Some how I forgot that today is dad’s birthday. 102 if he was still going. Sue reminded me with a family post as she is at the Warranbungles, on her way to spend a few days relaxing in the hot pools at Moree. Worth stopping at if you are ever going past that way. Even the caravan park has three pools each at different temperatures. The spring water is very healthy and attracts Europeans from all over Australia.
Sue mentions dad loving it at the bungles, and suddenly the memories come flooding into me. Dad and I walked there one year. We walked up past the bread knife and walked along the top for three days.
On a different trip with scouts we climbed Belougery Spire. Well, I lead and then helped the others up with a top rope. I think. Can’t be too sure with all of those memories these days.
I was thinking today I should take Cyan up there, and also scale Bluff Mountain with him. There is a great account of the first ascent of Bluff mountain by Dot Butler in the Barefoot Bushwalker. Eric Dark and her stopped by the pub at Coonabarabran and the locals said, how will we know you made it to the top. The answer was that they would light a fire. They made it, lit the fire, it got out of control and the whole top of the bluff burned. Dot had barefeet. So the two were stranded until the rocks cooled down again. Obviously, Dot tells it much better in her book. I met her once on the top of Mount Tate on skis with Derek Lucas. Thirty years later I teach her grandson outdoor guiding at Tafe.
I don’t know if dad knew that story. He new Eric though. Dr Dark was the family doctor for a period. He lead the Katoomba Suicide Squad. An unofficial rock climbing club early last century.
I will have to check, but he probably delivered both my sisters. Dr Dark that is.
I took dad to Dr Darks family cave for an overnight walk. He told me, that he and our family had been invited by Eric to use it. I never understood why we didn’t. Dad wasn’t one to impose on others. I now imagine he didn’t want to impose.
Sitting by the campfire with dad is such a wonderful and fond memory. Tears come as I write, remembering some of those times.
I am reminded how important those times are, and to make sure there are plenty of memories like those with my son. So for the next few years I am freeing up more weekends and holidays so we can do more trips together.
Father son time. I am grateful for every moment I spent with my wonderful father. Dad, you are missed.
The photograph was taken and printed while I was at art school in 1985. I used the Bronica EC that he soon gave me as my twenty first birthday present. I photographed him in his workshop under the house. Here he works on his lathe. Machining was one of his passions as was collecting and repairing cameras.
Murray Metcalf. Photograph and text copyright © Len Metcalf 2019