Dingo-ing crazy

So the story goes that in 1982 a dingo ran off with and killed Lindy Chamberlain's baby at Ayer's Rock. In my head I'd heard that the dingoes had actually nicked the baby and raised it as their own (I totally prefer this version, whether I made it up or not I don't know but it's the story I'm sticking to.) Anyways, after finding the baby's clothes neatly folded (dingoes aren't well known for their folding abilities here) Lindy was charged with the murder of her child. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Whether or not she did it, or the dogs did it, or whether in fact the dogs *did* actually raise the child as I choose to believe the fact is that dingoes are pretty dangerous and man, did we hear about it on our trip to Fraser Island.

We'd decided to nip up the coast from ROGER BISHOP's house and spend a few days camping on Fraser. It seemed a pretty good deal. You pay like 155 bucks and that gets you a night in a hostel at Hervey Bay before the island, 2 nights camping on Fraser with a four wheel drive and a group of people you don't know, and then a night back at the hostel to recover. It felt kind of like we were going to be on Shipwrecked and as I'm too old to apply for that now (TOO OLD!) it seemed all good. Just as long as you stayed well away from the dingoes. Da, da, daaaaah...

Bussed up to Hervey Bay and had to get up pretty early for our (mainly dingo) briefing. It took a couple of hours. How to avoid the dingoes (try and camp in the fenced areas), what to do if you saw a dingo (cross your arms in front of your chest - what the? - and remain calm) and what to do if a dingo attacked (forget being calm and fight back aggressively. Helpful.) Then we were put in to our group, given a massive van and a load of proper camping equipment (no Eurocamp tents with kitchens and bedrooms here) and let loose.



The island is just mental. It's all sand and to get anywhere takes ages and is pretty hairy. The roads aren't roads and loads of people get stuck in the deep sand. Loads of people also lose their lives. So Duncs and I were glad to be put in to a fun, but pretty sensible group of people. There was Tom - a 21 year old boy from Essex, Gillian and Gareth - a couple from Scotland, Inga and Thomas - a hilarious pair from Germany and Christine, also a German. All good. Of course, I was the oldest.

First stop was Lake Mackenzie a beautiful - BEAUTIFUL - clear lake with bleach white sand. It was something else. So yeah, the drill on Fraser is just to drive to a lake, strip off, dip, sunbathe and then get on to the next. Which is what, after the first stop at Lake Mackenzie, we did solidly for 3 days.







The camping was pretty mental, and to be honest I'm not sure I'm built for roughing it so much. We did well with putting the tents up and stuff (the first night we chose a dingo-safe fenced area, the second we just camped on the beach) but the thought of spiders and hungry, baby-raising dogs kind of ruins any chance of a good night's kip. And that's before the massive storm hit whilst we were sleeping on the sand, soaking us and driving crabs in to the tent. Caroline Corcoran, you would have HATED it.





But apart from that, and the fact that there's nowhere to go to the toilet let alone plug GHD's in, it was awesome. Lakes, natural Champagne spa pools (love champs, don't I?) and miles and miles of unspoilt beaches. And one dingo. One. Worth the worry then.