"Halls Gap School girls tr ..." a The Grampians Travel Page by Kate-Me

Year 10 (age 15) Camp of:
Loreto College (all girls Catholic School in the city of Ballarat)
to: the Grampians National Park, Victoria, 1 1/4 hours from Ballarat

(All of the story is exactly original as written by me the night after the camp (with a few notes I've added in). All of it is true, depicting quite typical growing up teenage years for us Catholic girls at an all girls school.

THE DEPARTURE

We year 10's are waiting with our luggage outside Loreto's side gate. Two buses arrive to collect us; a curtained one with an orange stripe, and the other is a green Marks bus, but a bit tacky (old and not so good)
Everybody races to bag (get) the best bus - including myself, of course.
I dump my stuff on the seat across from my group of friends, who are Geneveive, Bridget, Regina and Helen. I get the rest of my stuff shoved into the luggage compartment and I'm all organised

While the others are fighting to fit bags stuffed to capacity into the luggage racks overhead (some are carrying hairspray, make up and hairdryers for this bush style camp, even though we're only going away for 2 days!)
I look out the window--and get a big shock. Can you guess what it is? No? The answer is that two GUYS are about to board our bus. ( You see Loreto girls rarely see guys at close range! Almost never to speak to: they're the aliens!)

Shock horror! They appear to be in their early 20's, but that doesn't stop Loreto girls. Uh-uh. One of them is chubby (a bit fat!) but I wouldn't say he was built like a towering inferno or a doughnut or anything. He's wearing a trendy black jacket, jeans, black boots. His hair is black too. So is the other guy's. The second one looks interesting….maybe.
No 2 is fairly skinny.
I wonder who they are? Some kind of V.I.P.'s no doubt. I guess we will find out later.
They both board our bus, and end up sitting across from me, but one seat up.
I risk a few sneaky glances at them, but I'm pretty careful they don't see me. I don't want them to think I'm as equally desperate as 98% of the others, even though they don't know what the others are like yet -- that won't take them long!

On the journey to Halls Gap the bus driver plays a Crowded House tape. That is, until Mogan (the bogan) walks up the front. In goes her tape. Next blares her music, which later is requested to be turned up even louder. It's all 60's music--squeaky high pathetic stuff that very few 'normal' people would 'touch with a 40 foot long pole' (as we say - it's a common phrase)
Our English teacher is here, Mrs Winfield. She's one of the best we've had, in my opinion, but I'm the only one who thinks that; all of her other students complain she makes them work too hard and whinge about her teaching methods constantly because she spends ages teaching us new, interesting words and makes us go through the dictionary. Our classroom blackboard looks like a work of modern art once she's finished with it-- there are words written all over it, arrows connecting one thought to another and scribbling in between. She's one teacher I can honestly say actually knows what she's on about. She has an IQ level higher than most teachers too. Travelling the world did that for her, I believe. She's taught in India and went on some Archaeological digs in the Middle East, which I think would be a great experience (providing you dug up some treasure!)
Back to where I was, Mrs Winfield really liked Mogan's music. What IS this? A 60's revival?
Someone down the back has a tambourine--they are bashing it and it sounds like a Hare Krishna jingle.
Now Mogan is 'playing' a harmonica, three notes only, played over and over. Do I join 'em with my harmonica (I can at least play Kum-by-a or however you write it and Scotland the Brave). No, I don't wanna be a show off. I'll reserve my playing for the dead of night tonight instead.
Oh no! Now they're starting to sing TV ad jingles. It just gets worse! See why I don't sit down the back seat?????
This noise is irritating my brain. How can I amuse myself……?
I end up writing harmonica music for Amy Grant's beautiful (and easy!) song called El Shaddai. It took a while--and looks like a geriatric wrote the lot because it's so shaky.
I spend some time admiring the scenery and am glad when a traffic light holds us up in the small town of Ararat (gateway to the Grampians, 1 hr from Ballarat) so I can draw some proper harmonica music triangles for a change.

