Outside in the cold, Can you hear me?

Like a scene from Rambo, a tramped my way through the thick shrub with confidence. A make do “Danger” tape head band kept the hair out of my eyes, fittingly it would seem as I was more likely a danger to myself then the weening sunlight and eminent cold at darkness. I masterfully (because you need skills) dragged some large logs from out of the depths of the bush. I wasn’t going to spend the night out here with only a little candle light I thought, no if I had my way I would probably have a bond fire bigger enough to support a Woodstock after party.. Survival mode had kicked in hard, like a hoof full of horse to the head.. I slugged at my beer intermittently as the fire grew, standing back momentarily in admiration before heading off further down the track for more wood.

Earlier in the day, well right back to the morning. I had woken to the sound of a boot kicking the side of my thick enclosed tomb (Swag). Maybe the happy chirps of a pretty wild bird would have been heard, but I guess they had got the news, “Monkey boy has a new gun” and warned off. It was a beautiful morning all the same and I was glad to be woken so violently. It was the first time that I felt happy to be in WA again out here in the bush away from all the open street planning and shopping arcades. The first week I landed I was doing some training for a job, which I started that Sunday night on night shift. So this weekend being the first I had free time we choose to go bush, relatively close mind you but far enough to be out of the way.


(note: Phone camera sorry :(.. Which went flat!!

The fire was now satisfactory enough thought as I had to take many steps back, and the camp site was surrounded with enough dry dead branches to power Japan. Anymore and I think it would have all gone up encasing me in some psychedelic world of hurt which although had a hippy tinge to it, didn’t actually excite. Anyway I didn’t really mind so much because I was in survival mode, warmth on my left and cold beer on my right. (Note: Beer must be protected from warmth!). I now sat back and waited for the rest of the party to arrive.

A quick visit to the pub for lunch (Come on, it’s a camping trip and a steak sanga at the closest publican is a must). Anyway, I was at the Ravenswood pub nestled on the Murray river sucking some Gage Road’s by the pint full, catching up with some crew when one offered to give me a lift back to camp. A camp which I’d like to mention as packed before leaving for lunch. I agreed to the lift though seeing as though my friend wanted too see the camping site and Monkey boy’s bed warmer was having a sad about a shower. Why not I thought, it wouldn’t be long for them to pop down the road get a shower then back up the hill to where I’d meet them.

It was now dark, around 7:00pm maybe two hours after light and the temperature had dropped quickly. The cool clear sky’s where filled with bright star’s and a full moon hung to my right, persistently reminding me of the time in which I had been sitting on the partially destroyed park bench (A tree had fallen on it, and me being in survival mode had removed maybe some of the timber.. (Obvious reasons). I was now starting to feel angry though, I was trusting them to arrive with my swag or even a jumper.. Where were they at this time of the night? I questioned to myself. Then out of the blue I would laugh, thinking it was possibly something I would do to Monkey Boy myself just to see what he would do… But then the anger would over whelm me again when I noticed my depleting stock of tasty beverages. Why didn’t I grab a dozen roadies instead of a halfer?, I detested.. Probably because I was already drunk.

Judging by the look of the moon, I assumed it was close to 8pm when I ran out of soda’s. It was now time to decide if I would settle in here and wait out the night beside the fire, maybe eat some fresh marron (Fresh water lobster) which I knew where in the trap, or leg it in the dark and cold to the closest house. (Which was a friends’ joint about 5km’s I assumed).. Screw the bush I decided I’m too drunk for all this survival proverbial, I’ll take the foot falcon for a thrash.

As you could imagine I felt like I had just stumbled 500 miles for love, when I caught the lights in the distance. The car met me at the other end of the car park from the camping site was, probably a good twenty or so meter’s. They were roaring with laughter as I proceeded to slur some profanity of how I felt about them. The car which was picking me up wasn’t even Monkey boy’s to say the least, it was another friend and monkey boy was crammed in the passenger seat with my headache (His bed warmer). Apparently they had decided to change camp site, and instead of stopping on the way which to most would be lodgical, to pick me up they wisely decided to head to the NEW location first. Tidy the camp up, set up tent, blow up air mattress, collect wood and light fire, set up cooker probably eat some food and what ever else they wanted before.. Hang on where’s Juice!

Thanks mate!

All that starts well end’s well hey. And I must admit I wasn’t too annoyed when they handed me about the eighth freshly cooked snagga in a roll.. I probably sneered and grabbed at it, but it was all well. I tucked tightly in my swag away from the cold and looking down over the coastal plains below. Even I better site then the last and the morning would not disappoint as the shadow of the sun rose up over the hill and the receded over the land.

Where the hell did I leave my camera!

So anyway, as you could piece together some paddling didn’t occur the way I had hoped. Instead I went straight into a job earning some sweet cash. Two weeks later, which brings me to now I quit in favour for a life. No sooner then the morning after quitting though, I was mentally preparing myself to move to Tasmania when I received a phone call: “I heard you were in town, blah blah blah.. Four to eight weeks…”.