{"id":130,"date":"2015-02-06T14:54:22","date_gmt":"2015-02-06T14:54:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/?p=130"},"modified":"2015-02-06T16:13:04","modified_gmt":"2015-02-06T16:13:04","slug":"byrock-2007-a-boys-weekend-away","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/?p=130","title":{"rendered":"Byrock 2007 – A Boys Weekend Away"},"content":{"rendered":"

Byrock 2007 –\u00a0A Boys Weekend Away<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"Mulga<\/a>
Mulga Creek Hotel (1989)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Byrock NSW, on the Mitchell highway, between Nyngan and Bourke will always hold a special place in my heart. Twenty years ago, back when I was 20, the brother Al and I stumbled upon the little town quite by accident, on a hunting trip. It was actually a nightmare trip, with a whole load of car trouble and empty wallets, but the people we met on that trip were inspirational.<\/p>\n

We went back with a few mates the following October long weekend and after becoming lost and spending a torturously thirsty night in the bush, we headed to the pub to check out the \u2018Bogeye Races\u2019, which we\u2019d read about the previous day at the Coolabah hotel.<\/p>\n

\"Lloydy,<\/a>
Lloydy, Me & Pauly Byrock ’89?<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

As we were to discover, a Bogeye is in fact a Shingleback Lizard \u2013 they\u2019re very lazy and slow moving and their \u2018races\u2019 would scarcely challenge even a stuttering race-caller. But they had bookies and live music and two or three hundred bush folk from all directions, had converged on the pub. The subsequent cloud of bulldust was washed from the throat with copious amounts of beer and we had one of the best times of our lives.<\/p>\n

\"Bogeye<\/a>
Bogeye Race Byrock<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

So every October long weekend, for the next 13 years, a bunch of us would make the 9hr trip out to The Rock. The roster of the gang would shift around a bit from year to year, but there were about 5 hardcore participants who\u2019d make it every time \u2013 including myself, Mark and Dean. We\u2019d begin the countdown to each event, on the long trip home from the previous.<\/p>\n

Unfortunately, after about 10 years, the greenies and do-gooders of the world got a whiff that a few people in a remote community were actually having a bit of fun and enjoying natures gifts, so quite obviously, this had to be stopped! First off, they declared our camping spot, The Rockhole, an aboriginal sacred site and banned all camping by whitefellas. Though I am still yet to see an aborigine within 200 metres of this spot, we always held it in our hearts as the most sacred spot in the country, and treated it and the surrounding area, with all the respect due such a place!<\/p>\n

Then some propeller-headed knob, declared that Shingleback lizards mate for life and can no longer be caught and released. I dispute this claim and fancy that any bogeye\u2019s that manage to run into each other out in the gidgee scrub, will have a sneaky poke, though they may indeed keep this secret from their spouse. I think Dr Propeller-head is as na\u00efve about the sexual habits of reptiles, as he is about how to have fun in life. Regardless, he got his way, and probably his PhD and had the races shutdown for eternity. Wanker!<\/p>\n

We persisted for a few more years, throwing in a stopover at Nevertire pub on the way home, for a bit more variety, but eventually we went our own ways and the annual migration out west came to a disappointing end.<\/p>\n

Last year, however, Mark tried to revive the trip and took a handful of his copper mates, and a few bikies, with him on the pilgrimage and they all seemed to have a good time. I gave the prospect of going along very little consideration \u2013 now living in Darwin and all, but a few messages and calls to the boys as they headed west, churned my guts somewhere way down deep and I started to toss around the idea of a return the following year.<\/p>\n

I think it was around July this year that I made a call from the car park at Humpty Doo pub, I left a message on Mark\u2019s mobile \u2013 in a voice that started slow and reached a crescendo with the declaration that \u201cI\u2019ll be there with shit in me hair! Bring on Byrock Brother!\u201d<\/p>\n

I was most excited and counting down the weeks \u2013 Dean had promised Mark earlier that he\u2019d go if I went (feeling content that there was nil chance of this occurring!). So now he was tied in as well, with Pauly Biscoe uttering encouraging signs for another old boy\u2019s presence! It was shaping up pretty good from my perspective. Mark had a list of some 16 or so prospective pilgrims, including Scotty Lasker and a crew of his mates, a few cops and some in-law family members!<\/p>\n

