Island Reach Camping Review – The Tent

It wasn’t our first intention to reveal the where-abouts of our favourite camping ground, but if we’re going to blog about camp sites then we must review as many as possible.  So here it is – Island Reach Camping Resort.

Shady, grassy sites right near the water

Shady, grassy sites right near the water

After a quick forty minute drive from home (Palmwoods), via the highway and turning off at Mary Valley Tourist drive, we followed the signs to Imbil.  Island Reach is located at the start of the town on the right hand side, just before you go around the first corner.  In all honesty it doesn’t look overly appealing from the road, but what waits beyond the gates is camping bliss.  If you’re into things like; grassy meadows, plenty of shady trees, Continue reading


Camping Phobias – The Tent


It was the start of 2012. I’d just changed my job, my attitude and my goals. Triff & Steve (The Trailer) asked the question once more, only this time we said “Yes”. It was to be an overnight trip and, always filled with generosity,  particularly when it comes to camping, Triff & Steve made it very easy on us. All we had to do was show up. The tent would be in place, dinner would be under way, a cheese plate on arrival, and fees would already be paid.

Charlie Moreland

Charlie Moreland Camp grounds

The place was Charlie Moreland, the temperature was right, no rain forecast and with no chores or prior engagements at home we set out on what was to be my first proper camping experience.

It would be a lie if I said I wasn’t nervous as we drove down the dirt and lantana lined entrance to the grounds. On immediate sight of lantana I think of snakes, horrible, disgusting, and completely terrifying snakes! When you grow up where we did, in the bush in Diddillibah on the Sunshine Coast, you should be used to snakes but not I, nor Triff, nor Kath, nor any member of  the Soutter clan.   Snakes  were everywhere at home. They nested heavily in the ceiling; on quiet nights you could hear them slithering above you while you tried to sleep. On one occasion my eldest brother Rich, plucked some courage from who knows where, or perhaps he was temporarily possessed, either way, he found the nerve to shimmy up the fern tree and shine a torch up into the roof. He lost count at thirty-six when the beams from the torch could no longer  push through to the full length of the ceiling. His face was pale and his body shuddered while his skin prickled Continue reading


Goomburra Valley Bush Camping Review – January 2014 (The Caravan)


Media outlets had been predicting temperatures of apocalyptic proportions.  So what did we decide to do?  Go camping! And if it’s hot on the coast, you just know it will be hotter inland, so why the heck not?

Goomburra Valley Bush Camping is a beautiful campground on the banks of Dalrymple Creek at the base of the Main Range National Park. It’s fifty odd kilometres from Warwick on the Inverramsey Road.  There are grassy, powered, shady sights, most of which directly overlook the creek, or are just set a little bit back from it. It had been pretty dry when we visited, so the creek wasn’t running, but, there were waterholes full of cool, refreshing water.  It’s pet friendly (although you do pay a refundable bond for dogs – not sure about critters which poop less). You can buy ice there, and there is even a little store about 500 metres up the road (talk about a surprise!)

We arrived in the middle of a once in seven year cicada Continue reading


How we became the Caravan – The Caravan

My first memory of camping is a trip to Fraser Island with a school friend and her family.  The shelter was one of those little blue nylon two man thingies – the ones you have to crawl into and out of, and there ain’t no turning around for love nor money.  It rained.  And it rained.  And it rained some more.  I remember waking in the middle of the night (if that’s possible when you haven’t slept at all) and feeling a strange floating sensation.  One half of the tent was full of water (we had pitched it on a slope) and I wasn’t floating – it was more like DROWNING!

That was camping.  I liked it not.

Fast forward about twenty years. Our good friends Pete and Velvet invited us to go camping with them.  If memory serves me right, we hastily and enthusiastically agreed.  In the car on the way home that night we looked at each other and said in unison, “We’d better by a tent.”  We did not own one piece of camping equipment.  I would have been flat out trying to locate a torch at our place.

So it was off to K-mart.  No way would we ever go to a camping store for fear of some over-zealous sales assistant asking us what we were looking for and us bamboozling them Continue reading


A seasoned camper – The Trailer

My sister called me a seasoned camper.  Am I?  With my husband, we have been camping for about twenty-five years (not all the time, we do have a house). Growing up as children we never took holidays.  Living on a farm, there were never enough days that Mum and Dad could take off, and I suppose, never enough money. Holidays were something I never really considered. When I met my now husband, he was already a “camper”. I went along too, and have now become hooked.  We have only ever taken two holidays that haven’t involved camping and one of them was our honeymoon.

When we first started camping, we would go to Fraser Island for about ten days.  The boys would fish and I would take a heap of books and find a shady spot to read. We would sleep in a canvas tent that had wooden poles and no floor. We had a piece of carpet we would take to use as the floor. We used small nylon tents as food storage and did the whole ten days on Ice. They were Continue reading


I wasn’t much of a camper – The Tent

I’d never been much of a camper, secluded locations with yowies, snakes and other wilder beasts that stalk you as you sleep. Packing  up half your house just to unpack it , pack it and unpack it once more. I never saw the logic or desire for which one might go to these lengths. What possible pleasure was I missing by isolating myself from all of my cherished belongings, the safety of a roof, four  walls, a flushing toilet and a temperature controlled shower a mere ten seconds walk away? Why would I, on purpose, expose myself to mosquitoes and flies and toilet stops behind bushes with nothing more than natures rotting compost to cleanse the scene? Is it normal for one to want to expose themselves to blasting heat and chase shadows all day in a bid to stay cool? Is it rational to leave a comfy bed and warm home to battle the winds of change and mild nights on a piece of unfamiliar earth far from home? What’s the appeal  in camp smoke billowing into one’s eye balls causing temporary blindness and pain; I see no  thrill in being chased by the retched grey finger of the fire, pointing, mocking, taunting,  “I chose you!”

For this has long been my mind’s interpretation Continue reading


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Camp Oven Coals

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