stuck on the dash, with the "right" one stuck on the passenger side to match his ability at not being able to tell the difference....8-)

We were Joined By Craig, Kristen, and family, the Andersons, GC, and Roly before midnight, and apart from James Y being ordered to bed, and Hans running out of his camper yelling "who's the f%#@*g A$$*^&e who's parked in my tent [Roly was parked 6 ft away] it was an uneventful night.....8-)

Day 6 - 30th December 2003
The next morning the 90 boys and campers passed our camp before us, and although Hans had trouble on one creek pinch, we managed to get to Dawson city without a hiccup for smoko, where the boys played in the creek crossing, before moving on to Upper Dargo, Grant for lunch, Bulltown Spur, crooked river, a few splashing through the Wangungarra after going through Talbot Ville, and into camp at the 2001 High country spot, where there is plenty of room, and good swimming in the Wongungarra River. Once in camp, I think a few felt the heat as we alighted from our air conditioned vehicles, as it was 40 deg, the flies were thick, and the cicada's noisy, but we were all in the river for a dip quickly, and the kids surfed the current from the top of camp to the still swimming hole, while the adults paddled, and kept the can holders full. The Somerville's the Gouldens and the Braggs joined us as well for a night or 2 at this spot.

Day 7 - 31st December 2003

We were up and about, for a 930 head off, to Grant, to walk the mines, visit the town site for smoko, before we went past jungle falls, onto Conway track, across Kingswell bridge, and did the climb up Billy Goats Bluff, and lunch at the Pinnacles fire tower. The fire tower was manned, and the spotter welcomed everyone, explained the view, and allowed everyone to use his binocs for a gander.

We retreated back down Billy goat from her, left across the river at the bridge, and followed the crooked river back to the bottom of Collingwood spur and back to camp, another great 4wd day.  Once back the new years eve celebrations started in earnest, and a few of the northern most group did a great job of setting up the fireworks show on the bank of the river, and everyone was impressed, upon dark, with the last stragglers hitting the cot about 330am....8-(

Day 8 - 1st January 2004
It was a late start with only a short drive today, and the radio was very
very quiet while we headed over wombat spur and down Herne spur into Wonnangatta to camp at our usual swimming hole.

Everyone was in the water before long, and being in camp for lunch made for a very relaxed swimming afternoon, and fireside that night, with some retiring early for a big drive home the next day.

Day 9 - 2nd January 2004

We headed out early visiting the homestead site and cemetery at Wonnangatta, before heading out Zeka Spur, but we didn't get to smoko at Howitt high plains without the Yatras vehicle being one corner short of working brakes, though vice grips and some more fluid got the car mobile quickly, and we were able to hit Helicopter point and wait for those who followed the "LEEDER" the wrong way at Brocks Rd at Lovicks hut while we had lunch.

We stopped at Bluff hut for a look on the way, before Roly, GC and Scott turned toward Mansfield and home, while the convoy headed down 10 mile jeep track, and into Pikes Flat, where we sat in the river, sipped a few cans, and prepared the fire for a roast in the oven. The nights activities were enhanced with some steelo pad fireworks, and a BLEVY as well as a biiiiiiig fire with all the wood thrown on.

Day 10 - 3rd January 2004
Everyone was looking rather relaxed by today, and packing up took a little longer, but we meandered our way to Binderee hut, and had smoko at Binderee Falls, where the bridge was out, before hitting Monument track, and Craigs Hut for lunch. After soaking up the glorious day, and the view, we visited Razorback hut, and found a great spot on the Dalatite river near the Mirimba shop to camp the last night, but not before sitting beneath the tree's in the river, cooling off with a wine, a beer or 2, and some nibblies. TJL was supposed to make a damper, but B2's firewood collecting skills meant everyone had to go look in the dark, to scratch up enough wood to cook the TJL damper, which ended up quite ok by all accounts.

Day 11 - 4th January 2004
Everyone said the goodbyes, and managed to pack up just before the rain arrived, thinking of the trip, and the week that was, wondering how quick next xmas, and the next High Country trip will take to come around.

Darren McRae

Scott's Say

Terry, Travis and I arrived at Tom Groggin from Sydney to find the worlds
most daunting river crossing - The Murray! Most rivers in NSW are barely
moving at the moment so to find a raging river waste deep was a bit tricky for those of us who hadn't crossed it before. This turned out to be the main theme of the week as we crossed river after river up to around bonnet depth. So different to NSW and its low and slow trickles.

It was great to meet so many excellent people from Melbourne and Brisbane and all the other places people arrived from. Travis and I were the odd ones out with our DX's but we held the flag high and kept our turbo envy to a minimum.

