Beached.

There are numerous times in my life where I have been forced to ask myself….what the fuck are you doing.

Last night was one of them, heading out with a friend to camp at the beach. We parked up, got out and went for a wander. Of course, we being so intent on being hardcore and all, we couldn’t just camp there with the parking lot thirty metres away, oh no.

Begin phase one of the fuck up: “I really want to go right around to the point, I wonder if there’s a road…” It was clear that it would take a lot of time and effort to find such a road, especially with the light fading rapidly.

Phase two: “We should just take the car along the beach…” Of course, what could possibly go wrong, driving a one ton truck on wet sand.

Predictably, we were stuck within about 10 seconds, frantically trying to reverse and digging ourselves an almighty hole. Well fucking done. It wasn’t all bad though, we got to sleep in the holes later; classy.

After about two hours, full of dialogue with the cops, towies, the AA (who I might add are a bunch of useless shits), we were free and safe from the soon-to-be rising tide. Gave us plenty of time to make tea in the total darkness, shadow dance in the torch light, imitate Nic Cage in Vampire’s Kiss; all things that are good. Glass half full.

Overall, ended up being seriously hilarious/fun/expensive. We lay out on the beach all night, the sky cleared up and the stars were incredible. Made frequent jokes about being raped by hill-billies (the only way we could defeat the fear…), drunk tea, laughed. Good.
The morning was amazing, incredible sunrise, the sound of the ocean a few metres away, the isolation. Two hundred dollars poorer.

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