I expected at least half to drop out, because this is simply what happens. However, much to my surprise, come the day, there were still 14 starters. Mark and his brother Craig, his mate Dave, the father-and-brother-in-law, along with a few other Navy mates, all left Cessnock. Scotty Lasker and three mates left Sydney and I was in Dean\u2019s car with him and Pauly, as we departed West Hoxton.<\/p>\n

Mark had to pick up his country detective mate Scott, from Dubbo and Lasker pulled in to Bathurst for his mate to re-acquaint himself with an old lady friend.<\/p>\n

We left late, around 9:30, and headed straight west, over the Blue Mountains.<\/p>\n

The plan was for all to meet up at Trangie pub, the big one on the corner, and then head to Nevertire for the night.<\/p>\n

Myself, Boney and Bis (Dean n Pauly), had a good catch-up chat, sang a few country songs and shared a few laughs but found we were getting a bit peckish as we approached Orange. We agreed to hit a pub for a counter lunch and a beer \u2013 I was fairly tounguing for a schooner by then! Unfortunately, we couldn\u2019t find a parking spot within 200 yards of a decent pub in Orange and thus found ourselves out the other side of town and still starving!<\/p>\n

Molong was next in line and I was beginning to get a bit edgy about the vicinity of a beer and feed should this place not measure up. Luckily, the pub on the corner seemed open for business \u2013 the Caf\u00e9 Pub or some such thing. We parked across the road and found our way in, via the rear entry somehow. It seemed like the place had only just re-opened after renovations. It was apparently being run by a bunch of ladies and, after observing the trouble with pouring a beer and taking our lunch order, I suggested McLeod\u2019s Daughters had finally left Drover\u2019s Run and taken up residence in Molong\u2019s Caf\u00e9 Hotel!<\/p>\n

Trouble and fumbling aside, the piping hot chicken schnitzel, chips and gravy along with a couple of cold schooners of Resch\u2019s , really hit the spot! Next stop Trangie.<\/p>\n

Mark had made some stupid suggestion that everyone should grow some kind of facial hair for the weekend. As we pulled up outside of Trangie pub, an old baldy looking bloke with a grey, Ivan Milat moustache wondered across to greet us \u2013 it was Mark! He stuck out his hand in the normal challenge of finger-strength and I think I got the better of him in the hand-crushing stakes on this occasion. We entered the pub to be confronted by a ring of faces I didn\u2019t recognise and they were all glaring at us. I didn\u2019t know if they were locals, travellers or mates of Mark \u2013 until he began with the introductions. Some had facial hair, some not \u2013 so the blokes I had actually met before, who were now wearing fancy beards, I didn\u2019t recognise either. After hearing a list of names as long as your arm, I could only recall one \u2013 Bruce. He was a long, lanky young buck from the navy. I had known the Bruvver Craig for years and noted he was looking well – clean, sober and clear of eye! The brother-in-law at times looked frighteningly like Mark\u2019s girlfriend, and his own sister, Heidi, it made me shudder, \u2018cause she\u2019s a pretty girl. The oldman I knew, as he\u2019d once driven us to Cessnock races. It took a while before I sorted the remaining blokes out, including Dave, the old neighbour, who I\u2019d met more than a few times over the years.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Trangie<\/a>
Trangie Pub<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Lasker and his boys were hours behind \u2013 and they\u2019d left the Lady-killer back in Bathurst, \u2018catching up\u2019 with the old flame, so he was destined to be real late.<\/p>\n

We had two beers, a round of catch-up and piss-take, and left for Nevertire.<\/p>\n

\"Nevertire<\/a>
Nevertire Pub<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

He was known as \u2018Skin\u2019, or so boasted his too-tight staff polo shirt. He was an unlikely looking fellow who loomed large behind the Nevertire bar.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are you boys headed then?\u201d<\/p>\n

Our trusty pal, Constable Care, currently sporting the serial killer whiskers, had organised tonight\u2019s accommodation months in advance, with the resident publican \u2013 who was now AWOL. He had booked three rooms which we were obviously relying upon to sleep in \u2013 however, this little detail came as a newsflash to Skin!<\/p>\n

