Behind Mt. Baldy

by Christopher Cummings

  BEHIND MT. BALDY

  C. R. Cummings

  DOCTORZED PUBLISHING

  www.doctorzed.com

  BEHIND MT. BALDY

  © Copyright C. R. Cummings 2001

  DoctorZed Publishing

  www.doctorzed.com

  3rd (revised) edition

  1st ebook edition

  eISBN: 978-0-9870620-7-9

  National Library of Australia CiP entry:

  Cummings, C. R.

  Behind Mt. Baldy: a novel about army cadets in North Queensland.

  2nd (revised) edition 2001

  For teenagers

  ISBN 1 74008 140 4.

  1. Military cadets - Queensland – Fiction. 2 Hiking – Queensland – Fiction. 3. Teenage boys – Queensland – Fiction. 1. Title.

  A823.3

  This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealings for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission.

  BOOKS BY C. R. CUMMINGS

  In chronological sequence - April 2011

  THE GREEN IDOL OF KANAKA CREEK

  ROSS RIVER FEVER

  TRAIN TO KURANDA

  THE MUDSKIPPER CUP

  DAVEY JONES’S LOCKER

  BELOW BARTLE FRERE

  AIRSHIP OVER ATHERTON

  THE CADET CORPORAL

  STANNARY HILLS

  COASTS OF CAPE YORK

  KYLIE AND THE KELLY GANG

  * BEHIND MT BALDY

  THE CADET SERGEANT MAJOR

  COOKTOWN CHRISTMAS

  THE SECRET IN THE CLOUDS

  THE WORD OF GOD

  THE CADET UNDER-OFFICER

  THE SMILEY PEOPLE

  MAP 1: LAMB RANGE & MT. BALDY

  INDEX

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 1

  KEEP OUT OF TROUBLE

  Cadet Corporal Roger Dunning, 15 and feeling quite apprehensive, took his pack from the boot of the car and looked anxiously around. He and three of his friends stood on the lawn at the southern end of the massive concrete Tinaroo Dam in North Queensland. They were about to start what promised to be a gruelling 100km hike. ‘I hope I am up to this,’ he thought.

  His OC, Captain Conkey, stood nearby. “Now you kids keep out of trouble,” he said, looking at each of the four army cadets in turn.

  “Yes sir, we will,” Cadet Sergeant Major Graham Kirk assured him.

  Captain Conkey stroked his chin thoughtfully. If there was trouble to be found then this lot would find it. In the three years he had known them they had been involved in half a dozen hair-raising adventures.

  But they were good kids.

  He wouldn’t have agreed to their going off on this hike unsupervised, and in uniform, if he didn’t trust them. Nor would Graham have risen to be the Company Sergeant Major unless he was very reliable as well as very capable.

  Cadet Sergeant Peter Bronksy smiled. “We can’t get into trouble just walking along roads and tracks sir,” he pointed out. “It’s not as though we are heading off into the wilderness.”

  “You might be,” Captain Conkey replied with a grin while pointing vaguely at the jungle-clad mountains to the north of the lake.

  Roger, chubbiest, and youngest of the four, cast a worried glance in that direction. That was the Lamb Range. From previous experience he knew it was very rough. He turned to Captain Conkey. “Where are we going sir?”

  “I told you. You won’t know till you get there. It’s about a hundred kilometres and you should cover it in five days. All you have to do is find the clues I have put out and go where they tell you,” Captain Conkey replied.

  Peter looked at the map in his hand. “Why not tell us now, for safety sake?” he asked with a neutral face.

  Captain Conkey laughed. “Nice try Sergeant Bronksy, but that wouldn’t test your map reading. You’d probably just take a short cut and sit around,” he replied. He had planned the route so that they could easily go the wrong way unless they were careful with their navigation. That wouldn’t put them in any danger. It would just mean they would walk a lot further.

  Sergeant Stephen Bell took off his glasses and polished them with his handkerchief. “What’ll we do if we get lost sir?” he asked.

  “You backtrack till you find yourself and then go on.”

  Roger frowned. “What if we can’t find one of the clues sir?” he asked.

  “Just search more carefully. You’ll find them,” Captain Conkey assured him.

  “But what if someone else finds it first and takes it?” Roger persisted.

  Captain Conkey shook his head. “That’s unlikely. I’ve hidden them where no casual tourist would look for them,” he assured him. “But if you really do get stuck then give me a call. You’ve got my phone number?”

  “Yes sir,” Graham and Peter chorused.

  The thought of further inconveniencing Captain Conkey bothered Roger. Captain Conkey was a teacher at their school and he had already given up the first week of the June holidays to run a ‘senior’ cadet field exercise. “Will you have to come far if we call sir?” Roger asked.

  Captain Conkey shook his head. “No, not too far. My family is staying with my parents in Mareeba this week.” Checking his watch he said to them, “Anyway, it is ten o’clock, so you’d better get going. You’ve got a nice day for it anyway.”

