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We had set the meeting place to be the BP servo at the end of the F3 so that we could assess the traffic situation and make a final decision on our route to Bulahdelah. This sort of flexibility in planning has always been a trademark of the club's approach to trips. However, it recently came under criticism by a person that has never participated in club activities but is of the self opinion that he's an expert on everything from tent pegs to intercontinental ballistic missiles, inclusive, as well as being convinced that the sun sets when he sits down. Well, if the dazed unit had of attended the Bulahdelah trip he would have seen first hand this flexibility works extremely well thankyou, tell ya mother. Then again, the self opinionated, pompous gasbag was too afraid to raise these issues in person because he knows he'd end up like Bill Clinton's aide. Rest assured, the sun doesn't set when he sits down because it shines straight thru his ears. |
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Anyhow, Keith stayed at my house Friday night. Whilst I packed my camping gear into my wagon, Keith packed the remaining contents of my garage into his. We met up with Ray & Warren, and John, on Saturday then waited whilst between them they sucked the BP dry of unleaded. After assessing the traffic situation we agreed to proceed to Bulahdelah State Forest via Raymond Terrace. Although Saturday's weather was a bit on the chilly side, the tracks we investigated were historically significant, and with enough 4WD'ing to keep ya interested as well as demonstrating the superiority of manually operated low gears on descents compared to the automatically selected stuff. We eventually found a suitable spot to make camp as evening approached. On dusk Viv & Nifty, and Colette joined us. After partying we curled up snug as a bug for the night. Sometime in the small hours it rained! And it rained! And it rained some more! We were a pretty wet and dismal lot that greeted the dawn on Sunday. We knew then that the rest of our weekend was knackered, so, apart from our gear being soaked, we took our time to pack up. Because we are environmentally aware we decided to head out of the forest and make for Myall Manor to spend Sunday evening. We attempted to make our way to the edge of the forest without causing undue damage to the road surfaces. However, given the volume of precipitation in the area and the steepness of the roads it was physically impossible. The passage of four vehicles brought enough moisture to the surface to cause grief to the traction control devices of the remaining two vehicles. We had to snatch in one spot. We managed to get to Bulahdelah township for lunch. Some went to the pub for a counter lunch by the fire whilst the remainder of us had eats under the bridge. When we eventually arrived at Myall Manor we found it was a full house and were forced to camp in the stable. There, lying in a manger... Opps!! Wrong story!! As soon as we lit the fire it pissed down again. And again! And again! We ended up getting some corrugated roofing iron, bent it in the middle like a humpy and used it to cover the fire from the spasmodic downpours. There was nothing else to do but attempt to wet our innards to the same extent as our outers. Monday morning we bounced out of our tents filled with vigour and enthusiasm. We packed our gear and prepared to explore the surrounds. Until it rained. We got back in the vehicles and headed for home. Looking back over previous trip reports revealed that it rained last time the club went to Bulahdelah. So nothing's changed. To reinforce that nothing's changed the Pacific Highway was again a joke for a National Highway. You might recall that a few years ago I was critical of the Highway following a club Easter trip to Coffs Harbour, saying that the RTA wanted rootin', shootin' and electrocutin' for the road. Well... nothing's changed.  |