I loved the steep stuff, and although it was fairly easy driving as it was
so dry the mountains are just awesome to see and drive through. Highlights for me were The Pinnacles and Billy Goat Bluff Track, and the Wonongatta Valley, it seems so close to civilization but is some 8 or 9 hours driving from the nearest town centre. I also loved just hanging out with a wide range of characters (the name Warwick springs to mind here) and swimming in rivers etc.

This area is really very close to Sydney.. Only around 5 hours to Tom
Groggin and 7 hours to Mansfield so its more accessible than people think. I'm certainly planning to head back in and try some things again in the near
future.

Scott McGill

Travis's Tailings

26/12/03
After a short introduction, myself, with my mate Cameron as passenger, and TJL set off from Guildford, Sydney for the NSW/VIC border, travelling down the Hume and through the NSW ski resorts. While travelling through the Sydney suburbs TJL's first radio problem surfaced and then magically fixed itself shortly thereafter, TJL must have hit Ctrl-Atl-Del on the Alinco UHF by accident that time. After a leisurely 6 1/2 hours drive with lunch and grog stops we arrived in a camp ground on the NSW side of the Murray.

Some time was spent letting the Cruisers cool down before assessing the higher than normal Murray crossing. TJL tried to peer into the middle of the river, but it was clouded with dirt (and the air clouded with flies!), after 5 minutes of deliberation on the river bank, TJL who'd been through in years past said "Stuff it" and took the plunge with me following. The current at just under wheel depth was strong enough to help the Cruiser make a left turn around a fallen tree to the exit point. A few minutes drive and we were welcomed by Darren, and a few more flies, at Dogman Hut, Tom Groggin.

Set up, stay out of the sun and heat, all while swatting flies was the next job, this was all very familiar by the end of the trip and most had the operation streamlined as everyone was eager to get to the last step in setting up camp - 'put chair out, sit down and open beer'. We struck our first drama which was the freezer wasn't doing its job, TJL responded with the answer which was not to have the thing cranked all the way up, this proved to be correct the next morning.

The spring-like pollen levels and gusty breeze had also set-off some of the most severe hay-fever I've experienced. During the afternoon we were joined by Scott and son Samuel from Cambelltown, B1 & B2
from Camberwell, Mark & Trina from Brisbane, Steve and Warrren from Yarra Valley.

27/12/03
A convoy of Prado, Defender and 4 x 80 Series started towards Davies Plain Track for the first full day, leaving Mark to wait for James Yatras and family to arrive. Lots of good scenery and driving for today, and lots of learning on my part being a newbie to the LCOOL group.

Davies Plain Hut was very interesting and the stories that went with it, as were stories of the track and area in general, many told by Steve and some by Darren. During the first few hours of the day we entered what was to be four days of fire devastated bushland. By lunchtime we were a short distance from the Limestone Creek camping area so decided to push on before having lunch and we arrived there within the hour.

We had lunch at the grassy camping area which was overgrown due to farmers disallowing their livestock out to graze in bushfire affected areas. While we ate Darren scouted around for a suitable camping spot as some other campers were using the spot he had in mind. A few minutes later a group of Discovery's moved on and we took their spot a little further back along Limestone Creek. I was pretty happy with this shady and leafy spot as it offered some, but not much, relief from the heat.

 Standard setup then open a beer followed and we could relax for the
rest of the day and cool off by wading around in the river. Even Darren was pretty relaxed when a snake swam between his legs as be stood in the river. TJL provided some much needed hay-fever relief in the form of a saline eye bath, it seemed to do the trick - thanks again Terry!

28/12/03 - Rest day
Not sure who calculated today's 'short trip', but we did possibly the longest drive time-wise of the whole trip to the walking track that went to
the start of the Murray River.

The round trip started a few minutes after 10am and took almost 8 hours. At the lunch stop we were at the beginning of the walking track and after a little re-calculation it was decided that we'd better pass on the walk and head back to camp or we'd over-shoot dinner time. Good decision as we got back to camp after 5:30 with Mark and James who had caught up during the day left wondering why we'd moved on and left our tents behind!

Out of the car and straight down to the river to cool off and wash our faces, then TJL bringing in the tail end saw us and charged... we were just able to run out and avoid the wall of water coming of the stern of his multivalve as it ploughed through the shallow crossing.

All in all, a great days 4WDing, plenty of interesting terrain, but a shame not to have seen the main purpose for the drive.

