Woke up to incredibly thick fog and heavy dew this morning but not as cold as you might think. It took until 10.30am at least for the fog to lift and things to start drying out for packing up.
Terry and Carolyn were due to meet up with us at about 12ish (their words) and we were well and truly out of mobile range so there was no way of them communicating with us if they were held up. Which leads us to the next event. Near the camp ground is a rather narrow bridge that lots of B-double trucks were crossing at a rather speedy pace. To get across we could see both directions of traffic, so we sprinted across to the other side to see if we could see Terry and Carolyn coming down the road. We gave up waiting and had seen all we had to see so we started heading back to camp. From the other side of the bridge we couldn't see the traffic coming from the other direction so we thought we might cross the shallow river under the bridge, safer that way. After scrambling down the very steep embankment, I chickened out and headed back up to tackle the bridge, I figured it was faster and safer. I was right. I made it across no problems, bare foot and sprinting and waited on the other side. And waited. Suddenly Erin pops into view, wet from the waist down and laughing. "Dad's fallen in." A little while later, Geoff pops into view, soaking wet, soaked stubby holder in one hand and dripping wallet, covered in mud, in the other. The stubby holder had coke in it, not beer, although I have to wonder. I could not stop laughing, I wished I'd had my camera.
Within 10 minutes, Terry and Carolyn rocked up just in time to catch the tail end of the saga. I had the contents of Geoff's wallet spread from one end of the table to the other drying them out. T-shirts and shorts spread over the railings. Ah well, if they had of been on time instead of 1 ½ hours late, there wouldn't be wet clothes everywhere, would there? Thanks guys.
