Day 11: Tuesday January 2 1934
Rose 7am. Breakfast:- Rice & peaches, tea and bread. Left at 9am. We crossed the Poulter at the same ford as yesterday and with a N.W. wind at our back, overhead a blue cloudy sky, traveled fast down the left bank. Soon we struck the rolling down country on the left bank and sighted the Mt. White Road. We decided to make the Mt. White Sheep Station. Therefore following a sheep track upon which were hoof prints not two hours old, we soon hit the road. Turning East, we hit the Mt. White station at 1 o’clock. Here we met on of the government deer-stalkers who received us very hospitably and went up to the house to obtain from Mrs. Thomson, wife of the owner of all the Minchin Country, a big pile of hiking biscuits, a new white loaf, butter etc. while he gave us from his own store more biscuits, honey and tea. We put on the billy and sat and yarned with him and another farm-hand until 3pm. I must record here our appreciation of Mr. James Ritchie, the deer-stalker for the kind attention he paid us. He was under no obligation, not being a member of Mt. White Station staff and although in a hurry to get away (he intended to ride that day to Nigger Hill, 28 miles away) he nevertheless delayed himself to feed us.
After allowing the meal to settle, we packed and Reg and Hui went up to the house to thank Mrs Thomson , to come back laden with 14lb spuds, 12lb flour and nine eggs. Before we left we got the farm chap to snap the seven of us.
Away down the road we went and it was wary traveling along that 9 miles of road to Hopscotch Hut. It is known as Hotshop, Hopscotch hut on the door we found, Little Grey Home in the West. Welcome. This hut nestles in a dip in the road, by the side of a stream. Reached there 6pm.
Tea at 9pm: Mashed potatoes, Bully Beef, Tea, Dampers.
In the afternoon, mist back up the Poulter Valley indicated rain in the Minchin vicinity and a light rain had actually fallen as we tramped round the hills, casting a most brilliant and clear-cut rainbow above the Poulter Gorge bridge. Mention of this gorge brings to mind the scene of a rough but extremely serviceable wooden bridge, bridging the gap between cliffs 50 ft high above a rushing stream, which widens past the bridge to a shingly beach and wider gorge and a group of four crazy hikers dropping stones into the depths (and they are depths). Here the Poulter may be likened to converging and rushing through a bottle-neck. What a great sight it must be in flood!
In the vicinity of Hotshop, the sun still glowed gold in the west, finally going down behind the hills across the Waimak to the right of Cass, leaving a fine but cool night. After teas we put on the billy for cocoa and when we had a cup each, we went to bed 11pm
Mileage: 21