Lake Brambruck

By Douglas Gellatly

"Shit, I'm out here in the water with nothing on, and he's closer to my clothes than I am!" So begins the relationship between Richard and Max at the remote Lake Brambruck in Wyperfield National Park in the northern Wimmera, Victoria, Australia. It's the mid-1970s in the conservative Wimmera district, and as the union between the two men strengthens, they experience dangers, frolicking fun, intimacy, homophobia and homophilia. On their conservation property, Golton Island, a Wimmera River island, their love deepens even further as they see more of a neighbor and the story heads towards its emotional ending.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Douglas Gellatly
• Release date: Sep 18, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465789044

Douglas Gellatly

*** The collection of all three books is now available in PODCAST format - see belowDouglas Gellatly was brought up on a farm in the Wimmera district of Victoria, Australia. During the course of his life he has experienced working as a farmer, medical research institute field station manager, funeral director, travel consultant and cafe proprietor.He now lives in central Victoria with his husband, Jon, where they operate a small food preserving business from fruit and vegetables grown in their own garden at Clunes, which is Australia's only International Booktown.After a life-time of living life, Douglas took up writing in his late sixties and has now completed three novels, "Lake Brambruck", "Golton Island" and "Corker's Creek". All are gay-themed and set in the Wimmera district of Victoria, Australia. His third novel, "Corker's Creek" completes "The Wimmera Trilogy"."Mount Zero" is the boxed set of Douglas Gellatly's first three novels, and constitutes "The Wimmera Trilogy." It was released in January of 2015.All his novels are free as individual stories or in the boxed set.His aim is to write stories that entertain the reader, and he loves to hear back from readers.ANNOUNCEMENT, ANNOUNCEMENT: In 2020, Douglas commenced his podcast show, Mount Zero - The Wimmera Trilogy with himself as the narrator.The podcast is an adaptation of his e-book collection, "Mount Zero".It is available through Spotify, Google Podcasts, Apple Podcasts, Podbean, TuneIn, and on Amazon Music in the USA, UK, Germany and Japan.You will find the "audio-book" links for Spotify and Google Podcasts at the bottom left of the Mount Zero page here in Smashwords'If you do not have a Spotify account yet, you will be given the opportunity to create an account .. it's easy to do and podcasts are free. And similar applies to all the podcast providers.(*** Note that it's best to listen to the trailer first ... Happy listening, or reading, or both!

Book preview

Lake Brambruck

A Novel by

Douglas Gellatly

Copyright © 2011 Douglas Gellatly

Smashwords Edition

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organisations, and dialogue in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Certain parts of the Wimmera have been altered for the purpose of this story. Readers of Australian Aboriginal heritage are advised that this work of fiction contains a scene surrounding an unknown dead Aboriginal and a subsequent scene.

Cover photography and design by Douglas Gellatly.

Email: [e-mail]

Facebook: www.facebook.com/doug.gellatly

Twitter: www.twitter.com/#!/DouglasGellatly

For Jon

With love

Table of Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

About the Author

Acknowledgements

The author wishes to acknowledge assistance given in the preparation of this novel by the following people: Malcolm Hull for information about shearers; Sophie Blake for what yabbies are called in Queensland; Cyril Souchon for the story of the Russian wedding ring; and Jon Lock for his encouragement and general advice. Thank you all.

Chapter 1

Richard was totally alone and knew as he waded naked into the water flowing into Lake Brambruck that he would probably never do this again in his lifetime. During recent years there had been heavy rains across the Wimmera River catchment, flooding enough to send the overflow on from Lake Hindmarsh to Lake Albacutya and then on to the third lake, Lake Brambruck. The last time water had coursed into the final lake of this curious Australian river system had been about fifty-six years earlier. For Richard, he considered the opportunity to wallow in the lake a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and he wanted to do it.

