Great, it's raining. At first it is a soothing type of noise, hearing raindrops bounce on nylon, watching their shapes move down the angled walls. But gradually you realise your right foot is becoming damp; it's leaning against the fabric. A seam begins to drip with the additive weight of the water, and lands squarely on your sleeping bag. And so it begins, nobody's getting any sleep tonight!
Camping is a great way to see a lot of countryside on a budget. With this mindset, Adam and I headed north three weeks ago for an extended weekend. Byron Bay is near the border between New South Wales and Queensland, and JetStar were offering two-for-one fares that were too valuable to resist.
Armed with 60 kg of luggage (consisting almost entirely of a tent, two large sleeping bags and two parachutes), we landed at Ballina Airport to a muggy reception. We had arranged a car and were handed the keys to a bright green Hyundai i20. Four days off and freedom! This was going to be such a relaxing weekend...
Late afternoon we hiked our tourist cameras and inquisitive minds to the most Eastern point of Australia, pinpointed by a lighthouse. A talkative old gentlemen informed us that we could climb to the top of it for a meagre "donation" of only $10. We made our excuses and quickly backed away. Sitting on a rock formation a good distance from the carpark, the clouds darkened and we felt the first spits of rain. This weather was to be the punctuation of our weekend.
Driving back through the town with a torrent of water hitting the windscreen, we began to make enquiries about camping in the area. One by one, campgrounds cheerily informed us that we could have an unpowered site (read: 'patch of grass and maybe a pit toilet if you're lucky') for only $65 per night. Bargain! Disheartened, we headed north from Byron Bay in the hope of finding some cheaper grass.
Further up the freeway, we had just about given up hope of being able to erect our tiny fabric home. The water-laden grass was getting more soggy by the minute, and sleeping in the foetal position in the car was sounding like a pretty good plan. But luck was on our side. Passing a sign indicating a truck stop, we figured we had nothing left to lose so might as well check it out. As we pulled in, a couple of well-informed and very homeless locals told us it was perfectly fine to camp, and we could even put our tent under the shelter of the picnic areas!
Throughout what became an extremely soggy trip, we kept coming back to our home-away-from-home at the truckstop each night to protect our tent from the elements and use real toilets that actually flushed (luxury!). We spent the days at the beach, despite the rain. However on the third day the heavens opened and forced us into a local cafe to drink our body weight in chai. I made the most of the inside time and constructed a cardboard pirate ship I had the foresight to purchase a few hours earlier.
On the morning we flew home from Byron Bay, we awoke to tendrils of sunlight. Looking outside we were greeted by blue skies, a very slight breeze and a beautiful view of the stunning coastline. I would return to Byron Bay in a heart beat - the locals are laid-back and friendly, everybody surfs and it's warm even when it's raining.
Camping is an activity that I love to hate. In the summer, camping is the perfect way to travel - the mosquito netting on the zippered doors means that you can lie in blissful breezy slumber while all the flying biting fiends hover relentlessly on the other side (hopefully) of the mesh. However, a leaking tent in heavy rain is hard work and is guaranteed to eradicate all feelings of zen.
It's not just the tent though, it's the whole shemozzle. The foam mattress that may as well not be there, or the luxurious airbed if you can afford the luggage allowance. One thing I've found from sharing an inflatable mattress is that it is very important to be the lightest occupant. A slow leak will sink the heavier person to the ground, but if you have the good foresight to ensure a lighter body mass, there is a good chance of still having a layer of air between your own rump and the ground. This, of course, depends on the severity of the leak.
Hygiene (or lack thereof) is an enormous consideration to the camper. I have discovered that baby wipes are a must - they can replace a shower for as long as required. Camping in warmer climes unfortunately means that sweating is commonplace, and baby wipes are also fantastic for combating the morning 'feral'. One activity that is completely prohibited from a hygiene viewpoint is any kind of sexual physicality. If you want a romantic holiday, scrap the tent and get a hotel room.
Despite all the hardships of camping, I love it. I love the feeling of plunging into the sea or a fresh water stream when I haven't been within 200 km of a shower for four days. I love the taste of marshmallows that have been roasted on a camp fire, and I even love being woken at 5.00 am and cooked out of my sleeping bag on a hot day. It is a perfectly raw way to travel on a budget and enjoy the outdoors in all its glory, and I wouldn't trade one rainy, windy, gritty moment of it.
