Our Nightmare in Noosa

The moral of this story is to trust your gut. 

Stepping off the bus in Noosa we were met with a cluster of colourful minivans all belonging to a hostel or bush camp waiting to collect their backpacker guests. We scanned the crowd for the one named 'Gagaju' but it was a good few minutes until either of us spotted it. Dusty, rundown vehicles don't tend to stand out.

The minivan wreaked of old smoke and I was actually pleased when one of the girls sparked up a cigarette inside. New smoke is mildly better than old. As we drove further away from civilisation I had a sinking feeling that this wasn't going to be what we'd signed up for. 

The trip had been sold to us as a three day canoeing tour through the Everglades, staying at a rustic campsite in the midst of one of Noosa's National Parks. In reality, we'd paid to be stranded in the middle of a desolate forest, sharing an aluminium shack with a family of swamp frogs and huntsmen spiders. The river held uncanny similarities to the Thames but with the addition of bull sharks roaming beneath the surface. We were told they only fed in the evenings and so it was safe to swim in the day but we didn't wish to test that theory. Hungry or not, I had no desire to meet them. 

Trying our best not to complain we went straight to the kitchen, hoping that food would cheer us up. It usually does the trick and I've no doubt it would have done this time too had we actually managed to cook anything. Unfortunately, the kitchen was filthy and the only utensils available were sat in a dirty pile by the sink which appeared to be spurting out muddy water. It was at that moment we learnt that for the last three days the camp had had no water at all and even now, this murky substance was the best we would get. That meant no showering, no washing up and most worryingly of all no drinking water. The nearest shop was miles away and the only drink we had with us was a four litre box of wine which we didn't suppose would keep us very hydrated.

It was starting to feel more like a prison camp than a bush camp and there was no escape. Before we'd had a chance to speak to the management they'd all cleared off for the night, leaving us literally alone in the wild. With so much scope for disaster on site we were completely baffled that there was nobody around to help out if any problems occurred in the night. I was a little intrigued to know how we were supposed to deal with a situation like a snake bite or a bush fire but at the same time prayed we wouldn't need to find out. 

We soon decided that the only way to get through this experience was to do so unconscious so we swallowed two sleeping tablets and climbed into bed by nine. I was still wide awake at three. Apparently my fear of spiders is stronger than any kind of drug and my mind was on full alert, constantly checking to see whether the big black huntsmen lurking in every corner had crawled any closer. What was more alarming still was the thought of the spiders we couldn't see. Though the huntsmen are the epitome of terrifying tarantula-esque spiders, it's the tinier species that hold the most venom and therefore, pose the biggest threat. 

Around four o'clock I finally drifted off to sleep but at five I woke up to an unidentified animal howling outside. By six I'd made the decision to leave and when my alarm finally went off at seven I was already outside the office door demanding a refund. It took a lot of persuading but eventually we got our money back as well as a free transfer back to the centre of Noosa. Thank god. 

We've camped a number of times throughout this trip and have become pretty accustomed to shit situations but this really was something else. I long for the day when we can look back on it and laugh but until then I'll be crying in the corner recovering from post traumatic stress. Cheers Gagaju!