THE WORST CAMPING TRIP EVER
Or what was supposed to be.
Late October last year, I was standing next to my good buddy Mack as the sun set over North Western Victoria’s Big Desert. The sky was lit up in pinks and purples, mesmerizing the two of us and the thirty-five other fire fighters in the group who had just spent the day riding and driving through the dunes.
Eating a delicious hot meal and having an ice cold beer, one of us mentioned something along the lines of how we had “another great trip in the books”. The other replied with something like “it seems hard to have a bad one these days!” “I wonder if we tried, could we have the worst camping trip ever?”
Over the next couple of hours and an entire bottle of Sheep Dog whiskey shared between us, we laughed as we brainstormed what would class as having a bad camping trip?
Since going away for adventures is a passion we and our mates all have, we’ve all built quite a cache of awesome vehicles and good quality camping gear. Mack and I are both part of two epic friendship groups that are willing to go big and travel far for extravagant adventures and a lot of our great trips are the sum of good planning and big effort. Throw in some mid week time off (meaning no crowds) and mastering some camp cooking, I have to say we actually do struggle to have a shit time.
We discussed what the complete opposite of everything that I’ve just mentioned would look like, the whiskey helping us drone on into the night between other stories with the rest of our group.
On the drive back to Melbourne, I couldn’t shake the idea. It felt like it could be some form of fun challenge, leaving all good equipment behind and roughing it for a night. I wondered if going on a camping trip that was shit would make me appreciate my set up more and give me more gratitude for some of the great escapades of the last few years.
Some ideas included trading my Land Cruiser in for my Nans Suzuki Ignis, sleeping under a substitute for a tarp and on the ground, maybe going somewhere less than desirable. No chairs, bad food and all the gadgets left at home. My idea was that people who would see me (and who ever was dumb enough to join) and think “oh those guys have no idea, it must be their first time camping”. Everything I thought of was making me laugh, I knew if I had the right company this would actually be more funny than horrible.
I have a work mate in the fire brigade called Luke and he once said something that I will always remember - “Everyone should have to work a week in their old jobs once a year to be reminded how good being a firey is!”. I thought of that when thinking about this trip and found it could have the same meaning.
By the time I got home, I had sold myself to it and was going to try and pull it off by the end of the year. I had also come up with a genius plan to sell it to some friends who I thought would see my vision and find it fun to join.
I decided to gamify the trip. I could trick potential participants to come and even semi-enjoy their time, so I thought it was smart to create a score card where they could choose what camping items to leave behind. It didn’t have to be a total shit one but instead they could opt out of a few luxury items and ease into the downgrade. Baby steps on the journey of camping gratification.
With Mack unavailable due to home renovations (or maybe too scared, if you’re reading Mackeral?), I shot the idea across the desk of someone who I knew would embrace the absurdity, my buddy Chris Vienna, my co-founder of the Standpipes MC. He helped me polish off the score card, pumped the idea full of hype and also laughed with me how fucking stupid this would be. He was the perfect partner for these type of antics.
Sending out a date and a location, the Capel Sound Caravan park, I sat back and waited for my phone to be inundated with the wave of willing and excited friends, all too eager to join Chris and I for a night of camping hell.
Crickets…absolute crickets.
Not really surprised I guess. It looked like it would be just the two of us.
In the week leading up to the “trip” we decided to ditch the score card and just take no camping equipment what-so-ever. If we were going to try to have the worst camping trip ever, we were going to give it a solid crack. The weather forecast was looking terrible, very theme aligned with a lot of rain and high winds expected.
Chris and I first met at my parents home where my Grandmas Suzuki Ignis sits in the car port. With less than 30,000 original kilometers on the clock, this little whip is in great condition and is nick-named “The Rocket”. For some reason my parents are obsessed with The Rocket, totally obsessed, using it for everything and anything whilst their nice cars sit mostly dormant in the garage. Seeing them both get out of the tiny thing is pretty hilarious but it only takes one drive to see why they like it so much. It would be only bigger than a go-kart, its in near mint condition and dash is a retro-minimalists dream. The four speed gear box is so smooth and the interior has a funny smell that reminds me of Nan.
Our usual vehicles (my 200 series Land Cruiser and Chris’s Japanese import Toyota Hiace camper) were left in my parents car port and we loaded the back of Nana’s Ignis with our stuff for the night (which was sweet fuck all). For some reason we both dressed like tradies who were down on their luck and we hit the road.
Seeing as it was just the two of us and we both shared the goal of creating the worst camping trip we could, the trip was very easy to plan. Probably because we didn’t plan a thing. If we got to a camp site and they didn’t have room, or we got the worst spot, that would be a be a success in our eyes. Our KPI’s for the trip were for things to go wrong or be bad.
Taking the long and less scenic route down the peninsula, our rough aim was to get a camp site somewhere that would usually be deemed “less than ideal”. Thats why we chose a suburb called Capel Sound and the worst looking caravan park. The Mornington-Peninsula is home to a heap of great little towns surrounded by beautiful beaches and stunning bush areas, Capel Sound is not really one of these towns. It used to be called Rosebud West, but changed its name in 2016 to shed the stigma that was attached to Rosebud after multiple publicized events relating to crime.
After a road side stop for a cup of tea, the car facing away from any views, we made it to the Capel Caravan Park and got an over-priced site right next to the toilets - perfect. The grassy spot was one of only a few sites available at the caravan park as most of the sites are taken up by full time residents, their commodores and leather couches decorating the front porches of their permanent vans. Before we set up for the night, we had a few leisurely activities to do - just like any other camping trip really.
Activity one: Enjoy some discount grog.
