My older daughter’s been asking to go camping for months. I’ve been itching to go too. Too many screens in our house. Need nature.
We finally found a couple of days in a row to escape last weekend, and packed our trunk with all the things we figured we would need to survive over two days in the bush – food, clothes, sleeping stuff, and not one, but two tents – because one tent was ridiculously tiny, and the other was ridiculously big – so we weren’t sure which ridiculous would be better.
We found a remote campsite in the Mebbin National Park forest. With a composting toilet, but little else but nature, it was perfect.
After pitching our ridiculously small tent, then deciding the ridiculously big tent was more suitable, we wandered down the bush track to the crystalline creek running through the valley. The girls waded, and balanced on slippery stones. The afternoon sun dusted their shoulders.
We ate surrounded by wildlife – goannas, kookaburras, wallabies. Despite the hard ground, we slept peacefully, huddled together in one corner of our oversized tent.
There’s something about going back to basics. A simple life, without all the excess stuff is so – simple. I hadn’t realised I was stressed – but something – stress? evaporated in the little bush camp. Without toys, there were no arguments. Without routines or places to be, there was no agitation.
Children were lost in their imagination, inspired by fresh air, seedpods and leaves. My love for my husband flourished, as I watched him competently build a fire, pitch a tent etc. So useful, and manly.
We were good in the forest.
I could have stayed forever.
Are you a happy camper?