Mark also advised the Skinned One that he was contracted to cook us a big breakfast in the morning, after our fine night\u2019s kipper in the aforementioned rooms! This also struck the big boy as a surprise but to his credit, he agreed and began organising everything in earnest.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Me<\/a>
Me – Nevertire Pub<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

We were in full swing when Lasker and his crew bowled through the door \u2013 all except The Pants-Man, who\u2019d been further delayed in Bathurst. We were all getting to know each other over beers \u2013 Scotty Lasker was Dean\u2019s brother-in-law \u2013 a fun-loving, cheeky little bastard, built like a skinned rabbit. I\u2019d known Scott for ages \u2013 once went to see him make his comeback as an amateur boxer. He\u2019s the coolest bloke I\u2019ve ever met but goes like the clappers when the bell rings \u2013 he won the bout with very little trouble.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d brought with him an old mate Shannon I\u2019d seen before but didn\u2019t at first recognise, and another couple of guys I\u2019d not met.<\/p>\n

Mark\u2019s bush detective mate, another Scotty, revealed himself to be a true character! He is an entertaining bloke, both funny and vocally talented \u2013 with a penchant for acting the fool. That being said, I suspect the same bloke could be pretty intimidating as a cop under different circumstances. There were a couple of \u201cTroy\u2019s\u201d in the mix and possibly a few others, whose names momentarily escape me.<\/p>\n

\"The<\/a>
The Boys in Nevertire Pub<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

It was a good night, drinking and chatting and laughing and stirring. The guitars made an appearance at one stage and most of us Mark-Knopfler wannabe\u2019s, were proven a little large on the confidence but short on the skill \u2013 and eventually all marvelled at the Bruvver Craig\u2019s genuine talent with the six-string.<\/p>\n

\"Nevertire<\/a>
Nevertire Pub<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

It was fairly late in the night when The Pants-Man finally joined the fray \u2013 apparently the price you pay for sowing wild oats round Bathurst way, is a hefty speeding fine and 6 points off your license! Though granted, the grin on his face hinted he\u2019d found it a fair deal.<\/p>\n

At one stage, there was a little bit of argie-bargie between Lasker and the Heidi-Clone \u2013 who, much to his credit, finally heeded his brother-in-law\u2019s advice and let the issue slip. He was the bigger lad but his pugilistic talents were unknown among the bystanders \u2013 while there were few present who had any doubts regarding Lasker\u2019s abilities<\/p>\n

We were booted out at around midnight, when the pub shut and Dean, Pauly and myself retired to our lovely rooms. The other blokes either crashed on the pub veranda or in hastily chosen swag-spots, scattered around the back yard.<\/p>\n

Surprisingly, everyone woke up feeling fine \u2013 except for Sugar Ray Rettig, the middleweight brother-in-law, who took several times, to heaving up his innards! The poor fella \u2013 this feeling was to last him most of the day. We\u2019d all been there before and he had everyone\u2019s sympathy, but not so\u2019s you\u2019d notice.<\/p>\n

A game of cricket, a shower, juice and a big feed of bacon and eggs, and we were all ready to head for Byrock. All except for poor old Sugar Ray \u2013 he just had the swaggy\u2019s breakfast \u2013 a scratch of the balls and a look around.<\/p>\n

I had long feared that with 14 blokes, largely unknown to each other, there would have to be a few wankers among them \u2013 but once again, I was gladly proven wrong \u2013 they were good blokes, each and every one of them.<\/p>\n

Coolabah pub, the next town before Byrock and the young barmaid looked familiar \u2013 she was in her early twenties and had recently taken over the hotel. She was pretty chirpy and claimed to have been a Byrock local years before, which would have made her a kid when we were there. I\u2019m sure I have her in an old video and will check that out one day \u2013 if ever I get around to reliving the grand old days of magic and hope!<\/p>\n

\"Coolabah<\/a>
Coolabah Pub<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

