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Post by greg99 on Apr 26, 2002 18:28:45 GMT -5
continued
I have mentioned conflicts with the local authorities earlier. So here’s the explanation for the cancellation of further F1 races at Jerez. The officials that hand out the trophies are appointed well in advance. In this particular case, some little local governor who had not been invited, had decided to show up anyway and take the place of the appointed official. I will spare you the details of the commotion he created and the violence that he demonstrated. One of my colleagues supervising the podium ceremony was tied up and locked away by the bodyguards. But none of it really showed on TV as everyone tried to keep their cool for the sake of the viewers. You just don’t mess with the FIA and the circuit, that was deemed responsible, paid a high price.
Our day wasn’t finished however, and we swiftly moved on to our own little champagne shower in the McLaren hospitality. We were soaked and at that point I couldn’t care less about my white shirt…..
It was going to be a long night.
Having been invited to the McLaren party, I found myself at the front table with another 15 people. I was quietly sipping my drink when someone tapped on my shoulder: I slowly turned around but still spilled my drink. A certain Mika H was standing right there, with a big smile, simply saying that I deserved a kiss (ok, suggested by a team member whom I was close to, but still). I must have turned all colors of the rainbow by the time the Finn kissed both of my blushing cheeks. I thought I was never going to get rid of that grin on my face….
We still had one party to attend, the Renault victory celebration, courtesy of Jacques who was very close to the French speaking staff of the Paddock. By the time we arrived, drinks supplies were getting dangerously low and everyone was seriously drunk. Damon was at his best, guitar in hand, singing lullabies to whoever wanted to listen. But Jacques wanted to keep on celebrating and we started tracking down an open pub. No such luck. It was 2 in the morning and past the Spaniards bed time. No problem, as we all stayed in the same hotel by the track, Villeneuve decided he would have the hotel bar re-open so that we could have our own private party. The 15 of us walked into the lobby…. to stumble upon another group of 15….. Schumacher’s party. Although there was a big silence, we all had one tune in mind: “Once upon a time in the West”. We all moved away and left them face to face; this was going to be a replay of “OK Corral”. If their eyes had been machine guns, there would have been blood splattered all over the lobby and beyond. After what seemed like an eternity, Jacques said to Michael: “You are such an A-hole, get the bar open”. “Fine”, Michael replied “but you’re buying”. Some drivers who had gone to bed were dragged out of bed and so Frentzen, Magnussen, Irvine, Salo and Hill joined the party.
What followed will be printed in my mind for a long time to come. As Henrik mentioned on a previous post, there is an unspoken rule about keeping such events from the public and even some journalists who had joined in abided to that rule. It leaked however and the German press was only too happy to publish pictures “proving” there were no grudges between the two. We know otherwise.
All good things have an end and when one of us finally looked at their watch, in between cocktails mixed by Jacques and Michael, we had exactly 15 minutes to grab our suitcases and head to the airport.
Like I said, I wasn’t supposed to be there.
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Post by OT on Apr 27, 2002 0:40:47 GMT -5
thanks for the great inside information greg, fascinating stuff, especially the white shirt...
i had heard an interesting comment from another source regarding that moment of locked eyes as JV and MS came face to face in the hotel....
an aquaintance described it as possibly being one of the most catastrophic moments in Formula One history...
instead of the "OK Corral" - he thought it was going to be "handbags at 3 paces"...
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Post by JWK on Apr 27, 2002 3:56:26 GMT -5
Henrik, dont worry man, im just joshing, allthough i've never experienced it with a car, i know how it feels to love something that much. btw- ill remember that name;)
live long the stories of our years
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Post by greg99 on Jun 17, 2002 7:38:19 GMT -5
I hate for this thread to be lost ..... please somebody get their memory cells working and share with the rest of us.
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Post by Henrik on Jun 17, 2002 16:57:32 GMT -5
Okay, so it’s story time again!
I’m sure most of us have already bought a car, and I think it is fair to say that each such purchase is indeed a special event. The reasons that drive us to buying a specific car can be very varied, and can range from a practical requirement of a means of transportation to a love at first sight story. Personally, I always found the love stories the more interesting.
As every year since I moved to Geneva, I went to the international car show in March of 1987. This annual event is certainly something that deserves its own post, and I’m sure I’ll get around to that some day, but for now I’ll get back to the present story. Upon entering the show, Greg and I found ourselves starting the visit at the Toyota stand, and that’s were we found her!