The water was murky with soil and debris and had only started flowing into Lake Brambruck the day before. As Richard splashed around in the turbid water he could not see anything below the murky surface, but on the surface there was plenty—sticks, gum nuts, pieces of bark, spiders, ants, a centipede—all being washed along in the rush of the water. Richard loved getting this close to nature, and enjoyed submerging himself in the water, no matter how riled it was. He was near the inlet and could see upstream along the creek for a short distance. He glanced that way again, and thought he saw some movement at the edge of the creek. It was a man walking towards him, and he was not far away. He was carrying a camera.

‘Shit,’ Richard thought, ‘I’m out here in the water with nothing on, and he’s closer to my clothes than I am. I’m trapped!’

The man approached at a steady pace and seemed amazed to discover someone wallowing in the lake. Hi, he called out. Richard acknowledged the greeting with a small wave and stayed in the water as he tried to figure out a strategy for discretely getting to his clothes. He realised that there wasn’t one. As the man sat down on one of the logs right beside his clothes Richard resigned himself to having to get out of the lake naked in front of a stranger.

The man watched Richard with some degree of interest as he stepped from the lake and walked towards him, and his clothes.

I guess you are getting what is called ‘information overload’ at the moment, Richard said, smiling a small embarrassed smile.

That’s okay, the man said. I’ve seen the occasional naked man before. It doesn’t bother me, and I hope it doesn’t bother you either. As you are plainly wet, and I don’t see a towel anywhere, why don’t you just sit down on the log and dry off in this magnificent sunshine?

Richard sat, but was still feeling self conscious.

I should introduce myself, the man said, smiling broadly, I’m Max.

Hello Max, I’m Richard, and he stood to take Max’s outstretched hand, aware that Max had just taken a quick look at his wet cock and balls. As I hadn’t heard or seen any car I thought I was totally alone here. That is, assuming you have a car. Where is it?

I’ve left my ute about two miles upstream. I decided I’d walk along with my camera to the lake by way of the creek. I’m a nature photographer, and amongst other things, I love the shapes, colours and textures of trees, and there are plenty of photographic beauties here.

Do you come from this neighbourhood? Richard asked.

Not quite; I live in Horsham. I moved there eight months ago from Queensland. I’m a shearer and I couldn’t stand the heat and humidity of outback Queensland, so I took a punt regarding ongoing work and moved south to this cooler, drier climate.

I had to drive through Horsham myself, to get here today, Richard said. I live about half an hour east of there. So, is it this water flowing into the lake that brings you here on this very day?

"Yes, it is. I read in the local paper, The Wimmera Mail-Times, of the water being about to flow into Lake Brambruck for the first time in a long while, so I thought I’d grab my camera and come and have a look for myself. Evidently I’ve scored a visual bonus, with you in front of me like this. I won’t take your photo like that, though!" Max smiled warmly.

Richard caught the quick sweep of Max’s light brown eyes across his body again and smiled too, partly at the quip.

Yeah, for months I’ve known this was likely to happen and had a desire to come and see this phenomenon too, Richard said, it’s a rare occasion. I’ve learned that the last time this happened was in nineteen twenty-one. I just wanted to celebrate by being part of the whole event, so I stripped off and got right in. Then you came along and sprung me!

Think nothing of it. Max was quiet for a while then said, It’s entered my mind, I might do what you’ve just done. How would you feel if I strip off too, and join you for a return splash in the water—a return celebration of the event, so to speak?

Sure, having now dried off, I don’t mind getting wet again. A cheeky grin crossed his face.

With that, Max leaned forward to get his boots and socks off, then stood to take off his shirt, unbuckle his belt and drop his shorts. Expecting to see jocks, Richard saw a worthy, uncut cock and a good set of balls instead—Max wore no jocks. While he gathered his thoughts about what he was seeing, Richard registered with appreciation Max’s tall muscular body and dark brown skin.

Come on, Max said, let’s get in the water. It might settle that swelling you are getting! He smiled again.

Max and Richard headed for the water and were soon splashing about in it.

