The return of the ants. And in force this time, no mere skirmishing party. The tent was positively seething with them. It wasn’t at all pleasant, but at least we didn’t leap out of the tent in disgust. Obviously we’ve become more accustomed to the little bastards. Still, we decided to leave them for a time, + go on the other recommended walk, to Balding Bay. Obviously, we had chanced upon an excellent informant, since this too was a splendid walk, + the end result, the beach itself, was beautiful. It wasn’t quite deserted, since there was one other guy, but he shoved off to the other end of the beach, +stripped off, while we did the same at our end. We both swam a little, lazed a little, took a few pictures, + then left. Just in time, I think, as others were starting to arrive.
Back at the site, we set to on the unpleasant task of ridding our tent + possessions of ants. And then we were ready to be off. The plan was to take the bus to the other end of the island, Picnic Bay, + stay at a hostel there called The Hideaway. The bus trip was relatively expensive, + a bit of a drag really, designed for a different kind of holiday-maker, the driver pointing pout places of interest that really weren’t all that interesting. (Bella Vista holiday homes + the like), + telling us the prices of plots of land. Still, it does serve to make one grateful one isn’t on that sort of a holiday.
The Hideaway turned out to be a little more expensive than we wanted to pay, but more than that the total crass exploitation of this end of the island decided us not to bother to stay the extra night on the island, but take the ferry back in the afternoon. I was, nonetheless, disappointed, even tho’ I agreed with the decision. Most of all, I think, I’d looked forward to staying in the hostel. The tent has become a drag. Still, one makes one’s choices.
So, in not too long a time, we were back once again in our jolly camp-site. By chance, we discovered that our campsite is right on the road out of town that we want to take tomorrow. Which, with heavy packs + sore backs, is a huge relief.
And so something of a foreshortened holiday – holiday meaning a break from purposeful travelling – with just one trip to an almost deserted beach, and then back to the mainland. Our heart is not really on this sort of break; we want to be somewhere more exotic.