Behind Mt. Baldy (8 page)

Instantly his entire body seemed
to be covered in goose bumps. He looked out over the still water of the lake.
The mist seemed to steam and roll in wisps and Roger was seized with the
irrational fear that another body would reach up out of the dark water and drag
him in. As quickly as he decently could he swished the sand and water out of
his mess tins and stood up.

Roger found he didn’t want to
turn his back on the lake but he forced himself to do so, knowing it would look
silly to the others if he walked backwards. He returned to the others, trying
to appear calm but uncomfortably aware that his heart was thumping hard. In
spite of the morning chill his forehead and hands went sweaty.

Luckily none of the others seemed
to take any notice. Graham and Peter were busy rolling up their bedrolls.
Stephen headed for the toilet so Roger followed him. By the time Roger came out
of the toilet the first rays of sunlight were touching the tops of the trees
across the bay. The fog had thinned and other campers were up and about. A few
hardy souls could be heard splashing in the shallows.

“Looks like another fine day,”
Peter said, indicating the cloudless blue sky which was being revealed as the
fog thinned.

“Probably be hot later,” Graham
said.

Stephen had just packed his
sleeping bag. He looked out of the shelter and called. “Come on Roger. Roll up
your bedding so we can drop the hutchie.”

“Aren’t we going to wait for the
sun to dry it?” Roger asked.

It was Graham who replied. “No. We
can be on the road by seven thirty if we move and then we can make up some lost
time.”

So saying Graham pocketed his map
and quickly pulled out his tent pegs and hauled the sheets of wet plastic off
onto the grass. Peter went to help him.  Stephen then unpegged the other
shelter and dragged it off, exposing Roger’s bedding. Roger didn’t complain. It
was the routine in their cadet unit and it was easier to pack up then. He
consoled himself with the thought that they weren’t ‘tactical’ in which case
everything would have been pulled down and packed before First Light.

Fifteen minutes later the four
boys stood with webbing and packs on beside the toilets.  From a tap they
refilled their water bottles (four each) and had another big drink. As soon as
he heaved his pack on Roger was instantly aware of his sore shoulders and stiff
muscles. He couldn’t avoid several groans as Graham started marching.

They went up to the main road and
turned right. It was a lovely morning, cool and pleasant. In under the
rainforest the mist was still trapped and big drops of condensation spattered
down in a steady shower which made the road surface quite moist and soft.

Roger felt easier as his muscles
warmed up and lost their stiffness. He still found it an effort but he kept up
with the others. They were all in a good mood and Graham and Stephen kept
cracking silly little jokes.

Half a kilometre further along
they crossed Downfall Creek, a real little jungle stream which gushed noisily
under the road through a culvert. The road then went east. The sun reached the
tree tops overhead and the mist evaporated without the boys really noticing.
After fifteen minutes march they came to a belt of pine trees which seemed to
go on and on. These were only half-grown and had a lot of secondary growth. The
first car of the day went past.

Soon after 8 o’clock they stopped
for a few minutes to adjust their gear and to have a drink. Roger peeled off
his pullover and packed it. The march resumed. Another picnic area was passed.

Roger looked as he plodded on.
That camp ground was also dotted with cars and camper’s tents. The irritating
and insistent buzz of a high-powered speedboat engine came from somewhere out
on the lake.

Rainforest on
the right, pine forest on the left.
A curve to the right and a narrow concrete bridge over a
crystal clear stream flowing swiftly over a sandy bed.
  Roger
didn’t need to ask Graham its name. The tourist signs told him.

KAURI CREEK.

There was a mowed picnic area on
the left and then the road went uphill.  Ahead loomed a conical hill
clothed in pine trees and crowned with a forestry firewatcher’s tower. The road
curved sharply back to the right and the angle of ascent sharpened abruptly.
Roger soon felt the strain. In spite of his efforts he fell behind and began
puffing and perspiring. His calf muscles started to burn. The road curved back
to the left but went on climbing.

There was a road junction on the
crest and the others waited there for Roger. Graham pointed behind Roger as he
reached them.
“Quite a view.
You can see right over
the lake to Bones Knob and Tolga.”

Secretly Roger couldn’t give a
damn about the view but he dutifully turned and looked. “
Can
..puff ..can
you ..
puff ..see
Mt Baldy from ..
puff ..here
?” he asked.

Graham and Peter both looked
concerned. They pulled out Silva compasses, ruled pencil lines on the map and
checked the Magnetic bearing then stood to look in that direction.

“No. You can’t,” Graham replied.

Roger nodded. He didn’t care. It
had given him a couple of minutes to get his breath back. They waited while two
more cars went past, one in each direction, before starting again.

It was then downhill for over a
kilometre, with the sun in their faces. Both sides of the road were pine
forest.

“I don’t approve of all this pine
forest,” Graham said.

“Why? We have to have timber,”
Peter asked.

“We do, but not pine trees. We
can buy them from all those places like Canada and Finland that have them
everywhere. We should plant native hardwoods like Blackbean and Cedar.”

Stephen disagreed. “But they take
too long to grow. Pine trees grow in about twenty years.”

“Doesn’t
matter.
It’s
a State forest. The Government doesn’t need the money. It can afford to wait.
It’s wrong to plant rainforest country with a temperate needle leaf. Mr Conkey
says pine trees will grow on poor soil and if they are planted on good soil
they ruin it.”

“Oh bull!” Peter snorted.

“He said so.”

Roger chipped in. “He’s right,
but in this case they didn’t clear the rainforest to plant pine trees.”

Peter turned and waved his arms.
“So how did they all get here Roger?”

