Biography-McLean-2025

Climbing Mountain my

John McLean

Foreword Introduction

This book celebrates the life of John McLean, a life of dedication, professionalism, adventure and devotion to family. In developing the enclosed narrative, one can’t help but wonder how so much work, travel and recreation could fit into one life!

John lives with Alzheimer’s Disease, and the memory difficulties that presents. Fortunately, the family over time has been able to ‘interview’ John over an extended period and compile a comprehensive, but abridged biography that has largely been told by John in his own words.

Assistance with some recollections have been required, and told as faithfully as possible, but some dates and circumstances may not be precise where memory has failed.

John and his family guide the reader through a long life, well-lived, and highlight important moments and events that have shaped it along the way. It features memories of loved ones, friends and colleagues, events and challenges that presented themselves and how they were embraced or overcome.

John has contributed significantly in his career for the good of the community, including overtaking lanes on rural roads, traffic management, research into road use and general road safety.

Always one to tackle challenges head on, we hope the reader draws inspiration from the life, achievements and adventures of John McLean.

Acknowledgements

Many people have contributed to telling John’s story. This book has largely been compiled by family members assisting John in his life’s recollections and recording interviews and family memories. John’s wife, Robyn Weir has been instrumental in the gathering of information, photographs and memorabilia contained in this book.

John’s children have also played a key role, not only with their heartfelt tributes but in their assistance to Robyn. A big thank you to Felicity McLean for encouraging John to tell his story and to Yolande McLean for her telling the story of John’s Outback misadventure.

John’s work colleagues also banded together to prepare a tribute and recollections of their many years working alongside him.

A Brief McLean

Family History

John’s Mother’s Parents

John's maternal grandparents were Maggie and Peter Treasure. Both grew up in the country, Maggie in the Mallee and Peter in a timber mill town in Gippsland called Nayook.

Peter and one of his brothers found work in Melbourne and enrolled in night classes to qualify for a new emerging trade of electrician. Peter won a significant contract to prepare part of the Exhibition building in Carlton for electricity as his career progressed.

Peter and Maggie settled in East Malvern. They had four daughters: Joyce, Beryl, Nancy and Marge.

“For the first four years of my life, we were in a small, rented flat within easy walking distance of my maternal grandparents and we had Sunday lunch with them most weekends and regular contact for the first few years after moving to Ringwood”.

Joyce, Beryl and Nancy married and had childrenJoyce: Craig, Bronwyn, and Lynette. Beryl: John and Jane. Nancy: Ross and Andrea. Maggie became depressed after the children left home and committed suicide. Peter remarried and retired to a house at Seaspray, a seaside town he had always taken the family to for holidays.

Peter and Maggie at Brunel Street

John’s roots in Australia date back to the 1860s

4 John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

A Brief McLean Family History

John McLean, John's grandfather

John’s father’s Parents

John and Alice McLean (nee Buchanan) were transported to Australia because of the land clearances on the Isle of Coll in the Scottish Hebrides. The land clearances arose from a mix of changing attitudes from the lairds who controlled the farmland who were changing possible uses for the land. This became known as the Scottish Highlands and Islands land clearances.

The McLeans were first sent to Tasmania where employment had been arranged to enable payment of their part of the passage fare. After paying off the fares, the family returned to Victoria and purchased farmland at Branxholme in the Southwest of the State in the period 1866 to 1870, followed by a larger farm near Kilmore north of Melbourne. The three eldest sons, Donald, Hugh and John were sent to the new farm to build a new farmhouse and to prepare the farm for its first crop.

“John was my grandfather, but I never knew him. He married Alice Buchanan. and had four daughters and a son - my father Bert McLean”.

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

A Brief McLean

Family History

Early Years

John’s first childhood home was in East Malvern, only a block from where his mother grew up.

“My father enlisted for the second world war but was recalled after only a few days. Before the war my father worked for a firm called McPhersons that imported machinery into Australia. The Australian government asked my father to find machinery for the weapons that were needed for fighting the war, particularly after the Japanese came in”.

“I went to kinder when we were living in East Malvern”.

“I was still at kindergarten when we moved to Ringwood. The primary school was only about a 20 min walk from where we lived. I was about 8 years of age when my parents decided to acquire the block next door and got a home built on it”.

John’s Parents

“After WW2, my father and a friend from his youth, Doug Jackson purchased a small business manufacturing gift ware. I think early on Dad struggled a bit with family life, possibly due to a lack of role models."

His mother died from the Spanish influenza epidemic while he was in early primary school and his father struggled with looking after four primary school age kids while also struggling to establish a farm.

Bert Mclean John's Dad

John at one month with Mum

John at six months

Bert and Beryl

6 John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

A Brief McLean

Family History

"However, by mid primary school my father Bert had become good at creating stories which he would narrate to Jane and I before bedtime (no television). I also think he was disappointed at his lack of sporting prowess. He became supportive in my latter high school years when I was achieving some scholastic success, and I was also performing well as a middle-distance schoolboy runner. At about this time we started to go for occasional evening walks and discuss what to me seemed like very adult topics.

Our relationship fell apart when I separated from Gwyn (my first wife). I received a phone call from him about three years later when he asked if I wanted to see the St Kilda match next weekend. We arranged to meet under the scoreboard at the Moorabbin ground. We talked briefly at the next family Christmas gathering and three weeks later he died, aged 60, in a car accident returning from the annual holiday at Tathra.

My Mother, Beryl did office work until the time I was born. It was not considered proper for women who had young children to work. She was good at it and later did the bookwork for my father’s business.

She had grown up in East Malvern, a comfortable middle-class suburb built in the 1920’s. She finished school with a year at a business college which gave her (and her sisters) the skills to gain employment as typists/secretaries in the corporate world where she met my father. They found a newly constructed house in Henry Street, Ringwood on the corner of two streets both of which were unmade and unsurfaced. My mother had grown up in a comfortable house on a made street with town gas and electricity. Now she was confronted with a muddy road, no gas but a wood burning stove, and for the first week or so, no electricity and for the first few years, no telephone. I was 3 1/2 and my sister was a baby.

Wives did not drive or have access to cars at this time. Still, she enrolled me at a kindergarten, met other mothers and shared in the informal walking groups to the kindergarten, What was my mother like? I would have to say, resilient.

My parents both really enjoyed playing tennis and were actively involved in the Scotch Presbyterian Tennis Club. Later in life they both enjoyed bowls."

John on his trike

1948 John aged four at Malvern

A Brief McLean

Family History

John is the eldest of two with his adopted sister, Jane.

“I got on very well with Jane in our school days. Most of the building blocks in the vicinity were not yet built on and there were only about 8 kids in the immediate neighbourhood, and we all got along well”. There were a lot more kids by secondary school, so cliques formed. Jane was in with a clique I could not abide but it did not matter as I had my paper round mates and a vibrant Boy Scouts group.

Jane has lived in Nimbin for a long time and when we see each other we get along well”.

Jane and John Christmas 2023

8 John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

A Brief

McLean Family History

Favourite Childhood Memories

"In the school holidays (I think to give my Mum a rest) my dad would sometimes take me to where he worked. It was a very small factory in Box Hill where he had a manufacturing business, but he also had contractors who had the machines in their backyards. I’d go with him as he visited these workers and a woman at one of the places had a dog which I played with, throwing it sticks and things. The lady said would your son like to have the dog, and I said yes, and that was how we got Rusty the cocker spaniel.

My earliest memory of a Christmas holiday was at a boarding house in Rosebud. I would have been preschool age. During my primary school years and the first year of high school we rented a very basic holiday flat at Blairgowrie on the Mornington Peninsula for two weeks. In 1956 Melbourne hosted the Olympic Games, and the Victorian Government upgraded the Princes Highway beyond Bairnsdale. VW Kombi vans were first imported in 1957, and the business purchased a VW early on as the delivery vehicle. Christmas 1958 we gave up on the Blairgowrie holiday and with the Kombi and a smallish tent travelled the Gippsland and southern NSW coasts up to Sydney and stayed in beach campgrounds. My parents slept in the back of the Kombi, my sister slept on the front seat, and I slept in the tent.

We also had holidays with a Sydney family on the NSW south coast. And we went to Tathra for the next 4 years. I learnt to surf at Tathra and really loved the surfing and the tent camping".

50s John and Jane at Blairgowrie

50s John and Rusty

Schooldays

"On the opening day of the school year in 1950, my mother dutifully took me up the street to the primary school. Preps were to be housed in the local Methodist Church Hall about 1/2 km beyond the Primary School due to the sheer number of enrollments. It wasn’t until I was in Grade IV that enough classrooms were built on the Ringwood Primary site.

I walked to school for years 1 to 4 and then cycled for years 5 and 6 so I could go after school to do an evening paper round. I cycled to Ringwood High School for the first couple of years then walked to school in third year when I gave up the paper round so that I could go on weekend Scout Camps”.

John, back row, third from right

10 John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Schooldays

John’s polio story

“In 4th grade my mother noticed that I stood with my right knee bent. On checking my right leg was longer than my left. There was concern that I may have had a mild dose of polio in the epidemic about 3 years earlier. After seeing a specialist at the children’s hospital, I had to wear boots with modified soles to compensate for the difference and was not allowed to run, play sport, or ride my bike. I was allowed to walk and spent many hours exploring the remaining bush blocks and creeks in Ringwood and nearby suburbs. In my final year at primary school, I was given the OK to start riding my bike again. Within a week I took on a paper round which covered the hillier northern part of Ringwood. This toughened me up in terms of both physical fitness and coping with cold rain and winds in the winter".

So, by the end of primary school and early high school, John was a bit of a loner, physically active, and enjoyed working to achieve goals. On the downside, John had not experienced the social bonding that goes with being a participant in a team sport like football.

“After the years of not playing sport my skills at ball handling, hand-eye coordination and running were abysmal.

1956 was my last year of primary school and the year that Melbourne hosted the Olympic Games. School play was very much about trying to replicate Olympic events, mainly athletics. Not being allowed to run, my role was mainly playing the role of an official! One lunch time a street run of about 3 km was organized to represent the marathon. I decided to ignore the fact that I was not allowed to run and entered in it. It was won by my friend Ross, and I came last. It was another two years before I was allowed to run and play sport again”.

John McLean: Climbing

Schooldays

High School Memories

John's first couple of years at High School continued much the same as at primary school but without the paper round and with Scouts. Much longer hikes and bike rides were taken with the Scouts over weekends.

In the last term of second form I watched a sixth former John Allsop, who lived one street away, and who was a bit of a hero to me, win the mile event at the school athletics day. He had won the half mile and the mile at school, and I looked up to him. He went to university and that was something that I also aspired to. He had two younger sisters who were more my age. His sisters and I used to walk to school together.

My best mates from school were Normie Hager and Stumpy Williams, who lived the other side of Whitehorse Road. Ian McGoldrick was also at my high school.

John, second back row, far left

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Schooldays

There were some memorable teachers

In Primary School I had Mr Stewart. For Year 5 and Year 6 and at Ringwood High School Sue Sneddon was our English teacher in Form 5 – I remember both fondly. But it was Reg Puddephatt, the Chemistry teacher for Forms 5 and 6 who was by far my most outstanding teacher.

Reference from: Reg Puddephatt

Our school had the secondbest matric year Chemistry results in the Statebettered by only one of the elite private schools. He was our form master and took us for both chemistry and science. He was a relatively young teacher, and he treated us as young adults rather than as school children. He finished up being headmaster of Ringwood Secondary College.

At one stage I ran into Reg at Melbourne Uni and he told me that the education department had taken him away from teaching for a year to reset the chemistry curriculum!

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Schooldays

Boy Scouts

John got involved with the cubs when he was in Grade 5.

“The cubs and scouts were very important to me at that time because I wasn’t allowed to play sport. I joined scouts during Grade 6.

I gave up my paper round so that I could go on Scout camps and hikes. It had made me quite fit, which served me well in Scouts. I first did a day hike with a loaded backpack to simulate the load I would have to carry on a weekend hike - small tent, sleeping bag food and water. I found that I could keep up with kids two years older than me.

The final stage of qualifying for the Scout First Class badge was to undertake a weekend hike accompanied by a younger Scout navigating with a topographic map and prismatic compass. I was invited to be the younger scout on several of these previously, because I was good at the trigonometry which was required to do the navigation. I was also fascinated by maps.

The trains ran to Warburton and to Healesville so there were good weekend hikes you could do."

It was the Boy Scout hiking that first gave John confidence about his strength and fitness. Early in sixth form he bumped into someone he knew in Scouts but had lost touch with when he left school early. He had joined the YHA bushwalking group. He talked about the YHA Easter Hike he was going on to Lake Tali Karng.

"On the first day we traversed The Crinoline and camped beside the road. On Saturday we walked the Wellington River track into Tali Karng. This entailed a multitude of river crossings, a sustained climb up to a ridge overlooking the lake and a steep descent to a camping area beside the lake. I was invited to share a cooking fire with a small group of tertiary students. They told me about bushwalking clubs associated with Melbourne and Monash Universities with the Melbourne University Mountaineering Club (MUMC) probably the most active. This set the seed for me to enrol at Melbourne University."

