Overworked in Kings Canyon

I used my willpower to put one foot in front of the other. The track back to that camp seemed to take an eternity.

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Race Against Giles-Time

Ten minutes later, Dad dragged himself over the last ridge and limped to the summit. There, he sat on a rock and rubbed his knee. ‘O-o-oh!’ He inspected the damage, red and swollen. ‘I tripped and fell on my knee. I hope I can get down alright.’
‘You better,’ C1 laughed. ‘You can’t exactly camp up here.’

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The T-Team With Mr. B (34)

‘Hey, Rick, look!’ I pointed. ‘The Gosse Range, it’s just like the painting Grandma’s got in her lounge room.’
From the front of the Rover Mr B asked, ‘Did you say, David that you met the famous Albert Namatjira when you lived up in Hermannsburg?’
‘Oh, of course. My father-in-law was a great supporter of Albert’s art.’
‘How did the Gosse Range come about?’ I asked my audience from the back of the Rover.

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The T-Team With Mr B (26)

In the car-park, tall eucalypt trees spread their blue-green canopy over the clearing and a growing population of four-wheel drive vehicles, cars, buses and tourists. ‘Wow! It’s only 9am and look at all the people!’ I exclaimed.
‘I thought you said this was the best gorge of the lot.’ Mr. B grimaced. ‘What’s all these crowds doing here?’

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