Ravings for Remedies

We arrived at Connan Scout Park and were captivated by how dark it gets when the sun sets. So we wasted no time in getting out the camera, to take pictures of rarely seen wildlife, like blades of sword-grass, rotten logs and shifted gravel. Sitting in the small room held quaint only by the one stove, we used good-old Scout initiative and about half a litre of petrol, to light the fire. So for the next 3 hours, we sat with our hands rubbing vigourously together, bodies shivering and teeth chattering, other that that, we were having a blast (Green Day). With all the energy we could gather, we started roasting, Roasted Peanuts over the roast-er and roast our tongues, hours of fun for the whole family. That night was weird, crashed early (about 4am).

Woke up early (about 10am) to an uncertain smell of bacon & eggs and the incredibly addictive digitally remastered melodies of Dave’s rhythmic snoring. Everyone was up and ready for the day’s activities: Fox flying – Throw a fox off a cliff and see if it flies; Vertical tigi – Following a Goanna up a tree; Canoe Slamage – Paddling down the river, hitting heaps of rocks and sinking; and of course, who could leave out B.P.W. (Baden Powell Worshiping) – Practice of the ceremonial rights of the Rover institution. After a hearty breakfast of delicious Cocoa Puffs^TM , moldy milk and ant-ridden orange juice, we hit the flying fox in a hope to reach warp 8 or beyond. Although it needed a seat, which the other Rover crew attended to (you guys are legends), we tested it out. First Jodie, who said it was scary at first, Ian who almost left a stain of the seat, Dave who head-butt the tree, then myself – I knew I shouldn’t of had Chili Con Carn(ag)e for tea that night, what with my flowing cape and jester hat. The crew bonded like crazy glue in tar, and as we battled on through the night, we enjoyed everyone’s company.

By the time Sunday came, we were talking very fluently of each other, as Shaddy, Ian, Dave, Mel, Jodie, Graham, Xmas, Greg and I, drove down to the river through Yllorn North and started our Canoing expedition. Walking in -5°C water, we were literally carrying the canoes to a rock-free zone; an absolutely wicked river — if the tide wasn’t out. Much further ahead, on the same river, I was leading from the others, with the canoe positioned above what looked like a small algae covered waterfall. I slipped on the algae, falling on my butt and being pushed by what felt like 20 tons of water, into the blackness of the plunge pool (I felt like Harrison Ford in The Fugitive). I found to my surprise, it was over my head. Thinking I was algae bait, as each rock I struggled to grab onto was covered in the green oxygen releasing sub-surviving biospheric organisms, I felt myself drowning, even with the life jacket on. The current took me to a shallow depth as I climbed upon a rock, coughing up water and fainted. I woke seconds later to find my jester hat still attached to my head, T-shirt immersed in water and shorts floating down the river. Embarrassed by the thought of the fish and furry friends of the forest staring at me, I stumbled down and grabbed my shorts, returning to the rock only to cough up more water. Dave noticed my poor acting capabilities, as the Tasmanian stood bold near the edge of the waterfall, before toppling over like a mountain of Jenga and face planting the plunge pool, semi-drowning himself.

We must’ve taken the wrong river, because we thought we had gone too far, so we went ashore. There we were, completely energy-less and tired as we slugged our way along the ground, “Man, those snails are fast!” I thought. Mel was walking without shoes, Dave snug and warm in his wet-suit, Graham and I with shivers circulating up our spines. We reached a cross roads, “W-which way?” “W-w-we’ll head to where the s-sun is sh-shining…mmmm…sun…mmmm…another cross roads, we’ll take the low road this time.” Graham said “I see a house, down there!” I mustered all my strength and chanted ‘Kooee!’ We heard a reply, “Is that you Dad, you tall streak of Pelican excrement, where the heck have you guys been!” We answered “We’ve just been on an ocean cruise, in the Titanic II.” We were told, Ian left 5 minutes before-hand to fetch Mr. Plodd (coppers). The “POLICEMAN” was driving back at a very understandably safe speed of 190kph the whole way with Shaddy, he said it was the best amusement park ride ever.