John in his SCout uniform at 32 Henry Street, Ringwod

Schooldays

Athletics

John’s love of running and athletics came despite the physical limitations which polio had imposed. It was in Year 8 that he mentioned to a couple of class friends that he might have a go at the mile event when he was in a higher form. This produced raucous laughter, and he subsequently kept this aspiration close to his chest.

Despite the doubters, John started going on training runs several times a week after doing his homework. It was in his fourth year that John won both the house mile and the school athletics mile running against boys two years his senior.

“The scout hikes and the night runs must have done something for me. I came back to earth at the Eastern Districts High Schools athletics meet where I finished well back in the field. In my last two years of high school, I won both the school mile and the District mile and finished third in the State High Schools mile. I was invited to join the Box Hill Athletics Club after my Form 5 performance and ran several inter club competition miles and half miles over the summer”.

John pursued a passion for training and improvement culminating in spending a week at the legendary Percy Cerutty’s training camp at Portsea during his last September school holidays.

“The main benefit was probably that I did more training than I would have on my own at home".

There were schools’ meets John was eligible for in his final term of High School, including the Mountain Division High Schools, the Victorian State High Schools, and the Victorian All Schools. He came 2nd in the 800m and won the mile in the Mountain Division meet, came second in the mile at the State High Schools meet and third in the mile at the All-Schools Meet, results he was very happy with and a memorable closure to his school athletics career.

After school John the joined Box Hill Athletics Club, and ran a season with them, but never felt that he was absorbed into the club, so this membership was short lived. His love of running was to re-emerge at University. His school athletics did lead to his first job at the end of high school, with the Forestry service. The fact that he had been the third best middle-distance schoolboy runner helped him get the job, as to survey forests one had to be very fit.

Taking the lead at the bell! Mountain Division, high schools mile - 1961

Cerutty's training camp at Portsea

The legendary Percy Cerutty

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

University Days

John’s father wanted him to do a commerce degree, but John, following six months in Applied Sciences, enrolled in Mechanical Engineering at Melbourne University – a fouryear degree. He worked part time in a factory and then as a laboratory assistant to pay his keep, as he had moved into a student share house with members of the Melbourne University Mountaineering Club (MUMC).

John finished high school in 1962 and did an applied science degree in 1963. John graduated with honours from Mechanical Engineering (1964-1967) and completed a Ph.D. (1968 – 1971).

PhD

The mechanical engineering department undertook projects that were funded by the Australian Road Research Board. John had done well in his undergraduate degree and an academic put in a good word for him. He did his PhD under Professor Joubert, which took four years to complete.

John was awarded a PhD in 1972 for his: Application of power spectral density analysis to study driver steering control.

John, right, in the lab at Uni

John, at his PHD graduation

John with pearents, Beryl and Burt at graduation

John at University

16 John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

University Days

The Freshers Mile

At the end of the 1956 Melbourne Olympics the MCG cinders track was used to make two athletics tracks, one at Mentone and the other at Melbourne University. The Melbourne University Athletics Club ran an athletics meeting for freshers during Orientation Week.

The Freshers Mile was the highlight event in recognition of the three international class milers who had attended Melbourne University (John Landy who was the second athlete to break four minutes for the mile and represented Australia in the 1500m at the Melbourne Olympics in 1956, Merv Lincoln, Olympian and silver medallist at the 1958 Commonwealth Games, and Herb Elliot who won the 1500m at the 1960 Rome Olympics).

John registered for the 1963 Freshers Mile, a race he really wanted to win.

“My tactics were to stay with the lead bunch through the early stages of the race then try to lift the pace and run away from them late in the third lap or early in the final lap. This was made irrelevant by a runner who raced away from the start to set up a 30metre or more or gap on the rest of the field. Midway through the third lap I decided I would need to chase him down or he might maintain sufficient lead to win the race. I surged and caught him whereupon he stepped off the track. I was then stuck out the front of the race away from the pack and had used up the energy I would need for a sprint finish, which would expose my lack of training and preparation. I managed to hang on but felt worse than I had at the finish of any other mile race."

That was John’s last mile race as his recreational interests shifted to hiking, and later rock climbing.

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

The beginnings of serious Recreology

Melbourne University Mountaineering Club

MUMC covered three outdoor activities: bushwalking, rock climbing, and caving. John focused on bushwalking in his first year and a bit, but as these walks became less than challenging, John was looking for more and it was suggested he might fit better with the rock-climbing group.

His interest peaked when he saw a couple of guys on a climb on Mt Rosea in the Grampians. He did several other hikes that year finishing with a post exams hike at Wilsons Promontory described on the bushwalking maps as impenetrable.

John credits his high school years middle distance running training as a major factor in his discovery and enjoyment of the Mountaineering Club activities and its continuation into later years, contributing to areas in work and in life, highlighting a willingness to meet challenges head on.

“Whilst I was with MUMC I signed up for a five-day Easter Walk on the Bogong High Plains and places unknown. Along the way on the Great Alpine Road, we stopped for the night. By watching others, I learnt the art of making a bivvy comprising a waterproof sheet on the ground to minimise ground water moving up, a sleeping bag next covered by a partly unfurled tent to keep the dew off. Early Good Friday morning we put on our packs and started walking up the Bungalow Spur Track and set up camp when we reached the hut site. Unfortunately, the total hike was truncated due to blizzard conditions across the high plains.

We did do a day hike up Mt Bogong, Victoria’s highest peak, the next day though”.

1966 John on MUMC climbing course

18 John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

The beginnings of serious Recreology

“The Queen’s Birthday weekend was a standing camp in the Grampians for both MUMC bushwalkers and rock climbers. We’d camp separately. At the pub we joined up with a group drinking beer and singing raucous songs. I drank lots of beer and joined in the songs with the MUMC rock climbing club crew and it was then I decided to start rock climbing! Seemed like a lot of fun.

I went on the MUMC Rock climbing course later in the year. The main part of the course was a weekend at Mt Sugarloaf in the Mt Cathedral Range an hour and a bit drive to the east of Melbourne on the recommendation of Doug Hatt, a serious rock climber I had met. Doug looked after me that weekend and showed me toe holds and instep holds for my feet and various hold techniques for my hands on a small slab up and down and diagonally. The following day we had an early breakfast and headed up to the Mt Sugarloaf rock face. We passed by the easy climbs at the southern end of the face to slightly more difficult climbs midway along the face. He leads up the first pitch of the climb, sets up a belay* and calls for me to follow. We climb and by days end I am placing the running belays as I lead!

Throughout the rest of the year, I did several hikes with MUMC. I also bought a set of rock-climbing gear (Climbing rope, belay slings and carabiners etc) and was able to participate in several rock-climbing weekends in the Cathedral Ranges.

One late Friday afternoon in early Spring, Doug rings the front doorbell of the share house and tells me to pack my tent, sleeping bag, and climbing gear. He is heading to Mt. Arapiles and has a spare spot in the car. I clamber into the back seat of the car and am introduced to another climber, Ian Guild.

* to fix a running rope around a cleat/ rock to secure the rope.

The next morning, we have a quick breakfast then head to the main climbing wall on Mt Arapiles. Doug leads the first pitch, followed by Ian Guild who leads the second pitch. I follow as Doug belays me up. There is a shouted conversation above me which I cannot comprehend. My rope is disconnected and dropped down to me. I set up an anchor sling and abseil down to the foot of the cliff. Turns out a climber has fallen and broken his leg and I and others assisted in getting him to an ambulance at the top of the climb. My first reminder of the dangers. Ian and Doug, both took me to Mt Arapiles a few times. We did the Eighth, the Bard and other climbs”.

The east face of Geryon

John climbing at Mount Arapiles

John McLean: Climbing

The beginnings of serious Recreology

"In the winter of 1964, I went up on the Bogong high plains. I was with Don Thomas, Russell Judge, Nick White and Mark Tweedale.

The conditions were appalling and most of the time we were in a white out. This was an epic trip, and we had to dig down to find one of the huts as we could see the chimney sticking out of the snow.

We waited in the huts for two and a half days for the weather to improve. With food and time running out we decided to come off the high plains with the trip only two thirds completed.

In 1966 I was climbing with Peter Myers. Because of the weather we moved from Mt Rosea to Mt Arapiles and decided to tackle a short but strenuous artificial boulder problem called “Excuse I”.

In the latter months of 1966, I was climbing with Ian Speedie on a climb called D minor when he had a fall. He was not hurt, and we continued to work on the first ascent of D minor which we eventually achieved.

In January 1968 I went with Fred Derrick where we headed out to the Grampians to climb Showpiece Crack. Two years earlier Roger Caffin and I did the second ascent of this pitch and the first ascent of Fly Paper Wall. I also climbed with Tony Crapper in 1968 completing Little Thor with him.

I went to Tasmania walking and climbing with Ian Guild in January of 1966 on the east face of Mt Geryon, an extrusion of rock in the Tasmanian Cradle Mountains and Lake St Clare National Park. I did a few bushwalks with MUMC during the year but most of my weekends away were rock climbing in the Grampians or Mt Arapiles with Ian.

Bruno Zeller a Swiss national was in a student share house and he had just emigrated to Australia. He was trying to avoid Swiss national service! Bruno followed me down a street in Carlton as he could see I had a climbing rope over my shoulder, and he was keen to do some climbing.

In 1970 Bruno Zeller convinced me to undertake many climbing and walking expeditions. We undertook a 5-day walk on Mt Bogong.

The first pitch of Speedie's D minor routes

The beginnings of serious Recreology

During that year I put in some of my best climbing, took to skiing and played cards at the Swiss club. I did have lot of parenting responsibilities and was also completing my thesis, but I did need a break and climbing provided it.

I met Robyn, my second wife, in 1974 and once a month we would head off to Mt Arapiles and go climbing there. Mt Arapiles was a lovely unspoilt place then. They would have firewood chopped for you and there were simple toilets and some running water. All the climbers would gather around a fire at the end of the day and share their activities. We used to take our dog Jedda – she was very good at guarding our pack at the bottom of the climb. One time she climbed up a descent gully and met us a long way up on a climb. She eventually carefully picked herself down back to our backpack. She used to sleep in the fly of the tent. She was also known to steal the odd steak from people’s plates in the dark."

John on Mt Bogong in a white out

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

The beginnings of serious Recreology

Working on the Snowy Mountain Scheme

"The previous summer I had gone on a bit of a road trip to the Snowy Mountains in the week between Christmas Day and New year with Ian McGoldrick, a friend from High School. It was on this trip that I met a cousin of Ian’s who told me about the Snowy Mountain Hydro Electric Scheme being built at the time. He told me it was easy to get a job on the scheme making good money if you were willing to work long hours. And it was a MUMC member named Bob McKim who was a schoolteacher at the Corryong school who suggested that I contact him as he might be able to introduce me to someone who could offer me a job. The wide membership of MUMC provides a network to a lot of things.

True to his word he introduced me to the manager of the Humes Ltd factory located on the outskirts of Corryong that was manufacturing the pipes that would feed water to the hydraulic power stations. I had a job, including board, starting the next day.

Most of the boilermakers and welders were European migrants who had learnt their trade skills in European shipbuilding yards. My job was to be a welder’s or boilermaker’s offsider handing tools to them as required and to use a handheld gas heat blower to keep newly welded sections hot until the weld was completed. It was physically hard work particularly on hot days. I had told the Manager that I was an itinerant worker because he might have thought that a student would not be up to it. I had a couple of textbooks with me that I had to read over the summer break.

The day shift foreman was a migrant from Austria. He had seen the textbooks. He said,

You are not an itinerant worker. I think you are an engineering student. You should know how to read engineering drawings. The factory tradesmen should know how to read the drawings, but some are not as good at it as they should be. You have an easy manner. I think you will be able to look over their shoulder and correct them without offending.”

The beginnings of serious Recreology

"With this arrangement I only spent about half my time working the grinder, so my job was less onerous.

The ABC radio news broadcast was on in the dining area most dinner times. One dinner time I heard on the radio that my MUMC colleagues, Doug Hatt and Russell Judge, (mentioned earlier) had died in a snow avalanche on Mt Cook. I went for a long walk before going to bed that night.

I quit the job and returned to Carlton in the last week of the summer break so I could enrol in engineering and get organized for the academic year".

Snowy Mountain Hydro Electric Scheme

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Love, Family and Commitment Family grows and evolves

"I met my first wife Gwyn through the Melbourne Mountaineering club. I was going on a bush walk with them and we were camped on one side of the river, but the rock climbers were more outgoing, and they were drinking and singing and having a lot of fun. So, I walked over to their camp and joined them as they seemed like they were having more fun. Gwyn attached herself to me and that was very flattering. I thought Gwyn was very attractive.

We got married about 3 years later and lived in Carlton. I had four children with Gwyn. Ione who was born in 1968 and then the triplets Karin, Tamsin and Yolande who were born in 1971. I was just completing my PhD when the triplets were born so that was a very hectic year for me. I recall that Ione was a good baby. After I finished my degree, we moved to Belgrave. The relationship slowly began to deteriorate after the triplets were born. Gwyn thought I should be working half time to care for the children, and she should be pursuing her art career, but I didn’t think this was going to work. We ended up separating in about 1974.

