the following is a story from our last trip.i'll post others in future,when time permits.
It isn't easy to find somewhere close by to sleep in Margaret River with out paying,its late in the afternoon.We decide to try and beat the light and head towards Boranup to set up camp in the national park.
the trick here is to get up early ,beat the ranger and get out of there avoiding the camping fee.(normally i pay this at home.but four grand for three months in WA doesnt include paying for everything
).we arrive to find only one couple in the campsite.Wave to the nice couple and find ourselves a nice spot to set up.
A mandatory surf check is in order so we brandish our rationed bottle of sparkling ale an head off on foot as our van is 2WD so we need to check the track first.the track's a bit dodgy so we decide to walk in the following day.It's time to get back and get the fire and dinner sorted.Earlier that day we tuned the chick at the dear farm to give us a venison roast so dinner was looking promising.
lighting a fire in the SW at the end of winter is no mean feat,everything is so damp.we manage.
It's now 2 hours after dark with dinner eaten we sit back to congratulate our selves on another job well done.We like to spend our evenings at the fire,not much is said but its always a comfortable silence.
This silence is suddenly broken by the sound of a huge 4WD truck that drives right up to our camp!
At first i think its the ranger doing a night raid.
the driver steps out of the truck,torch in hand and walks right by our camp shining the light into the bush around us.Ben gives him a "g'day" which is met with a grunt.
the driver goes back to his still running truck and opens the back.Maybe he's a fox trapper for national parks?We hope so.
The engine is shut off and the torch heads toward us.ok we is dead thinks me.this huge man emerges from the shadow and sits at our fire with a machete and his billy!without saying a word he whacks the billy on our fire and proceeds to stare at us in a challenging manor.this guy is 6'6" and about 130 kg so his challenging stare is met with a subserviant raise of the eyebrows.another beer is in order.
Ben manages to engage our new mate in some light banter,while i sit back and size up the situation.I notice our tomohawk sitting in no mans land so i slide it towards Bens foot as slowly as i dare.
It turns out the guy is a rugby player from the Northern Territory.He is an ugly Australian who remarks about our indigenous population i dont care to repeat,slowly the conversation becomes more about his violent conquests.I dont like this at all.Ben looks at me knowingly,we've been here before.
the driver resembles a native American right down to the plaited pigtails and is wearing a woolen beanie.Man his legs are huge.two of mine make one of his.he is playing with the machete now.We IS dead me thinks.
At sometime during this smalltalk the driver decides to show us a trick!Guess what?!When he pulls his beanie down it turns into a balaclava!
OK Now i know we is dead.this dude is gonna have his way with us wether we like it or not.So here we are my old mate Ben and i at the end of the road.The beer ration long forgotten.If i'm gonna get rooted and left in a shallow grave i might as well be enibriated(spelling?).Balaclava man has decide to continue to wear the balaclava.Paranoia sets in.
Eventually i am drunk enough to stand and say my goodnights.Ben is also ready for shut eye,so we head to the van(seperate bunks here people hombre action kept to a minimum).Ben whispers "are you gonna sleep?".
"f#ck no" i reply.
The next morning after the driver/balaclava man has gone.But at least he made us so tired we ended up having to pay the ranger.
maybe he was a covert operations natonal parks ranger eh?
we didnt get any waves that day either
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He was probably a nice guy but... you never know!