They spent about fifteen minutes wading, paddling, trying to swim in the shallow water, and generally gambolling together in the water. Richard was beginning to like this man who had simply walked into his day.

Back on the logs again, sitting in such a way that they faced each other as they dried, a smile now crossed Richard’s face as he watched Max’s cock rise, and thoroughly stiffen.

Max noticed where Richard was looking. It happens, he said without embarrassment, and now it’s your turn for information overload.

Not quite knowing what to do or say next Richard asked, Are you married?

Nar, not the marrying type. I had a girl friend once, when I was in Queensland. We shacked up together for a while, but it didn’t work out, and I have never felt the need to go back that way again. I’ve just stuck to myself a fair bit. Gotta say that now and again I wouldn’t mind a bit of company, though. What about you?

Oh, the same, not married, that is. I’ve never had a girl friend. I’ve had a few approaches from that direction, but my interest lies in the other direction, if you get my drift. Not that I’ve ever done anything serious about that, except when I lived in Melbourne. I mucked about with other guys a bit while I was in the city, but here in the conservative, religious, strait-laced country it’s absolutely different. In a country community like this is, every young man is expected to have a girl friend, to marry her, and to ultimately have kids. Richard suddenly realised that he had just told a stranger something that he had never expressed before, and wondered if he should have.

Just so that I get this straight, and I hope you don’t mind the bluntness of my question, are you saying that you are a poofter?

Yes, and here in the country I stay closeted.

Max was silent in thought for a while, then he said, So, when you saw me with a stiff dick a few minutes ago, did that give your heart a little flutter? I did notice that you started to stiffen a bit at the same time.

"Yes, watching your cock rising in visible steps to the pulse of your heart beat was a bit of a turn on for me."

Max adjusted his sitting position and was quiet for some more time. You know, something about you makes me feel kinda comfortable, and I’ve often wondered if I’m queer too. I know that I prefer to look at a well built, good looking man rather than any woman. Further, if the man isn’t wearing much, I like it all the more—and you’ve really made my day! Perhaps I should talk this whole topic through with you. Would you mind?

Not at all, Richard replied, smiling warmly towards Max.

They talked at length, and sometimes very frankly, about where their thoughts lay, what they liked and didn’t like, and came to realise that they had much in common. After a long time immersed in conversation, Richard said, Hey, the day’s moving on. How about I drive you back to your ute? We can travel in a two-ute convoy back to Horsham and say our farewells there.

Sure, Max agreed.

They got dressed again, having spent the entire conversation time naked in the sunshine, and becoming a little aroused occasionally with what they had talked about, to the obvious and comfortable satisfaction of each other.

Richard drove Max to his ute, and the two vehicles then left Wyperfield National Park for the hour and a half drive back to Horsham.

On the outskirts of Horsham Richard pulled over to the edge of the Western Highway, which links Melbourne and Adelaide, and Max pulled up behind him. They thanked each other for the way the day had turned out, exchanged phone numbers, and drove on to their respective homes.

When Richard rattled over the bridge to get to his home and property, known as Golton Island, he thought back over the day. His once-in-a-life-time day had ended up with more than he had anticipated by way of the prospect of a lovely friendship, or more.

Chapter 2

The park-like environment on Golton Island prevented arriving vehicles being seen. However, it was usually easy to hear a vehicle as it approached, crunching over the gravel road and then clattering over the slightly loose wooden decking on the bridge. Such sounds had just alerted Richard, and he watched as Max drove into the broad, gravelled parking area between his house and the sheds in his Toyota ute.

"Hi Max, welcome to what I call my place, otherwise know as Golton Island." They shook hands and smiled.

Wow! I was wondering where your instructions were leading me when I turned off the main road a mile and a half back at Three Bridges, then flanked the creek and the bushland all the way to your bridge. Again, I say wow! This is like driving in to some hidden botanical garden.