We were unable to stop looking at the brand new Celica Convertible, and a salesman soon noticed our deep interest in the car. We talked a bit about the car with him, and he showed the ingenious targa type soft top the car had. Engine details and options were discussed, and I was ready to sign the contract right there. However, being the rational person I am (yeah, right!), we decided to look through the rest of the show before making any hasty decisions. Needless to say, the visit was quickly taken care of, and we were back with the salesman signing the purchase contract.
It needs to be said at this point that we really had no money back then, and this was no cheap car! The funny thing is that I simply did not consider that to be an issue. We wanted the car, and so the financial side would work itself out somehow (we have done some more compulsive purchases of much bigger scale later, but that again is a story on its own!).
We drove home having been told the car should be delivered some time by the end of May or early June. We figured that was okay since we would still have it in time for summer. It was also at this point that the financial issue dawned upon us, and I figured I would have a lot of talking to do the next day with my employer. Working at a bank, I figured I would be able to work out some sort of arrangement, and that is indeed what happened.
A week later, we returned to the garage to sort out the payments, and work out the last details. After a while, I again asked for what the delivery date would be, and the salesman informed us that the car had probably arrived already that afternoon! We rushed out to the parking lot, and there she was! I just couldn’t believe it, having been preparing myself for a long hard wait. Just a week later, everything had been worked out, and we were the happy owners of an exceptional car.
As it turned out, we got the very first one delivered to Switzerland, and it was to be a very limited production. Thus it immediately became a very unusual car, one that would draw looks everywhere we went with it. And go places with it we did! I suppose the only real downside was that Greg hated the seating position for long journeys, given that you sat really low and there was no real space to move around. Still, we travelled extensively around Europe, sometimes for non-stop journeys lasting 24 hours, sometimes through the night on icy roads and sometimes with the top down and the sun shining as we headed for the Mediterranean. We would take it to go skiing, with the top down and the skis sticking up from the back seat. We would take it for lazy Sunday drives around the country, just enjoying the scenery. Oh, and I did take it around the Monaco track once too! (Okay, it was the week after the GP, but the tire-marks showed me the way)
Our friends and family thought we were crazy to buy a car we couldn’t afford. But we did manage, and there simply was no other option once we had seen her. It brought a lot of great memories, and the day she was sold was indeed a tough day. Still, the guy who bought was a real enthusiast too, and so I was confident it was well taken care of. I did see his add a few years later as he was selling it, still mentioning the facts about its originality that I had mentioned to him when I first sold it!
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Post by OT on Jul 3, 2002 5:07:28 GMT -5
Car# 2:
I had spent some time looking around for a replacement vehicle for my little red hot street racer and had finally settled on something totally different - a Holden panel van - or shaggin' waggon as they were more affectionately known or f#ck truck as they were more crudely labled. This breed of vehicle attracted owners of lesser integrity and in fact down-right disrepute - but needless to say, the idea of this type of vehicle still grabbed my imagination and regardless of the damage the image might do to the reputation of a fine upstanding person like myself, I decided to put the wheels in motion anyway.
I had a hankering to do loads of country travel and a "Van" seemed the perfect way to do it. Yeah bullshit everyone said, you just want the right vehicle to go out and shag the first piece of skirt that happens along. Not true I said...
I had been annoying the hell out of our local car salesman who was chasing every dealer in the state trying to find a Van with all my required specifications - I wasn't worried about the colour, but it had to have the all the bits.
John: "Sorry OT, there just isn't a van available in NSW with everything you want on it." OT: "Waddaya mean - come on John try harder - this is my new toy we're talking about here." John: "Yes OT, but we've been through every dealer...." OT: "How long will it take to have one built?" John: "....errr ....what?" OT: "C'mon John - they build these friggn' things every day - how long do they take to go thru the mill?" John: "....errr ....listen OT ....you wanted this thing this year didn't you?" OT: "Oh shit - you're joking!! - that long??" John: "Listen I'll keep working on it - I have a contact at the factory - leave it with me." OT: "Yeah.... ok.... I guess...."
Disconsolate - I head back home to contemplate my next hair brained idea...
Two days later my car dealer rings....
John: "OT, how far away are you?" OT: "....30 minutes...." John: "We've got your van...." OT: "Shit hot!!! - I'll be there in 10 minutes!!!"
