The Aftermath: Winter is coming

After over nine weeks since the last post and over five weeks back in Sweden, I have finally gotten around to gearing myself mentally to write one last post. We are still jobless, it’s snowing and I have started to miss the tent. But let go back to where I left off, with us cussing the tent and life on the road as we headed into Brisbane.

We started off with a night at Ric and Lorelle’s. It was lovely to see them, and we had a nice catch up over beers and home cooked food, which was much nicer than 3min noodles and pasta stir-in, even if I’ve forgotten what we had…

Here's to beers and static homes

The next day we were about to start our second housesit, a place in Thorneside that had a pool. We had been due to do one in Fig Tree pocket, but they had pulled out a few weeks earlier after their daughter had split up with her boyfriend and cancelled all her New Year plans due to some sort of emotional PTSD. The stupid twat was 23 and you’d think old enough to realise she’d be fine by New Year, but the mother didn’t want to listen to that argument and said her daughter would take care of the place with her friend. The place in Thorneside looked very nice in the one photo they had supplied (that should have been a warning), and we were looking forward to looking after their two cats.

We had a rude awakening when we arrived at the house of chaos. The house owners were a couple of Kiwis with a kid about 5-10 years old. They were heading home for Xmas and were running late for their uber to the airport. After a short introduction and some rough guides about what we should do about the cat that pisses everywhere, they were gone. They hadn’t even cleared a space in the fridge, which was packed with opened perishables. There were whiteboards all over the house with reminders to help them not fuck up and little pearls of wisdom such as “a clean house is a sign of a wasted life”… well they certainly weren’t wasting theirs! After a few hours of wasting ours, trying to put some degree of organisation to the house, we finally got to enjoy the pool.

Pool party

Not really much happened over the next week. We just sat about the house doing very little but interacting with the cats, drinking and swimming in the pool (Becky was less keen on the pool, but still managed a few swims). On Christmas day Ric and Lorelle came over with some lovely salads, and we had a nice day with them. They even managed to get us to take a short walk, but they conceded it was too hot really and we quickly returned to drink and eat more at the house.

A classic European christmas

A few days later Adam and Sarah came round. We didn’t take any photos of them, mainly as Adam and I spent most of the day in the pool, coming up with different games (throw the ball in the life ring, throw the ball in the life ring while jumping in the pool, dunk the ball in the life ring while jumping in the pool, throw the ball at the other persons face, water polo penalties, water polo penalties using headers only, timed search and rescue, and so on) and Becky and Sarah just watched on bemused. During our time in the house that chaos built we managed to sell all our camping gear, including the tent and fridge. But the best thing was just enjoying our time with the cats. They were lovely little things, even the one that pissed over some of our gear. I also drank loads of beer and whiskey, and then to switch things up I decided not drink on New Years Eve, probably the first time in 30 years.

Fluffy and Cleo

Becky bonds with Fluffy

The couple returned from their holiday on the 1^st in the same chaotic fashion in which they had left. We were supposed to look after the place again between the 15^th and the 18^th, but as we were leaving one of them mentioned their family were coming to stay and there would be 12 people in the house before they left. Seeing how little order there was with three of them, the thought of coming there with 12 fuckwits flailing around in their own shit before leaving was too much. We texted them later to make our excuses, telling them we wouldn’t be able to help after all. The whole house sitting thing had served a purpose, but it wasn’t something I’d be keen to do again. Living in someone else’s house is just weird, and both places were a bit shit. Plus, the woman from Fig Tree Pocket, who’d cancelled because of her daughter’s inability to rationally deal with a break-up, had called us after Xmas and asked if we’d be interested in house sitting again, as the daughter had gotten back together with the bloke. We said we were interested, but then she called back 10 minutes later to say her daughter had found one of her friends to do it. I hope that friend had a huge party over New Year, fucked up their house and someone shat in their bed. 

With the New Year signalling the end of the “trip”, all we were left with was selling the car, booking a ticket home and leaching off friends. The first week we stayed with Adam and Sarah. We really didn’t do anything productive that week, mainly drinking and a bit of boxing in Adam’s garage. Adam had also just bought a jacuzzi, which we would sit and drink in after training (I would, Becky didn’t like the idea of sitting in warm water with two blokes who’d only hosed themselves down in the garden after training before getting in). It was an enjoyable week.

