We drove out to Kings Plain National Park on a Friday night and arrived in the dark, pitching camp on a grassy site by Kings Plain Creek. It seemed a good omen that in the branches of a nearby tree a squirrel glider was happily going about its business. But apart from that, the car headlights gave little hint of the surrounding landscape. By arriving late we were arriving unseen and unseeing. But the beauty of this, was the revelation of a new landscape when we opened our eyes first thing the next morning.
Thursday, 30 October 2014
Friday, 10 October 2014
It's pitch dark and raining steadily. The river is invisible even though we are camped right beside it, lying on a gravel bank in just our bivvy bags. As rain drifts across my face, the misted beam of my torch dances around in the dark. I fumble to give Caz enough light so he can rig up some sort of system that will lift the bivvies off our faces and allow us to sleep without our heads completely buried in their claustrophobic, suffocating confines. We use his tripod and some string and the result is nearly useless. There is also a growing pool of water at my feet. The bags are proving to be completely waterproof which is lucky because they are all we have to keep us dry since it was me, that morning, who casually looked at the blue sky and reassured Caz the tarp was unnecessary and we could leave it behind. I said, this is a light-weight summer adventure, who needs a tarp? Turns out, we did.