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Post by OT on Jul 3, 2002 5:08:23 GMT -5
After adding 40 metres of rubber to the asphalt out side the car dealer - my old car finally comes to halt and I race inside to have a look at my new pride and joy. John is standing there with a grin from ear to ear and holding a key in his hand. I tried to snatch the key from him - but he's too quick...
John: "You've got to hear the story behind this one...." OT: "Shit John - do I have to?" John: "Yep! - You owe Dave here a slab of beer... he hijacked this one just coming off the production line. Seems like there was some other fool that had spec ordered a new build, with all the trick bits - appears he was another petrol head, got his license taken away two days ago - DUI, speeding, dangerous driving, etc. He won't be out for a while - so we have a spare car...." OT: "Oh John - and it's blue too!" John: "Yep! - 308, 4 barrel Holley, special ratio 4 speed, Custom bucket seats - not the factory crap, Salisbury LSD, special build rear end, mags, tyres.... just what the doctor ordered." OT: "Thanks Dave, thanks John, gimme, gimme...." John: "Not so fast buddy.... papers.... and a small matter of some money...." OT: "Yeah, yeah.... can't we fix that up later...."
Three quarters of an hour later, my old vehicle is in John's hands and I'm cruisin' around the local strip, bedding in my new V8, checking out the girls. We're working on settling things in for 1000km before getting heavy on the gas pedal, when I notice a very faint puff of blue smoke out the right side of the tailgate. Was that me? Naaahh... must have been the old heap of crap up in front of me. Heading back towards home, the engines is in slight over-run and there it is again - that blue smoke - this doesn't look good.
Two days later - after finding low oil levels - we're back at the dealer.
OT: "Come on John - this beast has got a problem...." John: "She'll be right mate - it's just the rings getting settled in." OT: "Bullshit John! I've never seen an engine do this before - and why is it only out the right side?" John: "Trust me (....typical car salesman speak) she'll be right." OT: "OK John, I'll have a little wager with you - I reckon that engine has a bent ring and a gouged cylinder in the right bank. If I'm right - you replace the motor - BUT - before you do - the new motor gets blueprinted! If I'm wrong, I'll pay for the work." John: "Yeah, yeah, you're on...." OT: "So what are you waiting for - rip the motor out!" John: "What?? Now??" OT: "Yeah! - I'm not spending money on more oil!!!"
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Post by OT on Jul 3, 2002 5:09:11 GMT -5
Three days later, I'm back behind the wheel of my Van running in my newly blueprited V8. The difference is noticeable - even at low RPM and even accounting for the new cams we put in at rebuild time. I pick up my mate and we spend the leisure hours of the next few days cruising - bedding in the engine - checking out the girls... My smart-arse mate had already got to me with a Bumper Sticker: "Don't Laugh - Your Daughter Might Be Inside!"
Time has come to increase the horsepower to the road and gradually I start working the motor a bit.... ooooooohh.... the feel of that V8 - but it is a bit quiet. OK, off to the exhaust factory and several hours later we've allowed the engine to breathe and let a mild roar blow out it's arse. Ohhhhh.... the sound of that V8....
Ok enough of posing, time to get serious about decking out the back of the van - for travelling reasons of course. Foam matress will do the job on the deck. A few sheets of 3Ply, insulation, foam padding and enough velour to line the interior of the roof and walls. Fit the sound system, make the bed ....errr ....cover the matress ....errr ....the floor covering and some curtains to ....errrr ...keep out the light ....for when I'm sleeping on the road.... chuck in a couple of pillows and we're ready to rock and roll.
Just as a matter of interest, I took part in an organised street meet out at Castlereigh Dragway. There's a first time for everything. Talking to some of the regulars that get along to these meets and they are giving some good oil on what not to do out on the strip... first 2 runs are merely timed runs to get a "handicap". We line up against a Ford pannel van in the first qualy round and dust him easy - mid 14's (starting to get the hang of this). My next round, the guy next to me pops an axle on the line so we walk this one (which probably didn't do me any favours as I need the practice and my next run is the final in my category).
I'm thinking to myself that this is pretty cool... until my final arives and this really mean looking Ford Customline with Pro Bandags rocks up next to me. Oh yeah... Time for the big one. Come on OT you can do this. After both pilots give the customary two finger salute, we inch into staging.... SHIT!!!! only three lights.... BANG - clutch is out and the new Goodyear Posatraks are barely squealing as I squeeze the gas and then floor it - second gear, quickest and smootest change I've ever made - holy shit.... we're in front - not by much, but we're in front - third gear - come on little girl you can do it - the Holley's screaming it's throats out, sucking air - he's catching.... he's catching.... I slam fourth just as we cross the line dead level! - High 13's. OH SHIT!!!! What a rush!!!! We both salute each other as we decelerate and rotate back to the pit area. Electronic timing tells the story - I've been done by 2 thousandths of a second - but who's counting.