Best to keep your hands visible

We had our stuff picked up and shipped off that week too. It is due to arrive in Sweden next week, with the added surprise of a port fee of ~$470 (3200SEK) that we weren’t expecting. This means it cost us ~$1700 to ship what was left of our life in Australia. Not much for nine years! Although the most important thing is the blue passport they gave us so we can return if the weather in Europe gets too much and starts to impact my cheery outlook. Seriously, cold weather isn’t a fun thing to live with.

See you in Sweden

For the following week we went to stay with Ric and Lorelle, thereby spreading the burden, it’s a strategy that all good parasites use. We also got to say goodbye to some other friends, by joining a breakfast club event we had otherwise avoided when we lived in Brissie, due to it being too early on Sunday mornings…

Which ones Molly Ringwald?

We also sold the car to a guy that came across as a fucking freak over texts, but when we finally succumbed to selling it to him (I initially didn’t want to) we managed to get $7000 for it. We were both relieved to have it gone, even if we’d bought it for $13500 nine months earlier (although this included $500 of stamp duty). In summary, we both hated the car by the end, it had been a pain in the arse and wasn’t that comfy, particularly after 4-5 hrs of driving. In that nine months we’d travelled over 29000km (18000 miles), of which 5700km (3500 miles) were on unsealed roads of varying quality. Considering where we’d driven it, the issues it had at the end and the lack of road worthy certificate, we felt we did OK with $7000. During the actual trip we’d used 4830 litres of petrol (1063 gallons), averaging 17.6 ltr/100km (min 14.9, max 21.66: translates to 16mpg, 19mpg-13mpg). With petrol costing on average $1.38 per litre (min $1.12 in Adelaide, max 2.22 in Warburton), we’d spent $6700 on petrol, plus another $4500 on services, an air filter, batteries, tyres, exhausts and degreasing an oily engine. Aside from the money spent on the car, the six months (End of June to 1^st Jan) on the road had cost us the better part of $18000. Turns out road trips are expensive. Of that we spent $3200 on 27 nights we’d fled the tent to the comfort of a nice hotel. For the rest of the 186 nights, we’d spent 33 nights in other people’s houses and 126 nights in our tent under the stars, and overall enjoyed what I’d guestimate to be about 160 days of sunshine.  To my mind, it was worth every penny.

Quickly, walk away before something else falls off

I also went into my former place of work, UQ, several times that week. It was a chance to say goodbye (again) to the many (read few) friends I had made there. I also helped Steve finish a paper I left with him when I fucked off around Australia. It was pretty pointless for me, as I’m no longer continuing as an academic and wasn’t getting paid, but I felt I should help get it over the line because I’m a nice guy. We also got to have a final dinner with the few people who could still stomach me, or maybe they just wanted to make sure I was definitely leaving for good.

They made me swear I was definitely leaving this time

With the limit reached with R&L, we packed up and headed back to Adam and Sarah’s, and returned to the drinking/training/jacuzzi/eating lifestyle.

Statler and Waldorf haven't aged well

I also got to go to PCYC boxing for a few sessions, driven there on the back of Adam’s bike. I like to think we looked like tough muthafuckers, but I’ll let you judge.

Bad boys, bad boys, what you gonna do, what you gonna do when they come for you?

With the car sold, our gear shipped and tickets to Sweden booked, we had nothing to do but enjoy ourselves. After wasting a few days with A&S, we headed to New Zealand to see our old friends, Jamie and Alex. My friendship with Jamie stretches back to my late teens when we both had more hair on our heads than our arses, and this was a chance for us to catch up and mourn our friend, Rich.

 The old gangs of Landsdown and Claverton Down make peace

It's not gay if it's in a three way

We had a great time with them and they looked after us well. We spent the time eating, drinking and talking about old times and new.

