Low Camp Part 3

Wallabies and The White Onion Policy

We were invaded during the night!  A wallaby forced its way into Tony and Natali's tent, chewed the bottom out of a plastic food container and started snacking on the delights inside when Natali chased it off.  No wallabies attempted to enter my tent, possibly because there was no food inside but more likely because they were frightened off by my snoring.  Jason and Idette who were twenty feet away inside a separate tent with small children assured me that I was snoring.

Oh wait, I forgot.  There was one food item in my tent.  A single white onion.  Three white onions along with some sausages, cornflakes and dip had been my token contribution to the communal food supply.  I selected white onions because I like white onions and not at all because I haven't heard of any other kind.  You would not believe the storm of ridicule that descended on my head.  Nobody, but nobody, I was informed pityingly uses white onions nowadays.  Had I not heard of brown onions?  Or, heaven forbid, spanish onions?  Eager to defend my onion choice I recruited the assistance of a complete stranger who was wandering by and invited him to support my onion decision.  He responded with an impromptu speech on the white onion generally and its place in our society concluding with the assertion that up until about twenty years ago nobody used anything else.  This actually made things worse as I was accused of parochialism, being behind the times and borderline racism (white onion policy anyone?).  Sobbing I tucked my remaining onion away in my bag and then borrowed a bowl from my persecutors so I could eat breakfast.

After breakfast a glance at the weather report made us decide to break camp and get the hell out of Dodge.  This was without a doubt the smartest decision we made.  Under blazing sun and cloudless sky we dismantled our temporary accommodation surprising ourselves by managing to fit everything into the bags they came in.  After that it was just a quick trip (well several quick trips) to the ferry wharf.  The deckhand on the ferry was the same guy who ran the water taxi the previous day, either he's moonlighting or there are some serious conflict of interest issues there.  The brilliant sun continued as the ferry trundled us across Pittwater and deposited us in Palm Beach.  We accidentally stole somebody elses fold up chair but I think he got it back.  We paused in Palm Beach for an early lunch again under a burning sun that mocked our attempts at shade and then made our separate ways home.  I was hitching a lift with Tony and Natali and we hadn't got far before the sky went black and then threw an ocean at us.  At one point it might have been faster if we got out and swam.  Progress was slow as we navigated water covered roads and passed lightning blasted trees and overworked emergency vehicles.  Most of them were from the fire brigade which seemed mildly ironic.  Still I doubt if you would too many recruits for something called the rain brigade.  Eventually however we made our way to civilisation and said our goodbyes.  I stopped off in Newtown to purchase some coffee.  Due to rain delays, trackwork and bus delays it took me an hour and a half to get home.

I wonder when we're next going camping?