We sight the distant pale misty mountains of the Grampians at last.
I think the major problem here is that the road is very indirect. It zig-zaggs and therefore takes us ages longer than it should to reach our destination, which is Halls Gap
(a small tourist town right in the heart of the Grampians, nestled down below between the mountains themselves)

Not far to go. Bridget is beside me eating cool mints. I am complaining because I havent' seen a single blasted damn Kangaroo! Or Emu!
The road winds like one of the lolly snakes Geneveive is chewing. I'm discovering that heaps of sickly sweet coconut ice is not really the thing to eat on bus trips! Ohhhhhh. (I don't feel so good now!)

THE ARRIVAL
We finally reach our destination, Norval Camp - usually reserved for Childrens camps and Religious retreats (in a nice Australian bush setting with lots of Eucalypt trees and open space for playing and holding activities)

Our bus is the first of the 2 to grind to a halt, but our Religious Education teacher, Mr Randell, is quick to halt our plans to alight first.
We meet the old caretaker who comes to welcome us to Norval (gee, and he doesn't have many teeth left!!)

Then it's time to drag everything out of the racks. We receive a brief lecture on where to go and how to behave. Everybody heads off in search of their alotted room (the cabins are very basic huts with thick log exterior walls, in a group together, with primitive bathroom)
I end up in a room with Jo W, Jo H, Gen, Kate, Sue, Sonia and Kim.
Our cabins are simply furnished; everything solid is bolted down, except the blankets and the pillows, which are gross, lumpy things.

MORNING SESSIONS:
For morning tea we troop into the main wooden hall, which has bare boards down one end, carpet and long trestle wooden tables down the other.
Finally, the moment we have all been waiting for. An introduction to the two guys.
They are called Mick and Paul and have come up from Melbourne to help us out, we are told.
I am more than a little suspicious:
How and why dump two good looking guys in an all-girls retreat where the girls will undoubtedly be following them around constantly and making a nuicance of themselves?
Hmmmm.

Game time. The retreat students split into 3 groups. My friends and I are in with Mick, Paul and about 15 others. We all have to shove together while a string wall is fixed around us at about chest height. The object of the game is for everyone to get out of the triangular enclosure without touching the string fence at all. Each team is in its enclosure and it's a competition to see who gets every member of their team out first.
We're not allowed to go under it, naturally (drat it all!)
After some initial confusion, Mick and Paul come up with the brilliant plan to throw us all over one by one, which they proceed to carry out. Some of us don't want to be picked up (or touched by guys!) and think of backing out, but they don't stand a chance. These guys are determined to try and help the team win.
Luckily I make it over the fence without being dropped, but every time somebody doesn't make it, we have to start all over again, which is tedious.
We decide to rever to Plan B: We use Mick's back as a 'toadstool' stepping stone to get over the fence, and place a chair on the other side to land on.
We all tramp over Mick's lemon coloured windcheater. Now he has our autographed footprints all over his back!
Finally, one girl is left to climb the fence, but she is the heaviest of us all. She won't step on Mick (and rightly so!) and keeps shrieking out "I'll break his back", I'll break his back!"
Cajoling does no good. Finally it takes both guys to boost her over.
Mick is complaining of a numb back. Poor guy. Oh yeah, we lost the game too.
We ended up last.

HIKING UP MT MACKIE (Mackie's Peak walk)
After lunch we go on a small hiking walk up to Mount Mackie (there are at least 50 walks to do, from our 1 hour to the overnight hikes).
I put on my horse riding boots as they have some grip, but with thin socks--my first big mistake.
On the way, people mob into groups, the biggest group being the one with Mick in it, of course.
I get myself introduced to him (one must normally wait for an introduction to be polite in Australia!) and discover why he is at camp. The answer doesn't surprise me and clears up the mystery.
Mick and Paul are second year Brothers training to be priests (7 years total training, I think, so they've a long way to go.
(Note: Perhaps this camp was about avoiding the temptation of girls or something! haha)

By the time I get to the base of the climb, I feel as though 3 layers of skin have been rubbed off my ankle. Stupid me, clod….I curse and whinge to myself (Note: In those days I HATED walking unless it was the only way to get to see the thing you wanted to see: and I WANTED to see Mackie's Peak. These days I walk for the joy of walking, but prefer something nice to look at along the way and a nice destination)

At least I have Mick for company to talk to for most of the climb to the top. It's really warm. Who was the dumb teacher who told us all to wear coats in case it rained?!
There's hardly a cloud to be seen.

