Eager to get a break from their rigorous academic schedule, six intrepid twenty-something, sheltered Sydney students set out on a long weekend to discover the bush, themselves, and the local population….
After plonking down in a good old country-style bakery just one hour away from Central, Tina* announces to the group (with emphasis) “I’ve got headlights!” The others sit there staring at her, a little stunned. It isn’t that cold…
One would imagine that Tina’s comment would have some credence in the often-cool Blue Mountains. But the group quickly realises that not only is Tina talking about torches, but that they are also hardly far from civilisation. They have full mobile reception, and their newly acquired topographic map is emblazoned with the title “Penrith”. The Glenbrook locals stare bemusedly at their towering backpacks and wonder what on earth necessitates such excessive supplies. Perhaps a new season of reality TV is being filmed? They can picture it: ‘Survivor: Penrith.’
Determined not to be put off by their proximity to the world of entertainment at the Panthers, the fearless crew sets out at a steady pace towards the camping ground. The sun puts on a brilliant show, and before long they arrive wearily at the campsite, their lack of fitness making them feel far more accomplished at the completion of the task. Their arrival is heralded by a spectacular display given by the local roos, who kiss and play-fight in the dusk. The group is soon settled by the fire where they contemplate a wide variety of life-altering things, in the absence of regular mind-sapping pursuits and through their delight in marshmallow-sticky fingers in the moonlight. One by one they drift off to the land of nod, their backs warmed for the most peaceful slumber possible.
In a brilliant role reversal the only male of the group is up early as the galahs the following morning, cleaning the previous night’s dishes down at the campsite’s tap of mysterious origin. Yet his daybreak endeavours are far from undisturbed, which he realises as his dishevelled bed-head bobs in front of an enormous pack of tourists pointing their mega lenses at the attention-seeking roos. Unwittingly, Steve* has become part of a treasured memory on mantelpieces across the world. He laughs in anticipation of the comments… “And this is a REAL Australian… in his natural habitat – did you know the children don’t actually ride kangaroos to school?!”
The remaining day and night is divided equally between leisurely pursuits of eating, walking, swimming and sighing… “how’s the serenity”. The quiet peace of the bush is somewhat ruffled by a complete rendition of the Moulin Rouge medley, which manages to drive away most of the wildlife (it is particularly abhorrent to the crimson rosellas). Eventually, exhausted from their arduous journey, the gang finally emerge united, onto the platform of the empty train station. Yet before long their relief and relaxation is punctured by what appears to be the recent introduction of martial law at this site. They are interrogated by policemen in what may be karmic retribution for their lack of choral talents and questioned as to whether they have a criminal record given that they passed the ticket machine, naively assuming that forty minutes until the Sydney train would give them plenty of time to purchase a ticket. Eager to appease the law makers, they pay their fares and settle in to relax again, with the aid of sugary sweet, icy cold popsicles. They have survived their journey into the wilderness and are ready to entangle themselves in the embrace of the scholarly realm again!
*Please note: names have been altered for privacy purposes & so that Davina will not lose all her friends in the process of manipulating their words and ideas for creative uses.