Shuffled north to a favourite camping spot, the run out of the ‘city’ of Newcastle took longer than it should, by the time I hit the highway I was shirtless, soaking up the sun through the windscreen of the rental and looking for an adequate place along the roadside to pee. I blame it on that one-more-coffee at ‘The Kiosk‘.
The targeted camping spot is a perpetual favourite, especially in winter when you’re likely to be alone. Held my breath as I wound along the last stretch of dirt road, peering through the trees in search of other tents. Nothing, no-one. Yes!
Set up the little orange dome on a patch of grass in the patchy afternoon sunlight and made my way up and over the dunes to a pristine stretch of beach that I hadn’t realised I missed so much. The memories I have from here are next to none; fishing with Dad, camping with friends and sunsets with Elena.
A book read well into the afternoon, beach fire at dusk, swimming naked in the morning light, absolute perfection.
The little orange dome, it’s as easy as that.