CAMPING

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In search of the perfect camping spot, we stopped the car by a mountainous lay-by. We trekked around the tall trees and rocky slopes, taking care to avoid the backbreaking rocks. We suddenly became alert as the sand of water trickles onto our radar. Basic bushmen instincts pushed us to follow the alluring sound of fresh water. As we neared the source, our shoes began to complain of the dampness, my wellies on several occasions stubbornly stuck its heels in and refused to travel any further, leaving my exposed foot dangling in the warm air. Eventually we listened to our shoes and turned to drier ground.

Climbing higher, everytime, tiptoeing on the shoulders of the grand rocky structures, trying to see what they could see. As we scrambled to the peak, exhausted, the rocks lets us into the secret view that they had done so well in protecting. They rewarded us with a snapshot of what they had been watching over hundreds of years.

As short as a snapshot was, the sky started to darken, the harsh winds sounded warning sirens to tell us of the closing hours at this panoramic podium. We headed down the rocks to find a soft bed of moss and woodland to pitch out tent. Feeling we had been cheated of the viewing times at the top of the rocks, we decided to sneak back to the podium. We armed ourselves with pots and pans, food rations, and sleeping bag.

It seems as though someone had dropped a matchstick down into the farthest valley our eyes could see. The bright orange flame caught the skies like wildfire. Unfortunately, it was too far away to provide warmth. In true bushmen style, we made our dried wood and kindling fire. We cooked and ravished reindeer meat under the fiery skies, provoking the fire occasionally with rude prods.

With our bellies full, we settled under the blanket of bright shining stars. Despite knowing little about astronomy, I was convinced we saw the northern star shining brighter than the others. Wrapped up tightly in our sleeping bag, we braved the dark night. We were woken up a few hours later, by the sound of the wind sirens, and first light. Our blurry eyes looked around to see naked plants strip of their leaves. Their bare white bones told this is no-mans land, retreat back to our warm tent.

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