I met my second wife Robyn when she was placed in my office at the Australian Road Research Board in 1973.

We went skiing together and realised that we shared a love of outdoor pursuits. She was living in East Bentleigh at the time and the next year we moved into McKinnon together. My children would come and stay every second weekend and Robyn was very good with them. In 1978 we moved to America for a year and did lots of skiing and walking and tried rock climbing, but it was very different over there. I worked for the university of California at Berkeley. Robyn and I got on well because we shared a love of the outdoors. We walked, climbed, skied and camped with our children. We also enjoyed a good intellectual companionship. We married in 1981.

We had two children together, Felicity born in 1984 and Alistair in 1988 and we also had a stillborn child Hamish. That was a very difficult time for us, but we got through it.

The triplets: Tammy, Yolande, Karin

John and Robyn's wedding, 1981

Love, Family and Commitment

After we bought a house together, we did many house renovations, and I completed quite a large house extension in 1986, learning on the job. One of the parts that I really enjoyed was the framing. It gave me any enormous sense of satisfaction to be able to do it. In the past I have been very skilled at home maintenance.

After I met Robyn, we went on many holidays to Austinmer where her grandparents had a property. We holidayed there for many years. It was an old weatherboard house but well within walking distance to the beach. The kids all have fond memories of their holidays at Austinmer and learning to surf and exploring the garden. After that we holidayed at Culburra for quite a few years. We also camped at Bournda and Tathra and on the Snowy River at Easter.

Robyn is very kind to me today as my memory deteriorates and I cannot do things that I would have done”.

John and Rob, 1976

Johns progeny: from left: Karin , Yolande, Tammy, Ione, Felicity and Alistair

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain 25

Love, Family and Commitment

I am proud of my children as they have all grown up to be independent adults who are successful in their different fields. I am most proud of the fact that all my children get on well together and I have Robyn to thank for that as she was very good at ensuring that happened.

Camping trips with the family were a highlight. Particularly the Snowy River Easter trips. The children were good at collecting firewood and coped with some pretty serious hikes, including overnight hikes at Tali Karng. John was also a devoted father at basketball matches and athletics.

Serious discussions on topics nominated by their mother to pass some time on car trips often surprised with the kids often producing quite valid points of view which could be very different to conventional wisdom.

John’s grandchildren have been a great source joy and love to him, having much to do with Ione’s children Hamish, Tessa and Angus taking them to swimming lessons for a long time. Karin has Bella and Hazel although John has not had so much contact with them. Also, our daughter Felicity has Zoe aged 8 and Danny aged 4. Our son Alistair has Genevieve who is about 20 months old.

“I’ve really enjoyed seeing Zoe and Danny grow up – we have gone to Canberra on many occasions and spent time with them. Zoe used to call me Party Jumbo because she couldn’t say Poppa Johno”.

Zoe and Danny

Tessa, Angus and Hamish

Love, Family and Commitment

Career

John’s working life was spent at the Australian Road Research Board (ARRB) – a career spanning over 30 years.

After matriculating from Ringwood High School in 1962 and being awarded a Commonwealth Scholarship, John studied Mechanical Engineering at the University of Melbourne and, after graduating with honours, found employment as a design engineer in a defence establishment.

In 1968 John was approached by Professor Peter Joubert to join a largely ARRB-funded research group at the Melbourne University Mechanical Engineering Department investigating the driver-vehicle-road system, thus commencing a career-long association with ARRB.

He was awarded a PhD in 1972 for his application of power spectral density analysis to study driver steering control. This involved test subjects driving an instrumented EH Holden in lanes marked out on a Melbourne Airport runway before it was opened for traffic.

John in his office at AARB

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Love, Family and Commitment

In the same year, John joined the research staff of ARRB as one of several young graduates and postgraduates recruited by the Deputy Director, Dr John Metcalf to increase in-house research capability. He was placed in the Traffic Engineering Group, a discipline with at best, a tenuous connection to his undergraduate and post-graduate training. John remains grateful for the generous sharing of time and knowledge by his Group Leader, the late Jim Cowley, and several Road Authority traffic engineers.

Following from work with a NAASRA Principal Technical Committee (PTC) Working Group charged with reviewing road design standards in the context of budget constraints, John initiated research aimed at being able to operate two-lane highways at higher volumes than was considered acceptable at the time.

In 1978/79 he spent a year as a Visiting Research Associate at the Institute of Transportation Studies, University of California, Berkeley, where he used the Institute’s library material to review the technical and theoretical underpinning of two-lane highway capacity standards.

On returning to ARRB, John encouraged the development of a rural traffic simulation model to study two-lane capacity and worked with younger staff to demonstrate the traffic flow and capacity benefits derived from the provision of overtaking lanes. While John was in the USA he became the first international member of the US Transportation Research Board Committee on Geometric Design, a position he held until 2000.

John's official ARRB photo 28 John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Love, Family and Commitment

In 1983, John was appointed Chief Scientist of the Road Technology Group with primary responsibility for establishing the Accelerated Loading Facility (ALF) pavements research program. This was achieved as a collaborative arrangement between ARRB, NAASRA and individual road authorities. ALF is still operating today some 40 years after John worked on it

The reorganization of ARRB in 1988/89 enabled John to move back into the planning and policy areas as head of the Transport Efficiency Program. Here, he initiated and undertook research in road asset management, congestion management, and economic evaluation.

John resigned from ARRB in 2000, took in the Sydney Olympics, and commenced the last ten years of his career as a part-time freelance consultant. He maintained his association with ARRB and some of his work has been undertaken as a sub-contractor to ARRB.

John wrote a book on overtaking lanes on two lane rural roads and traffic flow.

John was a mentor to many people at AARB and the regard in which he is held, is detailed in the supplement inserted in this book. His work colleagues, led by Kieran Sharpe, put together a worts and all tribute so honest and admiring, we thought it should stand alone.

John’s work was a life long passion.

The ALF team with John at far left

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Travels and Adventure

Half Dome, Yosemite National Park, Ca, USA

John on top of Mt Lyell, Ca, USA

30 John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Travels and Adventure

A Broader View

John’s first big overseas trip was in 1978/79 when his employer, the Australian Road Research Board funded him to spend a sabbatical type of year at the Institute of Transportation Studies (ITS) at the University of California, Berkley. He traveled to California via Japan as part of the Australian delegation to a regional road engineering conference and arrived in California in late September 1978.

“I was about to initiate a research program on potential traffic improvements on two-lane highways where traffic volumes were beyond the design capacity but funds to upgrade to a freeway standard were not available. I learnt that similar research was being undertaken at the ITS by a PhD student supervised by Prof Dolf May who supported my visit.

The academic year had started and I found an apartment in Walnut Creek, an outer suburb with a train-line connection. I also bought a small Toyota car. Robyn joined me towards the end of the year. We soon purchased skiing gear and outdoor clothing and had a couple of days skiing in the Sierra Nevada mountains during the Christmas Break.

A month or so later we had a week of skiing in the Rocky Mountains. What we lacked in ability we made up for with enthusiasm. As the snow melted, we turned our attention to rock climbing, but quickly found that our experience on Australian sandstone did not prepare us for Californian granite.

It soon became clear that we were not going to master granite climbing technique in the time available so we turned our attention to hiking.

There were a couple of Regional Parks in Berkeley and near Walnut Creek and we went for walks in these to get our conditioning started. We had weekend visits to State Parks in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Range where we did some hiking and played around on granite outcrops to help get the feel of the stuff.

We developed two hiking objectives for Yosemite National Park - Mt Lyell and Half Dome. Half Dome is one of the major natural features in Yosemite Valley. It is a massive dome of granite where one side of the dome was eroded away by a glacier leaving a sheer granite wall. While the wall is ascended by elite rock climbers our intent was to ascend it from the other side".

John climbing at Lake Tahoe, Ca, USA

Travels and Adventure

"The route was the same (a steep gully rising behind half dome until it was possible to move onto the dome.

We had the summit to ourselves and spent some time sitting on the edge of the big drop wondering over the height and steepness of the wall beneath our feet. We returned to camp feeling pleased with ourselves and spent the next day doing easy exploratory walks in the valley.

Mt Lyell is the highest peak in the Yosemite Park with an elevation of about 4,000m and we needed to wait until late summer when most of the summit snow would have melted. The normal hiking ascent up Mt Lyell typically required three days. One day of gaining height and getting closer to the mountain, one day of climbing and descending the peak, and one day of walking out.

Being the highest peak in the park, Mt Lyell is a popular objective for hikers. We pitched camp, hid our supplies from bears and marmots and moved along the ridge to the snow slope looking for a place to leave our packs that was safe from the wildlife as we'd seen a camp 100 m or so below that was being destroyed by marmots looking for food (something like our possums). At the top of the slope, we were somewhat unnerved by our view down to the bottom of Yosemite Valley.

The foot holds and handholds for the climb up the slab were obvious and of reasonable size and we both did it by not allowing ourselves time to think about the space beneath our feet. We didn’t spend long on the summit as we needed to get back to our packs and find a spot to camp.

The descent of the slab is more nerve racking than the ascent. We can’t help but see the bottom of the valley. We move reasonably quickly through the snow though and sleep a satisfied night".

Robyn and John zig zag separately across America, Robyn visiting relatives and interesting places, John visiting various research institutes and the Transportation unit in the World Bank and they meet up again in London.

John visited a traffic control centre which coordinates traffic signals on the London Road network and the UK Traffic and Road Research Laboratory and a couple of university research groups.

Antarctica

Blizzard at Lake Tahoe

Kokoda Trail, Papua New Guinea

Travels and Adventure

While Robyn relaxes on a Greek Island, John joins the Australian delegation at an international roads conference in Vienna.

John also meets his Japanese colleagues and helps them prepare their presentation to the conference.

John concluded his year-long odyssey with a visit to Singapore to catch up on that city's initiatives to discourage commuting by car.

A funny story to end the trip…..

”Robyn and I had booked all our international flights before we left Australia. When I went to collect a ticket at a Vienna travel agent, I learnt that the booked flight no longer existed, and they were able to transfer the booking to an alternative flight. However, I had no way of contacting Robyn to advise her of this problem. I booked into a hotel and grabbed a ball point and note paper from my brief case and caught a bus back out to the airport. I figured that Robyn would discover the problem as I did and find an alternative flight to Singapore. Pre mobile phones, most airports had rotatable columns near arrival lounge exits with clips to hold messages. I identified a couple of flights that would fit the scenario and at each left messages giving the name and address of the hotel. I was not optimistic, however, thinking that with the absence of communication she was more likely to have taken a flight directly back to Australia. I caught the bus back to near the hotel but stopped at a restaurant for dinner. When I got back to the hotel the desk no longer had my room key. They rang my room, and the phone was answered by a sleepy Robyn. We sorted our flights and arrived in Sydney a couple of days later.”

Robyn and John travelled overseas extensively, including South Africa in 2004. John gave a keynote speech and then they had 2-3 weeks on safari - a wonderful time. After getting the feel for it they have been to Vietnam, Thailand, Burma, walked the Kokoda track, South Africa several times, Borneo, Mongolia, China, Russia, Uganda, Galapagos Islands, Antarctica and South America three times. They drove across Australia via the Nullarbor to Exmouth where they had the privilege of swimming with humpback whales and manta rays. They’ve also been on the Ghan and to Arnhem land.

Machu Picchu, South America

Great Wall of China

John McLean: Climbing

Mountain

Travels and Adventure

Canoeing

“I had caught up with Ian Guild again. He used to go camping on the Snowy River and some of the people who were there were from the

Victorian Climbing Club. He also did quite a lot of climbing overseas. So, we started going to the Snowy River which was quite a drive, and it was quite remote. I didn’t know about the canoeing, but it sounded like a good thing. Ian wasn’t at all interested in the canoeing, he used to flyfish. The people who were, had belonged to the Victorian Climbing Club. Pete and Fran Smith, Greg and Ellen Lovejoy, Steve and Pat Craddick were all there. I think it would have been about 1987 that we started going to the Snowy River for Easter and continued to go for about 10 years. Snowy River holidays were quite unique. You needed to take all your food for the duration of Easter. We would freeze wine bags and keep the esky in the sand so it would stay cool for as long as possible. There was always a huge fire every night and everyone would sing and recite poetry and/or bawdy songs around the fire. Pete Smith was an accomplished accordionist, and he could play any tune. Ian Guild would go fly fishing and catch lots of trout – I might go canoeing and the kids would swim in the river or go canoeing

So, I had a go at canoeing. It didn’t take me long before capsizing. Some training out on the Yarra was next, learning to eskimo roll! I Joined the Whitehorse Canoe Club and for the next few years as many canoeing trips as were feasible were made.

Sometimes these were weekends on the McAllister, the Delatite, and Mitta Mitta Rivers. I made some good friendships in that group, particularly Sue and Stan Gurman, who paddled a K2. We also went down the Snowy River a few times. I went down with Yolande one year and that was a lovely father daughter bonding experience. One year Robyn and Felicity both came on the raft down the Snowy when Felicity was about 12, I think. It was a great experience for us all to share in”.

