Drenched in the Desert
So, you’re in a tent with two other people, admittedly a little crammed, but generally comfy. It starts raining. Hmm. Strange, since you’re in the middle of a desert (near Uluru, in central Australia, to be precise). But it shouldn’t be anything to worry about really… after all, you did put two new waterproof coatings on the tent a couple of weeks ago.
Nuh-uh. Not good enough. Especially not when the rain picks up ’round about dawn.
And you thought mosquitoes in the morning were annoying! Try waking up with your airbed practically floating, and water gradually soaking into those bits of your sleeping bag that happen to be hanging off the edge. Lovely. The rain doesn’t sound like it’ll let up much either.
So, you pull on your shorts and top, grab the car keys and belt it to temporary (and drier) shelter. Still not good enough. After all, you’ve just left the other two in that leaking pile of canvas you call home.
A few bag-openings later and a pair of waterproofs have been located – the umbrella doesn’t really cut it for the next job, but it does help the least camp-ready of you to make it to the site office/bar to begin negotiations for a dry spot in a cabin tonight. Meanwhile, the remaining pair drag down the disgustingly wet tent in record time, then try to figure out where the hell to put the thing. Hmm. All your stuff’s in the back, and the back seat isn’t much better – and whoever sits there today isn’t going to want to share it with a giant sponge. Sod it. You dump the wetness in the back and head for the bar (6am isn’t too early, is it?).
Soon enough a cheapie cabin room has been arranged, the tent draped over the heater, and we’re on our way to see Uluru. In the rain. Nice, looks purple, lots of waterfalls, but no chance of the orange sunset most visitors dream of. And then the windscreen wipers fall off on the way home, but that’s another story…