Combined we have a full head of hair

Back in Aus, we started prepping for the big leave. After a lovely goodbye meal with R&L, we spent the last few days with A&S. While they were at work we hired a car so we could get some final rainforest action at Tambourine Mountains on one day

Tambourine man

and had a final beach day at Caloundra the next.

Beaches ain't shit, but tricks and hoes

It also gave us the chance for a final swim in the lovely warm seas of the tropics.

The last swim for a few years

The final weekend we celebrated Aussie day, drank, shot arrows, drank, played playstation, drank, did some boxing training, drank and sat in the Jacuzzi drinking. Before we knew it we were heading for the airport and back to Europe... in the winter... to look for work. We have been back for a little over a month and we are still jobless and homeless. But perhaps as I have spent six months moaning and complaining about the little niggles that come with an adventure that only a privileged few can even consider doing, I should change tact and start to try and see the positives in my life. So here is to the future, and the inevitability of our death, cheers!. 

Will do anything for money

And now the end is near, and so we face our final curtain.

Packing up and getting back in the shitty crusier did not fill us with any joy. It felt like a good time to leave Mt Fox, but the thought of the tent was only a marginal improvement. We said our teary goodbyes to the horses and chooks, but didn’t worry about the characterless ducks, and drove out of Mt Fox for the last time. We decided to cut the journey to Brisbane into 5 days and 4 nights, that way we wouldn’t have to spend too much time in the car on any one day. That first day we would drive as far as we could, but incorporate a few stops on the way, including Jourama Falls. It took us a couple of hours to get there, only to discover it was a good 4km walk to the actual falls. It was too hot and there were a shit load of mosquitos hanging about, so we walked ~500m, took a shot of the creek then broke for lunch at a lovely little spot you could drive to.

Seen it, so lets bounce

After lunch neither of us could be bothered with the hassle of having a swim and all the shebang of having to dry yourself, hang all the wet clothes and towels and all that shit. So we fucked off sharpish, not really knowing where we’d be spending the night. Although the number of hours of light left in the day would put us in the Bowen region, we decided against calling in unannounced again on Kris and Nan, feeling this would be a little too much of a piss take of their generosity. Instead we drove a little further to a cheap campsite called Taylorwood Tourist Park, and it was full of my favourites, backpackers. The cheapness shone through in the maintenance and general up keep of the place. Becky went to the unisex bathroom, and came back scarred by what she said was one of the worst toilets she’d seen. I took a look expecting the worse, and found what I consider a toilet in average condition; it didn’t even have any shit stains near the seat. At this point we realised that we’d had very different toilet experiences on this holiday and when toilets are shared ladies come out a lot worse off. Maybe equality in all areas is not a good thing, and perhaps someone should tell the feminists.

The place wasn’t all bad, particularly a cute dog that kept bounding about wanting us to throw sticks for it. The owners of the park had written notes to say we shouldn’t throw sticks for it, so I just tried to do it on the sly.

Making friends where ever we go

Despite playing with the dog in the morning, we still managed to get packed up and on our way reasonably quickly. We were only going to drive a short distance that day, stopping at Cape Hillsbourgh national park for a night. The campsites there were great, and luckily we were early enough to get a great spot away from people in an assigned area with no neighbours. The site was right on the beach, and the sea looked very inviting. I asked the national park office on the phone if we could swim, but they told us there were warnings of marine stingers and estuarine crocodiles, so I took that as a no. Unable to swim we took our last walk along the beach for this holiday.

Lovely afternoon stroll

It was a very hot day and a swim would have been nice, but crocodiles and stingers aren’t nice. It was so picturesque that Becky decided to finish her yoga odyssey on a bang. She remembered herself being able to do the spider walk (Chakrasana), and thought this would be the ideal way to end. Unfortunately for her, our sedentary lifestyle of the past 6 months had left her unable to get anywhere close. Fortunately for me, it was fucking hilarious to watch, and I managed to take a few photos despite the tears of laughter. Unfortunately for you, she has forbidden me from sharing them on the blog. Instead she decided to finish with the far more dignifying standing one, Tadasana.

