Trip Leader: Wendy Lehmann
When: 29th August, 2010
Location: South East of Canning Dam
Participants: Wendy was our Leader with Guy her Navigator, Deb with her support team Piers and Tim, Brigitte and a very quiet Bob, Judy and a laid back Bruce, and our Tail End ‘Charlene’ ..Helen with her navigator Richard (suffering from “I need to drive, I need to drive” withdrawal symptoms).
Ladies Day .. and not a skirt in sight.. not even on the ‘real’ Ladies.
(If men want to drive on this day they must wear a skirt !)
In keeping with the Club’s culture of ‘last to arrive’ writes the trip notes, we did consider flipping the job to Marion and Michael…. they were only about 5hrs late!
Admittedly they ran the City to Surf first !… but since they were dedicated enough to catch us up somewhere in the depths of “somewhere”, we decided to let them off.
5 Vehicles…One Triton, one Discovery and three Pajeros maintaining the balance left Kelmscott, then shortly after passing nine orchards of sculpturally pruned stone fruit trees..amazing techniques.. almost huge bonsais…we turned up past Araluen, through forest splashed thick with yellow wattle trees in full colour. Going to be a good day. !
Northern entrance to the Canning Dam Wall was barred so we parked at the picnic area at the base of the dam with the intention of walking the track to the top. The intended ‘short’ walk started looking like a long walk and, with 200km yet to drive, we came back for the wheels.
Five 360 degree precision turns were executed in order and we headed to the next road offering accessibility to the top of the Dam. No wind. White clouds reflected in the still water. A single waterbird flew off leaving its trail of wing tips brushing along the surface. Very peaceful.
All Perthites should be made to take a trip to the Dam and perhaps they‘d all slow their water usage. The level is very low.
Back onto the Albany Highway to Millers Log Road turn off and we re-entered the bush. I heard Wearne Road, Link Road, Metro North Road all mentioned, but since I was driving had no idea where I was !!. If anyone wants the GPS details of the trip..see Guy.!
Discussion during morning tea was all about the old POW camp ruins nearby. Might be worth another trip to investigate?
Then, surprisingly, with TWO GPS’s in use, the trusty Navigator in Vehicle One still directed us up the wrong fork… !!??
Aaaah.. It twigged…
He just wanted to see if we could reverse back up the road a hundred metres!!!!
Well, the Ladies at the rear did this admirably and the remaining Ladies showed how well they could do 23 point turns in the very narrow dirt track. Foiled!
Driving was a reasonable pace and roads surfaces varied to add interest.
Our leader had provided entertainment options along the way…. We could have stopped for a round of golf on the lush greens and bunker off to the left. Wire bed springs were on hand at lunchtime for those who may have needed a short sleep, and wildflowers were out for the picking.
Playtime was the Mud Hole near our lunch stop..though we women opted out of that sport. Piers was the only one who took up the challenge… Actually I just realised…He didn’t don a skirt first!! Surely the Club must impose demerit points to this breach of etiquette !!!!
Admittedly he provided extra entertainment so perhaps could be forgiven.. Now real entertainment could have been had if he’d become stuck!!!!
Then I’m sure the men would have said.. “OK Ladies, This is your Day… Do your Stuff and we’ll watch!”
We could have!
We have the technology!
We just know the men wouldn’t have allowed us back into their cars in our muddy gear !!!!
After our waterplay, we drove along the fenceline for a while then back onto the tracks, with occasional halts when attempting contact with Marion and Michael in their Triton.
GPS’s and UHF’s rule.
We met up about a half hour out from Christmas Tree Well, our end point, so they did get some driving in before the finish.
After chatting for ages with the latecomers, we all headed home … some men now driving , some women still at the wheel.
Thank you Wendy and Guy.
by Judith Brinkley