Rainforest Life: Outing #9 – Day 7


(Thursday 11-September-2014)


I was woken again this morning by the same violently forceful wind. That was right on sunrise. I had a smoke then laid back down, pulled my sleeping-bag over my head and drifted back off – hoping for a decent sleep-in.

Around eight o’clock, the same wind killed my sleep again so I figured that ‘d be about as much as I’d get and – having downed a few coffees already – here we are.


These red and black bull ants are everywhere today. Within the same species, half are orange with black legs, the rest black with orange legs, and although they look like they’d give you a nasty bite, they always look peaceful, in spite of their “I’ll hurt you bad” posture and colouring.

No doubt I’ve stepped on dozens of them just walking around yet I’ve never seen one trying to bite my shoe – let alone anywhere else.

For that matter, I am yet to see – still – any ant from one species attack another. I watch them walk right past one another without any kind of aggression or incident at all.


Having gone for my daily wander in search of Geebungs, I’ve returned for coffee and to upload yesterdays diary entry. The wind has started-up yet again – pity since it’s been nice and mild throughout the day so far – and I’ll assume it’ll rise to a howling, gushing beast again later after the Sun goes down.

I’ve eaten all the novelty foods I brought down with me now, so all I have is pasta, cous-cous, sauce and milk/sugar/coffee. Pretty boring, but that’s what I get for eating the more convenient foods first I s’pose.

The daily walk for Geebungs has been getting more, well daily lately since seeing how many of the plants are scattered around out here. Each day I eat about a half cup-full, and because there’re so many plants around, there’s always more for the next day.

Also, learning the unripe berries contain an anti-biotic, I happily chomp a few of them down while I’m at it too. Unripe ones taste better I think too, more applesque, with a hint of quinine, and none of the cottony, furry shit.


Yet again, just as expected, the wind is back in force tonight to piss me off with it’s furious buffeting, gushing and tearing through the trees. And yet again, I’m laying in my tent wondering how a half-tonne tree branch to the head might feel.

Small consolation, but I don’t imagine there’d be a whole lot of time to *feel* much of anything.

A quick, loud “CRACK” then bang, you’re dead. Unless it simply skims the top of your head splitting your skull open, resulting in only one third of your brain spilling out onto the floor of the tent.

Everyone warns against camping under trees too, but have any of these people ever actually camped outside a nice, safe, cleared, designated campsite? I very much doubt it, since anyone who’s walked anywhere out here would know: once you leave the trail, there’re *always* trees looking over you. A litany of massive, dodgy-looking branches everywhere you look and half of them look ready to liberate themselves from their arboreal hosts at any given moment.

Move anywhere you like, and there they are – right above you – waiting to crack-off and crush you like a bug.

Anyone who tells you they camp where there aren’t any dangerous trees above them either don’t camp at all, or have never been camping outside the standard, pussy, public campgrounds.

Either way they’re talking out their arse.

Maybe I’ll just move my emergency beacon up this end of the tent, within easy reach. There, done.

Now, if I *do* have my skull, chest or spine crushed by anything bad falling, as long as I have enough of my faculties to reach behind, un-shhk the velcro case then pop the antenna, the cops will know where to find my broken, mangled body 😉

So what are we at now, day seven?

No sweat.


I’m starting to smell pretty bad, again, like all kinds of filthy foulness.

I know, and trust me I’d love to wash my orifices too but the thing is: I don’t go up for another what five? Six days? With only one change of socks and underwear, if I get clean now I’ll just skunk-up the fresh ones too by the time this outing’s over.

Of course, while it’s all very well to smell like a walking public toilet down amongst the animals, I’ve found “washing-up” before re-joining civilization each time, somewhat mandatory. If only to avoid the sea of disgusted expressions on the faces of everybody on the tourist-packed bus back to town.

You get used to that though and fortunately, it only lasts until I get to the backpackers and have that first, well-earned shower. I have a set of clean “town clothes” now to change into while I wash my – at that point – rather feral camping ‘set’.

Thus, I save my “cleans” and wash for the day before going back up, for the sake of everyone involved.
This weeks soap is Sandalwood, by the by.

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