John, (top) and Yolande in white water

Travels and Adventure

After dislocating his shoulder badly on the McAllister River, John ended up in Bairnsdale hospital. A great deal of physio was required, and John never did return to canoeing with quite the same enthusiasm.

For the next ten years or so, it was John’s main recreational pursuit. Kayaking was a much more sociable activity then rock climbing as you can chat with fellow kayakers while cruising along the flat sections of the river between rapids.

Trips became secondary to the children’s sport, so a lot of weekends were taken up with taking them to athletics or basketball or tennis.

A fine record in RECREOLOGY to be concluded with an account of John’s scariest outing during an amazingly full life of activity and adventures.

“About midway through my PhD years, I joined with three other MUMC old hands to attempt a first ascent climb on the Mt Buffalo Gorge North Face I descended into the gorge with Richard on a Thursday. I woke on Friday with a fever and sore throat. Richard did all the climbing for the day, and I belayed. We were joined late afternoon by Tony and John B. Saturday my fever continued and was possibly worse so I ruled myself out of the climbing but continued doing the belaying so climbers could get a rest. We assessed our situation Saturday evening. It was clear that we would not be able to complete the climb in the time available. It was agreed that the fit climbers would clear equipment from the climb Sunday morning and walk up the South side of the gorge in the afternoon. I would need to walk out slowly and would need to start earlier than the rest of the group. Sunday morning, I packed my sleeping bag and unworn clothes in my pack plus a climbing rope and a few slings. The walk up the South side was quite steep. The effort combined with the fever seemed to interfere with thinking and I just kept progressing upward without assessing where I was and where I needed to be heading. I moved back into awareness when I was confronted by a sheer granite wall which was clearly not climbable. I looked around to assess the situation.

Family rafting on the Tully River in Queensland

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Travels and Adventure

It was clear that I was well to the east of the ascent route, but the shape of the granite wall precluded any view of the correct route. I headed west along the foot of the granite wall without seeing a way of ascent. After a while I could see the terrain changing to an easier gradient of granite boulders, terrain that was consistent with the route I should be on.

It also appeared that easier terrain continued past the bottom of the wall I was on. I decided to abseil down to the bottom of the wall. (Abseil is technique where the rope passes through a snap link such that the rate of descent down the rope can be controlled.) While this was a reasonable decision overall, I made some poor decisions on the detail as to how I should set it up, probably due to the fever. I used a tree growing out from the cliff as the anchor for the rope. My main error was failure to check whether the rope continued to the bottom of the cliff.

I abseiled down the rope but found that it ended some 40 or so meters above the bottom of the cliff. However, there was a series of small footholds to the right and it looked like they would lead to the junction with the scrubby terrain. I sat for a while to make sure I was calm. The footholds were OK and after about 10 minutes of careful and fearful traversing I slipped down into the scrub. I cannot remember the rest of the ascent to the top of the gorge but presumably I found the correct route. I lay down and slept until I was wakened by the rest of the party some hours later”

North face of Mt Buffalo

Travels and Adventure

Urban Adventures! The Climbing of the Ringwood clocktower

"When I was growing up, the Ringwood Clock Tower was in the middle of the Whitehorse/Warrandyte Roads intersection. When I crossed this intersection walking to Sunday School, I would sometimes contemplate that climbing the tower would be fun. Later I was living in Carlton and was an active rock climber with the Melbourne University Mountaineering Club and realised that with rock climbing this was possible. After a party in the eastern suburbs, I had a try one Saturday night with a rock-climbing friend. We managed to easily get to the little balcony beneath the clock face. The climb up over the clock face would be more dangerous but I saw that it was possible to place a running belay on the clock face to protect from a serious fall while climbing over the clock face.

We were spotted by a police patrol before we were able to accomplish this. The police threatened us with all sorts of punishments before telling us to piss off before they charged us. A few months later MUMC had its annual dinner, I arranged with a friend that we would have another go at it on the way home. It turned out that the Ringwood police were having a social function there and I foolishly told them that I would be trying that night.

Word got out to the rest of the police there and when I departed the restaurant with my mate Phil Secombe, I was followed by about 6 cars of MUMC members and an equal number of cars carrying Ringwood Police constables and their wives. We recognised that speed was of the essence and carried the rope over a shoulder until we got to the balcony and only used it as a safety device for the short climb over the clock face. We had just got to the top of the tower when a police patrol car arrived. We responded to police demands and abseiled down. The police threatened us with a series of possible prosecutions.

The climbing rope got stuck and we could not pull it down and the police viewed this as defacing public property. We pleaded that we could climb up and retrieve it in about ten minutes. Sanity prevailed and the police said they would disappear for 20 minutes, and we better not be there when they returned".

What John Has Built

“I believe I am handy. Apart from the current house I did things to each house I owned. The first was a terrace house on the north end of Drummond Street North Carlton. It would have been 70 to 80 years old but was in pretty good condition. I replaced some of the architrave which was becoming a bit tired and built a small laundry at the back of the house. My second house in Belgrave was only about 10 years old and in pretty good shape. The block sloped away significantly from front to rear, and I was able to build a small utility room acting as a laundry under the rear of the house. The third house was in Fisher Street where I built an extension providing an office area and a bedroom with ensuite. The Blackburn house was pretty much OK, and I just did some small improvements at the rear courtyard area to make it more functional”.

John with Dad, Mum and Jane at 34 Henry Street, Ringwood

Extension at 4 Fisher Street, Forest Hill

Working Late at 10 Windemere Court, Blackburn

John's Shead at Blackburn

38 John McLean: Climbing my mountain

Other outdoor pursuits

“I had always ridden my bike but began to do that more seriously. After the kids had finished high school, I decided that I want to do some South Australian bike rides.These rides would take about 8-10 days and involve at least one day of 120km of riding, so it took quite a lot of training. There were only 200 people who would go so you could get to know people quite well. It would involve quite a lot of training to be fit enough to go.

Robyn would join me on those South Australian bike rides. I still ride now but not nearly as long distances as I used to. My carer Sandy takes me on a bike ride on a Friday”.

Family on a group wave, under John's tutelage

John with carer Sandy preparing for a bike ride

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Family Testimonials

Robyn

I first met John when I was nearly 22 years of age, and he was about 7-8 years older than me. We shared an office at the Australian Road Research Board. After several weeks of not much chatter we began talking about our love of the outdoors. Later that year John was due to go skiing with his friend Bruno who then couldn’t come so he invited me along. We had a wonderful whirlwind romance of a time at Mt Hotham. However, on the way home I remembered thinking that this was just a flash in the pan as John was still married and had four young children. However, by November of that year his wife Gwyn had thrown him out of the home and John was living at various addresses. Another year later we finally moved in together. The children would visit regularly and once a month we would go climbing. By then I had left ARRB and was working for the Education Department. In 1978 John was given the opportunity to go to California and work there for a year. We had a wonderful time and sent tapes and letters back to the children. We married in 1981, and Fee was born in 1984 and Alistair in 1988. We lived in Forest Hill for 10 years where John built a significant extension.

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Family Testimonials

We moved to Blackburn in 1990 and had 28 amazing years there surrounded by very supportive neighbors. John and I were the best of friends. He was witty, intelligent and a good companion. We shared a love of the outdoors, a love of music and an interest in world affairs. We moved to our current address about 6 years ago as our previous property required a lot of maintenance.

In 2019 we went on a trip to Uganda and at various points along that trip I notice John getting agitated and was unsure of where we were. When we returned there was a particular night when I returned from my ukulele class to find John eating take away and to be greeted by the comment “I wondered where you were”. Later that week he was assessed by our GP and she subsequently referred us to a geriatrician. We went through a lot of testing at the Florey Institute and were then sent to an experimental program at Delmont memory clinic. Somewhere along that journey John’s diagnosis changed from early cognitive impairment to Alzheimer’s.

John has very little sense of direction and has trouble finding his way back to our table if he has been to a toilet. He does very little around the house apart from doing the dishes or bringing in the washing. He spends a great deal of time sleeping and there can be days when he barely speaks. I have completely lost my lifelong companion. His short-term memory barely exists and even some of this long-term memory is impacted.

The role of a carer is full-time, and I must constantly be on alert. I have likened the journey of a carer to being in a marathon which I did not even enter and nor did I have any training. You have no idea if there is a big hill coming up or a brief period when the road will be flat. The marathon only ends in the death of the partner. I have continued to be astounded by the way people skirt around the issue and do not know how to handle it. I am constantly in a state of grief. I did find a good quote the other day that said that “grief is just love that has nowhere to go”.

We have been attending the Umbrella Dementia Café for the past 3 years and it is lovely to connect with other carers who truly understand. John also has good carers from Home Instead as he has a level 4 package because of his major experience in the bush near Bourke. If I did not have these carers, I do not know how I would cope.

Sister Jane

BIG BROTHER JOHN

I’m writing about John the kid before he became John the adult. John Robert, my big brother, is 2 years and 11 months older than me. John’s little Sister Jeanette. We were a team along with Rusty, our cocker spaniel.

He was my funny, gentle, creative, kind, brainy, good looking big brother. Life was fun.

We grew up in the newly developing bushy Ringwood. Our house backed onto 60 acres of bushland, the roads were unsealed, the toilet outside. There were cats and kittens, hens, chickens and a dog or two. There were kids everywhere. None of us had much “stuff”. We were always busy making, building, constructing, climbing, wandering, playing in the bush.

Basically, free ranging with all our friends doing whatever, as long as we were home in time for

John was always the brains of the outfit and I was his willing assistant. He would set the pace, decide which tree to climb, where to build the bush cubby, how to cross the creek, where to build the bridge and how to crawl under the barb wire.

John was a genius with his Meccano set and Builda Brick. He could combine both sets to create a tower with a wind-up drawbridge, doors, windows, and a sliding thing inside that dropped marble through a chute and out onto the ramp at the bottom. Wonderous amazement! John, the future mechanical engineer.

John was a very physically busy boy. Always running, jumping, climbing and digging. Usually safe activities, but sometimes he was an idiot. There was a brief time of him jumping off the chook shed roof yelling, “Super Man!” Mum put a stop to that, “You’ll end up with your arm in plaster”.

Some of John’s adventures required careful planning, usually safe and well thought out.

Family Testimonials

One episode did not go to plan. (John 7 and I was 4). The idea was for me to parachute on my trike off the shed roof. It sounded like fun. So, we climbed onto the swing, up the swing rope, a big step sideways onto the branch holding the swing, grab the higher branch and swing across onto the shed roof, dragging my trike, and old army blanket and some rope. The blanket is attached to my trike by the ropes to form a parachute which will flutter open as I ride off the roof and float gently to the ground. I pedalled as fast as I could, went over the edge of the roof and without even time for an adrenalin rush, hit Mum’s mint patch. Down on my side, a mess of bent trike front wheel, blanket and rope. “Winded” for the first time. John didn’t cop it. I guess Mum was happy I was alive, didn’t need “plaster on my arm” and the trike was still ridable. I still wish that whole trike parachute thing had worked.

I’m lucky to have John as my big brother. John who looked after me, looked out for his little Sis, included me and never yelled at me. Big brother John and me. Together, we had the best childhood.

Written by Jane Treasure (Jeanette). Nimbin 2024

Robyn, John and Jane

John McLean: Climbing

Family Testimonials

Ione

Dear Dad,

This is a little trip down memory lane remembering our times together and how you have influenced and inspired me.

Much of what comes to mind are times in nature pushing ourselves and taking on a few little physical challenges.

I remember when you encouraged me to train up for a school cross country ski trip where the goal was to (hopefully) make it across the Baw Baw Plateau from Mt St Gwinear to Baw Baw Resort and back. At your urging I even took up jogging, which I loathed at that time, to build up stamina.

Unfortunately, even after 3 days of practice skiing, we were too big a group to make it across the plateau – not everyone was up for it. I was pretty disappointed, so you offered to take me. We both snuck a few days off work and school to make it a mid-week trip. We drove up late afternoon and I reckon we had dinner in the Mt Erica pub, then slept in the car beside the road near the turn off to Mt St. Gwinear. We got up early and had a very chilly breakfast and then headed up to the carpark.

As we flip flopped up the hill it became very misty and visibility dropped down to a few metres. You were really enthusiastic, saying it was great for me to experience this so I wouldn’t be put off or frightened by white outs in the future. I have since been in quite a few low visibility moments and always remember our time on Baw Baw Plateau. It definitely helped.

One time in Snowdonia in Wales I was up on a hill alone when mist closed in and I became confused about the way down. I could hear your voice in my head telling me to keep calm and take a moment to stop and orientate myself.

We made it across to Baw Baw for lunch – cold roast beef sandwiches – and back again before nightfall. I was exhausted but very pleased to have done it.

We all spent quite a bit of time on the beach and I especially remember Austinmer where you taught me to body surf, shouting with delight when I finally caught a wave. Laughing when I stuffed it up and got dumped.

Family Testimonials

I can picture you standing sentinel while we played in the surf, floppy hat and zinc or doing laps of the beach in preparation for a marathon.