Well, in a way it is, Richard said, smiling at the tall, good looking man standing in front of him. My parents were big on conservation, and added much more to what was naturally here by planting additional Australian native trees and shrubs. As I said on the phone the other night, my parents are now dead so I’ve taken it upon myself to carry on their work, and I love doing that—and whenever I can, I plant even more trees and shrubs.

Straight away, I’m very envious of you, Max said, looking in every direction. This is some sort of paradise. Like Adam and Eve, you could walk around here naked all the time and nobody would see you.

Want to know something? Richard asked, smiling, I do. Well, in the warmer months anyway. It gets a bit too chilly to do that in the cooler time of the year.

That accounts for you having no tan lines when I cast my eyes over your naked body more than once at Lake Brambruck the other day.

Spot on! Richard said, beaming at Max then tilted his head in the direction of the residence. Come with me, and I’ll show you my house.

The house was weather board, painted in a fairly dark green, which blended with the surrounding bush, and was probably about fifty or sixty years old. The roof was corrugated iron. There was a wide verandah on all sides, and on the eastern side where it seemed most of the ‘living’ happened, a part of the verandah was partitioned off with fly screen walls.

What’s the fly screened area for? Max asked.

Oh, that’s a place to sleep if it’s too hot inside and you don’t want to be eaten alive by mosquitoes. I don’t use it a lot, but my parents used to, even in the winter; they didn’t mind truly fresh air.

Slightly separated from the house there was another small building which was the laundry. Its roof extended out over a pavilion which had a wooden decking floor. There was an abundant supply of water tanks around the house and sheds.

Come in, Richard said as he stepped ahead of Max into the combined kitchen and living area. When Max looked around, to the right was the kitchen table, a slow combustion wood stove, a sink and bench under the window, which faced north, and kitchen cabinetry. To the left was a large living space with a couch and two lounge chairs, two full book cases, a television set and a side board with a record player and a stack of LPs on it. There were mats on the wooden floor. In what was once an open fire place there was a modern steel wood-burning heater with a glass door.

Through an internal door, a hallway led towards the west-facing front door. As Richard piloted Max in that direction he pointed out the bathroom and toilet on the right, then his own bedroom with its double bed. On the other side of the hall, there were two smaller bedrooms.

I want to have a closer look at that bathroom, Max said.

Sure, go ahead, Richard replied.

The entire outer wall was a clear glass window facing north. The view was across the garden and out into the forest. On the left was a large, tiled open shower with no glass or shower screens, or anything other than taps on the wall for the two shower roses coming directly out of the ceiling. On the right hand wall, straight in from the door, there was a hand basin with cupboards under it, and a large mirror. There was no bath, and the toilet bowl was behind the door and open to the rest of the bathroom. The towel rails were between the hand basin and the door.

Yet again, I say, wow! This is fabulous, Max exclaimed.

After my parents died, this was one thing I wanted to do, to have a big, open shower. My parents wouldn’t have approved, but I’m glad that you like it. Oops, have you had any lunch? I forgot to ask when you arrived.

Yes, thanks, I grabbed a bite before I left Horsham.

Okay, then let’s have a drink, and then I’ll take you for a walk around outside. What should it be, beer?

Sounds good to me, Max said.

I’ve got some home-brewed beer that has been given to me by a farmer friend over there on Saint Helen’s Plains, Richard said, waving his arm in a westerly direction, towards the flat, fertile farming land across the creek. It’s rather good, and he’s bottled this lot in small bottles. Do you want to neck it?

Of course! That’s the most direct, Max replied, flashing a wide smile at Richard.

Richard took two bottles from the refrigerator, opened them and handed one to Max.

Cheers! they each said as they chinked their bottles together and sat down at the kitchen table.

Now, before we go any further, Max said, I don’t understand the behaviour of the Wimmera River. Did you say on the phone the other night that the Wimmera flows inland and goes nowhere except that it just seeps away into sand or evaporates?

"It sure does just that. Max, to make sense of it