Worst Camping Trip Ever. Chapter 14
byEaster is the busiest time of the year to try book into a motel. Unless you’re some sort of hero.
Easter is the busiest time of the year to try book into a motel. Unless you’re some sort of hero.
As our ears became accustomed to the raging falls we began to hear movement in the underbrush all around us.
As we approached the falls the sound of crashing water was incredibly loud. We’d only left there ten minutes before and I couldn’t remember it being so deafening.
“Come on, troops,” said Dad, throwing the last of the lunch scraps into the bin. “It’s time for a bush walk.”
As plans go, this was one of Dad’s best.
Despite what you might think about sleeping on a bed of treated toilet water I’ll say this, you do get a good night’s sleep.
Everyone pulled their tin cups from their backpacks and put away their torches.
With a powerful beam of light, the ranger zeroed in on a possum about ten metres up a tree. The poor little critter looked stunned by all the sudden, blinding attention.
There’s something about fish covered in greasy breadcrumbs which warms the soul and brightens your outlook.
We set up camp at our new, far less green, campsite. On dirt, in fact.
Stepping out of the tent, I answered the call of nature at the conveniently close toilet block. As I washed my hands, two boys came in. My heart sank as I realized one of them was Bruiser.
As it turns out, Easter is also the busiest time of the year to go camping.
It turns out Easter is the busiest time of the year to go driving.
I knew we were in trouble the moment Dad arrived home with the new tent.