  Roger looked up. It was a beautiful day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was winter on the Atherton Tablelands but the day was warm enough for them not to need jackets or pullovers.

  Graham picked up his basic webbing and swung it on. “Packs on,” he said.

  Roger picked up his webbing and took a deep breath. This was his last chance to change his mind but in his heart he knew he couldn’t back out. ‘If I do my friends will look down on me; and I will despise myself,’ he thought. So he swung the webbing on and fastened the belt buckle. Then he picked up his pack and was dismayed at its weight. ‘This is really going to test me!’ he thought.

  The four boys were all members of an army cadet unit from Cairns. They were about to start a five day expedition, to complete the tests for their gold badge for the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award Scheme.

  Graham, Peter and Stephen had all been in the cadets for three years. Roger had only served two years. By the accident of his birthday being in February he was a year behind at school and in the cadets. Stephen was only two months older. All four were 15 and had been mates for years. They had been on many other camps and expeditions as a group and did almost everything together.

  All four had just completed a 7 day ‘Senior Exercise’ during which Graham, Peter and Stephen had qualified for the prestigious Adventure Training Award. Roger, being only a ‘Se
cond Year’, had not been eligible. But he had done part of the exercise during which he had walked about 80 km. That had taken up the first week of the holidays and Graham and Peter had both insisted that it would be excellent preparation for the second week. Roger had reluctantly conceded this, but as they had only had two rest days between the two events he was still feeling sore and worn out.

  The boys adjusted their packs and basic webbing and, after a last “see ya Sir” to Captain Conkey, they set off. They walked down onto the bitumen road which led down to the Barron River below the dam. The boys walked in single file on the right hand side, to face the oncoming traffic. Captain Conkey had briefed them most particularly on this as he thought cars would be the main danger they would meet.

  By the time the boys crossed the narrow bridge over the concrete irrigation channel all were perspiring freely and they had had to step off the narrow road to allow five cars to pass safely. The boys had to wait at the bridge across the Barron for two more cars. They then walked across as quickly as they could.

  As they crossed the bridge Graham looked down into the clear water gurgling over rocks. “Looks nice. Makes me feel like a swim.”

  Stephen shook his head. “Be bloody cold,” he replied.

  “Suppose so.”

  A swarm of kids appeared along a track on their right and began clambering into a tour bus. The younger children gaped at the heavily laden cadets in their camouflage uniforms.

  “Bloody busy,” Stephen said.

  Peter laughed. “It is the school holidays,” he reminded.

  The road now wound steeply uphill through bush. The effort of walking up it told within minutes. Their speed slowed, faces reddened, breath came in deep gasps, sweat beaded their faces. Despite his best efforts Roger began to fall behind.

  Stephen looked back. “Come on Roger, keep up,” he called, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. When the expedition had been proposed he had not wanted Roger to come. “He’ll slow us down. He’ll break down. He’s just a fat little slob,” he had said angrily to Peter and Graham.

  Hearing that had really hurt Roger’s feelings but it had also made him determined to try. He had appealed to be allowed to join the hike and Graham had supported him.

  While Peter had also voiced some doubts he had supported Roger. “He’s a lot fitter than he used to be,” he’d said. “And he managed to get through the Senior Exercise without breaking down.”

  Now, on the first big hill, Roger began to wonder if Stephen might have been right. Looking up he saw with dismay that the road wound on steeply for hundreds of metres. Already his pack felt as though it was filled with lead. With five days food and cold weather clothes and a sleeping bag in it the pack was bulky and heavy. The weight dragged at his shoulder muscles and he worried that he had miscalculated again.

  But Roger wasn’t ready to give up yet. Gritting his teeth and forcing his muscles to greater effort he tried to catch up. He saw Peter glancing back and wondered if he was regretting having agreed to let him come. ‘I’ll show Steve!’ Roger thought, pushing himself even harder.

  But the effort was too much. Roger felt his heart rate going up and he began to gulp in deep breaths. Then his stomach heaved and a wave of nausea welled up. Unable to keep walking he stopped and leaned on a tree, gasping for breath.

  Peter stopped and was about to speak when Roger suddenly vomited. The sound made Graham and Stephen stop and look back. Roger’s stomach heaved again. He leaned forward to avoid soiling his clothes. A stream of yellow liquid gushed out onto the leaves and grass.

  Stephen shook his head and disgust showed on his face. “Bloody hell! We haven’t even got up the first hill,” he snorted.

  The scornful look just added to Roger’s misery. But he was so queasy he was unable to make a reply. Then he spewed again. He felt awful. His eyes went out of focus. He clung to the rough trunk of an ironbark to steady himself. His body trembled and he wasn’t sure if he was shivering or sweating. Several cars went past. A person yelled something. Roger didn’t hear what it was but the tone was derisory. Embarrassed he clung to the tree and spat into the long grass.

