bonfire the night prior
stargazing.
I woke up again in the mansion on the Wombarra beach. Had a cup of coffee and made a few calls back to the states. Then, Carmen and Lonnie and I piled in the car and made our way up the mountain. Our destination was a small river where we could rent a row boat and paddle around for the day.
A quick stop for some chips (fries) and wattle (native tree) ice cream, and we were back on the road. We wound our way through the lush forest and before I knew it we pulled into the parking lot in front of the boatshack.
A small sign out front said "non-swimmers must wear a life vest". It was about 1:30 and just slightly chilly out, being the Australian winter. A boat rental would cost $20 for an hour, $28 for two hours, and $30 until 5pm. We each pitched in 10 and loaded in the old boat. The girls were well prepared, Carmen in her tri-corner pirate hat, and Lonnie wearing a sailor cap. I felt underdressed.
Lonnie paddled while I took pictures and Carmen played a melodica she had brought. Ducks sat in the water, crested cockatoos flew about. The river wound through an amazing gorge - walls of beautiful rock surrounded us. Diverse flora sprouted up anywhere it could get a foothold. Eucalyptus, wattle trees, bottlebrush and conifers growing everywhere. The stone cliffs punctuated with crimson flowers.
After about an hour of paddling we got to the end of the line, a rocky patch that boats couldn't get past. There were a few families here having picnics; we got out to explore. I took some pics and found a metal staircase leading up into the bush. After a minute two men came walking down. "Any chance there's a pub up there?" I asked.
"nope, sorry mate."
I walked up to the top anyhow, to make sure they hadn't been lying.
We hung out for a bit then started the paddling back to the boatshack, arriving just as they sent a motorboat out to remind people the rentals were due back. I looked through some old pictures they had, showing the boatshack had been a functional business since at least 1908, such history! It looked like the rickety boat we had used could have been left from that early era.
We made a quick stop to pull invasive weeds, but found we were greatly outnumbered and gave up. They gave me a ride to the next town north where I caught a train back to Sydney, where Jack had already taken my gear.
After I found my station and walked home, I made a quick dinner and headed out to the pub with Jack for drinks and free pool. A few pitchers later and more of our friends showed up. They got even more pitchers and we ran the table for a bit before we all decided to mosey over to Dirty Shirlows to check out dubstep night.
As we walked up to the venue at about 11:30 and found a few small groups of people drunk and high, laying in the grass, or peeing in corners instead of waiting to use a toilet inside. The dull bass trembling of the music could be felt while we were still over a block away.
I walked in the door and saw the front room crowded with friends. Figure Eight and The Hutch were both out in force, along with the squatter crew I rolled in with.
The whole Shirlows warehouse was packed with dubstep fans, it was hard to walk through the thick crowd, an tough to get any real space to dance in.
I made the rounds, saying hello to people and checking out the bar and djs. Some friends were having a hard time getting in, so I gave them a hand and we got the party started.
We danced and drank until 5am and decided it was time to call it quits, I thought about heading to figure eight for the after party, but decided to call it a night. Made the walk home with the squatter crew and passed out on a couch.