How about those crazy rock-climbing experiences. You and Robyn took all four of us up a few climbs in Arapiles. It must have been a novel sight for other climbers – two adults leading four kids. I remember feeling weirdly safe and snug in a harness and a tight rope to haul me up any really tricky bits.

Moving out of the bush and into the city, I remember your enthusiasm for shop assistants who were helpful and effective – and aggravation with those who were not. This sometimes made shopping with you a bit of an unpredictable and as a teenager, embarrassing activity.

And how well I recall the time you were driving us to school and became quite irate with the driver in front of us. They had the Christian symbol on their car and as you roared past them you yelled across me, sitting next to you in the front, through both open windows, ‘bloody Jesus lover’. I looked at the driver – it was my maths teacher!

I had the strange experience once of napping in the car, as we were driving to a friend’s place in the country. I woke up with a sense of dread, convinced you were in danger. I know you were on a kayaking trip and resolved to call Robyn when we arrived at our friend’s place to check everything was ok. By the time we got there the feeling had gone and I decided not to make a fuss. It turned out at the time you had dislocated your shoulder and were battling up a ridge to get out and get the shoulder seen to. I then remember many months of you working on that shoulder with various crazy contraptions attached to door frames and other strange stretches. But they did the job and you didn’t need to go under the knife. Win!

Finally, I’ll never forget the time you came to collect me in the night from a friend’s 16th birthday. I’d hit the grog in a big way for the first time. The room was spinning and I was vomiting. Despite all that I still had sufficient consciousness to be very nervous about how you would react. But all you said was, keep the car window down and if you think you’re going to be sick let me know and I’ll stop. I really appreciated that! And it was a while before I drank that much again.

So, what a great Dad you’ve been and continue to be. I have many wonderful memories of our time together and look forward to continuing to make more.

Lots of love, Ione

Ione and family

Family Testimonials

Tammy

John Robert (JR) is a mixed bag of a Dad. Passionate and highly intelligent, we experienced him across a range from jubilant and gregarious to frustrated (loud and silent) – processing the indignancies of bureaucracy and idiocy. I share his great love of the outdoors, but not the level of activity that has brought him joy and kept him fit and healthy through his life. He is a master storyteller, able to bend stories and time to entertain both himself and his audiences, JR has an anecdote for every occasion.

As a parent, JR applied principles with the confidence of an engineering mind. He expected a protestant work ethic, a commitment to health and fitness, effort (if required) to achieve academic results and teamwork in the household. Having pointed us in the right direction he expected by 13 we were sufficiently independent to make up our own minds.

He was fair with his time, making sure we each had a turn being carried around the Bentleigh garden in the hiking backpack. We were firmly integrated into his social time. I attended more parties in the 70s and 80s with Dad than without him. The music was magnificent – sometimes live if Pete Sweatman was there. We would be tucked in a row into someone’s bed, or on the floor on an Afghan rug and rolled up in our sleeping bags

Whist JR sang, told stories and drank beer and claret. He had to be fit to carry us all out to the car, pretending to sleep.

If he was cross, you would first see his nostrils flare, then turn slightly white before a roar of indignation. Where possible, we avoided aggravating this state, but we were not fearful (it was a more common parenting style in the 1970s). About common enemies (dickheads) he cursed with a passion and fervour that was awesome and inspiring. Even when young we understood Dad’s roaring was an efficient articulation and he countered it with a great sense of fun.

He was playful and cheeky and a rule breaker in ways that made us giddy with fraternal conspiracy. If Rob was away, he would rush out and buy chops (they taste better than steak). He knew many ribald songs and jokes – notably the Bastard From the Bush and Bobbie Burns' verse and we were a happy audience.

Family

Testimonials

One Christmas day at Henry St he dressed up in Beryl’s clothes to recite an Edna Everage monologue. The relish with which he described “opening up the reindeer doors” had everyone, including himself, in stitches.

A slow riser, a great treat was to bring Dad a cup of tea in bed and the paper to read. He’s a terrible sleeper, something many of his children inherited, and was wanting to process complex problems through his sleep and the waking hours of insomnia. This included on one occasion, taking the light fitting down in his ensuite as he physically tried to climb the sink to “get out of his kayak” stuck in a waterfall in his dreams. He made productive use of his insomniac traits, reading spy novels and stories of adventurers and clocking up the company car odometer to ensure an upgrade.

His love of music and inability to hold a tune is still moderated by his exceptional ability to recall lyrics and the great enthusiasm by which he engages with music. JR’s LP collection is varied but dominated by “Rock ‘n roll” (and a fist pump). His parents subscribed to music of the world so he and his sister, Jane, had access to a wide variety of LPs. As kids they used to jive together in the living room of Henry St - dancing up the olive-green carpet.

When he met Rob, JR continued to dance, and they still cut a rug like a couple of professionals.

Rarely a direct communicator of his feelings, JR’s love for his 'kinder' could be found in his humour and his stories. His recollection, well into my adulthood, that I preferred a teaspoon with which to eat my dessert and his endless teasing of my instructions to apply “angled pressure” to the soft loaf of Saturday white bread and requesting many times I play Acker Bilk’s “Morning Has Broken” on my clarinet – one of his favourites. Nowadays his hugs lack the stiffness of 4 hugs in row for “the girls” and he hugs back with a firmness and certainty.

My favourite memory of Dad is his habit of sharing the after dinner dark night hours with Rob, often with a smoke and a drink. As a child, whether in their home, at Austinmer on the front porch or by the embers of a camping trip fire, I would drift off to sleep safe in the knowledge that those two were reliably and quietly ruminating on solutions for the troubles of the world, the results of the day’s sport, politics and life.

Lots of Love, Tam

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Karin

When I think of Dad, I always think of blue, like his sparkling eyes, like the ocean, like the polo shirt I bought him one year and which he wore for many years, and my first bicycle. It was a metallic blue and he and Robyn had fixed up second hand bikes for the triplets – they were not new. To this day, most of my bicycles have been metallic blue.

In my earliest memory of Dad, I felt like a doll, lying on a bed waiting for my nappy to be changed. A trio of toddlers with Mum, Dad and older sister Ione wrangling our night nappies.

Next is the texture of my quilted nylon dressing gown as I sit in his lap, nervous at being allowed up so late, and crinkling my nose at the acrid smell of smoke as he points out his singed hair after fighting a fire as volunteer with the Selby Fire Brigade.

I remember standing next to him in a warehouse where we chose our first sleeping bags. They were green and filled with down that would sneak its way out over the years, the fluff following random spikes of feather shafts. I kept my sleeping bag for decades only finally retiring it when one of my children was sick on it. That bag had kept me warm when camping with Dad at Cathedral Ranges, when snuggled in the car with siblings after a party pretending to be asleep, so Dad would carry us into the house and put us to bed. Dad took us climbing, trying on straps and carabiners in the back yard at McKinnon. I liked abseiling but never took to climbing. The rock so close to my face was suffocating, but I liked the skittering dance down, sliding safely attached to the coloured climbing rope. I trusted Dad would keep me safe.

He taught us to set up a campsite; how to move rocks and sticks, check the locations of bull ant nests, and to dig trenches when it was going to rain. He taught us how to fold a tent, and to dry it out at home, so it didn’t go mouldy. He taught us about gear and looking after things.

We went cross-country skiing at Lake Mountain. We only went a couple of times, but I adored ‘langlaufing’. Is that even a word? Traversing the landscape.

When we were small, he used to walk around naked after a shower. Once when he was staying in Belgrave when Mum was away, Uncle Dick arrived when he was squatting down in the kitchen gargling and making us laugh. When Uncle Dick drove up Dad ran to the bathroom to put on a towel, then he continued to gargle while we shrieked and giggled.

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Dad values mathematical skills. It was not an area I ever had an aptitude for. He’d fire multiplication table questions at us at the dinner table. I was so nervous I’d get them wrong that my brain would freeze, and I’d struggle to answer even the simple questions. I was failing maths in Year 12 and Mum made me ring him up to tell him I had to withdraw. Without Mathematics I wasn’t going to get into Melbourne Uni Arts, but I made up for that by spending 17 years in total working there in my 30s-50s.

When we were young, he would ask us to tell the time. I would look at the clock and panic, worried that I’d get it wrong. As free-range 70’s kids, we paid more attention to the weather, our stomachs and the school bell, than what the clock said. Perhaps that was why it took so long for ‘time’ to become easy to read. I was given a watch aged eleven or so, and in regularly looking at the little face on my wrist, it become natural and simple to read the time. Decades later, I would observe my Mother-in-law’s unusual melting clock which was difficult to read correctly because the numbers were separated in an asymmetrical way, and I’d recall that sinking feeling of nervous confusion when the hands and the numbers where shapes that I couldn’t confidently translate.

I can hardly swim. It’s a terrible confession for a McLean girl, but no matter how much I try, I have never been able to float, tread water or swim with any proficiency. I like a paddle and a laze in the ocean or a river, but I have no desire to swim laps or conquer waves.

Dad was pretty determined to get me to swim. I remember being yelled at in the pool at Austinmer and I once heard him say about a teenage me: “We don’t bloody come all the way up here to read – we come here to go to swim!”. I was too mortified to tell him that I couldn’t go swimming because I’d just started my period. It was very heavy and lasted 10 days.

If I did go into the water, I enjoyed lying on my towel to dry off, listening to the sounds of the surf and the way the sand softened voices. I’d poke my finger into the warm, multicoloured grains of sand – a whole universe of past lives of crustaceans – that would leave a sweep of grit up our legs and between our toes as we marched back to Oceana parade, soggy towels around our necks, and streaks of zinc smudged across our faces as we wrangled umbrellas, buckets and boogie boards.

I participated in other Austinmer routines even if I didn’t catch waves. I played with Fee in the shallows while Dad was in the surf. I enjoyed the ritual of the reading of the tides and the walk to the water - twice a day if the weather permitted. The group lunch preparation (always with tinned beetroot), the consumption and the team of girls and Dad cleaning-up and washing dishes under his supervision. In the background the tiny TV or radio spewing sporting commentary.

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I learnt a lot about planning and construction from the work undertaken at Fisher Street. I was sometimes at a loss as to what to do on the weekend and was always happy to help Dad outside. Holding bits of wood while he sawed them, moving things out the way when he mowed (probably picking up Jedda’s dog poo), and helping with paving. He would often stop and think, and I’d ride out the time patiently, waiting until he was ready for me to mark the wood with pencil, or hold it steady again. I used that knowledge when paving a BBQ area at Doveton and then my own house, recently, in Preston.

Dad loves his native plants I particularly liked going to Austraflora with him. He would take a while to select them, which gave me time to read all the labels and think of which ones I would like to grow in my own garden one day. I was obsessed with the low, alpine plants that crept across rocks like Japanese moss in the display garden and one called Snow in Summer.

During long car trips, Dad used to get us to sing. Rob says it was to stop us from fighting in the back, but it was a lot of fun. There were some great songs in the Primary School songbooks, like Purple People Eater but Dad also taught us songs from his climbing songbook, like Clementine, and Off to the See the Wild West Show, and Hitler Has Only Got One Ball. Dad can’t really sing in key, but he loves it, so we loved singing with him.

On those long trips, whoever sat in the front passenger seat was responsible for handing out the Minties. You’d pass them to the sisters sitting behind but would peel Dad’s and pop it in his mouth for him, while his hands stayed firmly (and safely) on the steering wheel.

We often watched films with Dad on the weekend. Classics, like the Poseidon Adventure, Breaker Morant and Bridge Over the River Kwai. Recently we watched two of those films together, laughing at the jokes and mimicking the British accents of the Army Officers. Dad always cries at emotional moments in films like Chariots of Fire. And footy. The St Kilda boys make him cry with pride.

Bill Collin’s Golden Years of Hollywood was the Saturday Night entertainment. And if we were good, and rather quiet, we could stay up and watch the second film which was always a black and white classic. I developed a life-long love of film noir.

Even though Dad was very active, he spent a lot of time playing board games with us. He introduced us to Squatter and tried to teach us Panzerblitz. I’m not sure I ever played the latter one properly, but I was fascinated by the game and all the little cardboard pieces.

Family Testimonials

Dad was also a great one for patiently working through the boring bits of a 1000-piece puzzle – like the sky. And for filling in the large, coloured sections of tapestry when we felt like giving up.

He sewed practical things. He made Japara’s - buying kits and stitching them up before outdoor shops were common and outdoor gear was ‘fashionable’.

Dad and Rob had a lot of parties. We would DJ in the studyplaying Tom Waits, Simon and Garfunkel, Billy Joel, Billy Field and Elton John. In the mornings we would clear the ashtrays and the bowls of olive pits, do the dishes and bring Dad a cup of tea or two.

I remember him most after dinner, his legs crossed as he had a cigarette and a drink and espoused his views on politics, society and shared stories from his past. He’s a great orator and he’s never been good at finishing a conversation. I’ve had many a phone call that has gone on for at least half an hour longer than it should have because neither of us have said the words to wrap it up. When Dad used to drop us home at Belgrave he would stand between the dresser and the low built-in shelf not fully inside, and he would talk, sometimes for a very long time before he would go. But he always kissed us goodbye. Every time. He still does.

