We departed for Bowen early with the premier bus, arriving late in the evening. Us, being the Messy Crew, hadn't made any plans, just hoping there would be hostels and possible farm work available. We were wrong. We sat for about an hour in the bus station calling all the hostels in the small town but they were all full. We had chosen Bowen's busiest and apparently most exciting weekend; The Fishing Festival. We took a trip to the local store and purchased two tents and then walked to the nearest campsite which was on the harbor, full of fishing maniacs. We decided to move to a destination nearer to the beach so we hopped on the local bus, and really, it was the locals bus. Everyone knew everyone. Margaret was getting a lift home, literally,
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