“A lot of this area was cleared
as dairy farms back in the 1920’s. Mum told me. I had a great uncle and a great
aunt who had a farm near Danbulla. There used to be a town called that but it’s
now underwater in the middle of the lake.”

“When was that?” Stephen asked.

“Don’t you read?” Peter said. “It
was on the sign on the lookout at Tinaroo. The dam was built in
1950 ..
er
1950 something or
other.”

“1959,” Graham provided.

“Yes, so then the Forestry Department
replanted some of the old farms,” Roger concluded.

“Still say it should have been
with native trees,” Graham replied.

The argument took them all the
way to the bottom of the hill. They passed back into rainforest country and
crossed a swampy creek on a causeway. After that there were more uphill
stretches. The uphill grades weren’t all that high or steep but Roger began to
feel the strain. As he plodded along with head down he took out his map and
studied it, hoping to find they didn’t have too far left to walk. His watch
told him it was just on 9 o’clock.

“What about another blow?” he
called at the others. They were drawing ahead again.

Graham answered. “Not yet. We’ll
go to Robson’s Creek.”

Roger looked at his map. To his
regret he noted that was at least a kilometre and a half. The map also told him
they were passing the extreme North East corner of the lake but it was hidden
by a belt of very thick jungle. Particularly unpleasant looking jungle too, he
noted, seeing the palm fronds and dangling tendrils of the lawyer vine or
‘wait-a-while’.

The others drew slowly ahead.
There was another fairly steep uphill slog. The road was quite muddy and lined
with weeds.  Roger found he was sweating hard and panting by the time he
crested the rise. The road went gently down and to the left and came to a
concrete bridge.

ROBSONS CREEK proclaimed a sign.
A hundred metres beyond was a triangle of pine trees with short grass under
them. A gravel road went off to the left. The others had already dropped their
packs and sat down.

Roger walked over and joined
them. “If you reckon we were supposed to cover that yesterday afternoon I’m
bloody glad we didn’t,” he said, flopping down.

Graham finished drinking from his
water bottle and wiped his mouth.
“Never mind.
We’ve
got off to a good start today. We’ve covered at least six kilometres and we
haven’t been going for two hours. Fourteen or fifteen more to go and we’ve
covered the day’s quota.”

Roger groaned.

Peter laughed and added. “And
then we need to push on a few more to make up for yesterday. Cheer up Roger,
have a lolly.”

Roger took the fruit jube and
sucked it. He closed his eyes and mentally checked over his physical ailments.
He didn’t want to spoil it for the others by breaking down.

Peter pointed up the side road.
“This is the road up to the top of the Lamb Range isn’t it?”

Graham nodded. “Yes.
To Mt Edith.
I went up there once with Captain Conkey,
Lieutenant Maclaren and Warrant Officer Howley.”

Stephen looked up from polishing
his glasses. “This is where the search HQ was when they were looking for you
and Willy last year Roger.”

Roger shuddered at the memory of
that nightmare ride. He had tried to grab Willy’s runaway home made airship
when it flew past the top of Lambs Head and had been dragged over the cliff. To
save his life he had hung on to a rope and endured a truly terrifying ride
across the mountains until it caught in a tree at the top near Mt Haig. Willy
had climbed off and the airship had been blown away with Roger still aboard.
All he could do was sit on the bicycle seat and cling on through a whole night
of fear as it drifted all over the tablelands until finally being rescued at
Atherton.

They discussed that adventure for
a few minutes. Roger then lay back and closed his eyes, trying to ease his sore
muscles.

Stephen’s voice broke into his
thoughts. “I hate to spoil your rest old son but there’s a large leech moving
up your left boot.”

Roger sat up with a jerk. If
there was one thing he hated with a passion it was leeches.  He looked at
the repulsive thing as it wriggled its way up onto his trousers - nose - tail -
nose - tail.  How quickly it moved!

“So much for the mite-tick
repellent,” Peter said. They had all treated their uniforms with anti-mite
fluid before the hike.

“It’s a leech, not a tick,”
Graham laughed.

“Bloody thing!”
Roger grabbed it and held it
squirming between his fingers. He tried to crush it but the tough, rubbery body
defied his efforts. He rolled it into a ball between his finger and thumb and
flicked it off into the grass.

“There’s another one on your
right boot now,” Graham said.

Roger stood up and scraped it
off, then stamped on it - to no avail - the leech kept moving.

“It’s all that hot flesh that
attracts them,” Stephen said.

“Quality blood you mean,” Roger
retorted.

He took out his water bottle and
had a long drink. Then he stood in the road and looked around. ‘The jungle is
certainly thick,’ he noted, thankful that their hike did not require them to go
into it.

Then his eye wandered down the
tunnel of trees along where the road ran straight for several hundred metres.

“There’s a black car parked down
there. What a funny place to park,” he said.

The others looked idly along the
road. The car was at least two hundred metres away, parked in a patch of shadow
but once seen it was obvious. 

“Probably someone pinching
orchids from the State Forest,” Stephen said.

“Or nature lovers,” Graham
suggested.

“In this!”
Peter laughed, “
with
all that ‘wait-a-while’?”

“Not those sort of ‘nature
lovers’,” Graham replied. “Come on.
Packs on.
 
Time we were gone. Steve, you've got a leech on your collar.”

They stood up, checked each other
for leeches,
then
pulled on their gear. To Roger it
seemed to be even heavier than before. He found all his sore muscles had gone
stiff during the short halt so the first few steps were a painful hobble.

They trudged along in single file
on the right of the road. The effort of getting back into their stride kept
them all silent.

As they drew close to the parked
car Roger eyed it curiously. For some reason it made him feel uneasy. A
fleeting thought crossed his mind that they would find another body in it but
he could see no shape slumped over the wheel.