Weekends at Dad’s there was always sport on the telly –cricket, tennis in the Summer and any of ‘The Games’, then football in the Winter. Dad would often yell at the TV but not as loudly as Robyn. I liked watching sport with him. The eighties are still the only decade of sporting history I have any chance of answering correctly.

Once at a work end of year picnic, I astounded my colleagues by hitting a six, bowling someone out (who was on a local cricket team) and catching someone out. It was all those years of watching cricket with Dad and our own games at picnics near Schwerkolt’s Cottage that gave me the skills.

I spent a lot less time with Dad than my siblings did. I rarely went on camping trips after age 15 or so. He’s never really got to know my kids. But the things I shared with him still exist – music, movies and storytelling. When I visit Dad now, we put on records and sing along a bit. He tells me stories and I record him or take notes and write it up later. And most of all we laugh. We laugh at everything. At ourselves, at life, at the dog. We laugh at our vulnerabilities, our foibles, his failing mind and the things I’ve never accomplished. We laugh at our humanity.

Hazel Bella

Family Testimonials

Yolande

The Gifts You Gave Me

I’m talking with a lady involved in your rescue out the back of Bourke. Jude runs her fingers down my face, allowing them to rest briefly on my cheekbone and jawline. “You look so much like him” she says.

I am like you. The experiences I had as a child and adolescent shaped me in all the best ways, knocking off the rough edges, showing me what was possible. I honour you now, by living my wild life.

Mum says after you left, there were many times she found me waiting outside in the dark of the carport for you to come home. I don’t know how much of this is true as it is not my memory, and Mum does have a tendency to fictionalise events. The friction between you both rolled like icy waves. No one could survive that freeze.

Those early years are faded for me now. There is a vague memory, or memory of a memory, of you bouncing me on your foot. That has blended with memories of Fee.

You and Robbie made many sacrifices in that time, working and saving to build your life back up, after separation rent your finances in two. We never went without – and were envied by our peers for the many camping trips and adventures around Victoria.

It is no surprise I was (am) a tomboy, practical, logical, with a heavy serve of emotions. Your sacrifices weren’t just financial – many a dream was left adrift along the way. Mapping of the walks in the Great Dividing Range – I think of this every time I see the mountains, the things you didn’t do, as well as the ones you did. You taught me resilience, in your pragmatic approach to an aging body – changing sports and interests to adjust to the limitations of age.

How patiently you waited for us to grow into our own people. Enduring the pick-ups and drop offs as we walked a knife edge between parents. Those long Friday nights at Fisher St, we stayed up past Bill Collins and old movies, listening to you talk about work and walks and climbs and all manner of stories, beer or cigarette in hand. The cadence of your voice was mesmerising, grounding, so many mannerisms that defined you as “Dad”. Later, the murmur of you and Robbie talking quietly filtered into my dreams.

Family Testimonials

How grateful I am that you brought Robbie into our lives. Her warmth and compassion, patience and understanding helped connect me to you. In those early years you seemed distant and awkward. There were so many unanswered questions and only Mum’s version of events, tainted with bitterness and selfishness. Robbie brokered a question-and-answer session on the front porch of Oceania Parade and there I found peace in your honest responses. I know you to be an honourable man who takes accountability for his actions, decisions and choices.

In the year you were in the US, the connection seemed tenuous, fragile. Ione had a framed black and white photo of you in her bedroom, with a sprig of wattle pressed against the glass. She had become superstitious that if the golden bloom faded, you would not return. I would occasionally make my way into her room and press my fingers on the glass, remembering your smile and your laugh. These moments were furtive and stolen, as Ione would be angry as if touching the glass would diminish your memory. Her fear was not catching though. I was always certain you would return – you always had.

That Christmas, you’d called, and Jane forced me to answer the phone (although I never had before). I was holding it around the wrong way and in the distance, you were saying "turn the phone around Lande”. Jane wrenched the phone from me shouting “it’s expensive to call from overseas!”.

As a member of the Selby Rural Fire Service, you had interactions with other parents and as it turns out, you’d all been a bit amused by “The Crossing” – the hairy step through two intersecting limbs of the Blackwoods that grew on Selby Primary grounds. I think there was some attempt to cross by the fathers and possibly it was deemed too frail. One year, I fell from a lower branch, and bit through my lower lip. You collected me and I think you were a little proud that I had mastered “The Crossing”.

Years later, the Black Wednesday fires struck. Mum had wilfully decided to remain with the house and the arrangement had been made for you to drive in, assist with bush fire preparations and then take us back to Fisher Street. In the ensuing commute time, there had been an evacuation order. One by one the streets of Belgrave and Selby residential areas were evacuated and roadblocks set up. You arrived in darkness at the Belgrave-Hallam Road and were not permitted egress by the police. Instead, you parked your van and ran the 3–4 km to our home. You supported Mum in her decision and calmly put tennis balls in down pipes, filled the gutters with water, and drove us out to safety.

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Catching waves in the surf at Austi, I would try to emulate you, the white water thrashing and pummeling as you glide into the fizz and wash of the shore break. At Culburra, you emerge from the surf seething with a split forehead. A middle-aged woman ducked under the wave, with her back to the break. “Never turn your back on the waves Lande!”

Years later, your shoulder too restricted from earlier injuries, you stand sentry on the shore as Fee and Al play in the waves, ever vigilant. I’ve loved watching you soften, having the luxury of time with your second round of children.

These days, I read the surf, checking for spilling rather than breaking waves, spotting the rips and undertows, and then enjoying the thrill of assessing how big is too big a wave. Every now and then I am cleaned up and tumbled in the whitewash and hold my breath until I reach the surface. The adrenaline!

Our shared love of wild places connected us also, in a quiet, rarely spoken of way. I had a climbing trip to the Grampians in my thirties and walked up Mt Difficult on a rest day. With mist weaving through the stunted gums and the trail marked out in yellow triangles for the over and under boulders route, it was surprisingly familiar. Wisps of memory drifted ahead of me until we reached the summit, which was entirely unfamiliar. Back down in Horsham, I call you. “Did you ever take us up Mt Difficult?” And your reply “Yes Lande – you would have been about four years old”. We talked of our shared love of the outdoors, and my gratitude that you instilled that love in me, even if in doing so your own enjoyment of the outdoors was pocked by tears and tantrums and exceedingly slow dawdles. That day, there were tears and a moment of deep connection and understanding.

You made me believe that I could do anything. All it takes is self-belief, determination, perseverance and a dream. At about 11 or 12, you took us climbing (possibly Cathedral Ranges?) on a long hemp rope and a couple of slings as a harness. We had to step across a gap in the rock up the cliff face which seemed about a metre wide at the time. The knack was to lean forward and plant your palms on the face of the rock, and then step across. The sense of achievement!

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Years later I climb The Pharoah at Arapiles, a trad climb of about 18. I felt so proud knowing you had also climbed this route.

I know you were a little bewildered by indoor climbing centres. For me, they were a social venue where I could hone my training and find new climbing partners (much as you may have hung around the pubs near Melbourne Uni, or the MUMC clubhouse). At the time, I was one of the very few women climbers and especially trad climbers. The group I climbed with described me as having bigger balls than them. There was nothing I enjoyed more than tensioning my body to move just an inch further up and left to grip a crimp and drive to the next move. Climbing is intellectual, physical, and spiritual. It is just the rock and you, you and the rock.

Sport has been a great introducer for me. I have found many surrogate families along the way – the camaraderie that comes from shared experiences is pervasive. Those years of Easters at the Snowy were a demonstration of that, old friends united in memory. Laughter rolled around the campfire, witticisms and wisecracks, music and song. Your laughter rises above the crowd, usually at some pun or twist you’ve performed in your mind, a cracking appreciation of words.

The Snowies were where we first enjoyed kayaking – gliding along a river stilled in the morning, the splash and flip of a platypus or egret, sliding paddle into glassy surfaces and feeling the strength in arms and core. Any given weekend for a year or two was checking rain fall and river levels, venturing out with clubs or on our own. A magical multi day trip on the Snowy River, through Tulloch Ard Gorge, camping on the sandy banks. Navigating rapids, the portage, the failed eskimo rolls. The roar of a rapid echoing up between cliffs. Other club members (parents of teens) are surprised how well we get along. We’d navigated some patchy years to find a comfortable silence, each assured that the other was enjoying the company, environment, and sport.

You dislocated your shoulder paddling one year whilst I was interstate and remained a legend of the sport for walking out to the road to wait for help. Ever stoic and pragmatic, waiting for or relying on others just didn’t seem an option.

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I still feel the pull of wild places, as I am sure you do. The vast horizon across ocean or mountain range, the steep climb of a ridgeline into the rolling clouds. I breathe in the crisp air and thank you. One year you helped me plan a three-day walk-up Mt Feathertop, across Razorback. It seemed to me that pouring over the map for suitable camp sites with water gave you as much pleasure as walking it.

You and I are perhaps the most practical of the Clan. I much enjoyed being your offsider during the Fisher Street extension years, locating tools and carrying heavy materials. I learnt much by observation, such as using matchsticks as spacers for timber cladding, the use of string lines and the importance of returning tools to their rightful places. One year, you drove all the way to the Blue Mountains with your tools in the back. We rehung doors after planing their sticky edges, re-seated some taps and replaced washers, and you designed and built an exemplary chicken coop out of left over roofing and landscaping materials. I can also operate a chainsaw, get up on the roof to clean the gutters, prune trees and have commenced a complex landscaping project with multiple levels (bring in the string line!).

You also taught me the power of the mind, that your brain can take your body further than you ever think it can. I’m known for determination and perseverance in most things. At work, I am seen as ambitious, driven. I don’t believe I am particularly so – just the standard amount for a hard-working McLean.

A year after COVID lockdowns and I am still permitted to work from home. There is a mutual respect and trust with my employer. I tell him how you were left at home at 11 years old when the family went on holiday. Unable to locate a substitute for your paper round, you honoured your commitments. Nigel laughs, seeing much of me in this story of you.

Like you, I do not suffer fools, so pity the dull and incompetent that may intersect my orbit. Many times you voiced your frustration with peers and superiors. These days I try to contain my feelings or engage a neutral face.

You are moved by feats of human endurance –mountain climbs and long races. My own penchant is those who overcome hardship, who refuse the hand they’ve been dealt. When I can, I help them rise above ignominy or poverty, fear and anxiety, and my heart thrills to watch them soar.

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With each year that passes, our enjoyment of each other’s company increases. Never invisible or irrelevant, I look forward to spending time with you. In the chaos that is the gathering of the Clan, we still find shared moments. As Tamsin strums her guitar, we sing Clementine tearfully, father and daughter, filling the gaps and laughing at forgotten words and mistimed melodies. Nothing sounds more beautiful to me than this.

I love you, Dad.

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Family Testimonials

Felicity

Dear Dad,

We have just returned from a beach camping holiday. Watching the kids explore their worlds, getting filthy in the dirt and jumping in the waves got me thinking about some of the things that really stood out from my own childhood.

Bodysurfing

The two weeks of summer holidays on the south coast of NSW, starting with holidays at Austinmer are some of my favourite memories. I remember the summer before I learnt to bodysurf, you would take me out to the break zone so I could feel comfortable in the bigger waves. You taught me to recognise when it was a real dumper and to dive down and grip hold of the sand. I remember the sensation of my hair being pulled every which way as the sand was all churned up, and then coming up for air after it had rolled over the top of you. Another set would come in and I would shout “over or under Dad?! Over or under?” And we would repeat again. I loved that you were giving me your undivided attention and had faith in my abilities to make sound decisions.

The next year, you taught me to bodysurf, and I loved that it was an activity that we could all do as a family, each with our different styles. Every time either Al or I went into the water, you were always on guard. You would stand at the water’s edge wearing a once-white, now brown Greg Chappell hat, zinc sunscreen on your nose (that still didn’t stop those nasty moles from needing to be burnt off), sunnies on and hands behind your back. Whenever I caught a good ride, you were watching. I would turn to you, beaming from exhilaration and you would give me a grin and an enthusiastic thumbs up.

You continue to do this, well into my adulthood, and while I know that you may not be able to enthusiastically leap in to save me, I still loved that enthusiastic thumbs up.

Bodysurfing is now one of the great, almost secret, joys of my life. Finding that perfect beach and perfect conditions on a sunny, windless day has a magical quality about it. I think of you and the summers we had, and I am so grateful for that experience. I think about how you showed your love through actions, and imparting this unique skill, which makes it even more special. (And it is special!)

I feel so proud when I get comments from friends and strangers about my ability to bodysurf.

I say, "Thanks! My Dad taught me”

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Now I take Danny and Zoe to the beach, and I’m teaching Zoe to read the surf and boogie board. She loves it. I’m hoping to be able to bodysurf with them some day. And then, even when you are long gone, this special bodysurfing gift will be able to live on through them.

