Ferndale
17-18th Feb 2007

Written by Greg Stewart

It was supposed to be a combined trip, but that fell through. It was supposed to be advertised widely within the club, but that didn’t happen. It was supposed to be another family weekend, but only one family showed up. Flash was supposed to be the leader, but he arrived late Saturday afternoon. By all accounts it should have been a complete failure, but it wasn’t.

No, success isn’t always measured in quantity, but the quality is important and this was a case in point. Every time I head off to Barrington Tops I know I’m in for a great trip and this was no exception. Sure the odds were stacked against it, but the place itself makes it a dead cert for another positive one deposited in the memory bank.

This time, we were headed for a part of Barrington my previous jaunts in the area had missed. Over on the south eastern corner, north of Dungog is the very pleasant and relaxing campground of Ferndale. Now it may not rate 5 stars in the NRMA guide, in fact it wouldn’t even get a mention, but it’s clean and nice and what’s more right on the doorstep of some great four wheel driving. No, you’re not camped in the forest, in fact Ferndale is a cattle property located below the Chichester Dam on the Chichester River, but the forest pretty much surrounds it.

So it was with some relief that I caught up with the Thorps, as their Disco towed their camper trailer along the F2. We chatted on the UHF, stopped for a break at East Maitland, before continuing onto Dungog. The area was green as always and the dams had water in them, but the rivers and streams were showing signs that even this traditionally lush area couldn’t hide the overall effects of the drought.

We arrived around lunchtime and stopped in at the ‘office’, speaking to the owner, trying to give him money, but he insisted that we find our campsite first and worry about money later. We checked out the area where two other 4wd clubs (Triple Diamond and Port Hunter) were camped, before settling on a large paddock all to ourselves. Being mid February setting up camp in the middle of the day meant that we were soon seeking the cooling shade of an adjacent tree, beside the picturesque flowing stream.

This truly idyllic setting was hard to drag ourselves away from, but there was them there mountains to explore!!

We headed off following in the wheel tracks of the Port Hunter 4wd Club, who had left about an hour before ourselves. Despite following their tracks for the whole afternoon, we didn’t see them and they somehow managed to arrive back in camp half and hour after us – go figure!

Michael kept on asking me where we were going all afternoon – like I’m supposed to know these things! Studying the map, the GPS and looking intently at the ground for wheel tracks, we managed to negotiate our way in a loop that took about three hours to do and covered less than 20kms. But those three hours were pure Barrington just the way I like it.

Being on the southern slopes of Barrington Tops, meant that we were in the thick of rainforest. Now if my memory serves me right that can only mean one thing – mud! And if my reputation is to remain intact, this trip will have to travel through the middle of it. Tick both those boxes!

Yep, Jil and I were in our element, but for the fact that we are in the midst of that El Nino thingy, we’d be breaking out that winch cable at a regular rate. But sadly, this time we were treated to more traction and less action, so progress was good, as we wound our way forever upwards, when we weren’t going downwards, that is….

Flash had built up my expectations (I didn’t sleep for a week dreaming of it – honest!) about a big bog hole that had swallowed Nissans (not a bad thing really!) and it may just be the cause of some angst. Angst, no – adrenalin, yes! Whilst we’d encountered many bogs and were to go through many more, this one was a ripper. You know the type – charge in and hope for the best. So with both Maxi Drives engaged and a roar Jil made it to the other side, but not quite out. Those sooky BFG All Terrains weren’t up to the task and I was wishing I’d bolted up the Simexs after all. Still, there’s nothing like a few revs and a bit of the old back and forth to solve that one and she duly popped out on to terra firma.

For some strange reason Michael was looking a little concerned. Still, we went through the options, before preparing the Disco for the worst by hooking up a bridle and snatch strap, as well as screwing in the Timing Case drain plug. Cameras ready – action! Well he did make it half way through, but with the help of Jil was soon out of the smelly stuff. Swapping drain plugs was a little uncomfortable, not so much for the dripping mud, but the vicinity of a local of the Red Belly Back variety. Still, anything to help a mate.

By the time we got back to camp our intrepid leader had made an appearance and we settled in to the usual yarns, political rants and raves about the day’s activities. Not that we had a fire, what with fire bans and that dreaded green house stuff an all….

Flash was chomping on the bit come the next morning and insisted that I reduce my beauty sleep in order to head off into the green yonder once more. But not before the ‘Capt’n’ and I did the meet-n-greet rounds with the other clubs. So with that duly dispensed with, off we trotted behind our Flash, leaving the dew to dry off the canvas in the morning sun.

One thing I’ve learnt over the years is that you can trust Flash implicitly when he states that “we’ll just poke ‘round in here for a couple of hours” and was rather surprised when we arrive back at camp at 5pm, having not got stuck once. What was on one map wasn’t on the other and the GPS said something else again, so it went on. And on and on, until we gave up and headed back. But Max, I’m suggesting there’s possibilities up in them there hills!

After we’d packed up and poked our bull bars out onto the tarred roads once more towards the city grind, we started hatching plans for the next great “Flash’s 4x4x Family Fun By Ferndale”, so keep an eye out for that one.