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Of course, the rain that fell
as we arrived at the campsite wasn't just the "passing shower"
we had all insisted to each other. The combination of high terrain and
low cloud means that when we're not struggling to see the other side
of the campsite, we're swearing at the gods themselves because of
all the fucking water.
I had nightmarish visions of
waving a piece of steak on the end of a stick over a pile of gently
steaming sticks, but one of the ‘locals' came to our rescue. Weirdly,
it was before we'd even asked, as if some sort of Camping Sixth Sense
had come into play. A ‘borrowed' camp stove, fashioned crudely using
an oxy torch and an empty gas cylinder is the saving grace of the evening.
This ingenious piece of camping
kit had me severely worried, though - who, in their right mind, would
cut or drill through the side of a gas cylinder? What kind of maniac
would take an oxy-acetylene torch to the exterior surface of what could,
with just the tiniest dribble of LPG left inside it, become an IED and
take out everyone within 50 metres? Good God, I thought to myself. These people are all
insane.
Managing to get the fire going
at all with the sodden wood was a stroke of luck too - the tea candles
we'd packed to power the fondue set became the world's best firestarters,
even if it took six candles and a very tense half-hour to get things
past the "This is fucked because I'm about to starve to death in
the rain" feeling that was slowly pervading the trip.
But once the fire was going,
all was well. I battled the rising smell of fug that only comes from
sitting in the rain for three hours by wrestling the top off a bottle
of scotch, the warmth of its soothing malty embrace taking the winterish
chill from my bones.
In a fit of inspiration, I
grabbed four bananas, a block of chocolate and some tinfoil. Hollowing
out the bananas, I stuffed them with chocolate, wrapped them in foil
and bunged them in the fire. Fifteen minutes later, we were eating like
young gods atop a tropical throne. Hot banana with chocolate - it
formed a sticky, glutinous mess that stuck to the fingers like napalm
to a ten year old, with much the same effect. But holy hell, did it
taste good.
It was then, just as we were
having a genuine ‘how's the serenity' moment, it began.
Ga-dunk Ga-dunk-a-dunk, Ga-dunk
Ga-Dunk-a-dunk-a-dunk-dunk-dunk.
Drums.
Hippy Drums.
Filthy, stinking, communist,
long-hair, dance in the rain, love life and hug all humanity but can't
hold a rhythm to save their putrid lives hippy drums.
 Drumming helps you get in touch with your feelings. In Gregor's case, rage.
Seething with drunken fury
at having my previously-uninterrupted soundscape of dribbling rain sizzling
on a borrowed hotplate broken so unceremoniously, my mind turned frantically
over what to do.
The answer came from an unexpected
quarter, in the form of a group of cowboy-hat wearing bogans in the
clearing between ours and the river. Armed with multiple cans of Jack
Daniels pre-mixed beverages in each hand, one of them managed somehow
to fire up a stereo system, blasting the hippies from their canvas realm
with the unrestrained chorus of Sweet Home Alabama. Even worse.
All I could see was a red mist.
In my rage, I blacked out, landing conveniently atop the fire.
At least I was getting dry...
Morning broke, and our hippy
neighbours were the first to reveal themselves. An awkward looking ten
year old boy rushed through our campsite, clutching an obviously toxic
toadstool.
"Hey Dad!" he cried. "Is
this a porcini?"
The family gathered around
the find, excited at the prospect of Mother Earth Providing, just like
their little Camping for Ferals handbook had said She would.
One man, five women, and a teeming hoard of children that all looked
more like the father than anyone else... The dirty sod. He'd packed
several bongo vans full of his harem and brats, and decided to ruin
my holiday.
We ate breakfast, turning our
backs on the large extended tribe as they tried to decide whether to
eat the toadstool. My money was on yes, they should. Oh, how I would
laugh. And then they would see lizards. Many, many lizards.
The cowboy ventured over, drawn
by the smell of our cooking bacon, which by this time had driven our
clearly Vegan friends, reeling, for the safety of their bio-diesel-burning
family fun vans. The Cowboy's matriarch, still clutching her JD and
Cola, introduced herself. We'll call her "Lisa", in case she eventually
discovers the internet, reads this, and decides to sue.
Lisa was, bless her, one of
the most open and honest people I've ever met - more forthright
than 99% of the people on the planet.
