Sunday, 11 September 2016

Nanga Mill

I spent the weekend camping at Nanga Mill which is located outside of a small town called Dwellingup, about one hour south and slightly east of Perth.

Everytime I come here I think 'I seriously don't come here enough'. It's a beautiful place and of all the places I have been camping, which there has been a few of, this is my favourite. There's a lot to do here from hiking, swimming, kayaking, four wheel driving, biking and just generally exploring.


I had a lovely weekend, though it could have been warmer as the three jumpers and jacket I was constantly wearing didn't help or stop my shaking and consistent complaining. There was also this  mist in the air from the sprinkling rain that would sometimes ease up before soon shortly returning.

Usually we come here in the summer with floaties and go swimming in the river with a couple bevvies but it was nice to see this place so green and lively. The cold weather didn't stop many other people from doing the same either and camp spots ran out really quick.

We got there at about eight pm Friday night. We ate burnt calamari, had a few drinks before having an early night. In the morning we were welcomed by a thick fog that hovered over everything, creating this eerie feel that gave me the desire to sit down and attempt a short horror story using the setting as inspiration.

Foggy morning
Stream that runs through the campgrounds
Once we got some more supplies from the mainland we took a small walk around the camp site. There's a long stream that runs straight through, with broken trees creating bridges and providing children with a playground before meeting up to the river where we usually take our summer dips. Then we checked out Marrinup falls. It isn't the greatest or biggest waterfall but it's long and worth the 1.6 km walk as the sight is quite lovely. We found three worms swirling around in a whirl pool that we rescued before heading back to the car with satisfying burns in our thighs.
Marrinup Falls
During the planning process of this trip, after several protests I won being able to supply food for the trip arguing that we ate too unhealthy everytime we went camping and so we didn't have to eat sausages for dinner. A slightly better alternative I thought was spaghetti bolognaise with corned beef as proper beef would be difficult under the circumstances. However I forgot the main ingredient: spaghetti so we cheated and went into the town pub for dinner.

On our way back to camp I saw a small bird sitting in the middle of the gravel road. It didn't move as we approached so I demanded we stopped so that I could pat it. I walked up to it, thinking it would move and realised it was a owl. It didn't, not even after I patted it or shined the torch in its eyes.

Surprisingly it let me pick it up which felt awesome to hold a wild creature, where I placed him down on the side of the road amongst some trees. To show me his gratitude he opened his mouth and I thought he was going to try and bite me.

It wasn't until we reached back to camp I realised he was probably opening his mouth for food and his small size was a result to him being a baby. I could barely sleep, hoping he would be fine and his mother would find him.
He wasn't there as we left the next day. I hope his mother found him and a bigger bird did not.

Even now I regret not taking him home but he was wild, so I thought it would have been frowned upon. But if Harry Potter can have a pet owl surely I could too.
Miss him already

No comments:

Post a Comment