Monday, June 7, 2010

Travis' Squire's Hike...ish


Rachel and I had a feed of Subway on the drive (because we were both pretty knacked). We drove to Karingal, and after spending a good 10 minutes wrangling the gate and its ludicrous system of false locks, we headed down to our campsite at Archer (where the pits were at Bash, you dirty ignorant northsiders). On the way in, we met Bruce, the Karingal caretaker – and his kelpie pup who decided to follow us around for half an hour. We set up camp at 7:30pm, and after loading up my backpack, we left to make fire. You’ll note we have a lack of photographs – it turns out nighttime isn’t the best time to try to capture the spirit of setting up a camp; and we were tired, cranky and wanted to annoy anyone reading this.



A short walk via bush and a log-lined hill, we headed up past the gate to the Cooinda Complex for its fire circle, since we could not set up our own at Archer due to fire restrictions (unlike Matt, we obeyed the rules and the law). On the way we spotted a possum or possibly a feral cat, or a lost Cub – we couldn’t tell. We set up the fire in the circle using nearby fuel (which may or may not have included a discarded packet of firelighters) and it turned out to be a little damp which meant, I, using my amazing initiative, fashioned a crude hothouse out of newspaper to dry the timber. It failed, and we decided to make do with the handful of burning woodchips, building lumber and dry eucalypt we managed to get burning.





We made s’mores with caramel chocolate – it was very sweet (and tasted only slightly of dirt and burnt wood). I’d include the recipe, but if you can’t make s’mores, you are probably a little bit broken. I put the first out using my keen sense of throwing water at it until it stops, then we decided to utilise our nearby resources and go to the toilet at Cooinda because the lights worked here, and there were no unwelcome visitors (read: cane toads).
On the way back to camp, I took Rachel on a tour of Karingal’s firetrail. There really isn’t much of interest out there except the ankle-munching holes in the ground and the ruts from Banana Bash that are still very very present. After about an hour of walking (it’s about 10:00pm by this point), we decide to head back to camp for “heart-to-heart conversation” – good thing too; I could hear Rachel’s hip cracking on the walk down the hill. At the camp, we sat around in our sleeping bags and talked – mainly about sex therapists, bike riding, and a combination of the two.


The next morning, we woke up at 9:00am. We packed up camp and the car and walked up back up to Cooinda. After a quick scramble down the now-evidently-non-existent Badger Trail, I took Rachel down to the creek. The creek is dry, and now resembles something closer to a cobblestone road than a waterway. After managing to find some water, we try to go frog spotting. We found mosquitos.


Speaking of roads, we get down to the site of the old suspension bridge (which, for anyone interested, is still not a bridge in the traditional sense – as in, its two gateways and a 6 foot chasm) , and the caretaker has obviously decided to upgrade from the bridge, as just to the left is a brand new concrete causeway. In an amusing turn of events, after walking over rocks and holes and logs, it was the flat concrete that caused me to make a faceplant.



After a fruitless search for the Chapel (I thought a romantic farewell was in order), I took her on a trip around the obstacle course that RUM and SHA repaired last year. Problem: it seemed to have been built for midgets with giant legs. Many faceplants later, we walked back to Archer campsite along the remainder of the Badger trail. Again, pretty uneventful.


When we got back to camp and the car, we realised we hadn’t taken a photo for Matt (since evidently he doesn’t believe I’m capable of putting up a tent), so I quickly distressed the ground and staged a photoshoot; since putting up the tent again was way too much effort for a Monday morning. Go team lethargy.



On the way out, we stopped to pay at the caretakers’ cottage. The Chief Commissioner was there embroiled in a shouting match with everyone. We were stuck for half an hour before we could pay. Damn that man.



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