what was your best bush adventure ever?

[ForgeCreekFerals4x4]

so there probably a thread for this already but, seeing as im new, i figured id ask the question!

ill start it off haha:

My all time favorite was when the landlord, me, the other half and two mates got on the beers and decided to head bush over the weekend, the plan was to head to moscow villa in the middle of winter (40mins from where we live) and meet the landlords missus up there the following night. Anyway, so that friday we all got up to moscow and had a pretty excited night in minus degrees, snow on the ground and the firewood we cut had been struck by lightening and wouldnt burn. so we spent the entire night rollin round in the snow without a fire, and it happened to be really busy up there and seeing as its a popular place and being a local we knew the local parkys liked to pop up during the night and check on the campers, we didnt wanna head out and get more wood due to the leaving campfires and drink driving and all that. anyway next morning, eggs and bacon are cookin, and the landlord said 'this sucks, its way to busy, we go campin to get away from people' so without even ringing his missus we decided to pack up and move on, next thing you know, an entire day later of a pretty wild fourby mish, getting bogged and stuck and redlining things that shouldnt be redlined just for want of traction we ended up in a camp with no people, for miles, on top of Mt Pinnibar (next mountain over from kosiosko) what was supposed to be a quick weekend fourby trip took us on a 750km round trip halfway round the high country and when we finally got back sunday afternoon into service we ALL had missed calls from the landlords missus and when he rang her back you could here her saying 'WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN JINDABYNE!!!" so we left Jindabyne and got back into Bairnsdale via the Barry Way at about 9pm and we left the landlord to his ultimate fate hahaha

[mudnut]

The young bloke (12yo at the time) and I drove to Balmoral Vic with the intention of entering the Carp Fishing contest. Driving my 4wd Corolla, towing the camper trailer with the tinny atop, we idled through the town center to the general store. There were a lot of cars around the pub, but no one in the streets. We entered the store and bought a few items and an ice-cream each. By the time we left the store, a rowdy, drunken crowd had spilled out of the pub. Some of the buggers were yelling slurred swear words and piffing rocks and stones at us, the cars and houses. We scooted across the road, jumped into the car, hung a U turn and drove up past the Pub. A few silly bastards were streaking and some were nudie-climbing the huge cannon in the town square. I quipped to the young bloke, that if one of them slipped , they would really know the meaning of cannon balls.

We got to the Rocklands dam but were a bit disappointed to find the lake only at 4% capacity. We went to the marshalling area and signed up. As we started to walk away the raucous crowd of drunken revellers arrived in a few fourby utes.
They were singing their hearts out as they tumble from the cars, and I saw the official who was signing up contestants face palm.

We set up camp behind a few bushes, which turned out to be a prick of a spot, because the track was too close, and we copped a heap of dust over the weekend.
Also the drunken mob positioned themselves near us, but up on a ridge which jutted out into the lake and gave them a great vantage point.

When I finally got the tent and stove set up, I found that the oars had mysteriously disappeared off of the trailer. We back-tracked, but never found the bloody things.

We launched our tinny and the young fella, wearing a PFD, swam and towed us to a stand of trees, fifty or so meters out on the water.

We never got so much as a nibble, and neither did anyone else, but the drunken lot were getting louder and louder as the sun went down.

After a good helping of barbied snags, we climbed into our dusty sleeping bags and promptly fell asleep. By 11 o'clock, the party on the ridge was getting out of hand, so much so that they just about woke everyone.
I slipped out of the tent and went for a slash. Suddenly, I was caught in the glare of a bloody great spotlight and a drunken chorus of cat calls and " Oy! What are YOU doing you bastard?!!" started.
The shifty mongrels were using night vision to spy on everyone. One poor bugger was lit up as he was squatting up at the tree line.

As the night wore on the spotlight must've woken up some grumpy campers on the other side of the lake. A slinging match echoed back and forth across the still water. It escalated until serious death threats were made. The local copper jumped on his six wheel drive all-terrain vehicle and entered the ridge camp.

After a bit of shouting, he subdued the party and took off around the shoreline to handle the other mob.

Finally I was able to get some sleep, but I was woken up at about 4am when some silly bugger drove his Hilux into a ditch and ripped the front axle from the springs.

On Saturday we watched a couple of fourbys get towed out of the muck as they broke through the crust near the water. There, there wasn't much happening fish-wise in our area, so we drove around the lake, until we found a nice looking log to fish from.

The young fella gave up and went beachcombing. He came back asked if I could help him dig an old cast iron wheel out of the mud.
After half an hour we had unearthed the front axle and another wheel of a wagon. It took quite a lot of convincing my son, that we could only fit one wheel in the back of the car. (The wheel still hangs in my shed).

We went back to our camp and I made a pair of oars from a couple of branches. By this time there was a lot of sodden dog food pellets drifting around the surface and collecting on the shores. We headed in and we landed near camp, we saw a bloke catch one small carp.

Since I had some mower wheels on the tinny, I drove the Corolla down to the lakes edge, and tied the boat to the towbar. I promptly got the car bogged.

