Day: April 24, 2014
Day 1: Tents too: Mark
I would hardly call them tents. Bivouacs? There were like ‘pop up’ tents that you use at Open Air Festivals with one exception. They didn’t ‘pop up’
They had a fitted groundsheet with a dome shaped mosquito net over the top. Once you’d staked down the groundsheet on a ‘level’ piece of ground you fitted two collapsible poles in a crucifix to each corner onto which went the flysheet/main tent. You could exit either side where there was a small ‘porch’/overhang. Lying down I could touch both ends of the ‘tent’ and there was just enough room to roll over. Sitting up was barely possibly provided you stooped a bit.
7 nights!
This would be interesting?
At least we didn’t have much in the way of belongings. Otherwise there would be no room in either the kayaks or the ‘tents’.
Whilst Mango cooked we sorted out our kit. Washing was not an option as there was no water. So we both changed into our ‘evening wear’ and prepared for the next day. I had a blister on my right hand which I had dreaded and dressed it accordingly. On Day 1 that didn’t auger well.
As became apparent the mosquito net part of the ‘tent’ was the most important and woe betide anyone who left their ‘tent’ open in the evening.
By the end of our adventure we became quite adept at erecting or cosy ‘homes’ though I have to admit there were probably becoming a little smelly by then.
De-rigging them in the morning was also a challenge particularly as sometimes there was a sense or urgency due to the tides.
In the end it became apparent that being sub-tropical (almost) the sun would go down quickly and once dark there was not much else to do (apart from dancing naked around camp fires). The mossies would be out with a vengeance and not wanting to waste torch batteries (there were limited spares) the only option was to retire for the night. So generally we were in ‘bed’ by 7.
We didn’t get up till it was light. About 6. So for the most part we all had good nights sleep
If it wasn’t for the bugs holding a convention right outside my tent, racoons attempting to manhandle the kayaks into the interior …and Arkwright demonstrating his ‘Grunting Snort Pig’ impression all night long. It was bad enough being a few yards away.
Once we got onto the Chickee’s later in the week, he would only be inches away. Unfortunately I didn’t pack Ear Defenders but at least I had Ear Plugs so that helped alleviate the decibels.
Once in the tent though we all had our routines. First was to change, tidy up and stow everything. next was to wash. Hand Sanitizer and Wet wipes were a godsend. Teeth brushed and dressings applied where necessary it was a case of bug-hunting.
First check the ‘tent’ is ‘sealed’. Then carefuly, torch in hand, go round the whole inside of the ‘tent’ exterminating every flying, biting, buzzing little monster you could find. The inside of the mosquito net became quite pock marked with the last known location of a now deceased blood-suckers. But always, always, always when you woke up in the morning, with a face like a pepperoni pizza there would be one huge fat mosquito dismissively gazing down at you, too gorged to escape. At least they enjoyed their last meal.
Mornings would be a reverse operation. Wash, Sun Tan Lotion, Insect repellent, dress, ablute, pack belongings, derig tent, load kayaks, have breakfast………..and then you would find the tide had gone out………
……a long way
Day 1: Tents: Mark
An afternoon’s pleasant ‘paddling’ in the sunshine and we finally arrived at a deserted beach. We hauled out onto the white sand. Mango advised us to ensure our kayaks were out of the water above the high water mark. After all you didn’t want to wake up in the morning to find one’s only means of transport, plus one’s food and water and disappeared out into the wide blue yonder.
Apparently this beach was a designated campsite. Mind you it looked much like the other miles of equally deserted beach we had passed. There were no markers but his finely honed navigation skills and backwoodsman survival skills assured us that we were in the right spot. Either that or his GPS.
Again he commented on how lovely the beach was… almost as though he had never seen it before.
I grew increasingly suspicious!!
The two middle-aged, pasty, Englishmen huffed and puffed as they dragged their kayaks up the beach and groaned and moaned as the stretched their stiff, achy bodies.
The sun still seemed high in the sky and we couldn’t believe we had finished for the day. It seemed as though we could still have hours of paddling left in the day. Get a few more miles ‘under the belt’ so to speak. It was around 2.30/3pm. We had hours to relax, catch so rays, dance naked around the camp fire singing old Boy Scout songs……wooah. Went off the rails there!
We unloaded our kit.
and looked out our ‘tent’/sleeping bag bags…..
They seemed a trite small!
We then realised that neither of us had actually seen or discussed our ‘issued’ sleeping arrangements. Let alone tried to put it together…..Maybe 2.30 was a good time to stop.
We both had 4 small bags. one with the ‘tent’, one with the sleeping bag, one with the poles and one with a ‘chair’ (Ha,ha, ha!). We emptied the ‘contents’ of these sacks and gazed around for a suitable site to erect them. The beach above the high water mark wasn’t too wide and Mango was not keen for us to wander too far inland due to snakes.
Besides there were no trails, paths or clear areas to walk-down (or set up a tent) and flip flops provide no protection, that I am aware of, from snake bite. I have to mention at this point that when we looked over Mango had already erected his ‘boudoir’, put up the table and was already cooking supper, looking very relaxed.
We were just standing around scratching our heads.
Arkwright started on his and I just copied. It was like a Carry On film. We must have provided good entertainment for Mango as we thrashed and crashed around with tent poles, mosquito nets, stakes all the time desperately trying to keep the sand out of our kit. And failing dismally.
We sweated hard putting up our tents…..which the local insects just adore. Pale, sweaty Englishmen…
…so we thrashed and crashed around some more…..but in earnest.
Mole Valley to ? 