Grand Final Weekend
27 September 2004, 17:40
So, what do Kinki and McG do in Melbourne on Grand Final Weekend? They get the hell out of it, of course!
Now, I love my AFL. If a Melbourne team had made it to the final I may have been remotely interested, but considering my own team got a thorough thwacking with the wooden spoon this year, and those smug bastards Brisbane Lions were in the final again (boooooring) the whole thing just smacked of anti-cllimax.
We haven’t been car-camping for over 3 years (I’m talking about proper tent camping, not the sanitised “Let’ssleepinacabinwithwarmcosyfutons” style of camping our Japanese friends took for granted), so we headed up to the Upper Yarra Reservoir NP, the camping ground you get to when the Warburton highway ends, about an hour and a half from Melbourne.
“Davies, there’s no ‘u’ in ‘moose’”
There are hot showers and toilets, but otherwise it’s pretty rugged (erm… not really, but it’s really very pretty). When we got there, the incorrigible Davies’ had already set up camp and were enjoying a roaring camp fire, a nice cup of tea and a sit down. A busload of euro-australians had monopolised the picnic ground, playing boule (sppeelinng?) drinking grappa and checking out our little campsite. When they left there was only one other campsite at the other side of the park.
That night we tucked into vegetarian fajitas (without the tortillas or salsa because I forgetted them), beef stew, a truckload of beer (Danes was on the light beer being with child and all) and port and toasted marshmallows.
Shit, I’d really missed the Aussie camping experience. I’d had such a stressful week at work, it was imperative I unwind in idyllic surroundings lest the ballistic-bunny get the upper hand.
And the Davies were perfect camping-buddies. Major Davies stepped over the line once, rigging up a rope between his truck and a tree near our tent, so that he could make the tree rustle from the comfort of the truck and make us think that mooses were about to tread onto our tent. He thought it tremendously funny, although disappointed that we didn’t take the bait. I failed to understand why he didn’t just come out and shake the tree himself. Turns out it was “too cold outside”. And he calls himself a Man of Danger.
By the time we got home, everyone in Melbourne had recovered from their hangovers and the Grand Final was a distant memory (who won again???)...
Permanent Link | - Oh man, you make me want to go camping again. I haven't been since I was little. Remember it fondly, even the times we actually did sleep on the ground in tents and not in the cabins. And I had the pleasure of going to a Grand Final party and NOT watching the football at all. Heh.
— Ren Sep 30, 03:39 AM # - Rob - yes a long suffering supporter never you mind... it's just all a bit embarassing. I leave the country and they go downhill - I get back and they stay there... Ren, now is the perfect time to go camping, not too hot, not too cold, not too crowded. And nary a TV in sight... (hmmmm, which does not bode well for my Sunday night Australian Idol tune-in come to think of it). Ferit, that's all too bad but just spare a thought for every little Aussie battler who don't ever experience the changing seasons... and what the hey is wrong with a 13 degree camping trip??? You got a fire, you got yourself a damn camping trip!
— Kinki Oct 2, 05:08 AM #
