Our dear friend and club member Wally passed away about a week ago, after having been ill for some time. He was approaching 90.  Wally was the most influential person in street orienteering when we started, and for many years subsequently. It was inconceivable that one day he wouldn’t be around, but his health meant we hadn’t seen him at events for a couple of years. Nonetheless, we will miss him hugely.  His funeral was this morning, back in Melbourne (standing room only).  Those of us up in NSW also took the opportunity to get together and remember him.  Wally always loved his orienteering, but he did take a casual approach to it, as the enjoyment always meant far more to him than the competition. My course today was executed in that same spirit.

Crash boom bang – that’s the sound of my ego coming back to earth with a thud. Today was a public race, on a map about 45 minutes south.  We were promised spurs, gullies and rocks, and “some fallen timber which may impede progress in places”.

We could see said fallen timber all over the place whilst gathered at the arena in the glorious spring sunshine, but we decided it couldn’t be as prolific out in the forest. Could it?  Well yes it could. And was.

The first two controls were fine, down a gentle slope, look for a big pile of rocks, and find a termite mound nearby; then into the same big pile of rocks.  Leg 3 was longer but looked simple – down to a watercourse junction, then up to a small rocky spur.  I climbed up – and up – cursing the amount of stuff on the ground which by now was definitely impeding progress.  About two thirds of the way up I started to get nervous, as I hadn’t seen any rocky spur and I felt like I’d climbed a long way.  So I went off to my right, to investigate some rocks which could well have been “my” rocks. Only they weren’t.

Grumbling, I turned back, not sure what to do and fast losing interest in the whole thing.  I got back onto my previous line and continued my original uphill trudge.  Voila! My rocky spur was there after all.  No 4 was a short downhill away, then on to no 5.  This one confused me (and others) – we were too high and in the wrong rocks.  By now I was pretty tired of watching every foot placement, but there was no other option and no relief.

I found 6-8 without too much bother, but becoming increasingly slow at picking my way along.  I was starting to wonder about my borrowed compass (having left mine at home, oops) as I seemed always to be off to the right of the correct line.  No 9 was a longish leg, down a bit, then up a way, onto another rocky plateau.  I meandered along with no particular plan of attack, just hoping the control would somehow leap up and wave at me.  I noticed several people popping out of the other side of a rocky knoll, and figured that’s where I needed to be.  Not exactly putting technical navigation skills to use, but hey, I got there.

I unfolded the map, expecting to see one or two short legs into the finish.  To my dismay, the next leg was the longest yet. Sigh … Down a bit, up a bit, down a bit more, aim for a saddle, and the control should be … just there, next to that small boulder. Hooray!  The final control was on a small termite mound, and I managed to miss it and overshoot. It was one of those days …

Finally, the relief of jogging into the finish chute, about 45 minutes slower than I should have been.  It really was a proper Wally Wander.  Afterwards, a big group sat in the sun and swapped Wally stories.  It was worth it just to be able to do that.

PS owner of the compass admitted that it wasn’t 100 percent reliable …