A few of us had a couple of schooners at Coolabah, while shooting the shit with said barmaid. Pauly, initially resistant to partake of the brewer\u2019s juice so early in the day, had a sudden epiphany and knocked down two schooners of \u2018Old\u2019 in quick succession. Dean \u2018The Boneman\u2019 Mitchell on the other hand, has never been a beer drinker \u2013 his poison comes in a clear bottle and is usually mixed with some kind of soft drink additive. Boney is somewhat of an enigma when it comes to bush trips \u2013 he has rarely found himself at one with nature, yet to his credit, he backs up time and time again, to join these journeys. I recall many years ago when a bunch of us went camping on a property at Carcoar \u2013 the rain belted down relentlessly all weekend. Some of us were equipped with Drizabone\u2019s and Akubra\u2019s, along with thick canvas swags \u2013 we stood around the fire in the rain drinking and dancing and generally whooping it up. Dean however, had erected a little nylon 3 man tent for himself and his wife, which quickly became waterlogged and flooded. He sat in his fancy car and slammed the door in disgust and only got worse when his missus joined in the rain dance! Strangely, he doesn\u2019t swear either \u2013 though I bet he wished he did that day \u2013 he was filthy on the world! At the end of the weekend, he packed up his gear and headed home.<\/p>\n

Amazingly, and much to his credit, he joined us again at the same spot about 4 months later \u2013 he went to erect the same tent, unrolled it and the top half blew away up the hill with the wind. It literally had disintegrated and disappeared \u2013 after being put away wet. Once again the tenacious little bastard stuck out the weekend \u2013 sleeping in the rear of my Landcruiser.<\/p>\n

He\u2019s a man who really does enjoy his comforts and luxuries yet still compromises these things for a wild weekend \u2013 except that, as long as I\u2019ve known him, he has avoided the \u2018Bush-Crapper\u2019! He will happily drive 20 minutes to town if he can avoid the lonely dunny-roll march into the scrub \u2013 and has done so on countless occasions. Keeping in mind that this in itself, is a mighty compromise to his preference, for he loathes to use the public porcelain at any time.<\/p>\n

So it is with amusement that I recall the following observation. On the way from Nevertire to Coolabah, we had to pass through Nyngan \u2013 so with Dean driving, he says \u2013 \u2018I\u2019ll tell what, well pull over in Nyngan and I\u2019ll shout you a big chocky-milk!\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Beauty\u2019<\/p>\n

He pulls over and kills the engine, directly across the road from the park, in the main street. I look over and see the public toilet block and it dawns on me what he\u2019s really up to. He bought the chocky milks and then declares \u201cI\u2019m gonna go for a crap\u201d<\/p>\n

And so he heads off for the park. Since it\u2019s the first time we had mobile phone coverage for some time, I sent my brother Al an SMS saying \u201cWe\u2019re just stopped in Nyngan \u2013 Boney\u2019s having a crap\u201d<\/p>\n

Al replied \u201cWot dickhead stopped for him?!\u2019 \u2013 Ahh, he\u2019s always been a mongrel, that brother of mine.<\/p>\n

So we\u2019re having beers in Coolabah, only an hour or so later, and Dean\u2019s in the dunny again. Like I said \u2013 he feels very uncomfortable and vulnerable in such circumstances \u2013 so I said to the boys out in the bar \u201cWatch this \u2013 I\u2019ll go and hammer on his door and he\u2019ll shit himself\u201d<\/p>\n

So I quietly walked in and bashed on the cubicle door with the back of my hand \u2013 and he did. Then I said \u201cYou just about ready to go Stinky? \u2013 they\u2019re all getting ready to leave!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah \u2013 I\u2019ll be there in a minute!\u201d<\/p>\n

I walked out sniggering to myself, as a few of the boys started heading for Byrock.<\/p>\n

Dean didn\u2019t take too long and we were back up to a hundred and cruising along sweetly \u2013 I was even nodding off. Then all of a sudden, with about 10ks to go before Byrock, the brakes slammed on and we swerved into the table drain, as Dean reached for the glove box.<\/p>\n

\u201cI need a bush-crap!\u201d he said as he dissolved into the mulga, dunny roll in hand, half hunched over, legs pumping and buttocks clamped!<\/p>\n

All I can say is that he must have been within seconds of dumping some unholy mess right there in the driver\u2019s chair, for such a man to act like he did on that occasion.<\/p>\n

He returned not only relieved but quite proud he\u2019d finally lost his bush-crapper virginity after all these years of abstinence!<\/p>\n