Yeah.... that was alright.... the best part was checking out all the girls as they checked out all the cars.... Anyway, that's another story....
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Post by Topcontender on Jul 3, 2002 16:52:03 GMT -5
"Fish called wanda Dog"
Well i had a very wild grandmother growing up. When she was around 85 years old we got her a little Yorkshire Terrier puppy. SHe loved the dog (later named Buttons), but he was full of so much energy it was too much.
Well IF you have seen the movie "fish called wanda" you will remember the part where the guy keeps killing the dogs (also yokies) this old lady had. ONe part has him drop a safe on one of the little guys as the lady has him on a leash only to turn around and see the part of the leash where the dog is is under the safe.
OK well my G-ma had walked to the street to get some mail out of the mail box one day. She had taken the dog with her and had him on the leash. Well she got her mail and walked back into the house dragging the dog on hte leash. She calls my father and say "what the fuck is wrong with this dog he stop barking and running around." Well my father says I don't know but i will be over to see what is up.
MY father gets there and quickly finds out what happened. IT seems as my g-ma went to get the mail the dog had walked into the street (still on the leash) a few feet from my g-ma. Someone in a car had ran the dog over and kept on going. MY g-ma had pulled a dead dog into her house never noticing! My father broke out laughing becuase my g-ma didn't figure out Buttons was as flat as a pancake! He said " the dog is fucking flat and the eyeballs are poping, out he is dead". My g-ma said well i never felt him get hit and i wondered why he looked that way.
Well in the end my g-ma took it well and we never had to buy her another dog again.
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Post by OT on Aug 18, 2002 6:36:36 GMT -5
This has absolutely nothing to do with motor racing, but my daughter has just come back from her trial run of her Silver expedition for the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award. It brought back memories of my own adventures on my Gold expedition when I did the DOEA as a school kid. For those that are unaware of what the DOEA is about - it is an achievement based award - part of the achievements is an expedition to be carried out as a group but with NO external assistance.
We were 5 in number - gathered at our school early on a Friday morning - ready to set out on what we thought would be a stroll in the park and a bit of good fun. An "expedition" that would take us 2 nights and 3 days to complete - a breeze we thought. We had to carry everything that we would need for the three days on our backs; food, bedding, clothing, tents, utensils, but that was ok, we could handle that. The organisers of our expedition considered our school, being located in proximity to some demanding bush land, to be a good launching pad for us.
We had been given a vague description of the intended area that we had to traverse but no intricate details. They were to be delivered to us on the Friday morning. We, being enterprising young lads, were planning our own arrangements of hitch hiking a ride (not allowed under the rules of the award) to a point close to our first over night stop, when the organisers came up to brief us on our requirements. With a sealed radio for emergency use only and quite a few check points - well into the bush - we were soon realising that this wasn't going to be as easy as we first thought.
Our first two check points completely ruled out any possibility of using transport other than our own feet. Shit!! We weren't off to a good start! With maps and compass, we set out, still in high spirits even though or initial plans had been dashed. We were making good progress along a disused fire trail and were still thinking that this was going to be easy - until we reached the first escarpment...
Of the 5 of us, 4 were from the senior year and young "Carrots" (as he was affectionately known) was from a junior year. Carrots wasn't exactly the fittest of physical specimens, but had a big heart …until it came to descending escarpments. Herein was our first problem. Now the DOEA is a group based challenge and part of the ethic is for everyone to help each other and all must complete the expedition unless for some unforeseen circumstance. Even at this early stage we were already looking for something unforeseen.
We could see from our topographic map, that West was the way to go to circumvent the escarpment, but it was going to add precious time to our trip. Fortune favoured us and we came across a tree that had collapsed back onto the escarpment and gave us a relatively easy method of descent. That accomplished we set out across the valley to a trig point that was our first check station. We made good time here and surveyed the map to chose our best route to the next check point.