Yoga pose: "Jazz hands"

And with the excitement over, we returned to camp to drink and eat. Becky also saw a great opportunity to take some picturesque photos of the shit we want to sell, and as we were trawling through the gear we pulled out the toilet seat we’ve carried the whole journey and never used. We both agreed that even though we’d never used it, it had no resale value. So I decided we should at least use it once.

The seat IS up

After getting all the stuff photographed, we could finally relax again and enjoy our final bit of beach camping.

Lazing on a sunny afternoon

We had a lovely day, chatting and drinking in the baking heat, watching the tide go out and listening to the birds sing. As the evening came, Becky decided to try out the toilet seat for real, to see if it did help her pee in the bushes. She said I could share this one, so you can imagine how embarrassing the yoga photo must have been.

Marking her territory

While it helped not having to squat, she also ended up spraying the base of the toilet, meaning she had to clean it afterwards with baby wipes before it could be packed away. So, we carried a toilet seat around Australia that was, in fact, not really fit for purpose and definitely would have been a disaster if one of us had dared use it for a dump. The things you learn on the road.

The next morning we carried on our trip south. The camping so far hadn’t been that bad, but we were both really looking forward to getting out of the tent. We were ready for this to end. Becky had picked out Alkoomi Adventure Park as our stopover for the night. It was a working farm, and suited our needs perfectly. As the sun set some of the cows wandered near the tent giving us a lovely countryside feel.

With a moo-moo here, and a moo-moo there

There were very few other campers there, just us and two other campervans, but after dark another car turned up at the empty site. Can you guess where the fuckers parked? As it was the penultimate night, I really didn’t give two shits anymore. In fact it seemed quite funny, although Becky was still unable to see the funny side. In the morning we had the awkwardness encountering our close neighbours, trying to avoid eye contact whilst half awake. They were backpackers and slept in the car. They were so close I could tell one of them was French because she stank of Gitanes. Becky took a photo to again show you how little personal space some people have.

Two girls, one cup

After all that awkwardness we were, without much fuss, once again back on the road in the shitty crusier. For our last night we thought we’d spend the night at Wongi State Forest again. It had a nice swimming hole and there was only one other camper booked to stay there. When we got there, there was fella packing away. He came over and had a chat, telling us he worked as a journalist testing the Kings gear and asked us how we found the stuff. I started off being quite “English interacting with a stranger” about it, but then started to moan like an Englishman among friends, pointing out all the gear that had failed. It felt good to have a moan, even if nothing came of it. Having a moan always makes me feel good. Feeling refreshed by the moan, we went for a lovely swim in the creek.

Marking her territory again

It was a great spot, and we had a lovely cold refreshing swim. As I went for a shower, the only other person staying there mentioned that the ladies showers were much better than the males, and that they’d just installed brand new toilet bowls in both the male and female toilets that morning. Seeing as there were only three of us at the site, and two of us were male, I took the opportunity to christen the unused bowl in the female toilets that had not yet been soiled by Becky. It was great, and felt an apt last shit on the road, especially seeing how our toilet habits have been such a large part of the whole experience. Refreshed and emptied, we had our final drinks and din-dins and I got back to doing another large component of this holiday… writing this fucking blog.

My favourite pastime

As darkness fell we enjoyed our final night of drinking under the stars and started getting all teary eyed that our journey was coming to an end. The next morning we awoke to the sound of birdsong, sad that this was our final morning in our tent. We had been looking forward to getting off the road and into proper housing again, but now it was here we were sad that not only had we reached the end of the holiday, but also the end of an era and our nine years in Australia. We both knew that we were unlikely to be camping again any time soon, and there is a distinct possibility we may never again. And so we took in the beautiful view from our bed for the last time.

This little piggy went to market

We packed up for the last time, trying our hardest to take in the smells and sounds of the great Australian outdoors before starting up the crappy cruiser for the last leg of our journey. Even packing up the prick of a tent felt quite sad.

Never got easier

Packed up and ready to go, we went for a final swim in the creek, trying to savour every moment.

All good things...

Refreshed from our morning swim, we got in the car and waved goodbye to our nomadic lifestyle. As we drove out of the forest, we chatted nostalgically about our Australian adventures, our love of nature and wildlife and all the fantastic places we’d seen. Then the engine light came on, the nostalgia fog lifted and all I wanted to do was drive the piece of shit cruiser into the sea. For our next midlife crisis I'm getting a new sports car and Becky's getting yoga lessons.

