That night the heavens had opened and it rained for 12 hours solid. We did play plenty of cards, but you can only do that for so long. We also had some entertaining visitors – a noisy pita (beautiful bird) and really cheeky native mice that were so comfortable with our presence that they ate right in front of you and one even rested on Dave’s foot.
Despite all this, we couldn’t stay out of our tents all night. We went our separate ways through the rain and waited to see how we’d all fare through the night.
I’d have to say I didn’t sleep well – it’s not comforting to feel water moving underneath you – no way I’d want a water bed – but everybody’s sleeping concerns paled when it came to what Paul had experienced.
Paul’s tent had developed a solid leak and he’d had to abandon it. In the end he headed for the only dry place available – the pit toilet. If that sounds a little unpleasant – add in the fact that the manual water flushing system appeared to have broken and that there was bound to have been quite a lot of toilet activity before we’d even arrived at the site.
Still not bad enough? Imagine then that you’re huddled in a smelly pit toilet, damp and hardly having slept at all and then one of your walking buddies turns up and want to crap in your bedroom. Things don’t get much lower than that.
My respect for Paul went up hugely that morning – largely because despite all of this – he kept smiling … unless it was grimace ….
The walk from Mulligans Falls to George’s Point mostly takes place along the beach, but you have to get to the beach first. I’d done the walk the night before and it had been pretty straightforward, but the overnight rains had changed things. Dry creek beds were now full-blown streams which we ended up wading across. My sandshoes had already been near death – this killed them.
Nonetheless, we made it through and then walked for about an hour up to Mulligan Creek. This creek was the reason why the tide affected when people could be picked up. It was tidal and had to be low enough for people to cross.
Our timing was such that we had to lay-up for a while. Thank God for Peter’s tarp, as the weather continued to be rather unpleasant. The rain had eased but the wind was still not our friend. The cards came out and we even built a seat from old car tires (yeah, there was plenty of bizarre flotsam and jetsam on this beach).
Despite all this, we couldn’t stay out of our tents all night. We went our separate ways through the rain and waited to see how we’d all fare through the night.
I’d have to say I didn’t sleep well – it’s not comforting to feel water moving underneath you – no way I’d want a water bed – but everybody’s sleeping concerns paled when it came to what Paul had experienced.
Paul’s tent had developed a solid leak and he’d had to abandon it. In the end he headed for the only dry place available – the pit toilet. If that sounds a little unpleasant – add in the fact that the manual water flushing system appeared to have broken and that there was bound to have been quite a lot of toilet activity before we’d even arrived at the site.
Still not bad enough? Imagine then that you’re huddled in a smelly pit toilet, damp and hardly having slept at all and then one of your walking buddies turns up and want to crap in your bedroom. Things don’t get much lower than that.
My respect for Paul went up hugely that morning – largely because despite all of this – he kept smiling … unless it was grimace ….
The walk from Mulligans Falls to George’s Point mostly takes place along the beach, but you have to get to the beach first. I’d done the walk the night before and it had been pretty straightforward, but the overnight rains had changed things. Dry creek beds were now full-blown streams which we ended up wading across. My sandshoes had already been near death – this killed them.
Nonetheless, we made it through and then walked for about an hour up to Mulligan Creek. This creek was the reason why the tide affected when people could be picked up. It was tidal and had to be low enough for people to cross.
Our timing was such that we had to lay-up for a while. Thank God for Peter’s tarp, as the weather continued to be rather unpleasant. The rain had eased but the wind was still not our friend. The cards came out and we even built a seat from old car tires (yeah, there was plenty of bizarre flotsam and jetsam on this beach).
Eventually we made it across (after a brief close encounter with a sting ray) and trudged to George’s Point, where we met up with four fellows (2 x father-son combos) who we’d seen walk past us and wade through the Creek earlier (with the smallest boy clearly suffering wet-crotch syndrome along the way).
That night passed without incident, and in retrospect, the decision not to walk through wasn’t a bad one. At the very least it had given us some amusing stories – Paul’s sleeping arrangements should go down in history. We made it across to Lucinda (via boat), to Ingham (via charter bus), had an awesome hot breakfast, arrived at Townsville (via coach), made it out to the airport (via taxi) all in good time for our flight – which then ran hours later.
Apparently they’d had two plane malfunctions and because of cost-cutting they had to fly an engineer up from Brisbane. At least we had the cards, though there’s nothing quite like hanging around airports for hours, and hours, to drive one slowly mad. I even got to do it in thongs since my shoes were a damp, stinking mess.
Still – it all ended well and all that remains is to hand out the following awards:
Crookest Camper – Dave
Worst Joke Telling – Peter
Loudest Snorer – Dave (took out gold, silver and bronze - though he did get some serious competition from one of the fathers at George's Point)
Most Extreme Sleeper – Paul
Best Dead Mountain Goat Impression – Chris
Gourmet Camper Award – shared jointly by Peter and Dave (they even had their own portable chairs and a selection of spices!)
Best Lesser Spotted Furtwangler Spotter – Paul
Arsiest at Cards – Chris
Most Offensive Farting – four-way tie
That night passed without incident, and in retrospect, the decision not to walk through wasn’t a bad one. At the very least it had given us some amusing stories – Paul’s sleeping arrangements should go down in history. We made it across to Lucinda (via boat), to Ingham (via charter bus), had an awesome hot breakfast, arrived at Townsville (via coach), made it out to the airport (via taxi) all in good time for our flight – which then ran hours later.
Apparently they’d had two plane malfunctions and because of cost-cutting they had to fly an engineer up from Brisbane. At least we had the cards, though there’s nothing quite like hanging around airports for hours, and hours, to drive one slowly mad. I even got to do it in thongs since my shoes were a damp, stinking mess.
Still – it all ended well and all that remains is to hand out the following awards:
Crookest Camper – Dave
Worst Joke Telling – Peter
Loudest Snorer – Dave (took out gold, silver and bronze - though he did get some serious competition from one of the fathers at George's Point)
Most Extreme Sleeper – Paul
Best Dead Mountain Goat Impression – Chris
Gourmet Camper Award – shared jointly by Peter and Dave (they even had their own portable chairs and a selection of spices!)
Best Lesser Spotted Furtwangler Spotter – Paul
Arsiest at Cards – Chris
Most Offensive Farting – four-way tie
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