In good spirits again that the first hurdle was out of the way, we made good time through some very dense bush, but slowly our senses were telling us that something was different. Charred wood. We could smell burnt wood. And then we walked into it. A bush fire had very recently been through here and everything was black. And soon, so were we. Black from head to toe. Being a particularly warm day didn't help matters either. The ash mixing with the sweat made for an obnoxious camouflage.
It was about this time that Carrots started whinging. It wasn't bad at first, just the odd grumble here and there, but as we pushed on it gradually got worse. A few of the old camp songs came out as we trudged along and that seemed to keep him happy for a while until the novelty wore off and it was back to the whinging again. Luckily we reached the second check point in good time and carrots got his much needed rest - and lunch.
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Post by OT on Aug 18, 2002 6:38:23 GMT -5
We pushed on - there was another check point we had to pass before we got to our first overnight stop and we were able to set up camp just as the sun was going down. We built our fire pit and started cooking our evening meal. It was all quite civilised actually. Carrots sat down to his mum's specially prepared turkey with cranberry sauce and 3 veg meal, while the rest of us had baked beans or stew out of a can.
We were contemplating our efforts for the day and somebody mentioned the one word I didn't want to hear - "beer". We had none (not allowed under the rules of the award). SHIT!!! After much swearing and heated cursing we looked at the map and figured it was only about ten kilometres to the nearest pub. One of the boys had a pretty solid headache and decided to stay behind with Carrots and some Panadol, while we headed off in search of the holy grail.
Luckily, there was a faint moon which made or climb out of the ravine a bit easier. We seemed to be making good time until we hit a reasonably solid wall of some sort. With great agility, we scrambled over the top only to be confronted by blinding lights. We had unwittingly stumbled into the backyard of a rather large exclusive residence that was obviously setting up for a party of some size and opulence. We managed to quickly find a fence line, crouched low and followed it to the street. With use of the shadows we managed to avoid detection and headed on our merry way.
Not being experts in the location in which we had emerged, we were a bit concerned as to what direction to take. We decided again, that west was the way to go as that would eventually connect us up with the main highway and eventually to a pub. We had climbed out of the bush at around 7:30pm - now at 9:00pm we were starting to get worried. Had we been walking in circles? And then there it was - the sound of traffic. We marched on and to our surprise, as we hit the highway - there was a pub - ohhhhh what a beautiful sight... We staggered in through the doors and every turned and stared as if they had seen a ghost. Hehehe... 3 black ghosts???
Now, I might just point out at this stage, that what we were doing was highly illegal - both in terms of the DOEA and the law - we were all under age. Undeterred, we ordered a round of schooners - which didn't even touch the sides as they were consumed. A second and third round was ordered and a slab of beer to go as closing time was announced. Revitalised, we started on our way back to camp - each sharing the burden of the carton of beer we were carrying. Fortunately, we had had the common sense to note our course that we had navigated from our exit from the bush to the pub and we rapidly found our way back.
Herein lay another problem - we had arrived at the mansion that was having the party. We had intended to try and sneak down the side fence that we had come up, but there was far more activity in the street at this time than when we came through earlier. Now - as the saying goes - boys will be boys - and there were girls in the street... That signed the death knell of a quiet retreat to our bush camp. As it happened the host's daughter was in the street at the time, welcoming guests. She could have been an actress straight out of a Hollywood film shoot... long slim body in a very sheer evening gown...
By the time I had picked my jaw up off the bitumen - Jasmine - was already waiting for the answer to a question she had asked me several seconds ago. Let me tell you - "Duh, what?" - is not exactly the type of line you want to be using to try and impress a beautiful maiden. Having established that I could speak, Jasmine was very comfortable with the fact that I was talking to her breasts and not to her face. She was able to establish that we were involved in the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award and was instantly impressed - for ulterior motives - her parents were entertaining some influential Japanese dignitaries and we would be good specimens of average Aussies performing a worthwhile task to display to their Japanese guests.
The three of us were herded into the house before we knew what was really happening, but beers all round helped the situation no end. Now bare in mind that we had been walking all day through the bush in some reasonably hot weather - we were black from bush fire soot and we stank! But Jasmine did a great job of selling us to their guests and we were introduced without too much time lost. There was a jibber jabber of questioning Japanese and Jasmine was doing an expert job of translating the questions and answers. We were handling the celebrity status quite well until one of the translated questions - "You boys must be very brave - out in the bush - all on your own."
