included such things as the Balnarring Races, tennis, ballroom and colonial dancing, river cruises and rafting, parties, photo competitions, trail rides and star-gazing at the Ballarat Observatory (see 'Social Activities', page 150).

In particular, three types of 'degenerate weekends' sprang up in the eighties and became regular annual events by popular demand. These were the Marysville guesthouse weekend, the Highfield Park hostel weekend, and the Rawson Resort winter weekend for cross-country skiers.

With a few notable exceptions, weekend walkers are a fairly isolationist lot and are rarely seen at the social events, but they are inclined to undertake brief 'binges'. For this reason I was confident that they would be well represented at such events as the Marysville weekend, but to my dismay when I attended one year, I found myself sitting alone in a house full of total strangers who were obviously Sunday walkers and very well known to each other!

The Rawson weekends are a different matter, of course, being focussed on cross-country skiing at Mt St Gwinear in the nearby Baw Baw National Park. There are more weekend Bushies on those trips. I have thoroughly enjoyed every Rawson weekend I have attended, and would have participated in them all if I could. I even enjoyed the one when there was so little snow that we ended up walking around Walhalla and eating Devonshire teas!

In March 1984 a metal-detecting weekend at the Berlin Goldfield ( a long way to go! ) was organised by Art Terry. Participants were required to obtain a Miners Certificate at $10 from the Ministry of Minerals.

The eighties saw a lot of change in the Club. In the years I have known the Club, even its home base kept shuffling from place to place: for many years the Club was closeted in a tiny upstairs room in Hosier Lane, around the back of the old State Theatre (later known as the Forum Theatre), and dallied for larger meetings in the railways rooms in Flinders Street. In February 1981 the Club moved to what then seemed to be a luxurious permanent home in the 'penthouse suite', a dusty and draughty storeroom on the top floor at Bushgear (now Mountain Designs) in Little Bourke Street.

It must have been the smell of old socks or something, but the time came in June 1988 when we had to move yet again. The rush was on, and led by an energetic and determined Max Casley, the Club frantically scoured Melbourne's back lanes and dark alleys until, at last, the apparently almost deserted Horticultural Hall was discovered and rejuvenated by our influx.