Hampton State Forest
When Rob said he could add us to the Saturday ‘Bonfire Hill’ trip, Helen and I decided we would make a weekend of it and stay in the Blue Mountains on the Friday and Saturday nights. This would allow us to have a leisurely 
breakfast and more or less amble to the meeting place at Hartley. However, finding accommodation at a B&B wasn’t as easy as we had imagined. July 25th - and every day around this weekend - is the busiest time of the year in this neck of woods: It being Yuletide, with thousands of tourists wanting to experience a ‘European Christmas’ atmosphere with log fires, roast dinners, plum pudding and plenty of red wine. Eventually, we found a place at Wentworth Falls that had a last-minute cancellation. On the Saturday, breakfast
and the ‘amble’ to Hartley went according to plan. Then Rob - rather gleefully - told us that, as we were the last
to arrive, this meant we had to write the trip report.
Crikey, beaten by bunch of ‘city slickers’! Ah, well. After some light-hearted chat, eight vehicles headed off along the scenic Jenolan Caves Road to a turn off just past the Hampton Hotel. Incidentally, this hotel could be the only place in the world where you can buy a Willy Burger (We won’t say any more, other than they taste better than anything from Maccas). Soon after, we were travelling through dense forest, with occasional glimpses of distant mountains, and recent rain ensured that dust from the vehicles in front never spoilt the view. At the bottom of the first steep hill, Rob suggested we lower our tyre pressures; to improve traction and make the tyres less prone to punctures by the rocks on the trails. These ‘rocks’ are mostly sharp lumps of shale that lie in wait of unsuspecting radials. The nastiest ones sit up like very pointy pyramids, and when they strike you usually hear a very unwelcome shooshing sound. This first hill required several attempts by most drivers, but it wasn’t long before everyone was on their way, and an hour or so later we were at the morning tea spot: a metal shed, about 3m x 3m, in the middle of dense bush. The furnishings included a large lounge chair and a kitchen sink. Outside, on the ‘verandah’ was a fold-up toilet seat. It is hard to imagine how anyone could live in such a remote spot. We guessed it was once used as overnight accommodation by fly- fishing enthusiasts. Then we were on our way to what must be one of 4-wheel driving’s best-kept secrets.
A week before, we had googled ‘Bonfire Hill’ to find that almost all the references related to
a hill of the same name in Victoria. Apart from a report regarding a successful ascent by a WWII Jeep club, there was little else. Surely, a prominent mountain top with a name like this would have some history. Was it used by indigenous Australians to send smoke signals to a distant tribe? Perhaps a club member could fill in the blanks. The Hampton topographical map indicted that the track to the top would be steep. At 1100m, Blackheath is the highest town in the Blue Mountains. Bonfire Hill is 200m higher. And it felt like it. But with tyres scrabbling for grip, traction controls rattling, and the drivers doing their best to avoid the sharp shale, we all got to the top. Wow! What a view. There are few places within easy reach of Sydney where you can see the (very) distant horizon in every direction. This is one of them. And even if you had to walk from the bottom of the first hill it would be well worth it. Unfortunately, the six degree
temperature, plus the brisk breeze, made the large area at the top an unpleasant place to have lunch; so we followed Rob and Marisse down to a perfect, and sheltered, 
spot beside a waterfall.
Early in the afternoon, we arrived at the bottom of a very steep, and loose, track. Rob gave us the option of attempting the track, or bypassing it via an easier route. Naturally, most drivers chose the hard way. And, naturally, being Land Rovers, every vehicle that attempted the hill got to the top. However, as we drove away on flatter ground, John Cantrell advised that his Range Rover Classic seemed to have lost ‘drive’. A cursory examination revealed that John’s rear differential sounded totally cactus, and there was no way it could be driven – on its own – back to the Jenolan Caves Road. Within ten minutes, John’s Rangie was hooked to a D2, via a winch strap, and was slowly towed up and down the fire trails. When the D2 lost traction, a D3 was added to the equation and the threesome eventually made it to some sort of normal road. From here, John drove gingerly back to the Hampton Hotel. Then, the men (being men) couldn’t resist taking a peek under the Rover. What they saw was a big hole in the diff cover, and the head of a pinion gear looking straight back at them! It was a disappointing finish for John, but he was able to contact the NRMA and arrange for a tow truck to come and get his vehicle. It was probably a longish wait, but at least John and David would have had time to test some of those Willy Burgers.