Camping Beachside

 

I always wanted to spend a night on the beach in Melbourne, Australia. Not sure why, maybe growing up watching Aussie soaps and seeing the cast surfing and chilling out on the windy beaches, just simply appealed to me. I’m doing it properly. VW Camper, surfboards, beer, tents, towels, you name it, it’s in the back of here. The flat-4 VW engine is thrumming away, even though I’m coasting down the swooping dune road.

Unpacked, surfboard under my arm, coconut smelling sun-screen giving me a glow, I trot down to the beach. The others have the BBQ, the tents, the beer and everything else.

Give me a balmy summer’s night, guy ropes, mosquito coils and sleeping bags and I’m happy. These sorts of nights are what memories are made of. After trying (and failing) at surfing I decide to watch the locals. Their bleach blonde hair, freakishly muscular bodies and their skills on that little board get the girls in the camp giggly. There’s a wind brewing. The swell is getting larger. More surfers go out. I hang back and watch, just as the light is starting to fade, the fire is lit, embers like fireworks are spitting out onto the sand. The sand is still warm from the intense heat of the day. This is bliss.

With the grill on, sausages on, fat dripping onto the flames, the smell is incredible. I’m obviously hungry, I have to swallow every few seconds. Ketchup bottles are opened, the tartness and the squishy sausages, coupled with the gently toasted bread is excellent. There’s sand on my hands, I don’t care, it adds a crunch to my meal. Pssshtt, beer is being opened. People are laughing.

One guy jogs back from the Camper and has an odd-shaped thing in his hand. It’s almost dark and we only have the fiery glow to make shapes out. He’s got a guitar. Amazing. Requests go in, he can magically can play Jimmi Hendrix, Kings of Leon and Oasis perfectly. No one even knows this guy’s name, but it doesn’t matter, we all are savouring this experience. It’s cooling down, but the fire is keeping us toasty. The surf boards are placed as a barrier to the wind, and it works. The flap-flap of the tents, rippling in the wind, a stray tent peg going missing.

I go off and wander, while they play guitar, sing and chat. The sand is cold, the sea is colder. The sand gets moist, being squeezed between my toes. I think to myself, why can’t life be like this everyday. No worries, no artificial lights, just a few friends, a few new friends, a fire, the sand and the waves breathing in and out. I couldn’t ask for more. I get panicked, I’m suddenly logging this deep in my memory and smiling to myself, but I’m missing out. I job back to the camp, nothings changed, except the song from the 90s, Dodgey – If it’s Good Enough For You.

Perfect.