T R A V E L F E A T U R E - A u stralia
LEIGH WILKINS
THIS IS GLAMPING ...
A
strange red sludge spiralled at
my feet. I stood, mesmerised,
as the sludge made its way to
the hole, spiralling faster before
being sucked into a void where a
strange glow came from the depths.
Cooling water rained down on my
head, welcomed, needed. The sludge
continued down the hole.
Continuing to watch as if expe-
riencing something new, I couldn’t
believe what was happening. The
sludge wasn’t new, I’d seen this many
times, the cool water wasn’t new, for
most it is a daily occurrence for me,
of late, it seemed to be much fewer.
I looked down again, the glow from
the hole still visible, daylight under
the floor was illuminating the drain-
pipes, the sludge now replaced with
soap bubbles. After a week, the smell
of the soap, the cooling of the water,
hair wet not from sweat were all wel-
come, yet the experience was odd.
A breeze wisped across my body. A
shiver. I reached forward and ad-
TRAVERSE 85
justed the heat. It was all very odd,
a warm shower, in the middle of the
Australian outback, in the middle of
a tent.
Looking around, my surroundings
were odd, the wall rippled as anoth-
er slight gust of breeze struck the
canvas. A slight grunt escaped as I
laughed to myself at the absurdity of
it all. A few hours earlier we had rid-
den a rough track that wound its way
from one of the strangest landscapes
that this planet can offer.
One hundred kilometres of track
like nothing else in Australia. Twists,
turns, up and downs, one hundred
kilometres of some of the most
spectacular environment. We’d just
ridden out of the Purnululu National
Park to the Caravan Park at Mable
Downs.
After a tough ride it was a little
slice of luxury, a refreshing shower
in a tent, with a bed and a toilet. This
was luxury, this was ‘glamping’.
The ride had taken us from the