Camp Life


Our camp is situated on the north side of the island in a remote area of the mangroves, our only neighbours being salt water crocodiles and the expanse of marine life that visit or reside under our dock. In addition to all things to see underwater, there are just as many sights from above, replacing Pigeons with Pelicans and Helicopters for Hawks. Living is very basic on camp, so we occasionally relax on the South when we deserve a break from the sand flies and mosquitos. We don’t have access to running water or internet which is as much a blessing as it is an inconvenience, though there is some consolation waking up every morning in paradise. We have a dog, Fury, who is more like a mascot than a Pitbull Terrier, amongst our Chickens who probably make more noise and a Cockerel, Trump, who gets up extra early to rehearse his broken squawk. The mother hen has recently had a few chicks but due to nature’s cruel disposition, Trump has been denied full custody on moral grounds.

While camp life is primitive, it has made me appreciate that which I may take for granted, whilst providing an indication of the things I could probably live without. This does not apply for my latest exhibition of culinary genius, mastery of two ways to not cook rice; burnt or al dente. Another attempt came in the form of channelling my Neanderthal heritage, spearing fish from the end of the dock with a Hawaiian sling, though a lot of those residing under the boat are juveniles. The tourists that come to visit us on fishing trips and the like always have a conversation brewing; whether that be about the neighbouring mangroves or how many pull-ups they can do in front of their wives. We let them use our barbecue, lit using coconut husks that litter the surrounding trail, and in return we are left the ‘scraps’ of Lobster and various exotic fish. These kinds of visits definitely don’t go amiss especially when it’s delivered to my new address, which doesn’t have a post box but you can feed a few fish whilst you’re there.


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