The view from the top is great. I admire it--at a safe distance from the edge of the rocky mountain cliff.
It is a long way straight down!
Somebody wants to handglide down to the bottom. It would be quicker and save the walk back…providing you survived! Since we are not in the possession of any such handglider, we walk.
I limp. Bridget limps too.
Mick is behind me somewhere but I can't wait for him because

1. I'd be waiting a while (note: I've always been a fast walker)
2. It would be too obvious that I'm waiting for him and I don't want him to think I'm desperate like the others when I am quite different and only want to chat.

I limp to the few small shops with everybody else, then back to camp.

(Note: the shops have increased and are now much more well worth seeing! Very attractive in fact, ice cream parlours, bakery, souvenir shop, crystal shop and more, all in one little area by a nice park where semi tame birds watch as you eat at the cafe...hoping for a crumb themselves, sometimes!)

The track has grown longer, I am sure. Okay, who stretched the road?

Earlier on in the day, about 20 girls had a sudden urge to play Australian Rules Football on a makeshift oval, even though they've never played it before in their lives.
Why?
Reason is that they discovered that a boys camp has arrived at some buildings next door, 50 metres away from us. We are separated by a little wire fence which would not stop a Koala!!!!
So, here on one side of the oval we have boys. Most laughing at the girls on the other side of the oval (the desperadoes, giggling and making idiots of themselves).
The two footies (footballs) are flying back and forth. Girls are moving closer to the middle of the field. Then they're mingling and joining in the kick to kick game with each other.
Pretty blonde (and dumb!) Kendrea does some quick work: she's introducing some guy to the teachers as 'her new boyfriend'. (Good one Ken! When's the wedding!!)
The boys are from Mentone, a Melbourne city suburb. This is no doubt one of their only chances to get away from the city, get away from it all.
Big deal if they're guys! I'm not going to get myself muddy. And there IS plenty of mud. The ground gets churned up in no time.
Even Winnie (Mrs Winfield) is playing. Now there are 40 players. The once green field is reduced to slush. Skidding players everywhere. The boys are winning the match with ease. It's just like 'keepings off' to them.
No, I will not join in the cheer squad, Mrs Winfield (Note: what a spoilsport I was! Now I'm into so many things!)
I retreat to the top of the bank overlooking the field.
The match is forced to end because it is now activity time for us.
Reluctant and bedraggled girls tramp back to the cabins to change. Two arrive at the activity session wearing pajamas while their wet clothes hang draped over the pot-bellied wood stove.

We split into two groups this time, depending on what we want to discuss.
It's a choice of either "Family and Relationships" or "The Future" and I choose the latter, since the former would only end up as yet another one of those 'lets sling off at our parents' discussions with me not saying a word because my parents come from the Dark Ages compared to what theirs (they say!) are like, and what they're able to get up to as teenagers (a bit mind boggling for me!)

We do thought activities on the following:
"You find you have only 28 days left to live. What do you do in those 28 days?"
( a bit depressing for me. Here I was, thinking we'd be doing stuff like how to cope with life as an adult, but instead it's how to cope with becoming a coprse!

During the day, we've made up nicknames for the teachers, which only last for the duration of the camp.
Winnie = MrsWinfield
Marty = Miss Martinus, Science Teacher
Peter = Mr Foord, Religious Teacher and resident musician
Fergie = Mrs Ferguson, Geography Teacher
Smell = Mr Randell (shhhhh he doesn't know about this name yet--it's a surprise!!)

Teachers being teachers, once we get on the bus and head for home, they will revert back into being intolerant law enforcers and the old, respectful names will have to be used once more.

Tea (dinner) doesn't end up being baked beans as feared. Just 'cause I couldn't smell any food doesn't mean it wasn't there. It's actually roast chicken with measly (only a few) vegies.

After tea we have discussion sessions back in our respective cabins with a teacher to lead. Mr Foord sends around little scraps of paper on which are written hypothetical situations which must be solved, ranging from how to stop your parents from throwing out your scruffy (messy) boyrfriend, to some private and personal issues (ie sex!) that is WAY out of my depth.
We get a lot of weird answers from students on how to handle these problems, but very few of them are ones which I would ever attempt to use!
After supper, Mr Foord announces that he's holding a Meditation session, optional extra.
I keep Geneveive company but my other friends nick off (go away) or back out (say they don't want to and go elsewhere).

