Today we were to head back to civilisation once again. No more canoeing. No more camping in the bush. No more lizards casually walking through the kitchen. No more finding out your food has been eaten by mice. No more water taps in trees. But most importantly no more spiders on every corner. Yet somehow we knew we would miss it. This of course also meant saying a sad goodbye to our group who would all be going their separate ways.
Once all the other groups had headed off on their days canoeing, and the rest of our group had left on the earlier bus, it left a very empty camp. About 8 remained and so with very little to do Mama Mia and a spot of sun lounging it had to be.
As we were slumped, filthy and exhausted we saw the new fresh faced campers eager to start this new adventure.
We had had a great time at Gagaju camp, 3 days is a good amount of time; enough to experience life in the bush (slightly) but not long enough to be bored. Admittedly we got our trip for ‘free’ as did most of our fellow travellers so I can’t say whether it’s worth the money but it is definitely a good laugh and I would recommend it. Goon, canoeing, swimming, sunbathing and smores around a campfire; what better way to spend 3 days.
Arriving back in Noosa, we were picked up by a shuttle to our hostel Dolphin Backpackers. A mini bus with enough room for plenty of people but no luggage we of course took over most of it. With enough bags for a large family we were taken straight to our hostel door.
This hostel was your typical hippie haven. Pink, patterned tiled floors, bhudda statues, and hammocks everywhere. After the simplicities of Gagaju; free wifi, an apartment complete with kitchen, bathroom and sofa was paradise.
The first person we met in the hostel was Ben, from Cherington, a tiny village home to one of our friends from home, not far from us at all.
Having been recommended the local fish and chip restaurant by the girl behind the counter, we couldn’t resist. Three days in the bush living on pasta and bread we felt we were owed a splash out meal. So off to Off The Hook we went. It was huge! Small portions don’t seem to exist and so it was that I ended up eating what should have been a meal for two, for one.
We timed it perfectly. After the overdose of food we would head to the beach to flaunt our bloated, pasty stomachs to the town of Noosa. Here, again we showed off our novice British beach skills by settling in the soft sand. Only to be sand blasted by the dry sand in the wind.
Eventually learning our lesson we migrated to the wetter sand to keep us from the constant exfoliation. It didn’t take too long before we met Ben (from the hostel), who informed us that sunset was spectacular here. So we dutifully traipsed after him and his American lapdog of a friend to the beach to watch the sunset.
The sunset was pretty amazing, made even more so by the presence of a golden lab puppy flollopping around the beach, and of course our rendition of Jay Z and Kanye’s Paris to keep everyone entertained.
We soon realised that while we had managed to get the free hostel shuttle to the beach, we were stranded when it came to getting back. It was then that Yann piped up that it was ‘only an hour walk’.
If this walk was only an hour then it just so happened to be the longest hour of my life. This may be due to the fact that Yann had failed to mention the fact that this walk was entirely uphill, or perhaps the company of the aforementioned American who gave Americans a bad name.
Back to our hostel and straight to bed. It may only be 9, but after 3 nights in hammocks a bed is bliss.