An odious stench wafting from the communal toilets and washrooms, asbestos walls with peeling paint and traipsed in trails of mud and sand.
Hundreds of plastic and nylon tents unfurled on slatted wooden platforms, scrubby bushes dotting the bare sandy soil surrounding the acres, makeshift lines strung up between trees with sweat-dripping clothes festooned along each cord.
Hordes of 14 year olds with questionable toiletry habits lined up like pigs at a trough to receive their lunch in a cardboard box, then find a squat to sit and gobble before the next activity.
Exhausted adults "fresh" from morning activities, moving straight to afternoon duties then nightly "entertainment" before doing the rounds of tents: trying to quell over-amped teenagers late at night before collapsing into their own rudimentary accommodations.
Doing it all again 5 days in a row.
Pomp and splendour as liveried gents serve in vast hallways, priceless carpets cover ancient flagstones, imposing turrets shadow wings of reception rooms and grand ballrooms.
Dressed for dinner in sumptuous outfits, jewellery sparkling, conversation so couth and dazzling, servants at beck and call.
Trams clanging and cars puffing in the village, even the common folk suited and polite, old-fashioned shopkeepers chatting and smiling.
King and Queen visiting, fuss aplenty, silverware shining impossibly, staff all aflutter and twitterpated, lords and ladies refined yet excited, all hands on deck.
More of the same, quite magically, for two hours.
One description was the "Downton Abbey" movie and the other was of the 2019 Grade 8 Fulong Camp. Can you possibly guess which was which?
The privations and rudimentary facilities along with the questionable meal quality are all well documented on these pages. Things haven't changed a bit, although the weather gods did favour us just slightly this year, keeping burning rays away under covering cloud and slightly weepy skies. Cass and I were particularly lucky to be housed together again in a cabin, although I did spend the last night "under canvas" as the rotations of duty demanded. A giant and unrelenting swell managed to cancel the snorkeling each day, which meant Cass could do a more leisurely pace on the seaside hike and arrive back slightly less flustered and at least, mercifully, on time. I did the long hike up the Caoling Trail each day and the stand-up paddle-boarding in the afternoon: no cancellations for me, and a ridiculously tight schedule meant rushed showers and meals upon my return each day. I also managed to blow the soles off two pairs of joggers, so was left with just sandals on the final day.
We arrived home with a mountain of soggy laundry and persistent leaden skies, so the dryer was well employed (quite a rare event) as was the washing machine for the remainder of the weekend. After being in a state of collapse on Saturday we Uber Eat-ed some Indian at home and had an early night. On Sunday we decided to treat ourselves to the perfect antidote to camp: luxury class seats at Miranew Cinema at Dahzhi to see the Downton Abbey movie. With blankets draped on knees, piping cups of coffee on our side tables and velvet seats to recline and disappear into, we escaped into the English countryside of 1927 for just a few hours....it was bliss!
School today is exhausting, enervating and difficult but we're delighted to be here rather than the Fulong Peninsula! Photos: Cass in front of board, Cass cooking some veggie patties at camp, varios shots of the impediments on the Caoling Trail and a couple of shots of AFL finals down at Patio: internet goes out and we hover around a phone screen!
The top of the Caoling Trail was just a touch windy!