"Those hippies are cunts.
All that drumming. Bang bang bang... I'll give them fuckin' bang
bang bang," uttered my new best friend. As we'd polished off our
entire supply of booze the night before, and the rain had caused the
river to rise beyond the point where it was passable, making a trip
into town for grog impossible, we helped ourselves to her JD and Cola.
A man can't have bacon and
eggs without something to wash it down, after all.
Lisa told us she worked in
childcare, and promptly proved her credentials when her grandson arrived
in our campsite. Three years old, he was dragging behind him a mallet
that would crush his tiny toes should he ever put a foot wrong.
"Damien!" she shouted.
"Don't you hit any of the cars with that mallet!"
Damien just grinned, a vivid
green number eleven snaking from his nostrils to be eagerly lapped at
as it hit his top lip.
"I specialise in looking
after autistic kids," said Lisa.
Which goes part of the way
towards explaining why this one was clearly neglected.
Day Two passed in a blur. I
waded the river to buy dry firewood, and built a small pyre to help
celebrate the funeral of my weekend. No more booze, except what we could
scrounge, and too wet to do anything but hunker down in the tent and
plough through our ‘emergency rations' of biscuits - God, how
I love to camp.
Day turned to night, and the
drums began in earnest. On came the stereo, and through the hopeless
fog of sobriety, I decided enough was enough.
Fighting fire with fire, I
grabbed the car keys, switched on the car and turned on the Pixies.
With Frank Black screaming about wanting to become a debaser, the cowboys
were the first to know they'd been trumped. Slim Dusty's interminable
wailings just couldn't keep up.
The hippies were next to stop,
as their campsite was invaded by all of the native animals that had
settled in ours to escape their god-awful drumming. It was mutually
assured destruction, and I was the only one guaranteed sleep that night.
I dozed off by the fire, and dreamt of waves of mutilation.
When dawn broke, we were alone.
The cowboys had abandoned camp sometime in the wee hours, and the hippies
were long gone. I had worn down the battery in the car, but I had won.
The campsite was mine to do with as I pleased.
So we packed up, and went home.
Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
gregor May 7th, 2007 - 7:12 PM
You actually get *paid* for this? Oh that makes me feel better. I thought you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart. I'll be more brutal with my criticism next time  Apologies for calling a spade a spade and not being an arselicker, but although it was OK to read in a bloggish kinda way, I guess I'm just yearning for some of the kickarseness that we saw in your "Five Things I Learnt This Week" columns. I dunno. Maybe you've stopped learning?
Nah... I haven't stopped learning - and I promise that the next thing of mine you read will be much more 'kick arse' and a whole lot less 'what I did in my summer vacation'.
 | [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Nate May 5th, 2007 - 1:45 AM
I'd be with Gregor, except I've been in his situation before, so amongst the several bottles of scotch and vodka, I'd have a portable stereo with my Ministry of Sound stuff and a few mixes of heavy metal, just to show those hippies what drumming really is.
The worst part about my camping trip was the detour to Questacon. At least I was drunk during that time, though- the chick who suggested the stop bought my admission. Nothin like walkin through that spinny tunnel smug in the fact that if you fall over and puke, you can blame it on being epileptic, or something similar.
| Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
pseudonym May 5th, 2007 - 12:47 AM
You fell asleep in the fire? Nice work. 
Had I been camping next to you, and you blasted the Pixies all night, I wouldn't have left. Oh, no. Chances are I would've simply disconnected your battery. And then I would've cut your brake lines.  I'm with Mez - I'm one of those hippy campers that plays guitar. Usually Crowded House over Kumbaya, but still.
Great article though. And I'm glad you got home safe to tell the tale. | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Mezeltov Cocktail May 5th, 2007 - 12:04 AM
Was it the Lynrd Skynrd version of Sweet Home Alabama?  That's not too bad, actually, especially now that half the band is dead.
I have been on your camping trip many times, Gregor. WE were the hippies, except that Mr Mez plays flute and guitar - would you have preferred those to bongo drums?
Next time we go camping (next week actually), we are taking a hired camper van with fridge, microwave, toilet and proper beds, plus all amenities like laptops, portable DVD players and MP3s. I've HAD the 'It's so wet all you can do is stay in your tent and whinge' trips, fuck it, I'm too old for all that now. Communing with nature is one thing; getting wet and cold and covered in leeches is quite another!