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Post by OT on Aug 18, 2002 6:40:09 GMT -5
It was about this time that I wished that we didn't exist – Chub had come straight back with the reply "Awww fuck dude, you gotta be jokin'. This is a walk in the park. We still got a case of piss we gotta sink yet!". It was obvious that there was some understanding of the English/Australian language as the mouths on a couple of the dignitaries dropped markedly. I must admit Jasmine handled this very well. With a very rapid translation - she achieved a round of laughs and cheers from her Japanese guests and we were invited to join the party.
It was a miracle that we managed to get back to our campsite - mind you, the early morning sun's rays made it that much easier to see what damage we were doing to ourselves as we stumbled and tripped our way back. The three of us had just snuck into our bed rolls as Carrots was banging and clanging his pots and utensils in his quest to get his breakfast. This was not going to be a good day!
It was a very subdued group that cleaned and packed up camp - except for a very chipper little Carrots - he was really starting to piss me off - my head was pounding - and I hadn't even started thinking yet - I needed to find something or some way of shutting him up. I decided to make him navigator of the day and set him quickly to work on planning the day’s trek. It worked a treat in more ways than one. He busied himself with his map and compass – jotting down notes – almost as though he knew what he was doing. He scampered up to high ground to get a birds eye view of the route ahead – I was impressed.
There was no hair of the dog available, so I got stuck into the Panadol in the hope that whatever was beating the shit out my head would disappear rapidly. The boys reckoned that I wasn’t a pretty sight ….jeeez they should have seen it from my side. I could have killed for a few hours sleep… We moved out of camp and the 3 of us that had the hangovers made a pact to never, never do that again ….until the next time.
Carrots was doing a great job of leading our expedition and had us at our first check point inside a couple of hours and was ordering us to settle back and have lunch. Carrots had a compulsion to eat. It was only 9:30am! It was at this point that I took over the reins again and got us moving forward to the next check point. With difficult terrain ahead, we needed to be reasonably careful with our bearings and direction. We were deep in bush at this point and compass navigation was the only possible way forward – there was no line of sight.
Panadol is supposed to be a very good product and is supposed to relieve pain – I think there must be a really mean bastard out there that programmed Panadol not to work for hangovers on under aged drinkers. This was not a good time to be suffering – but my mind kept wandering - I don’t remember much of the previous night – but I do vaguely remember that I got showered (with assistance) and rejoined the party in fresh clothing – some time later. Somehow, the grotty clothes that I had been wearing had been washed and dried and returned to me. Jeeez – what a night!!! What was that phone number??
Just what I didn’t want – Carrots started whinging again about needing to stop for lunch… We kept moving forward and climbed out of the bush to the trig point that was our next check point. We settled here for a bite to eat – if only to stop Carrots from whinging. But I must admit he had done a good job on preparing our traverse for the day.
We were about to move out when I heard it first – a rustling noise about ten metres away. At this time in my life, I had a severe aversion toward snakes – they scared the crap out of me. Just as I heard the noise I saw it – a big red belly black snake. It was quite comical actually – I jumped up with such a fright and the snake jumped up with such a fright and it turned and ran (or slithered). Chub coined the moment by calling out “Jeeez – that hangover scared the shit out of that snake!!!”
The bush had my full attention now – my eyes were the size of tennis balls and rotating rapidly inside my head. We moved on briskly along an overgrown trail to the constant moans and groans of Carrots bringing up the rear. We needed to move quickly – we had 32 kms to cover this day – that’s as long as we didn’t strike problems with the selected route. The trail was becoming more and more difficult to follow until suddenly, again we burst out into a totally blackened area where a recent bush fire had reeked its havoc. This time we didn’t complain about being covered in ash (except for Carrots – at least it took his mind off food for a while) as it made the going much easier. The sun had now disappeared behind some really ugly looking clouds and every one was trying to find anything other than the weather, to talk about.
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Post by OT on Aug 18, 2002 6:42:48 GMT -5
We could see our planned overnight stop about 1 kilometre ahead of us just as the clouds opened up. Well it wasn’t your light drizzle – nice for the garden type rain – it dumped! We hadn’t even taken 5 steps and we were drenched to the skin. Carrots was in shock – poor kid – I thought he was going to cry. We trudged and squelched our way up to the free standing stables that we were going to use as our shelter for the night. By the time we got there, the rain had stopped. Great!!! If only it could have held off for 10 more minutes!!!
