WE WERE CAMPED over Easter at a lovely area on the Gippsland coast — close enough to the dunes to hear the roar of the surf, but far enough away that it wasn't obtrusive. The area was about 3500ha and there were just a few campers set up in private areas among the banksias.
With all that unused space, we were amazed when, late on Good Friday evening, a station wagon pulled up right near us. Three young adults got out, set up their tent and lit their campfire. All this was accompanied by loud talking and even louder laughter.
They stayed for the Saturday and left fairly early on the Sunday morning — much to our joyful relief.
Our pleasure was dampened a bit when we saw they had left their campfire burning. Later that afternoon I wandered behind the bushes where they had been camped and discovered a plastic bag full of rubbish and countless tissues scattered around. I’ll leave it to your imagination to work out what they had been used for.
We covered the fire and collected their rubbish to dispose of properly.
Sadly, we hadn't noted their registration number or I would have reported them. Pigs like this give all campers a bad name. It is this thoughtless behavior that becomes ammunition for those who try to limit our enjoyment of the bush in this wonderful country we call home.