The thing about traveling the East Coast of Australia, is that no place looks or feels like the other. Agnes Water is a little place with a countryside feel. We quickly discovered everything the “centrum” had to offer. We ate way too salty fries and encountered bugs and spiders in a new edition than before. I immediately felt uneasy here. One time in bed, I jumped high at my own shadow, thinking it was a spider on the wall.
We spent some time talking to the coolest surfer iv’e ever met. He told us about his days and what it’s like to be a lifeguard. Sure, the days at the beach fooling around with people seems really laid back. But loosing people to the ocean, especially children must be tuff beyond imagination. This bloke had my full respect.
YOU, ME AND WILSON
We met Bruce on a parking lot. In his own sense of humour he made it clear to us we were in this at our own risk. Excited we nodded our heads and signed the papers, freeing him from any responsibility. We were about to be dropped off at Castaway survivor camp. Me and Lina had been survivors this whole trip, tuna and bread would keep us alive at a beach too. We were ready!
We had no idea what to expect when Bruce drove us on a bumpy gravel road to the beginning of a field. We lost our minds when we saw the plane that was gonna take us the last bit. Unbelievable. We couldn’t fit all at once, so we went in turns. What a ride it was! It added to the excitement that Bruce was a bit crazy. Half of the time we weren’t sure he was joking or not, and might just crash the thing. But, in the end, Bruce landed us safely at Seventeen Seventy.
When we arrived at camp, I felt that I could breath for the first time, in a very long time. The place was almost empty. Nowhere to be found the big crowd of backpackers squeezing to do the same things at the same time. The place was ours. And it was awesome. The experience wasn’t at all as brutal and way out there, as Bruce and the Travel agency had made us believe. They had said we were gonna survive out of nothing, by ourselves in the sand. A little disappointed we wouldn’t starve to death and have to fight for our lives, we giggled at the stuff we had brought. We didn’t eat half of it. The camp had big comfy tents, a kitchen in the sand and a loo called the Throne. It had no roof, anyone flying in or out could happen to see someone in action up there.
We made sure to use the canoes and boats as much as we could. We went to fetch dinner (crab), discovering a cave and to see a lighthouse. By the old house, we saw huge kangaroos and were told tragic stories about the place. It was stories scary enough to only have happened at lighthouses and places as such, if you know what I mean. My favourite place of all was the sand dunes where we went sand boarding down the dune and continuing out on the water. At the evenings we would sit around the fire, talking some to old pal Wilson.