THE END

The end of the road trip also signals the end of the blog. Although I am planning to write an epilogue about our final month in Australia, packing up, selling gear, saying our goodbyes, a few stats, highs and lows of the trip etc... this won’t be posted until February. I doubt many of you will remember to come back for that, so I'll thank the remaining 10 of you now for following our journey over the past 6 months. I hope you have enjoyed reading the blog, because I have fucking hated writing it.

If you got funk, you got style

We left Wallaman falls with a wet tent, but a spring in our step. For the next two weeks we’d be sleeping in a proper bed and shitting in a non-communal toilet, pure luxury. It wasn’t a palace, but we quickly set ourselves up and started enjoying having daily chores. First thing in the morning I’d go and feed the horses. Then, we’d check on the chooks and collect some fresh eggs,

Fresh eggs every day

and after breakfast do a few of our chores, such as working on the car and cleaning our camping gear.

You're lucky I'm wearing pants

After lunch we’d spend the rest of the day drinking on the balcony. At 5pm we’d go off to feed the horses again, tend to the ducks and chickens. It was a simple, enjoyable life and signalled the end of Bushman Tom, but the birth of his cousin, Farmer Tom.

Old MacGosden had a farm, E-I-E-I-O

By the end of the weekend we hit our stride, and Becky had fallen in love with the chooks. She was calling them her ladies, and as soon as we got close to their paddock, you could see them all running towards the gate. She seemed to get a kick out of stroking and handling them, and although they didn’t seem to love it, they never stopped stampeding over when ever she walked to see them.

Chook whisperer

I was even getting the hang of the horses, although I was a little wary of them at first. I started off walking up to them on an adjacent paddock, however on the third morning I almost stepped on a snake in the long grass, so I stopped doing that. I guess the fear of being bitten by a snake trumps my fear of being stamped to death by a hungry horse. Near the end, I’d even started grooming the male, Bruno, and I could tell he really appreciated the attention.

I guess that means he's happy

However, it wasn’t all peaches and cream living on acreage in the tropics. On the first Monday I got terrible shits, to the point anything that passed my lips would be coming out the other end as rusty pebble water within an hour. The main issue with this was a note left by the owners, who stated that they only had a small septic system, so if we had guests of >5 people for a few days we should be wary of filling it. They even told us to follow the rule “if it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down”. My stomach bug was ensuring I was definitely crapping for >5 people. So for the rest of our time there I watered their garden with my piss. By the next day I was feeling much better, and there was some texture to my bowel movements. However, that morning, after a terrible nights sleep, I awoke to a text from my friend, Jamie, living in NZ. The text said he had some bad news, and asked if we could talk. As we chatted on the phone he told me the devastating news that a mutual friend, Rich, who we’d both known for over 25 years, had died.

Most memories from my young adult stage involve Rich in some way. He was a true friend and we’d never lost touch. We went on countless nights out, day trips, and many times just sat about, as “youf” tend to do, doing nothing more than enjoy the company of friends. In 1994 we went to India together for several months, and as an 18yrold that had never left Europe (and had only been to a handful of places outside the UK), it caused such a seismic shift in my outlook on life that it left an indelible mark on the very core of my being. Much of how influential that holiday was is due to the fact I shared the experience with him. Rich was a true music fan, whose taste in music was so eclectic it can only be described as music itself. He left a music legacy in my life so big that most of the tracks I listen to today are in some way linked to him. He must have brought >20 cassette tapes to India, and shaped the soundtrack to the whole experience, so now a single note from any of those albums can fill my mind with a thousand sights and smells. The title of this blog is a reference to one of these tracks by Funkadelic. The reason this one brings back so many memories is because while we were in India we had a small, private joke in which we had changed the words in reference to something else. It is a silly, you-had-to-be-there joke that no one else would ever find funny, and sadly the only other person I could share it with is no longer here. I loved him, and I will miss him deeply.