Reading

On our summer holidays, reading was the other big activity in the middle of the day. I really appreciate how you would read the same books that I was really keen on so we could talk about them. You read all of John Marsden’s ‘Tomorrow When the War Began” series, and rather impressively figured out where the camping spot ‘Hell’ was based on. You then cornered John Marsden at a speaking gig at Blackburn Lake Primary School who confirmed your suspicions!

In later high school you would read my history books ahead of me, putting in little ripped up bits of paper with notes and sticky tabs on the bits you thought most interesting. We would bore the rest of the family at dinner time as we engaged in intellectual discussion about the Battle of Stalingrad.

Physical pursuits

You took us on so many adventures and sometimes pushed us hard. I remember doing a bushwalk with school for the Duke of Edinburgh Award and being so surprised that one was allowed to do a multi-day hike getting to camp at lunch so we could enjoy the beach, rather than pushing on to the next camp! A frequent refrain from you and mum was, “It is listed as a three-day hike, but we’ve found a way we can do it in two!”

In the holidays between Year 6 and Year 7, as I was transitioning from primary school to high school, you took me with you and mum on the multi-day rafting trip down the Snowy River. They were long days, and I remember eating a lot of mini-Mars bars and Maggi noodles. To some degree, I was treated as one of the grown-ups on the river and I felt proud. It was on this trip that you taught me “When you are tired, you are only halfway to buggered”.

I had had a rough final few years of primary school with some bullying. Whether you and mum realised this or not, I think this trip was perfect for me to go into high school feeling confident and strong, leaving those years behind me.

Matt, Zoe, Fee and Danny.

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Family Testimonials

You had always modelled that effort and enjoyment is more important than winning. This has been so critical for me, as I’m unlikely to win anything, but boy do I like giving it a shot and pushing my limits. I feel confident in my ability to try something, because it is the trying that is important, rather than the outcome and this has led me to many enjoyable times in my life!

Outdoors

You took us camping, often in the winter rain for kayaking purposes, but also all along the south coast. I remember collecting firewood with you and mum and someone who I believe was new to the Whitehorse Canoe Club and unbeknown to me as a preschooler, was not an experienced camper. She picked up a wattle branch off the ground and I said “No. Not that one. That’s wattle. It will smoke. Everyone knows that”. Precocious little shit.

I think my love of the natural world was born from these experiences. It led me to want to protect our environment and improve it. Partly because of these formative experiences I found myself a job at the Federal Department of Environment. I feel a great sense of purpose from the work that I do.

I love how patient you are with the grandchildren in the natural world. You were never known for your patience, but you are the perfect person to be with a little person who is squatting down looking at a bug.

I love you, Dad. Thanks for sharing all these things and your values with me. They have made me who I am today, and I am sharing them with my own children.

Lots of love and hugs,

Family Testimonials

Alistair

You don’t pick your dad; you just get assigned one at birth. One of the many privileges I was born with, was an excellent dad. My understanding is that, after the slog of raising his first four children, dad was not particularly excited by the prospect of starting all over again with some more. I’m grateful that dad obviously loved my mum enough to agree to dedicating another big chunk of his life to raising a couple more humans with mum.

Dad has always been into the outdoors, and even though some of the more adventurous parts had to be dialled back a bit to accommodate Fee and me, most of my early memories include the outdoors. I was indoctrinated into camping at a young age, with regular trips to the Snowy River every Easter. Dad taught me how to find the good firewood, how to start a fire (particularly the satisfaction of starting a fire from last night’s coals) and I remember him taking great satisfaction in cooking a roast over the campfire. This involved quite a few drinks before and during, alongside lots of excited descriptions about his set up – which could involve several “coal production areas” and even a “coal consolidation area”. At these annual trips there would also be a bunch of dad’s Uni mates from the Melbourne University Mountaineering Club (MUMC). Mum and dad would keep me and Fee somewhat sheltered from more of the raucous activities, we would be in a sheltered “family” site off to the side over with Paul and Pam Beardsley and their three kids. But every year the MUMC group would put together a giant bonfire. As a young kid most of the revelry went over my head (and I was generally too transfixed by the fire to take much in) but usually after a few drinks and some encouragement Dad would burst out into a rendition of the bawdy (and very lengthy) poem - “The Bastard From The Bush” entirely from memory.

Alongside camping dad has introduced me to many outdoor pursuits. We went whitewater rafting, kayaking and cross-country skiing together. I remember when retired dad discovered that his seniors card entitled him to bargain Lake Mountain skiing on a weekday, so there was a period of time where I would often come back home after a long day only to find that dad had been off on his own solo skiing adventure.

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Dad also taught me to love the beach and the surf, where he successfully transitioned me through various stages of enjoyment as I grew up.

My earliest memory of the surf is “Rock n roll with Dad”, which as far as I can remember consisted of me dancing/kicking/flailing around in the shallows as the broken waves passed through while Dad yelled encouragement in the form of “Rock and roll!” with a big grin on his face. When I had outgrown that, dad patiently taught me how to bodysurf, catching the smaller waves in the water where I could stand.

As a family, we would always look to dad to survey the beach for rips and undertows and wait for a sage nod of approval from dad that it was safe. (The one time I didn’t do this, I was promptly yanked by an undertow only to be rescued by a nearby man). By the late 90s, dad, mum, Fee and I were all at a similar level of comfort and sensibleness that the four of us would stake out a line in the same spot, always looking for that perfect wave that all four of us could catch.

If I was ever unsure that a wave would break, dump or just pass us by, I would always look to dad to see if he was going for a wave – considering him to be the best judge of their shape. Once dad had his fill or was cold, he would head back to land, but would transition to lifeguard dad, gazing out to sea to watch and protect us. When we joined him afterwards, he would be sure to congratulate us on the successful catching of a particularly good wave or share a laugh over one of the many times I’ve been dumped. As I got older and more foolhardy, if the swell was large enough, I would head out further in search of the larger waves, especially at Tuross Heads if a big swell was on.

Dad would dutifully watch on from the shore, and so I would still have a sense of invincibility, knowing that dad was watching on.

For a man with a terrible sense of rhythm and tune, dad has a wonderful love of music that he has passed on to me. From various tapes on our many long car trips dad has shared his love of Bruce Springsteen, Creedence Clearwater Revival and many other classic bands. Dad’s “two of a kind” mixtape remains legendary –pairing different interpretations of the same song back-to-back. Dad was always very keen to tell the story behind the lyrics, if the Billy Joel song about a fishing town going bust came on, this would prompt dad to excitedly explain the deeper meanings to anyone who would listen, even though we’d heard this the last time this song came on the tape! This seems to be a genetic trait, as I can already feel the same urge to explain songs to 5-month-old Genevieve.

Family Testimonials

Singing along to tapes in the car on long trips remains an enduring memory. Dad always found my misheard version of “there’s a bad moon on the rise” / ”there’s a bathroom on the right” lyric very amusing, while young me was just a bit confused why dad was so obsessed with the bit of the song where he talks about where the toilet is.

I’m not sure how happy mum was with this, but I think dad was the first person to get me into video games as a child. When mum was out, dad would boot up the computer, put Wolfenstein 3D on and plonk me on his lap. I would happily watch as dad would move around, finding secret rooms full of treasure and shooting Nazis. The game had a face in the bottom panel that represented your player health that would get bloodier and bloodier as your health declined –dad tactfully explained to me that the red stuff on the man’s face was just tomato sauce, I don’t think he had an explanation for the nazi shooting bit. Later we would bond over our shared love of the Civilization II game, and the simple pleasures of setting up a wonderful railway network to move howitzers to the front lines with great speed.

Growing up, dad has always been up for a chat and would always really get going if one of his special interests came up. At various points in dad’s life, you were committing yourself to receive an hour-long lecture if you brought up anything with even a tenuous link to: Tim Lowe’s latest book; Mallory and Irving’s expedition; Rommel; Scott of the Antarctic and many more. One thing I missed after moving out of home is the many late-night chats I had with dad as once I had grown up, dad and I tended to have the latest bedtimes of the family. Mum and dad had a routine where at the very end of the day, when dinner had finished, mum had finished working for the day, they would retire to the kitchen table for some wines and a chat. When mum had gone to bed we would often start talking about the news, or the music I’d been listening to or a million other things. There were other times when I’d been out at a party, coming home relatively late thinking I wouldn’t have to present myself as respectable to any parents, and there would be dad, still up and having a glass of water before bed. Then I’d end up having 20-minute drunken chat with dad, where he’d confirm that I was in a decent enough state and then he’d wander off back to bed.

One of my favourite things about family camping trips when I’ve been older has been sitting up late, staring at the fire and drinking a few beers with dad.

John McLean: Climbing

Family Testimonials

Dad’s engineering brain has always been obvious. Whether it’s his inability to switch off his work brain on car trips (so that he would give the family lectures on the pros and cons of fine crushed rock as a road surface) to viewing various tasks through the prism of an engineering problem, dad has always approached tasks with an engineering mind. Not only did he do huge renos of the house, but he would also take the project management very seriously, meticulously detailing each job in a spreadsheet, alongside an estimate of the predicted number of man hours required, and (to hold himself accountable) a record of the actual hours taken. Similar planning documents were created for our car trips, where dad would have in advance scoured the best route and travel times.

“Best” is a subjective term, and occasionally the best route meant an interesting (to dad) route that took longer, on windier and bumpier roads with a non-zero chance of the road petering out into nothing.

When I had my knee reconstruction in 2005, dad went into full project mode. I had signed up to go walk the Kokoda Trail in Papua New Guinea with my school, and dad was determined to make sure I could rehabilitate myself in time to still go. Dad would drive to my physio appointment and listen in for any opportunity to help. He saw a sloped board at the physios that I was using to do knee bends on, and within a couple of days, he’d constructed one for home, complete with a little grip pad on the surface. Once I was back to walking and trying to prepare my knee for the Kokoda Trail, dad would drive me out to the thousand steps walk for practice. Not content that the thousand steps trail was sufficiently rugged terrain he got out the maps and found an amazingly muddy and overgrown trail in the Dandenong’s for us to walk.

I couldn’t have picked a better dad if I’d tried. Thanks, dad, for being an allround excellent dad and for moulding me into the man I am today.

- Al

Alisrair and Kerryn with baby Geniveve

Family Photos

Photographs, clockwise from top left.

John at Culbura beach

John and Robyn, well known as rock n' roll dancers

John and Robyn, pregnante with Alistair

John with Fee, aged three

Jane, Bertie and John at Tathra with trusty VW Kombi

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

Family Photos

Photographs, clockwise from top left.

John and Fee with baby Alistair

Robyn and Fee

Fee, Alistair and John

John and Rob at Austinmer

Hamish, Banjo and Tessa

Photographs, clockwise from top left. Robyn, Karin, John and Tamsin, 2024

Fee and Alistair

Dick, John's late brother in law, and John at Tathra digging trenches in the rain

John and Danny, aged four

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

NB – this is not a fictionalised account, however there may be variations based on the different perspectives and recollections of individuals who recounted their experience.

The characters:

Garry – station owner and real salt of the earth type, nuggety and bearish, generous with his time and hugs. Knows his land like the back of his hand.

Samantha – warm and hospitable, says she doesn’t hug but dished more than a few out. Full of energy and wisdom and bakes up a storm.

Jude – 5-week guest at station and a gently spoken wise woman.

Ed – Jude’s husband, unassuming and gentle, part of the search team.

Melanie – National Parks and Wildlife.

Axel deep and big trouble

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

Part 1 - The Bogging

Tuesday

Dad and Robbie were well into their trip into Central West NSW, and we were receiving messages every day or so as mobile reception is sparse between towns. They’d camped in Brewarinna and visited the fish traps and the Aboriginal Museum. There had been heavy rainfall across the state, with a further 120mm forecast for later that Tuesday night. It seemed they would have plenty of time to visit the Aboriginal Caves in Gundabooka National Park before the rain forecast to fall that evening.

The roads were in reasonable condition, although poorly signposted and there were no road closure signs. They’d become a little confused as to the way out of the Park and when they left at about 4 or 5 in the afternoon, they exited via a different road to the one they’d come in on. They saw a sign (handpainted, wooden) saying Bourke 90km. The road was heavily rutted and they drove out to the edge to avoid the ruts and unfortunately the edges are softer and they became bogged.

Garry: “They’d gone into a table drain. When it rains, all the water in the area flows into the table drain. This means when it stops raining, the water level continues to rise for a day or so. And then it gradually drains away.”

There was not a lot of water around initially, just enough to make it wet and uncomfortable. Banjo didn’t like going into the water and Robbie had to put him on a lead to then get him to come across to the van. Everything quickly became wet and orange with the water Banjo was shaking off. As the rain continued through the night, the puddle in the table drain became larger and more challenging.

As the table drain placed the van on a lean, Dad would roll onto Robbie during the night. They were able to move the van forward by about 6 feet by placing logs under the wheels, so it was on less of a lean.

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

Wednesday

Although the rain had eased, the water continued to rise throughout the day as the surrounding area ran into the table drain. They put sticks in to monitor the water levels as it rose to the door of the van. Their socks were drenched from making their way to and from the van. During the day, Banjo quickly learnt to jump directly from the dry(ish) area into the van, where he would curl up and sleep until either or Dad or Rob would take him for a walk along the muddy road bordered by barbed wire.Every day Robbie was turning the engine over.

