Camping with the Boys

The campsite (tent is just a prop - we don't actually sleep in it.  We wander home to our nice warm beds by 8 o'clock)

The view from the camp at sunset

The elusive sand frog and the axe incident

Population:  45-ish

The boys and I went for our usual camping expedition last night on the beach about 100 meters from the homestead.  It’s just far enough away, and around a little bend, so you don’t see the house and it feels like you are a million miles away from anything.  But you can still wander down to the homestead if you get too hungry or need to use the loo.

Yesterday we set up camp and were just watching the fire burn down, when we saw a little movement in the sand.  It was a tiny sand frog that only exists on this island!!!  A very rare and very strange creature that burrows into the sand and can sleep for up to three years if there is no rain.  It’s croak is an odd squelching sound. 

This frog was feeling pretty sleepy.  We weren’t sure it was alive at first, but it did move a little and bat its eyes at us.

After running back to the homestead and showing our frog to everyone we could find, we set the frog free back in the sand dunes and settled next to the fire to roast our potatoes.

We get a view of the whole of the Bay from our campsite and we were noticing some very strange boat activity.  Someone going out in a kayak after dark and fetching the dingy from the mooring.  A mysterious boat that was traveling very fast, came to meet the dingy and then left.  Very curious indeed.

Once we got back to the homestead, we found out someone camping at the north end of the island had been chopping fire wood and missed.  The axe had gone into his shin right to the bone.  The Homestead had got a frantic call from his fishing buddies saying that he was drifting in and out of consciousness and they were having trouble stopping the bleeding.  Then the cell phone reception crapped out.

The camping sites are three hours drive from the homestead it was already getting to be late afternoon.  They contacted the flying doctors, but there was no way they could land at the island airstrip after dark.  They had called in a rescue boat.

From what I hear, the fishing buddies put $500 cash in the injured bloke’s pocket for the flight home, put him on the rescue boat, and went back to fishing.

The Genesis of a Classic Fishing Story

Population 35-ish

A group of homestead guests came back from fishing the cliffs yesterday in a very raucous mood.  Fishing the cliffs is a very foolhardy thing to do.  Huge waves crash into the sharp rocks and standing on the rocks there is no quick escape and no quick rescue if something goes wrong.  But you get 10 blokes together, away from their wives, and hand them an esky full of beers, well, what do you expect is going to happen.

I heard from the much repeated and embellished story that was drunkenly told over dinner, that a huge wave had come and knocked one of the fishermen off the rock and back towards the cliff.  They had seen him tumble 10 meters backwards and he had been submerged long enough for his fellow fishermen to think he might be dead.  Just when they were silently writing his obituary in their heads, he pops back to his feet, fishing reel still in hand.  His mates yell, “get off the rocks!!!” and other choice expletives.  His reply was “No!  I’ve got a fish!!!” which he then proceeding to reel in.

He had a good sized laceration to his buttocks and his fishing jacket had been torn to threads, but he was otherwise in good health.

This is surely the genesis of a classic fishing story that will be retold and exaggerated for the next 30 years.

Staff gathering in the homestead kitchen for dinner and a beer