At least you can say you've tried it. Good on you, Gregor. | [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Mezeltov Cocktail May 4th, 2007 - 11:52 PM
Return to article
Of course, the rain that fell
as we arrived at the campsite wasn't just the "passing shower"
we had all insisted to each other. The combination of high terrain and
low cloud means that when we're not struggling to see the other side
of the campsite, we're swearing at the gods themselves because of
all the fucking water.
I had nightmarish visions of
waving a piece of steak on the end of a stick over a pile of gently
steaming sticks, but one of the ‘locals' came to our rescue. Weirdly,
it was before we'd even asked, as if some sort of Camping Sixth Sense
had come into play. A ‘borrowed' camp stove, fashioned crudely using
. . .
| Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
The I Don't Fucking Care Bear May 5th, 2007 - 5:33 AM
Oh yay. Gregor's Personal Blog, part 2.
Andy will be so disappointed when he discovers you didn't die 
Seriously though, shouldn't you be saving this self-indulgent, ranty stuff for myspace or something? 
Nate: Ministry of Sound? F | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Mr Pants May 5th, 2007 - 5:45 AM
AGHAST! No dramatic death scence.
I will express my feelings through the use of internet emoticons...
These imply that I am dissapointed. | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Fritz May 6th, 2007 - 12:11 AM
Nate: Ministry of Sound? F ag
Right next to your Kylie CD's Nate | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Nate May 6th, 2007 - 12:20 AM
We've already established that I'm gay. So, isn't saying it over and over getting redundant, like me saying that Yak is Rosie O'Donnel and Fritz is my lover?
| Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Fritz May 6th, 2007 - 12:26 AM
redundant maybe, but there is nothing like flogging a dead horse | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Erubadhriel May 6th, 2007 - 12:26 AM
our end of year camping trip is going to be interesting. there are some really girly girls in our little group, who have already said that there MUST be public toilets wherever we go. but we're going in (hopefully) drier weather, so with any luck, we won't end up soaked to the bone cursing the gods. needless to say, there will be lots of booze. hopefully we shouldn't run out. it's going to be fun. | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Nate May 6th, 2007 - 12:40 AM
Righto. I just hope you weren't one of the people having a go at bob hawke for doing the same thing; nothin like hypocrisy to feed you the shit you spew on the forums. We saw that little chestnut happen with Aleks.
| Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Fritz May 6th, 2007 - 4:02 AM
Righto. I just hope you weren't one of the people having a go at bob hawke for doing the same thing; nothin like hypocrisy to feed you the shit you spew on the forums. We saw that little chestnut happen with Aleks.
No, bob flogs the horse in another sense. | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
gregor May 6th, 2007 - 6:34 PM
Oh yay. Gregor's Personal Blog, part 2. Andy will be so disappointed when he discovers you didn't die Seriously though, shouldn't you be saving this self-indulgent, ranty stuff for myspace or something?
awwwww... you've gone and hurt my feelings.
I will point out, however, that the difference between this and a myspace or livejournal post is that this is entertaining. If I had a buck for every "I hate my parents and why is my boyfriend so crap and I hurt myself at work and I had a car crash" livejournal post, I'd be rich enough to stop having to write for you ungrateful bastards...
there. I said it.
| Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Fritz May 6th, 2007 - 7:05 PM
Poor gregor not feeling the love.
Don't fret - your stories are enjoyable. | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
The I Don't Fucking Care Bear May 7th, 2007 - 7:00 AM
awwwww... you've gone and hurt my feelings.
I will point out, however, that the difference between this and a myspace or livejournal post is that this is entertaining. If I had a buck for every "I hate my parents and why is my boyfriend so crap and I hurt myself at work and I had a car crash" livejournal post, I'd be rich enough to stop having to write for you ungrateful bastards...
there. I said it.
You actually get *paid* for this? Oh that makes me feel better. I thought you were doing it out of the goodness of your heart. I'll be more brutal with my criticism next time
Apologies for calling a spade a spade and not being an arselicker, but although it was OK to read in a bloggish kinda way, I guess I'm just yearning for some of the kickarseness that we saw in your "Five Things I Learnt This Week" columns.
I dunno. Maybe you've stopped learning? | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Biscuit May 8th, 2007 - 12:33 AM
Well yak, maybe we could help Gregor out with some story suggestions?