Rich

My friends passing overshadowed the rest of our time at Mt Fox. We sat on the balcony, drinking and discussing life, the universe and everything else, only taking a quick break at lunchtime to watch Dr Phil. Over the weekend I had a video chat with Jamie in NZ, and another friend, Nick, in the UK, as we all mourned the loss of our good friend. Despite our immense sadness at the news, the animals still needed to be fed and tended to.

Calming and therapeutic

In the final week of our stay, I shaved off my beard leaving the 'tache in an attempt to cheer myself up. I felt stronger with the ‘tache and finally felt I could dominate the horses. Unfortunately I could only keep it for a day, as the next day we had some water troubles and I had to call the neighbour for help. We’d run out of water, and needed to pump more from the bore. I couldn’t get it to work and spent most of the day trying to work out the issue, with some help from their neighbour. I didn’t want to meet him with the ‘tache, so panic shaved it off. I regretted it for the rest of the stay.

Farmer Tom finds his look

By the end of our stay we were ready to move on. We’d arranged another house sit in Brisbane starting from the 23^rd and had given ourselves four nights to get to Brisbane and would spend one night staying with R&L before starting the house sit. We were sad to say goodbye to the animals, with whom we’d bonded with over the past two weeks, and Becky was especially sad to say goodbye to her girls, but were ready to leave the property in general.

Goodbye ladies, we'll miss you

It felt strange to load the car for the last time, and while we were both keen to leave Mt Fox, we were not looking forward to getting back in the tent and the four final nights of our road trip.

Take me dancing naked in the rain

As we sat in our car in the rain in Woolies car park, the joys of camping were starting to wain once again. It all seemed like too much work, plus we couldn’t think of anywhere we could be fucked to go. It then dawned on us that rather than drive somewhere else, we could actually rectify our mistake and just return from whence we came... even if it did feel quite idiotic. But then again, it’s far from the most stupid thing we’ve done on this trip, and so we headed back to the same campsite and paid for another two nights. However, we picked a totally different spot, firstly as to not feel silly setting up in the same spot in which we’d taken the tent down only a couple of hours previous, but also we were worried that someone else would set up next to us and ruin our second stay. We picked a nice site further from the toilets and the free wifi, next to a small pond. The rest of the afternoon we sat about drinking, before going for a lovely walk along the beach. Feeling energised by our decision to stay, Becky decided to climb a fallen palm tree, but didn’t get very far.

At least the feet are off the ground

Full of beer and confidence, I decided to show her how to climb, but unbeknownst to me drinking doesn't help with coordination and had left my balance a little awry. This meant my first attempt almost saw me fall off and hanging upside down.

Confidence in climbing ability is higher when drinking

My more cautious second attempt was better, and I felt very proud of my achievement.

That'll do pig, that'll do

As we strolled back Becky then wrote a lovely message in the sand.

I heart you too

I replied by drawing a cock and balls.

Hil-fucking-arious

Feeling very pleased with ourselves, we wandered back to the campsite. Unfortunately, it turns out our choice of site wasn't so great and being near a pond meant there were shit loads of mosquitos at dusk. Feeling under attack we took shelter in the tent just as it started to rain again. Ah, the great outdoors!

The next day we decided that we should do something other than spend the whole day drinking around the campsite, and decided a day trip to Alligator Nest in Tully was a good way to spend our precious time. We hadn’t been to Tully since the start of the trip, 5 months earlier, and the weather hadn’t changed at all as it was still raining. At least the Tully's Golden Gumboot was open this time, and we got to climb it just as the rain picked up.

The number one Tully tourist arrtaction

By the time we got to Alligator Nest it was hammering down. We sat in the car wondering how long it would take to pass, and what we were actually doing with our lives. As we sat there in the pouring rain the car park filled with cars and trucks. A film crew had turned up and were filming a tourist commercial there, though it would take a shit load of CGI to make it look inviting in this weather. With no sign of a break in the weather and feeling like we were getting in the way, we left them to film in the rain. As we drove out of Tully the sunshine returned. I’m starting to think there is a rain cloud that constantly sits over Tully. Back at our site the sun was sort of shining, so we sat around drinking until the mosquitos chased us into bed. 

