Far from the madding crowd

water, wood and big skies

Picture this…you are in a pristine Gippsland forest. You are climbing a well made path to a waterfall, you hear water alternatively burbling and rushing by. You see the top and turn the corner. You see two Tonkinese cats enjoying the scenery.

When we set off on our camping trip last week there were definitely things we expected to experience: Serenity, majestic nature, sleeping in beanies, cooking over open fire and big skies were all included. What was not included was cats at campgrounds.

To be honest we did not expect the sheer number of pets on display.

My previous camping days roughly coincided with my long overnight hike days. A big gang of us would meticulously plan routes and meals and who would take what in which gigantic pack, so as to even the load. Tents and camping stoves and sleeping bags and meals and snacks and water had all to be carried in and out of places like Wilsons Promontory and Victoria’s high country. We only saw other hard core hikers on the trails, sometimes with children but mostly adults. Good wholesome times were had. We were mostly in National Parks where dogs and cats and rifles are banned. Though we did once come across someone who had walked in with only beer, a swag and a chainsaw.

Photo by Michael Fenton on Unsplash

Camping these days is a bit less hard core for me. I think I have written previously about the creature comforts possible when driving in and out as opposed to walking. This time we had a doona and a hotwater bottle. Gin and tonic, nice cheese and banana pancakes also all made an appearance.

Those around us were a diverse lot:

• The dad travelling with his toddler J and his adult cousin. They had a pop up tent, two dogs and a shiska pipe. J spent most of the night being given instructions, most of which involved “ no, don’t” or “J stop”. Camping with a toddler seemed hard work.

• The aforementioned couple in a giant caravan with their two Tonkinese cats who traveled on tiny leads or in front facing packs. They acknowledged it was a bit weird , but also that they just loved their cats.

• The solo female traveller from Thornbury who had a stack of books and lazed in the sun reading. No dog. ( despite a pet food place in Thornbury once telling me that most women in Thornbury drive Subarus and have golden retrievers or groodles. I did drive a Subaru, lived in Thornbury and owned a groodle at the time)

• The music blaring mates who arrived late in a blaze of noise and ruckus and left early, more noise and ruckus. One dog. They saw no waterfalls or nature.

• Solo male with his staffy puppy. Teaching the pup the ways of camping. He had a very yoda like quality and as the campground around him sprang into action of the coming or going type, he settled down with his pup and his book for a sit.

• Youngish couple with a hugely anxious fluffy collie and a sound system and a chainsaw. No minimalism with these two!

• A couple of families with 3 or so children and associated bikes, watercraft, barbeques and occasional raised voices and weeping.

All up, I think dog and human numbers were roughly the same. Clearly Australians love their canine companions. And the dogs we saw seemed happy to be close to their humans.

So, cats and dogs and a shiska pipe were a surprise; but what was most surprising was the prevalence of fire blowers. I am pretty sure that is not their real name. These look a bit like leaf blowers and run on batteries. If your fire is looking a bit wan or hard to start simply grab your trusty blower and blast it. They make quite the noise and fires dance and spark in response.

All but a couple of sites had these. It seems the days of cosseting and coaxing flame is behind us. Much as I loved watching the sparks fly and the kelpies leap at dancing flames I couldn’t help but be a bit sad at the disappearance of the slower pace of fire making. Part of the appeal of camping for me, is that things are a bit more elemental, that we do have to try a bit harder and that everything takes longer. It feels a bit like I return to the pace that my nervous system needs to find balance and rest. By spending time with wood and water, in air, under skies I am triggering my parasympathetic nervous system, you know , the one that says “you’re safe now”. By speeding camping up are we losing half the benefit of doing it?

Photo by Chris Rhoads on Unsplash