I end up feeling very glad I stayed. The music was beautiful, like a tinkling waterfall, soothing, gentle and relaxing. We had complete darkness in the room, broken only by the faint light of a candle.
The effect is quite good. We have to imagine a variety of things which Mr Foord tells us. This is my very first meditation experience and it is not heavy or hard, but relaxing. 20 minutes passes like no time at all.

THE NIGHT WATCH!
Word is going around the camp that the teachers are very worried - and it's all to do with those guys across the road. The teachers have been in conference with the other school, but I don't know what they think they are going to do. Lock us all up and toss out (throw away) the key? No, but there's going to be an all night teacher shift.

Our printed Camp Schedule says "Lights out 11.30 pm"
Snigger, snigger, snigger.
Try 1.30 am, 3 am or even 4 am.
Mr Randell is the night watchman, complete with torch. He bangs on the doors, hoping to break up giggles and lowd guffaws (laughs).
There are parties in progress on the floor of each of the 9 log cabins.
We have chips, soft drink, the lot.
In one cabin, girls have somehow got hold of some incence and are holding a Séance, which gives me the creeps because I've heard and read some weird stories about what can happen to people who meddle in things like that that they don't understand and know nothing about)
Of course, even Catholic girls smoke. Luckily those ones are not in my cabin or I'd face asphyxiation (total air loss!). Others from the 'toughies' group are playing leap frog (until 4 am!) over blanketed bodies not catered for by beds
(Right from the start, bunks had to be bagged (gotten) quickly too).

By 1.15 am Mr Randell was very agro (aggressively angry). Our cabin decided to give ourselves up peacefully and admit defeat and go to sleep, but some of the other cabins proved to be more persistent.
The teachers must have heaved a huge sigh of relief when that night was over. The girls who had planned to sneak out during the night had had their plans well and truly thwarted (ended) by the teacher patrol. The only bad incident was a broken window, caused by somebody's foot going through it.
There were even a few kangaroos grazing on the oval early that morning. I saw them only because we had to be up by 7 am. I don't know how we all managed it really, after such a late night.

THE BEGINNING OF THE END
The Closing Ceremony of the Retreat took all morning to organise, with music, posters, readings and so forth to be set up. Everyone had a part to play.
Included was a paraliturgy (religious, talks, presentations, poetry, etc) which I found very moving and it made me determined to do something drastic (no, not throw myself off Mackie's Peak!)

DON'T FORGET - ANOTHER AUSSIE BBQ!
We had a great Aussie BBQ lunch before we left, with hamburgers, sausages, etc.
Dessert was a crumbly slice with biscuit base with flydirt specs of nutmeg (or worse! Real fly dirt!) on top. Very undignified to eat in fingers, and we're supposed to be 'young ladies'!
"Be 'Young Ladies' is what we're always told, at home, at school, wherever. But it's not always easy!
The cordial I had was, of course, green (note: green has been since birth my absolute favorite colour and always will be. A bit of irish in me there and I had a great aunt with the same syndrome, always wore a green hat! Even at over age 80!)
Green, lime, dark beautiful green (I'm writing this late at night, but no, I am not drunk, indeed I'm not allowed by my parents to even taste alcohol till I am 18 years old, so why think about it even?)

HOME TIME, LOAD THE BUS AGAIN
As usual, the bus was rowdy (noisy) all the way home.
I still think that Rick Astley music is better than 60's stuff any day. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em (Note: famous Australian motto and my motto of the day) so out came my harmonica and I attempted to annoy a few people. Trouble was, I couldn't drown them out, no matter how hard I tried! It's hard to drown out 40 people or more with one small harmonica!
I did end up saying goodbye to Mick. He was so popular during the camp that I didn't get the chance to have any good discussions with either of the Brothers, but that's how it goes.

Now back to normal all school.
Life at an all girl's school can be uneventful, boring and just plain dull, but we escaped that for two short and fun days!
THE END


Thanks for reading. I hope you got some laughs as well as me (I just re discovered this story a couple of years ago.