Our first priority was firewood – with that “nice” little storm that just went through, dry wood wasn’t going to easy to come across and the afternoon had turned very cold. We spread out in different directions, except for Carrots who decided that setting up his own little cooker to get his evening meal going was of the utmost importance. I decided to leave him in peace doing what he wanted to do, and besides, the last thing we needed, was to spend the rest of the evening searching for a lost Carrots.
We were on the edge of a Showground that was about 5 kilometres from any sort of major civilisation and one of the guys came bounding out, hooting and hollering. He had found a BBQ setting that had very recently been stocked with a solid supply of timber – and it was dry. Several trips later, we had scavenged all that wood and the wood from another BBQ a bit further around. We quickly got the fire going and then set camp. There was plenty of dead timber lying around that we added to our inferno – it dried quickly with the heat and so did our clothes.
We decided to get our evening meals going, except for Carrots, who had already eaten. We were really appreciating the warmth from the fire as we were tucking into our Baked Beans, when Chub revisited that scene from Blazing Saddles. Jeeez, the noise, the laughter and the stench was unbelievable. Young Carrots was already tucked up in his bed roll and was doing an excellent job of suppressing the urge to stay awake. Greg, who had had the headache the night before, was now feeling fine and looked around at the three of us and seeing bloodshot eyes and severely hung over postures said, “I suppose a beer is out of the question?” The three of us turned as one and threw our dinner dishes at him. “A simple ‘NO’ would have done,” Greg replied.
We pressed on with a few jokes and stories, but we were all too knackered to keep too long a night vigil going. Greg, who wasn’t quite as tired, said he would stay up a bit longer and keep an eye on the fire – and keep a look-out for snakes. Even that didn’t bother me, for not having a bed underneath me, I had one of the best sleeps I had had in some time.
Morning dawned with a light cloud cover. We got the fire going and cooked the bacon and eggs that we didn’t have the previous morning… I was starving – a double helping was in order – just as well we had two days worth of bacon and eggs – well planned I thought. While we were cleaning up and packing, I gave Carrots the duty of navigator again and he proudly did his thing while we got on with our no-brainer chores.
There were no more check points – we just had to get ourselves back to home camp where we were being met by a teacher from school who would drive us back home. Carrots had set us a course off the plateau and down to the creek bed which we could follow almost the whole way back to home camp. This looked a reasonable route as the distance would be quite a bit greater if we stayed up on the escarpment.
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Post by OT on Aug 18, 2002 6:43:52 GMT -5
When we got there, the creek bed was no longer a creek bed, but a fully fledged river. Although we hadn’t had much rain where we had been camped last night, further up in the catchment it must have rained for some serious amount of time. This wasn’t much of a problem until we came to a point where the base of the escarpment met the river with a sheer wall. To make matters worse, there was a large tree that was growing flush against the escarpment base yet the other side of the tree sloped out over the river and the water level was so high, there was no path or footholds around the tree. If the creek bed had been dry, we could have just walked thru the creek bed to get around it. This was a real problem.
There was no way up the escarpment and we didn’t have the time to go back. We would have to sling ourselves around the tree. I dragged out one of the rope stays from the tent and there was enough room behind the tree to squeeze my arm through. With a whip action I was able to flick the rope around the front of the tree while one of the other guys grabbed the other end. It meant getting our feet wet but I was able to grab both ends of the rope that was now around the back of the tree and climb around the front of the tree. Once I was around the tree, we swung all the packs around and then the others came the same way that I did. That is, until it was Carrots’ turn. Poor Carrots wasn’t exactly an athletic type and as he was trying to worm his way around the tree he lost his grip on the rope and sploshed butt first into the river.
Under normal circumstances this would have been extremely hilarious, but with poor Carrots, you could almost see the tears welling up in his eyes just as he lost his grip on the rope and before he hit the water. There was a fallen tree 5 metres further down the river which stopped him from being completely washed away. We fished him out of the river and luckily we only had a few kilometres left to go to home camp and we each took turns carrying his gear while he squelched along side us.
We finally walked into home camp to complete our expedition. We were all sworn to secrecy about the additional part of our journey to get beer, as “Des” (our teacher) signed off our papers. His parting shot at us through clenched teeth “Jeeez, we could use a decontamination unit here”, brought rumblings of another Blazing Saddles session. I can’t understand why he wanted all the windows wound down on the drive home…
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Post by Henrik on Aug 19, 2002 1:19:22 GMT -5
Great story OT! I really love the way you write. Isn't it amazing what one would do for a beer though....
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