One drizzly day, as I went out to the wood heap, I noticed a wisp of smoke from the south side of Diamond Hill.
I was not too concerned about a fire spreading, because of the drizzle, but there remained the need to check it out.
I climbed into the old Commer truck
, much like this one, but NZFS yellow and with a canopy on the back. This old girl had a crash gearbox, so you had to drive it. It lacked power too and was temperamental - the heater blew cold air when going down hill - but that is just what I liked, because nobody else wanted to drive it, it was always available to me. Low geared, it was no speed demon.
I charged up the hill and did notice a group of people standing at the bottom of Breakneck Road, but took little note because I was on a mission.
The wisp of smoke and it was coming from the bottom of Road 15B and that was a dirt road, therefore if I drove down there, I would not get out because of the wet. I walked down.
After rounding a corner, I saw there was a vehicle and tent with a camp fire and the young couple inside the tent were doing what young couples do - well in the circumstances there was not much else to do!
With no intention of startling or embarrassing them, I retraced my steps a little and then returned and coughed at a safe distance. There was a certain amount of quick movement and a red-faced guy poked his head out of the tent flap.
The obvious line was, 'What are you doing?' but I decided against that preferring, 'Hi there, sorry but this area is State Forest, and you are not allowed to camp here.'
The couple had been looking for somewhere to camp and had driven down this road but were unable to drive out because of the wet. I could see they were telling the truth because there were tyre marks there to prove it.
It was unwise to allow them to stay, so I told them I would return with tyre chains to put on my truck, then I could pull them out.
On my return down the hill, a guy was standing in the middle of the road forcing me to stop.
'You splashed my father before,' he said, 'now his trousers are wet.'
My reply was not polite and I drove off.
I have the greatest respect for older folk, but I had none for this guy. Well the guy who had stopped me had built a small house down the road and had stolen fence posts from our heap that was stored in the paddock. I knew they were the posts because ours could not be purchased anywhere. So this old guy [in my book] got wet because he was standing close to a puddle as I passed. Well there is some justice.
I returned for the couple and extracted them without incident and they set up camp in the Forest HQ area where there was a water tap and a toilet. They were happy for their rescue.
I was not too concerned about a fire spreading, because of the drizzle, but there remained the need to check it out.
I climbed into the old Commer truck
, much like this one, but NZFS yellow and with a canopy on the back. This old girl had a crash gearbox, so you had to drive it. It lacked power too and was temperamental - the heater blew cold air when going down hill - but that is just what I liked, because nobody else wanted to drive it, it was always available to me. Low geared, it was no speed demon.I charged up the hill and did notice a group of people standing at the bottom of Breakneck Road, but took little note because I was on a mission.
The wisp of smoke and it was coming from the bottom of Road 15B and that was a dirt road, therefore if I drove down there, I would not get out because of the wet. I walked down.
After rounding a corner, I saw there was a vehicle and tent with a camp fire and the young couple inside the tent were doing what young couples do - well in the circumstances there was not much else to do!
With no intention of startling or embarrassing them, I retraced my steps a little and then returned and coughed at a safe distance. There was a certain amount of quick movement and a red-faced guy poked his head out of the tent flap.
The obvious line was, 'What are you doing?' but I decided against that preferring, 'Hi there, sorry but this area is State Forest, and you are not allowed to camp here.'
The couple had been looking for somewhere to camp and had driven down this road but were unable to drive out because of the wet. I could see they were telling the truth because there were tyre marks there to prove it.
It was unwise to allow them to stay, so I told them I would return with tyre chains to put on my truck, then I could pull them out.
On my return down the hill, a guy was standing in the middle of the road forcing me to stop.
'You splashed my father before,' he said, 'now his trousers are wet.'
My reply was not polite and I drove off.
I have the greatest respect for older folk, but I had none for this guy. Well the guy who had stopped me had built a small house down the road and had stolen fence posts from our heap that was stored in the paddock. I knew they were the posts because ours could not be purchased anywhere. So this old guy [in my book] got wet because he was standing close to a puddle as I passed. Well there is some justice.
I returned for the couple and extracted them without incident and they set up camp in the Forest HQ area where there was a water tap and a toilet. They were happy for their rescue.
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