29/12/03
With the convoy growing we set off past Limestone Creek camping area and towards civilisation. Only engaging 4WD a handful of times today, the trip covered many kilometres and lots of magnificent scenery. Drama number two - what seems to be a fuelling problem saw my Cruiser choke to a stop on one of the wide fire trails. A big helping hand was offered by Steve and Warren in (gulp...) the Defender with a jerry of diesel to get me into Omeo, big thanks to Steve. This opened the gates for plenty of Cruiser-bashing on Steve and Warren's part who had been defending the Defender since day one.

After lunch, and a breather while we waited for Hans at the beginning of the Angora Fire Trail we were back into the bush heading towards the Haunted Stream Track and Dogtown. Driving though lots of lush greenery it was a pleasant change of scenery from sparse undergrowth and burnt, black trunks and branches. Craig and Hans caught up along the way and the afternoon saw plenty of confusion over the radio as the winding tracks and now large convoy meant the front and rear were out of range of each other and messages were being relayed right, left and centre.

Everyone handled what could have been a very frustrating afternoon very well. After few U-turns, including assisting James and camper trailer half turn around before hearing a radio call that said continue in the same direction, we finally arrived at a small camping area which was a cosy size for the convoy with enough room to squeeze in a couple of late arriving vehicles (GC and Roly), bringing the total to 11 vehicles. A dip in the cool water of the creek and a much needed wash was bliss especially after discovering the air-con in the DX had packed it in with temperatures nudging 40C. Our somewhat non-domestic living arrangement even allowed some 'domestic' behaviour later that evening... no need to go into details there! *tongue in cheek*  The need to go to bed was countered by the beers being donated from the back of Roly's Poo-trol, we finally hit the hay to the tune of TJL's chain-snore just after 1am.

30/12/03
Last day of 4WDing for Cam and I, once we were through Historical Grant and after yesterday's brush with civilisation, fire trails and logging areas, the drive became very interesting and challenging with many creek crossings, steep climbs and descents and even cows on the road near Talbotville. An absolute pleasure for any 4WDer to see the varied terrain and a new challenge around every corner. The icing on the cake was the final crossing for the day, a wide section of the Wongungarra River, which put a bow wave up my windscreen! The most memorable part of the trip for me.

Thanks to Darren for making it all the more exciting by telling me it was wheel depth... WHEEL DEPTH my a@$e!! The campsite offered ample room for all, including the arrivals of the Bragg family (and my front-left wheel flare which had jettisoned itself in the river crossing - thanks Ian) and others who we missed the following day having left for home. A good hour swim in the cool, fast-flowing Wongungarra River followed by setting up, then another swim before dinner and beer-aided relaxation and fairly early bedtime in preparation for the drive home tomorrow.

31/12/03
The most notable part of the Wongungarra River campsite was the volume of the cicadas chirp and how early they started, it was deafening! It was loud enough to wake me at first light, around 5am this morning, had to be heard to be believed.

After finally rising just before 7am, packing up and breakky we said our goodbyes and thank yous to everyone who was up (most people), and set off for Sydney at around 8:15am. Took the shallow route back through the river, took the long and steep Collingwood Spur track through the Grant area, Cruiser was complaining about the early start as the temperature gauge crept up a millimetre or two, but moved straight back down - still puzzled by that one. Then back out to the bitumen heading towards Mt Hotham and then Bright. Plenty of great scenery on the windy drive out to Wodonga.

After doing all the driving, dropping Cam and his gear off and arriving home at around 7:30pm I was ready for early bed. BUT... it was new years eve, so partying hard was on the menu and that's what followed - gees its easy to get drunk after an 11 hour drive... cheapest new years ever.

Whole-heartedly looking forward to doing it all again in the future, great
trip, great company and a fantastic piece of OZ.

Total kms - Around the 1,600-1,700 mark, but only between 200-300 on track.
Fuel bill - Too much. Efficiency testing begins at my next fill.
Breakdowns - Running out of fuel, air-con failure.
Carnage - Detached front-left wheel flare with damaged clip points.

Extras!

A trip report from the LCOOL Poet in Residence - who didn't even attend.....

