I really lucked out this week though. I could tell from the noise level over the weekend — the yells and squeals, the loud doof-doof music and the frequent revving of engines and skidding of tyres — that this group of young folk held a lot of promise.
And they delivered. Like, in spades. Among their fabulous bequest of wonderment piled high on the river bank, I found all kinds of delights, including cold Macca’s fries, a barbecue lid covered in beef fat and a pile of uncooked sausages, conveniently dumped in the shallows at the river’s edge.
I mean, what dog can ever count on finding a pile of uncooked sausages, bobbing around where the shrimp haven’t mauled them? Maybe the shrimp already had enough. What joy!
While I was inspecting the various opportunities — I had barely started my investigations, really — The Boss caught up with me and he didn’t share my enthusiasm. That was clear to me. He was turning slowly from side to side, like one of those clowns with an open mouth at the show — the ones you throw a ping-pong ball into.
Admittedly, in our long pantheon of camping detritus on the river, this was right up there. The large shade canopy, still on its frame, lying halfway out in the river was a signal that this lot had set a new standard for trashing the river. Perhaps, in some hung-over haze, they thought it might work as a new structure for the cod and yellowbelly to lie in wait behind.
There was a inflatable mattress in the water close to the bank, several tarpaulins and ground sheets, an injured gas stove, lunch boxes, a fork and spoon and a pile of boxes and bags of rubbish. Closer to the river, The Boss straightened out what looked like a brand new swag, with its mattress, soaked and dirty, hanging out.
He recoiled when he got closer — so I figured it didn’t smell very nice, and he cautioned me away. “I’m not sure why you’d discard a new swag, General, but it looks like the owner didn’t want to live in it anymore.”
The Boss stood there, fulminating, at the canopy out in the river, looking up and down the river bank, where litter was spread unevenly. Toilet paper was lying in hollows and spread right along the track — we’ll need to be careful where we place our feet for weeks.
A couple of blokes from Parks turned up later, with a spray unit on the back, checking to see if any campfires were still smouldering. The Boss went to see them.
“Disgusting,” one of them said.
“Do you find many camp sites like this?” The Boss asked.
The other officer shook his head. “I reckon this is the worst we’ve ever seen.”
Best or worst depends on your point of view, of course, but it looks like everything will be cleaned up before I can get back to those sausages.
Anyway, the good thing is that The Boss liked the look of one of their cars so much he took a photo of it: with luck we might be able to return some of the stuff they forgot. Woof!
24°C