The next day we packed up for real, with a two night stay at Wallaman Falls, the tallest waterfall in Australia at 268m, next on the list. The owners of our house sit were leaving the next day, and we decided it would be best if we arrived the day after they had left. You may, at this point, be thinking “jeez, Tom, so she talked a lot. It seems a little OTT to adjust your entire camping schedule to avoid them”. However, I forgot to mention (perhaps blanked from memory, as a way of recovering) that on top of all the babbling, Diana had also showed us some photos of a sailing trip to Hinchinbrook Island. Amongst these shots were naked photos of her and her husband! Now, there wasn't any floppy sausage or hairy clam on show, but multiple photos of them on their boat, sans clothes and modesty barely hidden. Each time she’d sound surprised, and make a comment about perhaps she should have checked that folder first. NO FUCKING SHIT, PERHAPS THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN BEST, AND PERHAPS AFTER THE FIRST PHOTO YOU SHOULD HAVE REALISED THIS WASN'T THE SORT OF THING YOU SHOULD SHOW PEOPLE YOU'VE JUST MET AND STOPPED. I’d been washing my eyes daily with soap since. We didn’t want to spend any more time with them out of fear of either being talked into a coma or being exposed to lurid images of the ageing process #metoo.

On our drive to Wallaman Falls we stopped at a lookout of Hinchinbrook Island, and despite the flashbacks from Diana’s photos, Becky took a nice artsy photo of the island from the shore.

Lovely views

We then quickly passed through Cardwell to pick up the cheap beer offer we’d missed out on last time and, feeling my man tits needed some attention, had some lovely fish and chips.

I just can't seem to shift the weight

Once we’d reached Wallaman Falls we set up camp, and then went to have a quick look at the falls. The walk to the base of the falls is quite tough, so we thought we’d have a quick gander, and come back the next day to do the walk. At the top of the falls there was a gang of young people, one of whom was American. As we walked past she exclaimed that we’d love the walk, and it’d be one of the best walks we’d ever done. How the fuck would she know what the best walks we’d done are? We’d reached a saturation point on waterfalls some months earlier, and while we were still enjoying them, it took something special to register anything more than a smile. Of course we didn’t say any of this to her, just replied back that we’d be doing it tomorrow. The whole group seemed over excited, and I didn’t want to spend too long interacting with them so we took a quick look at the waterfall, before heading back to the campsite to drink and complain about how young people don't even know they're born.

The next morning we awoke to grey skies and rain. It seemed like the best-walk-we’d-ever-do™ could be ruined by bad weather. Luckily this wasn’t to be the case as the weather had cleared before we started our walk. I would best describe it as a pleasant walk through thick rainforest, but nowhere near one of the best walks I’d ever done. I just wished those young fuckers were about so I could correct them on their presumptions about what I think is a good walk. At the bottom I had a little scramble over the rocks while Becky watched on.

I'm counting this as hard exercise

We spent some time enjoying the falls, before we decided it was time for the worst part of the walk… the trudge back up to the top. Before we left Becky decided to try some more yoga, and without wifi to check different poses, she had to freestyle. I think this may be the best one yet.

Rewriting the rule book

The walk to the top of the falls was far from one of the best walks ever, it fucking sucked. All those months of sitting about drinking and eating came back to haunt us as we puffed and panted our way to the top. Feeling slightly queasy, we took one last look at the fall before heading back to the campsite to eat and drink the calories we’d lost on the walk plus some more, naturally.

The original long drop

Back at the site we both expressed how happy we were that tomorrow we’d be out of the tent for a while. Having now seen a cassowary and completed the road trip check list, the last few days of camping had begun to drag and it was starting to feel like a chore once again. We were back to our moaning best, failing to appreciate how lucky we were. Becky managed to amuse herself by mocking my old man turkey neck, but the jokes on her, as she is the one that has to look at it.

Without TV, Becky amuses herself in our ways.

As dusk approached, and the mosquitos started to congregate, we got into the tent for the last time for a few weeks. As we lay there we could her the patter of rain against the canvas… I think I’m over camping.