  There was movement on the mountain
  cause the word had got around
  that the shed guy and his prado were away
  he had joined the wild bush 80's
  though he made a different sound
  cause the petrol not the diesel made his day

  There was gc in a turbo and some others in the pack
  the track was wild and twisty as they found
  But the shed guy was the leader so there was no turnin back
  Till each and every one had reached high ground

  Now the gear that these guys sported
  Would of shamed the national debt
  And they really had to use it on that trek
  Cause with his sense of humour
  He led them over ground
  That threatened each and every bloody neck

  Most of em were newbies to the country there on high
  Delighted at the vistas that he showed
  But shorts and thongs from Queensland
  Just aren't the gear to wear
  As they found out when the mountain snowed

  There was one there with some tyres
  that were lookin pretty good
  He'd brought em for this gig but what a bummer
  For the country taught him quickly that the pattern was not great
  He brought em in the winter not the summer

  When they camped around the campfire in the evernings early glow
  Twas all fun and frivolity its true
  Yes the newbies had become
  part of that magic scene
  Instead of just some email from a few

  And soon we'll get a trip report
  But nobody will tell
  exactly how the shed man got his name
  the reason for this silence
  Is as simple as its true
  Cause every body wants to go again !

After some valiant attempts at reciting the Man From Snowy River, below is information that should be of interest to all those who attended.

BELOW IS JACK RILEY AND MAN FROM SNOWY RIVER DETAIL.

 How did a tailor from Ireland become an Australian legend?

Jack Riley was born in Ireland to Daniel Riley and Anne (nee Murray) in
1841.  He was thirteen when he emigrated to Australia, arriving in Sydney on the Rodney on March 15, 1854. He later lived with his sister, Mrs. Mary Anne Jones, and operated a tailoring business at Omeo.

Jack left Omeo to work in the Monaro district for the Pendergast and
Freebody families, and at a station called Eulamuna near the border of NSW and Victoria.  He quickly acquired a reputation as a brumby hunter and horse breaker. In 1994 he was appointed by John Pierce to look after cattle at Tom Groggin, an Upper Murray pastoral run of 20,000 acres.

Jack lived alone in a log cabin on the station for nearly twenty years and
drove cattle out of Tom Groggin every summer to graze on the high country. Riley developed a reputation as a skilful brumby hunter and horse breaker, but these tales would probably be long forgotten if Walter Mitchell had not introduced Riley to Banjo Paterson Walter is the late father-in-law of Elyne Mitchell who wrote the internationally renowned Silver Brumby series.

Elyne has heard the story about the night Banjo Paterson met Jack Riley many times since she married Tom Mitchell and moved to the Upper Murray over sixty years ago. Walter took Banjo from the Mitchell homestead at Bringenbrong to Riley's Hut at Tom Groggin in 1890. A bottle of whisky emerged in the hut that night and it is said that there
was none left in the morning. "Riley just kept talking", Elyne said.  "Those were the days when a person who could tell a good yarn was always popular because there was no wireless and no television."

It is believed Riley's tales included his experience with an escaped
thoroughbred stallion which had joined  mob of wild horses.  Riley was among a party of stockmen who attempted to recapture the station, and was the only rider brave enough to pursue it down a treacherous slope on Mt Leatherhead.

Presumably, the night of Riley's tales about his own exploits, and the
adventures of other rides, left a lasting impression on the great poet. Later that year Paterson's "The Man from Snowy River" was published in the Bulletin.  In October 1895 Paterson's "The Man from Snowy River and Other Verses" was published.

Riley continued to live on Tom Groggin station until he fell seriously ill in July, 1914.  Respected for the horsemanship of his earlier years, Riley
had befriended many peoplethroughout the Upper Murray.  When news of his declining health reached Corryong, concerned friends organised a party of riders to transport him from his Tom Groggin hut to Corryong Hospital.

Inspired by mateship, they endured rain, snow and treacherous terrain in
their endeavour to take the ill, elderly man to safety. But for Riley, the journey ended in a deserted mining hut near Hermit and Surveyors' Creek junction where the party sheltered from the snow for the evening.
The Corryong Courier later reported, "He seemed to rally a little, and spoke to his friends, but his weakness reasserted itself and shortly afterwards, he swayed over, and would have fallen had his mates not saved him."

"The journey was over as far as old Jack was concerned.  The game old heart had ceased to beat, and out there among the great silent trees, with the rain falling softly on the roof of the hut, his spirit went home to its long rest."

Jack Riley was buried at Corryong Cemetery and a granite headstone has been erected in his memory.

There was movement at the station, for the word had passed around  That the colt from old Regret had got away,
  And had joined the wild bush horses - he was worth a thousand pound,  So all the cracks had gathered to the fray.
  All the tried and noted riders from the stations near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
  For the bushmen love hard riding where the wild bush horses are,  
And the stock-horse snuffs the battle with delight.

 There was Harrison, who made his pile when Pardon won the cup, 
The old man with his hair as white as snow;
  But few could ride beside him when his blood was fairly up -
He would go wherever horse and man could go.
  And Clancy of the Overflow came down to lend a hand, 
No better horseman ever held the reins;
  For never horse could throw him while the saddle-girths would stand -   He learnt to ride while droving on the plains.

