History of the Belmore Ski Club

I have endeavoured to avoid incidences contained in Colin Trumble's colourful input in 2006 but there may be an occasional reference to a special event with a slightly different or an additional interpretation. For obvious reasons, no attempt has been made to record events in chronological order … and it's too long ago anyway.

World War II was over and many of we servicemen prepared to enter civilian life for the first time. Some resumed university studies, others sought employment and many managed to show interest in the snow. Colin's contribution to the history of Belmore includes the period from around 1947 up to the commencement of the building. Ian Anderson and I were not invited to join this fledgling ski lodge until 1951 – one of the few on the mountain. I'm not certain when entry fees were introduced but I certainly remember Ian paid for a gas refrigerator and I a gas stove – both expensive items at the time. We were proposed and seconded by Ted Yencken and Peter Trumble who failed to mention anything about buying these two luxuries!

Working weekends were mandatory in March and April when we were able to park near the old chalet site or at the bottom of Bourke Street. This allowed us to carry winter supplies to Belmore viz building materials, grog, skis, personal winter gear, tinned food and even the completed kitchen bench. During these treks mostly in single file, a pastime was to silently place part of your own load onto the haversack of the person in front. Even a bottle or rock or two was enough to slow down the carrier who sometimes was unaware until he reached the lodge. Peter Trumble and Joe Palliser were experts at performing this act of friendship.

During an early winter working weekend, Ted Yencken and I arrived at Belmore in the dark to the sounds of loud music and raucous laughter. Belmore was having an all-male party. On entering, the scene was chaotic. A huge bath tub filled with snow sat on the floor of the main room out of which a curly head emerged. Our honorary architect Joe was its owner who crawled out to the ear-splitting sound of the famous gong, totally blue with cold and totally naked. A number of these strange and original accomplishments occurred from time to time which earned us arguably the rowdiest party club on Buller i.e. until wives and children began to appear!

This is a different little-known piece of history with an artistic flavour. Shortly after the new building became liveable about 1950, Peter Trumble hung a self-portrait over the stove in the kitchen. The image shows Peter's shadowed face with a shabby felt hat on top and includes what looks like a failed short beard. The portrait disappeared when the building was demolished and seemed lost forever. So where is it today? His youngest son Angus, is the director of the National Portrait Gallery in Canberra. In December of 2003, he was interviewed on TV and there it was behind him sitting at his desk. I saw the scenario and asked Angus was I dreaming? "No" was his prompt reply. I understand it is now in Simon Trumble's holiday house at Metung although a print or two is in the hands of responsible persons. Angus believes his father may have consumed a Gin or two when producing his work of art!

In time, some early members began to marry setting the scene for the arrival of a second generation of Belmorians. By 1960, school holidays provided a wonderful opportunity for young kids to experience the unique conditions of life in the snow – a subdued life though compared to that of their parents. My wife Althea, and I with our three children spent many school holidays with the Yenckens, Pallisers and Southeys whose progenies continue their use of the club to this day. In fact, these youngsters and their children now represent a third generation as grandchildren of early members.

Now back to another Belmore party of note involving "adults" in their late sixties and early seventies. But before revealing the components of this exhibition by ripened and ageing old fossils, there is a video of some of the antics portrayed in this mighty noisy production titled "The Farewell to Belmore". Perhaps it should be viewed after reading my description – good clean fun and no need for censoring.

On a prearranged long weekend each year during the winter, Ted Yencken and I hosted a friendly gathering by inviting a number of non-members to share with us the delights of Belmore and the magic of being encircled by that white stuff. Apart from my wife Althea and Peg Yencken, guests included Fred and Joan Moore, Liz Joyce, Bob and Jill Boynton and Peter and Kay Joubert – all close friends in Melbourne – no kids just a group keen on skiing, loud music, putting on an act, grog and singing.

Fred Moore was MC and drum major who had the ability to transform all cutlery, pots and pans into ear-splitting musical instruments. Loud music precipitated rousing songs such as "Wish Me Luck" and "Rule Britannia", "Land of Hope and Glory", "There'll always be an England", "Long way to Tipperary", "Roll out the Barrel" and a Vera Lynn track or two. Each song sent a signal for the next to be even more boisterous.

Of course, this stage show had to include colourful decorations, so streamers and dozens of balloons were strung from one end of the room to the other which, when pricked, provided gunfire to accompany a resumption of "Land of Hope and Glory" and others. "The Farewell" was well underway when two uninvited guests arrived, Jan Rogers and Jane Gilder. They were on their way to some ski lodge, heard the noise emanating from Belmore and decided to call on us. Several hours later they still remained but when leaving were shown out through a strange exit. We heard later that they had told friends in Melbourne that it was the only party they had ever been to when they entered through a door and left by a refrigerator!

Another unique party trick consisted of "horizontal diving". This daring sport involved opening the windows in the main room, running from the other side near the kitchen bench and diving out onto the snow which had piled high up to the window sill. On an occasion, one of the competitors finished his run tangled up in a tree, much to the mirth of the spectators.

At this point it should be recorded that skiing too was a popular pastime during our many vacations! It was taken seriously for most were experienced enough to tackle practically all runs with the possible exception of Bull Run. Tows of varying shapes and structures conveyed us around the mountain so plenty of skiing was available – no chair lifts though, just nutcrackers, T bars, rope tows and poma lifts – very advanced on earlier days when we walked everywhere.

Colin Trumble wrote of his memories of "the long drop". Mine are much the same but it was not very pleasant having stumbled some 50 metres through deep snow at 3 a.m. in the lightest of clothing … and snow boots. On arrival, one was greeted by a member's contraption which played "Twinkle twinkle little star …" and so this lonely isolated small haven became known as "The Music Room".

As years went by, it was decided to install a proper, more convenient and modern facility downstairs in the main lodge. Even so, navigation of the unlit steep stairs presented a degree of danger although there is no record of any fatalities. On completion of this modern amenity, it was considered appropriate that the old, outdoor dulcet toned convenience be demolished or should we say, filled in. This ceremonial event was undertaken with some nostalgia during a working weekend in the presence of Malcolm Southey, Ted Yencken, Charlie Yencken, Joe Palliser, John Palliser, Kari and Edward Gleeson and myself. A photo exists somewhere of flames and smoke bellowing from our precious comfort station.

— Ted Gleeson, July 2017. (Full history continues in the original club document.)