Pete, the new publican at the Mulga Creek Hotel, thought he recognised me \u2013 he may well have, \u2018cause I\u2019ve met a lot of people over the years \u2013 but I didn\u2019t recall him. We had a few beers then Dean suggested we should go set up our tents. As soon as we exited the car at our likely looking camping spot, the little bush-flies buzzed into action! There were thousands of the little bastards, buzzing round your face, up your nose and in your ears \u2013 enough to drive a man insane. The three of us, Pauly, Dean and myself, set up our tents \u2013 a courteous 50 metres apart \u2013 in case someone snored. Dean swallowed a fly and we blew up our air-mattresses (of which I have never been a fan) and threw in our pillows and blanket gear. We headed back to the pub, to get away from the damn flies!<\/p>\n

\"Byrock<\/a>
Byrock Camp – Pauly’s, Dean’s, Mine<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The Aussie Rules grand final was on \u2013 Port Adelaide and someone – and a few of the boys had a slight interest, though it was all over by quarter time and we moved outside \u2013 apparently with the intent of ganging up and taking the mickey out of my good self for an hour or so. Something about me being a Cranky Bastard, was the main theme, though it was water off a duck\u2019s back and I laughed as much as anyone. We drank all afternoon and had a few good feeds throughout the day, from the kitchen. At one stage Mark and Det Scotty were having the lasagne and I told them it wasn\u2019t beef \u2013 it was actually made with wild goat mustered from the surrounding stations. They looked at it, shrugged their shoulders and recommenced spooning it into their mouths \u2013 they reckoned it tasted every bit as good as beef anyway. In fact, Mark was intending to let the publican know how much he enjoyed the goat-lasagne \u2013 which would have been amusing, because I\u2019d just made that shit up \u2013 it was beef!<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"Mulga<\/a>
Mulga Creek Hotel Byrock – Lasker, Dean, Mark<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

They had some new cabins out in the bush at Byrock \u2013 kind of demountable things with beds and tellys etc \u2013 they were looking real good to us blokes who\u2019d just wrestled with our tents and the myriad of flies. Months before though, Mark had kicked up a huge stink about staying \u2018in-doors\u2019 on a camping trip and how only a certain minority section of the populous would even consider such a thing \u2013 and those blokes would have their big day dancing on a float, in some kind of parade down William Street in The Cross, in a few months time! Not that there\u2019s anything wrong with that \u2013 but I agreed with him and was genuinely keen on sitting round the fire under the billion stars and enjoying the wonders of nature. Until the flies.<\/p>\n

Anyway, Pauly declared he was gonna try for a cabin \u2013 and Dean and I backed him up and said we\u2019d join him if there was one available.<\/p>\n

So Pauly approached the barmaid Belinda, and said \u2013 just as all the noise died down \u2018Excuse me \u2013 are there any cabins available?\u2019<\/p>\n

I was standing behind him and Mark appeared next to me \u2013 as she replied that all the cabins were booked. Mark burst out laughing, as he felt this had been a personal assault on him, after he had organised the camping and all.<\/p>\n

Pauly spun round, a bit embarrassed by the whole scene, so I immediately turned on him \u201cWere you gonna get a cabin, you big poof?!\u201d<\/p>\n

I thought this pretty hilarious \u2013 absolutely a disgraceful abandonment of a friend under pressure, but hilarious just the same.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t think so \u2013 in fact, I don\u2019t think he has forgiven me to this day about that one.<\/p>\n

\/Publican Pete took the Saturday afternoon off and was busily trying to drum up business for the Karaoke night they were gonna run that evening. So that left two workers behind the bar \u2013 Belinda, the young chippie and about the only woman in town, and Leroy, a big hairy bloke with a generous sense of humour. The laws of natural attraction most often led one to order from Belinda \u2013 however, I worked something out pretty quickly \u2013 and that was the fact that she charged more for drinks than did Leroy!<\/p>\n

Or should I say Five Buck Leroy? \u2018Cause whatever you order from The Baddest Man in the Whole Damn Town, costs you five bucks.<\/p>\n

\u2018A can of JD and coke thanks Leroy\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018That\u2019ll be five bucks mate\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018A seven ounce glass of Bundy and Coke please mate\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Yep \u2013 five bucks\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018A can of Jimmy thanks mate\u2019<\/p>\n

\u2018Comin up. That\u2019s a fiver\u2019<\/p>\n

The young girlie would charge anything between 6 and 8 bucks, depending upon what you ordered. I stuck with my man Leroy.<\/p>\n