After a few offers for help and a bit of mucking around with the winch I got the Corolla out. As I was dragging the tinnie behind us, a bloke with a carload of drunken mates, was too busy watching us instead of watching where he was going so he stacked into a stump.

The copper must've really laid down the rules, because everyone was very subdued on Saturday night. That was, until 12.30 am.

I got woken with what sounded like a shot. It turned out to be some young tools making thier Commodore back-fire.

Vroom--BOOM!!. Vroom--BOOM!! Vroom--BOOM!! Vroom blaaaaaaaaa.

They killed the car and received a standing ovation for their efforts. The bloody tow truck woke everyone at 3 am though.

We left before lunch time on Sunday, hot tired and very dusty, but happy. We dropped into the Hamilton pool on the way home. Even after we had a quick shower we still left a slightly cloudy muddy trail behind us in the cool, clear water of the pool.

[Cuppa]

Pasted from my blog. Walking the Lurijarri Trail (From Broome to Yellow River) Sorry about the bold type, I am unable to change it.

4th - 12th July 2009

I have been sitting, trying to start writing this entry for several hours. How to share an experience that has been so special, whilst respecting the 'privacy' of those who shared their lives with us so willingly. Since we arrived in Australia back in the Eighties I have wished it were possible to meet aboriginal people. It seemed impossible. Why would any blackfella want to spend time with me a whitefella, when whitefellas have been responsible for such long term persecution. My experience was restricted to professional 'helper/helpee' relationships - certainly not a meeting of 'equals', & the occasional tourist brush with aboriginals who viewed me as a means of income. This has been a matter of regret for me, as I have always believed that there is much of importance that we could learn from a people who have successfully existed & managed their environment for millenia. When the opportunity arose for us to participate in the trail, it felt like a dream come true. And so it was. No tourism here, just travelling through country, on foot, as has been happening for thousands of years, with the people from that country. Stories from the dreamtime (Bugarregarre) had real meaning, acting as the maps for survival in that country. There were no flashy dance groups, no commercial corroborees, in fact no ceremony at all, but we moved through country quietly, learning to read it & respect what for us visitors was an alien place. We caught fish with spears & nets, we ate turtle, kangaroo & mud crab. We camped in places where physical evidence of thousands of years of habitation was all around us, passed through burial grounds & learned of hidden water sources. We observed whales, dolphins, dugong & turtles. Throughout we were privy to seeing the way in which the Goorabooloo people interact with each other & with country. We came with respect & open hearts. We left with huge respect & hearts that had been nurtured.

We learned something of family relationships & structure, & were accepted for who we are. Statements about the country being happy to have people moving through it again were commonplace, telling us of the the pride in sharing country with us.

At times I was reminded of my father. He is a 'country boy' back in England,who takes pride in his knowledge of 'his' countryside in Essex. Having this knowledge of the 'nature' around him is 'normal' for him, but unfortunately it is knowledge that is being lost in this era of ipods & mobile phones. Most pass through his country without seeing very much today. And so it is up here. Just more so. The Goorabooloo have a depth of understanding of country that only comes from generations of living in that place. BUT unlike my father the Goolarabooloo also link their whole world view to their understanding of country. Spirits of ancestors are still in country & continue to influence. No-one could doubt such an assertion if they had been privy to walking the country with us. This is a 'model of existence' that makes our 'civilised' western culture look both overly complicated & shallow.

The walking was tough going at times, taking us along seemingly never ending beaches, over tall energy sapping dune systems, through paperbark forests, scratchy wattle thickets & open salt plains where the northern sun was unrelenting. Organisation was phenomenal, the next time anyone tries to tell me that Aboriginal people can't organise anything (a common racist slur) I'll know what to say to them. We were a big mob, in total there were 36 'visitors & more than 60 Goolarabooloo who needed feeding 3 times a day, all from open fires. We ate like kings whilst smelling of the country we were sitting on! Most of the visitors were students from Melbourne, plus a small handful of the likes of us. Also a a few whitefellas who live with the Goolarabooloo walked with us, providing a useful joint black/white interpretation of issues.

We have learned so much...... but what is essential knowledge in one place can have little relevance elsewhere. So what to share? Why for example would most people want to know how to identify a Jigal tree, when it flowers & the fact that it produces an exquisite yellow nectar, best collected in the early morning? Out there in the bush, after several hours walking, at a heavily flowering Jigal tree we were like kids in a lollyshop for the first time, with yellow streaks of nectar running down our chins. There were many such learning experiences.

The colours of this west Kimberley coastline are striking in their richness. The multiple textures intriguing. Just when you think their can’t possibly be a type of sand you haven’t yet encountered, along comes another!


Most importantly we have been able to establish relationships which will be ongoing.




Walking the trail is without doubt one of the best things we have ever done.


Now back in Broome. We are planning to move to the Millinbiyarra property for the next week or so, to spend more time with the Goolarabooloo friends we have made, before taking the bus back up the peninsular to Quandong Point for a little peaceful whale watching.

[ForgeCreekFerals4x4]

thats some good yarns! love it haha