MOOMINS M.C.

As I sit here, with the Howqua River hanging over and the surgery now imminent, the little bit of high country bush keeps tinging my eyesight with the infinite variety of greens and browns.
Four days in the scrub with the only campsite visitors being 6 fishermen and 7 horses certainly do the soul some good.

The spot we camped at had been blocked off to cars and therefore no campers had enough gumption to bother carting all their camping crap down a couple of hundred meters of bush track.
Good for us, no annoying neighbours and the only straight lines were our tent poles.
The rest of the time we had a visual and aural feast.
The burbling river, the abundance of avian life and the sound of the wind through the trees were only rarely punctuated by the sound of tranquillity ( two stroke dirt bikes ) and serenity ( four stroke dirt bikes ) on the road high up.
Blue sky days and crystal clear nights with a full moon illuminating the surrounding bush was just a bit too much.
Not a sprinkle of rain, which is the first time the Melbourne Cup camping trip has not had a hint of wetness.
What more could one ask for?
It also gave me a chance to practice some night photography, which was a bit of a learning curve, but so worth it!
I actually managed to get some decent shots, using 2 minute exposures and the like.

Down river were the “other camp sites”: the horse people, the trail bike people and the kids.
Or as we labelled them, “the MacKenzies”.
The MacKenzies over time took on a life and character of their own ( according to the values and presumptions we placed upon them ).
If we ever have offspring of our own, we will surely warn them of the MacKenzie mob down river.
The MacKenzies are of low moral fibre, breed like rabbits and have always been represented in all societies and cultures throughout history.
They are known by another name sometimes, redneck hillbillies.
I’m sure that even in Neanderthal Man times, there was a bunch of MacKenzies down river somewhere.
What kind of folk take their noisy trail bikes, chainsaws and generators into the bush where people are trying to get a bit of peace and quiet?
These people can not be trusted I tell you!
Not to worry, we had a great time, sitting around the fire, swimming in the river, seeing fish ( unable to carch any though ), cooking chickens on sticks over the fire, drinking beer and wine, cooking rabbit stew, beef and vegetable pasta, hearty breakfasts of toast, eggs, bacon, mushrooms, onion, etc.
All done on the fire with no gas, just like nature intended eh?

The hammock set up worked a treat ( thanks Bec! ), didn’t fall out once and I think I’ve found a whole new way of camping!
Crutching it through the scrub and getting around the campsite in a wheelchair wasn’t the easiest or most comfortable means of transportation, but it worked and I’m so glad I went along.
The surgeon asked me what I’d gotten up to on the weekend and raised an eyebrow when I told him I’d been camping on the Howqua.

“On crutches?” he enquired with disbelief.

“Yep, on crutches. ” I replied quite casually.

Couldn’t have done it without my mates: Cam, Brenton, Kate and Andy though.
They made sure I was always comfortable, fed, watered and stoned.
The MacKenzies would never have done that for you!

Alas it was eventually time to go back to the sprawling suburbia that is Melbourne.
The last of the sun’s rays were slowly disappearing as we left the green serpentine valleys of the Howqua River and headed back down to the lowlands.

We finally got home about 10p.m. to find out from Gino that he and Geoff C. had tried to find us on Saturday night on their road bikes, but didn’t go quite far enough down the dirt road.
They must have missed us by only a couple of kilometres, if that.
Instead they turned around and had to camp with that MacKenzie mob down river.

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