Mark started the Karaoke and pretty much took to being volunteer master of ceremonies for the night. There were scarcely three other people in the pub, besides our mob, and a few of the blokes sang a few songs with varying degrees of ability. I was keen for a go but hadn\u2019t quite reached the intoxicated peak I need to scale before I sing through amplification devices. I was close, and suggested we get a shot of sambucca each \u2013 Mark suggested we chuck in 20 bucks each and get 16 shots! One would have done it for me, four would have killed me at that stage. The show went on.<\/p>\n

\"Mark<\/a>
Mark – Byrock Karaoke<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

At about 10:30 I made a second suggestion regarding sambucca shots \u2013 but realised, when I could no longer actually pronounce sambucca, that it was probably not a good idea to commence drinking it.<\/p>\n

Soon after, the Boner-Mobile was heading back to the tents, so Biscoe and I bummed a ride.<\/p>\n

I usually sleep in a swag when out in the bush \u2013 but that was still up in Darwin \u2013 it\u2019s an almighty, big, thick mother, that I designed and Pauly made for me about 15 years ago \u2013 it\u2019s a beauty.<\/p>\n

Not so, these little 3 man dome tents, with blow-up mattresses.<\/p>\n

I unzipped him, bent down and fell through the door, rolling onto my back on the 8 inch think surf mat. Through lack of experience, I don\u2019t think I pumped it up enough, but my back, when I laid out flat, was off the ground \u2013 so I dragged all my sheets and blankets over the top of me. Now let me tell you \u2013 it\u2019s a real bitch to roll over on them things, and keep all your coverings in tact.<\/p>\n

Which is something I really needed to do because it was freezing that night \u2013 I think it was coming up through the ground and getting in through my back. Nothing I could do seemed to make it any warmer, so I just tried to ignore the discomfort and sleep.<\/p>\n

I can\u2019t be sure of the hour, but it was before 3, when a drunken and fired up Lasker did the rounds, with his mate in tow. They wanted some company round their fire and when they found no takers, he decided he\u2019d like to hop in someone\u2019s tent and spoon them. They found this request unequalled in hilarity and proceeded from tent to tent, insisting we could have a good time, if only we would get up out of bed. We, on the other hand, found these midnight jokers to be a pain in the freezing arse! After a lot of bellowed swearing, they eventually slinked back off into the night, to enjoy their fire.<\/p>\n

Now that I\u2019d been awoken, I realised I needed to take a wizz \u2013 lucky they woke me up! I got up on all fours and crawled out of the tent \u2013 straight into a pile of burrs sitting in the bulldust. I had my wiz and tumbled back into my lair. I had burrs in my hands and a few between my toes. I was rolling round on my back, sunken into this half inflated bag of wind, trying to reach my toes, to remove the offending burrs. I was like a flipped-up turtle, I had four seemingly uncoordinated limbs waving in the air and my neck stretching out to find some purchase from my pillow to provide an anchor. I was a hopeless case and in the end, tried rubbing my feet on the blanket, which removed most of the more painful beasties, but held them fast in the wool to harass me throughout the night.<\/p>\n

I believe it was at this point – tired, freezing, uncomfortable and burr infested, that I agreed with Dean, as he yelled the proposal about getting the hell out of Dodge the next day and staying in a pub room, with a comfy bed somewhere! Pauly confirmed it as a plan of substance when he boomed his approval from his silvery dome in the far bush.<\/p>\n

In the morning, I went to crawl out of my arctic burrow, respectful of the burrs and, due to the air displacement within my mattress, my knees were hitting the ground, yet my feet were flipped and supported as I began my exit. Unfortunately, my right calf muscle is not a fan of this pointed-toe position and swiftly knotted-up into a wicked cramp, forcing me to dive back inside and try to crank my foot back up to a normal standing position and thus stretch the rebellious muscle out of its painful spasm.<\/p>\n

I went for a shower and passed the mob of Mark\u2019s mates \u2013 they warned me that the showers were like ice and they wouldn\u2019t advise diving under one. I took this on board and waved to them as I continued toward the ablutions.<\/p>\n

I dumped my wastage and then entered a shower cubicle. I\u2019m a Byrock veteran with many years experience, so the first thing I did, was turn on the hot tap, before I put my gear down and began to disrobe. See \u2013 the hot water system is 300 yards away, at the pub \u2013 the water is hot as Hades, but not the stuff that\u2019s been in the freezing pipes all night!<\/p>\n

