You need some interests, mate.
Posted: July 5, 2025 Filed under: Camping | Tags: family, fiction, hiking, travel, writing Leave a comment
When Waz told people he was retiring, the number one question was “What are you going to do?”, often spoken with a trace of projected fear. The second most asked question was “Hey Neen, now Waz is retiring, what are you going to do?”. This is curious to me because I just assumed I’d be doing what I usually do, but with a bonus minion to order around. He could finish repainting the house in a colour I’ve finally decided on, despite being painted two years ago, and me starting a repaint project just this year. I would have an intern that would undertake repetitive and uncreative tasks in my pottery studio.
Concerned acquaintances warned Waz that “since you’ve been a captain of industry, you’re going to need new projects, mate”. Meaning, Important Things to keep your (undeniably genius) brain from turning into a blob of misdirection and apathy. Well, FEAR NOT. Waz, as the very least concerned about #slayingretirement has found plenty to keep himself occupied.
Moments after we installed ourselves at our campsite, random interlopers dared to take a shortcut through the plants, eschewing the clearly designated paths and daring to roam up the private path to our site, then across the underbrush to the other side. Every now and then some Muppet actually walks through our site. This is a problem for a couple of reasons. The path they take is somewhat worn in by other short-cutters but is actually fenced off as native bushland trying to colonise a wee piece of the cape in between all the people. There are Let it Grow signs, in case anyone is confused. Inexplicably, they stamp past the Let it Grow sign and shave ten metres off their camp-to-water 70 metre journey.
Waz has made it his personal job to erect barriers to the shortcut, his eagle-like gaze scanning the landscape for boulders and clumps of dead plant to relocate. It is not uncommon for him to comment “That’s a good boulder” as we get about our day. It’s a triumph of landscaping that is effective to 90% of the time. The 10% get the following:
Waz: “Yeah, that’s not a path. You need to go back. Heh. Yeah, back there. No, not a path. Trying to grow stuff here.”
The response is always: “Oh, I didn’t know.”
Waz: “Yeah, we all need to learn sometimes.”
A reply once: “Oh, THANK YOU for teaching me.”
Waz has taken the fight to Yardie Creek such is his commitment.
I used to be the one raging at drones, and engaging in ‘discussions’ with escalating sarcasm, but it is SO nice to sit back and let Waz deal out the heat. Besides, I’ve bought a drone (that as the oldest child I’m a rule follower, and there’s a no drone rule in National Parks), so I’m conflicted, leading to inaction, unless there is one hovering ten metres above us as we do our sunset kayak, and I may be moved to gesture. Plus, a friend told me the horror story of her husband who had their drone ‘Follow Me’ as he swam in the ocean. It dive bombed said husband, requiring stitches in his face. I tell you, the machines are just biding their time before we are all in an episode of Black Mirror getting hunted by robotic dogs.
It is a definite ritual. At any time of the day, you scan campsites and men are moving solar panels, untying ropes, retying ropes, taking down or erecting awnings, doing something in the back of the car, looking mystified as they poke at stuff attached to their caravan. Relocating water jerries. Pumping water from one thing to another, poking at the Weber, carrying shade tents to the beach, or looking meaningfully at a tyre. A more solid case of purpose I’ve not witnessed.
The other thing that passes the day for Waz is multiple enquiries from strangers.
“Hi, do you have any fuses? Our Inverter just popped.”
“Hello! How did you put your pegs in? The ground is REALLY hard.”
“Hey, do you mind if we leave our SUP here?”.
“Hi, mate, how’s the new Prado? Heard the brakes before. REALLY loud.”
“You stay here? Anything to see?”
“Yeah, gidday, so how do we book this site?”
“Hi, yeah, South Australia. Who do you barrack for?”
“Knock, knock. Hi! We had an Aussie Swag too. Loved it. Started the forum on Facebook.” (Follows is much Aussie Swag camper trailer reminiscing.)
Our days kick off with a walk along the coast, on jagged exposed ocean floor rocks that range between thousands and millions of years old, dotted with ancient shells and marine life, and scalpel-sharp as a brand new Microplane grater. I learnt this the hard way last year, tripping on one of the many sharp bits, falling like a mighty, silent, oak and opening up a deep slash on my hand, leaving a crime scene in my wake. Because the Ningaloo reef is particularly fertile with living organisms, including necrotising fasciitis, my grated shins, arms, and the stitches in my hand needed two weeks to close up before I was allowed back in the water. Naturally, I tested the advice with ‘waterproof’ dressings and a thick rubber glove, but leakage and the threat of flesh eating organisms drove me back to shore. Excruciating time out.
After we walk, I head out for a snorkel to check out the bay status. Waz stays back on coffee alert. His wetsuit had grown a series of ladder-type holes in the rear as it struggled to contain his athletic form, and he generally froze whenever we went out. The water temp started out as 28 degrees but quickly plummeted to 21 which gets chilly when you are not smashing out a 3km freestyle open water swim. I have persevered, distracted by fish but unable to use my hands when I return.
Another important task for Waz is soldering my fairy lights, which fall apart every time it blows a gale. So, every day. By the fifth repair Waz got creative, repurposing some silicone that had gone hard and sculpting a supportive frame. And he claims he is not an artist.
And then there is power and water management, requiring systems of levers and pulleys to keep everything in order. Speaking of which, some of you will know Waz’s obsession with the Tesla battery at home, often calling me from the office in the middle of the day:
“Have you get the aircon/heater/oven/washing machine on? Turn it off, the prices are spiking.” At which point, I either say “OK. Guess you don’t want clean jocks”, or I engage Amp Draw Tinnitus. Well, big brother came on holiday and continues to monitor the home Tesla the minute we have a scrap of coverage.
The other thing that gives us great joy is camp kids and their lovely parents. The explosion of young families travelling OZ means there are generally one year olds amusing themselves in the dust, primary school kids running barefoot over stones, digging one metre holes in the sand, piling three at a time onto SUPs, riding bikes flat out without shoes or helmets, and doing circles of the campground well after dark. All of this without conspicuous parental oversight. We’ve met kids who are so resilient, funny, and confident you can’t help but want to give the parents all a high five for taking the leap as a family, and both kids and parents a massive hug for being so awesome. I have been so inspired by their questions and ideas that I’ve started an Instagram to post @_wild_australia life. The vids are too bandwidth heavy for email or Android text and I’m wayyyyy behind because I only have sufficient coverage about two hours a week. They will see the light of day, I promise!
Meanwhile, I’ve found my own obsession. Caravan brands. How do any of them make any money? Someone told me there are 80 brands of caravans based in Victoria alone. Across 44 sites in Osprey in a one week survey, I saw 54 different brands of caravan. I’m now weirdly listing every different brand I see. Why? Not sure. I can confirm the most popular are Jayco, Crusader and JB Caravans = Wonderland. Personally, I’d always go Jayco because owner Gerry Ryan funded the first international Australian Cycling team and continues to do so. Legend!
As I see it 