 And one was there, a stripling on a small and weedy beast;
He was something like a racehorse undersized,
  With a touch of Timor pony - three parts thoroughbred at least -  
And such as are by mountain horsemen prized.
  He was hard and tough and wiry - just the sort that won't say die - 
There was courage in his quick impatient tread;
  And he bore the badge of gameness in his bright and fiery eye, 
And the proud and lofty carriage of his head.

 But still so slight and weedy, one would doubt his power to stay,  
And the old man said, "That horse will never do
  For a long and tiring gallop - lad, you'd better stop away, 
Those hills are far too rough for such as you."
  So he waited, sad and wistful - only Clancy stood his friend - 
"I think we ought to let him com," he said:
  "I warrant he'll be with us when he's wanted at the end, 
For both his horse and he are mountain bred.

"He hails from Snowy River, up by Kosciusko's side, 
Where the hills are twice as steep and twice as rough;
  Where a horse's hoofs strike firelight from the flint stones every stride,
The man that holds his own is good enough.
  And the Snowy River riders on the mountains make their home, 
Where the river runs those giant hills between;
  I have seen full many horsemen since I first commenced to roam, 
But nowhere yet such horsemen have I seen."

So he went - they found the horses by the big mimosa clump,  
They raced away towards the mountain's brow,
  And the old man gave his orders, "Boys, go at them from the jump,  
No use to try for fancy riding now.
  And, Clancy, you must wheel them, try and wheel them to the right. 
Ride boldly, lad and never fear the spills,
  For never yet was rider that could keep the mob in sight, 
If once they gain the shelter of those hills."

 So Clancy rode to wheel them - he was racing on the wing 
Where the best and boldest riders take their place,
  And he raced his stockhorse past them, and he made the ranges ring  With the stockwhip, as he met them face to face.
  Then they halted for a moment, while he swung the dreaded lash, 
But they saw their well-loved mountain full in view,
  And they charged beneath the stockwhip with a sharp and sudden dash, 
And off into the mountain scrub they flew.

Then fast the horsemen followed, where the gorges deep and black  Resounded to the thunder of their tread,
  And the stockwhips woke the echoes, and they fiercely answered back
Fromcliffs and crags that beetled overhead.
  And upward, ever upward, the wild horses held their way, 
Where mountain ash and kurrajong grew wide;
  And the old man muttered fiercely, "We may bid the mob good day, 
No man can hold them down the other side."

When they reached the mountain's summit, even Clancy took a pull -  
It well might make the boldest hold their breath;
  The wild hop scrub grew thickly, and the hidden ground was full
Of wombat holes, and any slip was death.
 But the man from Snowy River let the pony have his head,
And he swung his stockwhip round and gave a cheer,
  And he raced him down the mountain like a torrent down its bed,
While the others stood and watched in very fear.

He sent the flint-stones flying, but the pony kept his feet, 
He cleared the fallen timber in his stride,
  And the man from Snowy River never shifted in his seat -
It was grand to see that mountain horseman ride.
  Through the stringy barks and saplings, on the rough and broken ground,
Down the hillside at a racing pace he went;
  And he never drew the bridle till he landed safe and sound 
At the bottom of that terrible descent.

He was right among the horses as they climbed the farther hill, 
And the watchers on the mountain, standing mute,
  Saw him ply the stockwhip fiercely; he was right among them still, 
As he raced across the clearing in pursuit.

Then they lost him for a moment, where two mountain gullies met 
In the ranges - but a final glimpse reveals
  On a dim and distant hillside the wild horses racing yet, 
With the man from Snowy River at their heels.

And he ran them single=handed till their sides were white with foam; 
He followed like a bloodhound on their track,
  Till they halted, cowed and beaten; then he turned their heads for home,
And alone and unassisted brought them back.
  But his hardy mountain pony he could scarcely rase a trot, 
He was blood from hip to shoulder from the spur;
  But his pluck was still undaunted, and his courage fiery hot, 
For never yet was mountain horse a cur.

And down by Kosciusko, where the pine-clad ridges raise 
Their torn and rugged battlements on high,
  Where the air is clear as crystal, and the white stars fairly blaze 
At midnight in the cold and frosty sky,
  And where around the Overflow the reed-beds sweep and sway
To the breezes, and the rolling plains are wide,
  The Man from Snowy River is a household word today, 
And the stockmen tell the story of his ride.

 Andrew Barton Paterson - "The Banjo"