1. What's in my fridge
2. Where is the freakin' remote for the TV!
3. Supermarket specials
4. Things to avoid saying in front of young children/girlfriend/wife/colleagues
5. My life as an art critic
etc | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Mr Pants May 8th, 2007 - 1:23 AM
Well yak, maybe we could help Gregor out with some story suggestions?
1. What's in my fridge
2. Where is the freakin' remote for the TV!
3. Supermarket specials
4. Things to avoid saying in front of young children/girlfriend/wife/colleagues
5. My life as an art critic
etc
You've inspired me to write this for you.
I've always envied critics and the job they get to do.
They look at someone elses work and say if they approve.
Well I could be a critic, an efiicient one too.
Saving lot's of time with my three word reviews.
ACA = Piece of shit
Australian Idol = Piece of shit
Big Brother = Piece of shit
Today Tonight = Piece of shit
Worlds, Biggest, Loser = Piece of shit
You can huff and puff and strut your stuff and say I've got it wrong,
Say that it's just sour grapes of envy of the strong.
But there is just one answer that I'll direct at you.
I'm sorry Sir your incorrect now here's some more reviews.
Modern Music = Piece of shit
Teen Soaps = Piece of shit
Gregors writing = Piece of shit
Well that's about the sum of it, I hope that we're okay
And just because we disagree it doesn't mean to say
That we can't still be friends I'll look the other way,
Because you like terrible books and terrible songs and terrible shows unbearable to me.
But at least we can agree.
Paris Hilton = Silly Tart.
| Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Biscuit May 8th, 2007 - 1:29 AM
You've inspired me to write this for you.
I've always envied critics and the job they get to do.
They look at someone elses work and say if they approve.
Well I could be a critic, an efiicient one too.
Saving lot's of time with my three word reviews.
ACA = Piece of shit
Australian Idol = Piece of shit
Big Brother = Piece of shit
Today Tonight = Piece of shit
Worlds, Biggest, Loser = Piece of shit
You can huff and puff and strut your stuff and say I've got it wrong,
Say that it's just sour grapes of envy of the strong.
But there is just one answer that I'll direct at you.
I'm sorry Sir your incorrect now here's some more reviews.
Modern Music = Piece of shit
Teen Soaps = Piece of shit
Gregors writing = Piece of shit
Well that's about the sum of it, I hope that we're okay
And just because we disagree it doesn't mean to say
That we can't still be friends I'll look the other way,
Because you like terrible books and terrible songs and terrible shows unbearable to me.
But at least we can agree.
Paris Hilton = Silly Tart.
3/10 | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
Mr Pants May 8th, 2007 - 1:35 AM
awwww c'mon it's worth at least a four. | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
The I Don't Fucking Care Bear May 8th, 2007 - 2:37 AM
Well yak, maybe we could help Gregor out with some story suggestions?
1. What's in my fridge
2. Where is the freakin' remote for the TV!
3. Supermarket specials
4. Things to avoid saying in front of young children/girlfriend/wife/colleagues
5. My life as an art critic
etc
Why...they almost sound like articles you'd find in Zoo Weekly!  | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
The I Don't Fucking Care Bear May 8th, 2007 - 2:39 AM
Nah... I haven't stopped learning - and I promise that the next thing of mine you read will be much more 'kick arse' and a whole lot less 'what I did in my summer vacation'.
uh oh.
that sounds ominous...
for some reason that smiley seems very cruella de ville... | [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
unomomento May 15th, 2007 - 8:22 PM
Well, I liked your story/blog thing. It screams truth about those fuckucking hippie fucks. I was fishing the other day having one of those serenity moments and then this bastard starts up his bongos. God it's annoying | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
pseudonym May 15th, 2007 - 8:34 PM
Well, I liked your story/blog thing. It screams truth about those fuckucking hippie fucks. I was fishing the other day having one of those serenity moments and then this bastard starts up his bongos. God it's annoying
Fishing? You're that old? I always thought you were a young'un.
Anyway, if I could play bongos, I'd be the kind of person out there "destroying" the serenity too. | Re: [Article]Gregor goes bush – part 2
unomomento May 15th, 2007 - 8:56 PM
Im 22, so yeah I'm fairly young-un-ish but i do love a good fish. |
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