  Roger was hotly aware of Stephen’s ‘I told you so’ face and felt sorry he had let Graham down. He was aware Graham was now beside him. Then his stomach heaved again. Nothing much came out, mostly mucous. He wiped his mouth and felt miserable.

  Stephen jeered. “Not many carrots in that Roger,” he called.

  Roger looked at the mess on the leaves and his stomach churned again. This time nothing came up.

  Peter gave a wry smile “That was that bottle of passionfruit softdrink you gutsed back at the kiosk,” he observed.

  “A few greasy chips too,” Stephen laughed.

  Roger dry-retched again and glared at Stephen.

  “Shut up you blokes,” Graham ordered. “Here Roger, give me your pack.” He unclipped the heavy pack and swung it clear. “Let’s get to the top and have a blow.”

  Graham took Roger’s elbow and started him walking up the road, holding the pack in his right hand.

  A hundred paces further on they came to a flat area at the north end of the dam wall. Half a dozen cars were parked there and there seemed to be lots of tourists.

  Graham looked around then said, “You right for a bit more Roger?”

  Roger nodded. He felt more upset than sick. “Yeah, I’ll be OK. Give me back my pack.”

  “In a minute. Let’s just get away from all these tourists.”

  The bitumen ended. A dusty gravel road led off northwards between a mountainside covered with dry savannah woodland and the lake. The boys trudged on along it.

  “This do?” Peter asked, indicating some large rocks beside the lake.

  Graham shook his head. “No. We will go a bit further. Where we can get down to the water easily,” he replied. He grasped Roger’s pack against his chest and plodded on. The road was only a few metres above the level of the lake and not ten metres from it so the boys could see out across the water through a thin screen of trees. At Graham’s insistence the group walked on for a couple of hundred paces.

  “Here’s a good spot,” Peter said, pointing down to the right. Roger saw that a rough foot track led down to a small sandy beach. Graham agreed. The boys turned off and walked down onto the edge of the beach. Here they dropped their packs and unbuckled their webbing.

  “Wash your face and rinse your mouth out Roger,” Graham said. He dropped his webbing and stretched. “Aaah! That’s a relief,” he said. “This stuff weighs a ton.”

  Peter agreed. Stretching to ease his muscles he took out his map and studied it. “It’s a bit of a worry. We’ve only been walking for thirty minutes. We have only walked a kilometre and a half, if that,” he said.

  “And we have to cover about twenty kilometres a day,” Stephen reminded.

  It was a sobering thought. They sat down while Roger splashed his face. They were all experienced hikers and were carrying the bare essentials.

  “It’s the five days food,” Peter pointed out.

  Roger sat beside them wiping his face.

  “Feeling better?” Graham asked.

  Roger nodded. “Yes thanks. I’ll be OK. I just ate too much junk food at the kiosk,” he replied.

  “You always eat too much,” Stephen commented pointedly.

  Roger did not reply. He knew it; and he wished he didn’t. Regretting his weakness he looked out over the lake. “This is really pretty,” he observed.

  It was. The four sat enjoying the view. A gentle, cool breeze made tiny waves ripple on the lake, transforming the deep blue with tiny sparkles. Small waves lapped on the sand. ‘It feels nice in the sun,’ Roger thought.

  Graham looked at his watch. “We’d better get on,” he said. “It’s getting on towards eleven.”

  “We could have lunch here,” Peter suggested.

  Graham shook his head. “No. We just had morning tea. Let’s go on for another hour. That will give Roger’s stomach time to se
ttle. Have a big drink Roger,” he answered, standing up and swinging on his webbing.

  “What a bloody slave driver you are Graham. I’ll bet your ancestors used to whip black people in the sugar cane fields,” Stephen grumbled. “Every hike’s the same - packs on! March! Keep moving!”

  The others laughed as they stood up because it was true. Graham was the driving force, which probably explained why he outranked his friends - all of whom got better marks in class.

  Roger rinsed his mouth again and took a big drink from one of his four water bottles. Already he felt a lot better. He looked out over the lake and went to take another drink. Then he paused, the bottle near his open mouth. His eyes narrowed.

  “What’s that in the water?” he asked.

  Graham was about to swing on his pack. “What? Where?”

  Roger pointed to a long dark object about twenty metres out.

  “Crocodile?” Stephen laughingly suggested as he adjusted his webbing to sit more comfortably on his hips.

  Graham sniffed. “Don’t be silly Stephen. There are no crocs on the Tablelands,” he said, shielding his eyes to look.

  “It looks like...,” Peter began.

  “A body,” Roger finished, very softly.

  “Oh it is not! Now who’s being silly?” Stephen snorted.

  “It does Steve. It’s not a log anyway,” Peter agreed quietly.

  Roger stared at the thing and felt a cold hand grip his chest and then his stomach. ‘It does look like a dead body,’ he thought. It was hard to tell as the thing was so far out but he thought he was looking at a man’s back and head.

  The others were silent now, staring, each hoping it was not true. They all, at different times, had seen a dead person. None of them wanted to see another.