Chris and I both share memories of the infamous “Woody” Woodstock bourbons growing up. I can remember a four pack of 440ml cans being my alcohol of choice as a sixteen or seventeen year old attending parties and “gatherings” in my formative years, they were cheap and nasty but always got the job done. After getting a couple of cans and choosing our least favorite flavour of chips that the Rosebud Thirsty Camel had to offer, we drove straight into the rear car park of the bottle-store to enjoy a drink. The car space at the very rear which faced a clapped-out timber fence was the perfect setting for a sickly sweet afternoon drink.
Activity two: A few losing bets.
On the way back to the Capel Caravan Park, we popped into the Rosebud RSL to throw down a few losing bets. I worked in the pokies room at the Elsternwick Hotel for most of the time I was at university and I hate the fucking things, I still remember how many times I saw people wasting their weeks pay check or raging when a machine they had been on all day would not pay out. In the spirit of the trip we thought it imperative to swing by for a punt.
Unfortunately I won my money back on the KENO which in this context, sucked! Chris celebrated being twenty bucks in the hole and we headed back to camp. We were still waiting for this forecast storm to hit, the both of us were fed up with the blue skies and sunshine.
Back at the Capel Caravan Park where an unpowered site next to the dunnies costs $50, we popped the boot of the Ignis and began to set up for the night.
Now remember, this camping trip was meant to be horrible with the whole point of it to make us more grateful for the trips we do with all our great gear and awesome friends. Well by the time we had set up our sleeping quarters, may the record state that its probably the most I have ever laughed on a camping trip. Having dropped any self-set standard or any ego-fueled attachment on what I deemed “cool”, I was having some of the best laughter I have ever had, regardless of being away. We looked ridiculous and were having an absolute blast.
If the weather was going to be ok (this was December, it was supposed to be warm in Australia) I was going to slam an old bed sheet in the car door and use it as some derelict lean-too, but seeing at 30mm of rain was incoming, Chris had other ideas for a shelter.
Two pieces of PVC conduit pipe crossed over to form a tent like shape, each corner duct-taped to an old rusty screw driver that was stuck into the ground. Four old curtains that are now paint drop-sheets hung over the frame, the heavy drapes testing the PVC, tape and screw drivers strength. If we were at a bush-doof this thing would be considered an art installation. Home sweet home.
Oh and the best part was that not only were we both sleeping in this drop sheet Taj Mahal, but it was too small for us and both of our feet had to hang out side.
At one point, I was lying between the car and the “tent” just taking it all in whilst Chris was off in the bathroom. A lady walked past me and when she looked my way I said “G’day” in a pretty friendly manner. She looked at the set up, from the car to the tent and back to me, then looked away quickly and kept walking, I don’t know if she was rude or frightened. For a brief moment I wanted to shout out at the judgemental bitch, how dare she! Did she not know that I was having a laugh with my mate, that we both are good people with good jobs and importantly good camping equipment at home? Then like a wave, I was hit with a lesson as I remembered that I too have pulled off the “look away” when feeling uncomfortable, I too have judged books by their covers.
Thinking back to some of the looks we got in the bottle-shop car park, what people saw were two dero losers drinking cheap piss in a pile of rubbish car early on a tuesday arvo. What we could see were two legends having the time of their lives with stomachs sore from howling with laughter on their weekend time. Hopefully I can remember this humility in the future, I’ll try to take this lesson forward.
Chris and I spent the evening in the park’s “games room”, the pool table, table-tennis table and air hockey all easily mistaken for hard rubbish. We had Dominos pizza delivered (which was actually delicious) and retired to the tent where we talked crap for the rest of the night. With the pizza being so delicious and the camp sites amenities being as nice as they were close (which was very), we thought that we could make this trip way worse if we put more effort into it.
Even though the rain still was yet to come, I asked Chris if I could set up one of the two camp stretchers he had bought. I was happy to sleep rough, but I really didn’t want to sleep wet - which makes me sick admit, what a pussy. Layering up with clothing and a couple of the old blankets from Nans car, the stench of paint fumes and moist grass put me to sleep in no time.
With the exception of some tossing and turning during the night that resulted in my stretcher failing, I slept pretty good. We got some rain but unfortunately the predicted howling winds did not make it to Capel Sound, even though our tent looked like they had.
The pack up was pretty easy and we got away early. Bypassing plenty of great local cafes, we grabbed some coffee from the machine inside a Shell Petrol station and parked down an uninviting alley behind a church, debriefing on the trip as we stared at a brick wall a meter in front of the car.
If the goal was to create the worst camping trip ever, we failed terribly. It was by far one of the most fun I have had. The fact that we had no plans, no expectations and we welcomed anything that was deemed “crap” made it pretty easy to enjoy and if you were to measure a camping trip based purely on laughter, this would be close to the being best.
If another goal was to appreciate my camping set-up and equipment more, then again a terrible failure. Chris and I spoke at length on the trip about how good of a job the Ignis performed, plus how useful his collection of house hold items were at getting the job of camp site done. In fact, I feel like an absolute sucker for having spent so much money over the years on camping equipment and gadgets - what a friggen idiot!! The big stores like BCF and Anaconda have us all fooled!!!
Some further constructive criticism for myself and my good mate Chris would be that the camp site was a bit too lush. The toilet block was definitely too luxurious for the trips criteria and the site, well the lush grass made hanging out far too comfortable. And getting a couple of pizzas delivered…laziness, pure delicious laziness.
I don’t know how to summarise the trip in regards to success or failure, it definitely could be worse but I feel like if it is to be worse, I might laugh even more and there for not hate it, get what I mean? no, neither do I.
Thanks Chris this was a hoot, I appreciate your energy.
Let me know if you want to come on the next one.
Have fun, Enjoy the ride.
Walksey.