I was meeting up with some interstate friends in the glorious Byron Bay for the weekend and had assumed they’d book a B&B or whathaveyou. When they emailed saying they were camping, I was stoked. I’ve been gaggin’ for a camping trip since the weather’s started to warm up and what better place than Byron, RIGHT on the beach.
I bought ‘my first tent’ that night and was so excited, I could barely contain myself for the rest of the week. There is something VERY cool about owning your own tent. I dunno if it’s the independence – knowing that ‘have tent, will travel’, you can pack up and go at the drop of a hat, the actual ‘outdoorsy roughin’ it’ aspect, the fact that you’re doin’ it on your own [if you don’t count my having to ask neighbourly Brian to help me with the guy ropes!], or a combination of all three.
God it was good to be wanderin’ round in thongs [w grubby feet!], cookin’ up a storm on the barbie, sleepin’ flat out like a lizard drinkin’ as we lot say, and just that ridiculous ‘wound down’ feeling you can only get when camping. Relaxed, yet invigorated by the surrounds. Ocean breeze. Sunshine. Foliage. The odd scrub turkey [who devoured our watermelon!]
The whole weekend was sensational – walks on the beach, first-thing-in-the-morning wake-up swims, having no plans, no concept of time, the socialisation with like-minded laidback folk, a few beers at sunset, coffees and breakfasts at the local cafe, and generally dropping out for a bit…
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