A Macca’s box lay near the gate with its wrappers and free junk toy nearby; further along an empty Carlton Dry bottle, then a plastic Tradie drink bottle next to some grubby toilet paper.
We had heard the group yelling and playing loud music over the weekend. There was plenty of chain-sawing and revving of vehicles as they tore up and down the track, which had now turned to powdery dust.
There’s lots of people who come down to picnic or camp on the sandbar and The Boss reckons there’s a close relationship between the noise they make and the mess they leave behind.
The people who arrive quietly to fish or camp or swim — or just enjoy the sounds and smells of the river — mostly leave the sandbar and surrounding bush tidy, having taken their own rubbish out (and often other people’s as well).
This mob was of the other kind.
The other kind comes down to the sandbar for reasons The Boss doesn’t understand. It’s not the sounds of the bush they’re seeking — the music drowns them out. It's not because they love the place — otherwise they might want it looking fresh and tidy the next time they come. Or next time is too far away.
He thinks someone in the group showed signs of forethought because they brought a chainsaw and some fuel. But he or she forgot the shovel to dig a hole to bury their waste and, as we drew closer to the sandbar, the trail of toilet paper beside the track thickened.
New Boy and I arrived first, as we do, and we followed deep wheel tracks down on to the sand, where they must have been bogged so it was all torn up. But they lit a fire and made themselves comfortable and proceeded to trash the place.
There were cans strewn from one end to the other, discarded camp chair covers at the water’s edge and what looked like a punctured blow-up mattress hung up on a snag downriver, and more cans along the river’s edge, keeping it company.
But every cloud has a silver lining, doesn’t it? The Boss found six dead carp piled around a red gum sapling and heaved them back into the river for the shrimp to feed on — but missed two carp further up the bank, hidden in the grass. By the time he looked around, New Boy and I had rolled on them — thereby enhancing our general aroma — and that just made his day. Woof!
10°C