She had reviewed the map but was unable to pinpoint their location as the way they entered and entered the park was different and not clear in their memory. They had no mobile reception and no way to alert anyone that they were bogged, and Dad was becoming increasingly anxious about the lack of through traffic.

Thursday

After another soggy night, Robbie was checking the weather on the radio and saw a low battery alert, so she turned the engine over and it started. After 24 hours of no rain, the water level had dropped about 2.5 inches, but the van was still bogged. Recalling the sign saying Bourke was 90 kilometres away, she and Dad made a plan to walk out, thinking they could cover the distance over two days as they had a small tent. They didn’t have a backpack but could carry what they needed in Woollies shopping bags.

At about 2pm, Dad took Banjo out for a walk along the red mud road. He’d stayed on the road previously so there was no reason to think he would go anywhere else. Whilst he was on his walk, Robbie checked the van again and it wouldn’t even turn over.

John's feet required weeks of nursing as a result of the ordeal and a new pair of shoes

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

Part 2 - The Misadventure

Thursday

When Dad hadn’t returned, Robbie was concerned and couldn’t work out where he would be. The paddocks either side of the road were surrounded by barbed wire.

Garry “There was an old tree that had fallen onto the fence. It made a place where John could go through. The tracker found John and Banjo’s tracks there. Rob’s tracks were there too, her Tevas, with Banjo, so she’d probably gone there earlier”.

Later in the evening, when Dad had not returned, Robbie lit a fire and then put out a light hoping he would find his way back to the van. She dehydrated and heated up some Bolognese so that he could have something hot to eat. Saving the Bolognese for Dad, she had Vita Weets and half a bottle of wine for dinner, poring over the map. She knew she had to get herself out to get help, and worked out roughly where they were, and located a sheep station and farm stay, Rose Isle Station, not more than 30 kilometres away, and made her plan to walk out to get help the next morning. Eventually she managed to get some sleep.

Garry “John ended up only about 3km from the boundary of our property”.

Friday

By morning neither dad nor the dog had returned. Robbie collected all the items she needed: phone, charger, medication, water, etc. Her biggest concern was finding dad expired on the side of the road. 30 kilometres seemed a very long way to go and she metered out her water by letting herself have a drink every 60 minutes. She was very much relieved to reach the turnoff to Louth Road after about 15 kilometres, as this meant there was only about 3km to go. On her way, she passed two other properties which were very quiet.

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

Samantha “There was no one at those properties.”

She’d scribed a very brief message on whatsapp which transmitted as she was walking up the driveway.

“I am walking to rose isle farmstead. Dad took the dog for a walk last night and did not come home. Hold off on phone calls until I walk a further 3km on this road”.

An earlier message came through later.

“We are bogged on a dirt road with no mobile reception. We are on the dirt road to Bourke out of the Gindabooka national park. Can someone please call the NRMA our number plate is 1oh1ck.”

Karin was the first to read the message and took decisive action, calling her Pajero club for advice. She located a contact for Rose Isle Station and was on a call to Samantha when Robbie arrived (reception is good about a third of the way along their long driveway) to hear her saying “your stepmum has arrived now”. Samantha gave her a big hug and let her know that the rescue planning was well underway.

Karin also called the National Parks service and spoke with Melanie. By the time Melanie got off the phone, her colleague Michael had received a call from Garry, Samantha’s husband, and were across the situation. Fee called the police and logged a job, and Al contacted the NRMA (although the van would be too big a task for them to extract). Within an hour of Robbie’s message being received, Garry was out on a buggy looking for Dad and the Police were in communication. Two hours later, a survey helicopter was in the air and dad’s tracks were located, as the wet conditions made them more visible. The helicopter pilot had called his employer and asked permission to assist with the search. There were many members of the community that volunteered their time and services.

Robbie “Reception very patchy. Lady at this station wonderful. Fed me lunch, has given me a hot shower. I walked about 15km to get here today so feeling a bit weary but would be much happier if they had found Dad and Banjo”.

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

By 3pm, the SES were ready to do a ground search. National Parks also had some staff out in the area but had not located anything. At 6:30 that night, they spotted Banjo however he ran off.

Garry “We could tell that sometimes Banjo was off the lead. When he was on the lead, he really dug in, he was pulling against the lead. One time he went over the fence, and John went under it. The tracker could see that he dug with his hands, and then a stick”.

Ed “The tracks were going in and out of the scrub. But he kept going under fences! Every time we thought we had him contained in a paddock (12km x 8km), he’d go under another fence and we’d think ‘Aw Gawd, that’s just extended the search area!’”.

The road to Bourke was closed due to conditions and the van was still bogged. In amongst the search and caring for Robbie, Garry’s father was arranging to get a tractor out to the van to drag it clear of the table drain.

The lovely Samantha and Jude did their best to distract Robbie from thinking about possible outcomes. That night she had a roast lamb dinner tinged with guilt thinking of Dad’s cold, meal-less evening.

Robbie “Samantha was my mother, even though she is younger than me. She laid out a toothbrush, hairbrush, hugged me and fed me”.

At about 8:30pm, it was reported that they had found Banjo.

Garry: “At one point John got to a water tank, and he went around it a couple of times before heading off again. The tracker saw Banjo at the water tank, and he managed to get hold of him.”

John McLean: Climbing

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

Part 3 - The Rescue Saturday

Garry had a level of disdain for the way the police were conducting the search.

Garry “John’s tracks headed into the scrub. It’s really dense, I wanted to go around the perimeter and pick them up again around the other side. The police insisted on going through the scrub which slowed us down”.

Overnight they’d deployed a drone with an infra-red sensor, however they’d only located a couple of kangaroos.

Dad “I tried to get as far under the log as possible”

Evidently this had reduced his heat signature. Three helicopters were going up that morning over the terrain they expected him to be in, however it was people on the ground that located him.

RFS Helicopter Pilot (contractor) “When I flew over the area, I thought geez he’s a goner. The scrub is so dense that you could walk 5 metres in, turn around, and be lost’.

Garry “We found him by luck.”

Garry, Ed and others had been out on quad bikes checking the fences and scrub for tracks. On many locations they found Dad’s tracks going in circles.

Dad “I tried to walk in a straight line. I thought eventually I’d find a property, or someone working on the land”

Bourke Police “He was generally heading in the one direction, with lots of loops and circle backs. In a different environment, you could follow a fence line and get somewhere, but out here, the fences go on for miles”

Whilst the Bourke LAC was coordinating the search and

John and Banjo at the end of the ordeal

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

rescue efforts, Garry, his neighbour Mal (Frazer!) and Ed were out early in the morning through to night-time on quad bikes checking the fences and scrub for tracks. When one of the search team arrived Saturday morning, Gary had sent him out Louth Road and directed him to turn off to the search area they believed Dad was in. This gentleman was not very familiar with the area and took a wrong turn, and unwittingly conducted a search along a fence line that was not part of the search area. However, he located Dad’s tracks about 6km away from where Garry and the team were and radioed it in. Garry was surprised as that wasn’t where they were expecting him to be.

They redirected the search efforts to this area. Ed, Garry and Mal were spread out in a line of three. They found Banjo’s lead, which dad had evidently been carrying the entire time, and then 300 metres on, Mal found Dad, sitting on a log, preparing himself to walk again.

Garry “the tracker said the only time John stopped was Friday night, when he slept under the log. The rest of the time, he was constantly moving”.

Robbie was at Rose Isle Station on the phone to her dear friend Sonia when the message came through that Dad had been found, she screamed with delight and then finally allowed herself to cry, after having held it together for several days.

The rescue party, Left to right: Garry, Robyn, John (in van), Jude, Ed and Samantha

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

Part 4 - The Extraction

Saturday

The helicopters had barely commenced searching and one of them was deployed to ferry Dad back to Rose Isle Station where Robbie and Banjo were waiting. He was still holding Banjo’s lead in his hand as he disembarked the helicopter, which met them at a high point on the road. The ambulance service met them at a high point on the road and performed an assessment, determining that a hospital admission was necessary, although Dad was in surprisingly good condition despite the ordeal.

Once onboard the emergency services helicopter with Robbie, Dad fell asleep, and they were taken to Bourke Hospital. On admission, he was determined to not be suffering from hypothermia despite only wearing shorts, a woollen thermal and a polar fleece, and shoes. We think this is due to his habit of only put on the heating when it is less than 14 degrees inside the house – and his Gaelic heritage.

His heels were heavily abraded due to walking in shoes without socks for 50 hours. He was frail, incoherent and very dehydrated. The hospital staff were compassionate and friendly, although shorthanded, and quickly got a bag of fluids into Dad.

After several days in Bourke Hospital, the roads were finally (unofficially) open and we were able to make the 70km drive to Rose Isle to retrieve Banjo, the van and meet many of the characters involved in Dad’s search. Banjo very much enjoyed his farm stay and had learnt to jump 6 feet to his crate (although guests at Rose Isle didn’t enjoy his barking as much). Jude and Samantha had gone to great efforts to clean the contents of the van as best they could. Garry kept a memento of Dad’s walk, handing me a stick which he thought was Dad’s walking stick. When I showed it to Dad, he said it wasn’t a walking stick, he had been using it to dig under the fences.

John in Bourke hospital

The Misadventures of Party Jumbo and Banjo the Kelpie

After a lovely morning tea and the vignette of events from Ed, Jude, Samantha and Garry, we drove the van out to Bourke and commenced the long trip home via Forbes and Canberra.

Dad has no current memory of the events. When shown the photo of the bogged van, he said ‘oh that’s why that keeps appearing in my dreams”. The first morning he awoke in hospital alone, he was deeply distressed and cried when Rob walked in. We made sure he had a sign assuring him everyone was okay (including his wallet) and the next morning he cheerfully asked, “who made the note?” Day by day the snippets he remembered have gone.

When told the story, he is embarrassed and worried that everyone thinks he is a stupid old man. No Dad – they are amazed at how far you walked and how fit you are. And we are all so proud of Robbie for finding a way out of a frightening situation.

John rescued by chopper, still holding Banjo's lead

John McLean: Climbing my Mountain 77

The Bastard from the Bush

Throughout his outdoor adventures John was known to heartily recite his favourite poem while boiling

John belaying Robyn at Mt Arapiles. Jedda minding the backpacks

78 John McLean: Climbing my Mountain

The Bastard from the Bush (attributed to Henry Lawson)

As the night was falling slowly over city, town and bush, From a pub in Jone’s alley came the Captain of the Push, And his whistle loud and piercing woke the echoes of the Rocks, And a dozen ghouls came slouching round the corners of the docks,

Then the Captain jerked a finger at a stranger on the kerb, Whom he qualified politely with an adjective and verb. Then he made the introduction, “Here’s a covey from the bush, F**k me blind, he wants to join us, be a member of the Push!”

Then the stranger made this answer to the Captain of the Push, “F**k me dead, I’m Foreskin Fred, the Bastard from the Bush! I’ve been to every two-up school from Darwin to the ’Loo, I’ve ridden colts and black gins, what more can a Bastard do?”

“Are you game to smash a window?” asked the Captain of the Push; “I’d knock a f**king house down,” said the Bastard from the Bush.

“Would you take a maiden’s baby? asked the Captain of the Push; “I’d take a baby’s maiden,” said the Bastard from the Bush.

“Would you bash a bloody copper, if you caught the c**t alone, Would you stoush a swell or chinky, split his garret with a stone, Would you make your wife a harlot, and swear off work for good?”

Again that bastard’s voice rang out, “My f**king oath, I would!”

So, they took him to their hide-out, that Bastard from the Bush, And they gave him all the privileges belonging to the Push; But soon they found his little ways were more than they could stand, And finally the Captain thus addressed his little band:

“Now listen here you buggers, we’ve caught a f**king tartar; At every kind of bludgin’ that bastard’s got the starter, At poker and at two-up he shook our f**king rules, He swipes our f**king liquor, and he robs our f**king girls.”

So down in Jones’ Alley, all the members of the Push Laid a dark and dirty ambush for the Bastard from the Bush, And against the wall of Riley’s pub, the Bastard made a stand, A nasty grin upon his dial, a bike chain in his hand.

They sprang upon him in a bunch, but one by one they fell, With crack of bone, unearthly groan and agonizing yell, Till the sorely battered Captain, spitting teeth and coughing blood, Held an ear all torn and bleeding in a hand bedaubed with mud.

“You low polluted bastard,” snarled the Captain of the Push, “Get back to where you come from, that’s somewhere in the bush, And I hope that vile misfortune may tumble down on you, May some lousy harlot dose you, till your bollocks turn sky blue.

May the pangs of windy spasms through your aching bowels dart, May you shit your bloody trousers, every time you try to fart, May you take a swig of gin’s piss, mistaking it for beer, May the Push you next impose on, toss you out on your bloody ear.

May the itching piles torment you, may corns grow on your feet, May crabs as big as spiders attack your balls a treat.

Then, when you’re down and out, and a hopeless bloody wreck, May you slip back through your arsehole, and break your bloody neck.”