It was the first time I\u2019d been warm for hours and when I was done, I felt like a new man. I headed back to enjoy a superb breakfast, complements of the Father-in-law and his expertise on the camp stove with the bacon, eggs and savoury mince!<\/p>\n

I walked back to our tents and was chatting with the Boneman \u2013 we were discussing the prospect of leaving today or waiting till tomorrow with the rest of the boys, when Pauly woke up. He got out of his tent and Dean called over with the same question \u2013 \u2018Hey Pauly \u2013 are you still keen to leave today?\u2019<\/p>\n

He turned around, looked at us with that expression you see on huge Cape Buffalo in Africa just before they charge, and, blowing flies off his face, proceeded to pull down his tent!<\/p>\n

Right. That was it then. Us three were gonna head to Blayney and stay in the pub that night. We were all content with that thought \u2013 but there was an ominous task lying just ahead, that no one was keen to approach.<\/p>\n

Letting the other blokes know that we were leaving.<\/p>\n

We packed the car and headed to the \u2018Breakfast Camp\u2019 where the boys had been milling about, playing with guitars and cricket bats. We told those present of our intentions and they seemed a little disappointed but understood. Next, Scotty Lasker showed up and we let him know we were off \u2013 he wasn\u2019t happy but didn\u2019t say much. I felt like a dog.<\/p>\n

Mark, Det Scotty and another bloke had disappeared into the scrub like Ludwig Leichhardt, gone looking for the old Rockhole and bush cemetery. They\u2019d been gone for over an hour \u2013 so we drove around looking for them, to no avail. We came back to camp and waited \u2013 there\u2019s no way we could leave without saying farewell. It was getting later and the time we wasted sitting around, was beginning to eat into the time we could spend at the other end, watching the Footy grand final. We took one more drive around and came upon the boys, on the dirt road to Cobar.<\/p>\n

Our declaration was met at first with disbelief from Mark, then bitter disappointment. We tried to explain the reasons, but he\u2019d have none of it and just offered a farewell hand. No one tried for the power play this time \u2013 and this may have subconsciously added to the emotion of the moment \u2013 I felt like I\u2019d killed his puppy. We all said see ya and hopped back into the car. No one spoke for a few minutes, but then we began to cheer up a bit and discuss the previous days. Having been on the grog for a few days, with great company and not having a lot of sleep, seemed to bring on \u201cThe Sillies\u201d. And so us three deserters began to find extreme humour in everything. There were several occasions we had tears in our eyes and were cackling like little school girls, such was the fun we were having.<\/p>\n

We finally rolled into the car park of the big old Blayney pub in time to see the second half of Parramatta vs The Bears in reserve grade, before the big Manly-Storm game. We were downing beers at a rate of knots, after the late hour of Beer O\u2019clock this day and we had some take away tucker from the milk bar across the road. The pub is run by an old bloke and his missus \u2013 pushing their late 70\u2019s, I would imagine, and working far too hard for their age.<\/p>\n

\"Pauly<\/a>
Pauly & Dean watching the 2007 NRL Grand Final at Blayney pub<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The beds and room furniture pre-date the publicans, from what I\u2019ve learnt on the Antiques Road Show, by decades. The bed was low to the ground, extremely soft and excessively springy \u2013 but my word, when I finally laid down to crash that night, it was the most comfortable place in the world.<\/p>\n

Just before I nodded off, I got an SMS from Boney in the room across the hall \u2013 he\u2019d sent a picture of him laying in bed, with the silliest of all grins on his face and it simply said \u2013 \u2018I love bed sleepin\u2026\u2026.\u2019<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Byrock 2007 –\u00a0A Boys Weekend Away Byrock NSW, on the Mitchell highway, between Nyngan and Bourke will always hold a special place in my heart. Twenty years ago, back when I was 20, the brother Al and I stumbled upon the little town quite by accident, on a hunting trip. It was actually a nightmare … Continue reading Byrock 2007 – A Boys Weekend Away<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-130","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p5K3B8-26","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/130","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=130"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/130\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":157,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/130\/revisions\/157"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=130"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=130"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.onthewallaby.net\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=130"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}