Day 29: Camping in Sydney

December 13, 2010

There are good things about caravan parks. You get a break from all the dirt and dust, there’s a toilet and a shower, a laundry room and a shop, and time to swap stories with other travelers, if that’s your thing. So I don’t dislike them. It’s just the noise that gets to me and, after so much time alone in the silent bush, the public nature of it all.

At the Burrendong Dam caravan park three nights ago we had a beautiful quiet spot next to the water with only one other caravanner for company. We’d been warned by the kiosk owners that young people from Wellington often came on the weekends to party, but the ranger was hoping to clean up the situation by encouraging “people like us” to camp down there – we only had to complain once and he’d be down straight away to shush them up.

So we counted ourselves lucky when we crawled into bed just past ten and no revelers had rocked up. But somewhere in the night I was woken by the rumble of a V8 engine descending the hill towards our camping spot. The ute drove around for five minutes before the driver killed the engine and out jumped a group of young men ready for some fun. The presence of two darkened campsites didn’t deter them from their whoops and hollers. It must have gone on for two hours – and I couldn’t sleep. No thought of calling the ranger – who do you call in the middle of the night?

Next night we’re at Katoomba Caravan Park wedged into a crowded area of tent campers. We’re all pretty quiet and by ten o’clock it looks like we’ve all gone to bed. Somewhere in the night, the volume of someone’s radio goes up – I can’t tell where it comes from but don’t think it’s from our area – and the sleepy campers are subjected to two hours of radio rock ‘n roll. I couldn’t sleep.

Then comes Sydney. The Lane Cove River Tourist Park sits astride the Lane Cove National Park, one of several nature conservation areas within the Sydney city limits. The caravan park is at the top of a valley of natural trees and bushlands, with wildlife occasionally venturing up from the bush to investigate dinner opportunities from willing campers. It’s a beautiful setting and the nearby walks are a bonus – especially the long river walk with many Eastern Water Dragons (large goannas) scattering about. The caravan park has been established as an eco-friendly commercial enterprise for the national park, with solar panels, a recycled water scheme and recycling depots at all the rubbish collection spots. It’s impressive and lovely – and only ten minutes from the Sydney CBD.

The problem is that we are surrounded on five sides by noise and busy-ness. We are one of five sites set aside for camper trailers. In between us and our neighbor to the right and our neighbor to the left are two public walkways, used frequently by the visitors staying in the chalets across the street. At the back of our site is a public area with a camp kitchen and a kids’ playground – both are in constant use, especially by the many kids across the street running back and forth to the playground.

And the fifth direction? Look up. Straight overhead is the flight path for incoming planes to the Sydney airport. As we’re only twenty kilometers from the airport, the planes are low and slow, rumbling overhead at the pace of one per minute, sometimes two. Thankfully, they seem to let up around bedtime– or at least we’re not kept awake by the constant drone.

The family to our left has two kids; both are fond of squealing and making rumpus on the nearby playground. But it’s not really their noise that rankles as much as their parents’ continual harping, trying to get them to quiet down and obey. “Come here you little ratbag,” barks the mum. “I’m getting sick and tired of not being listened to,” harps the dad. When at last they retire to their tent, the barking and harping and whining and squealing leaks through our thin canvas tents for another half an hour before some kind of truce prevails and peace finally descends.

Johan and I crawl into bed with the laptop and Disc 3 of Lost–Season 2. We plug in the earphones from my iPod and each stick one of the ear pieces in one of our ears. Aware now of how easily noise travels, we don’t want to disturb the neighbors while we indulge in a bit of escapism.

 Exotic residents of the Lane Cove National Park

Lane Cove River Tourist Park