On the farm, the threat of COVID seems distant. The only exposure we have to it is the endless media coverage that appears to have set the entire country into a state of holding its breath.
It’s not a great mental space for people in the cities, waiting for news that they may have been exposed to it, checking and rechecking locations of interest, and worrying what will happen if they get sick.
Doom is everywhere, and fear sells clicks. The media frenzy following the 1 pm daily briefings, the body count as it were, is palpable. Newsfeeds push the fear interrupting our day, ticker tape numbers scrolling in front of our tired eyes.
In the valley, life goes on; we are already socially distanced and have weeks of provisions should the need arise. As Hunter S Thompson said, “Never turn your back on fear. It should always be in front of you, like a thing that might have to be killed.”
Wise words in a time of fear, uncertainty, and the unknown. Beset on all sides by doom-mongers shouting into the restless shit storm that is social media. So on that note, I offer you a recipe to reduce the feeling of Doom that invades us all like an old man’s flatulence on a bus; musty, pervasive, and with nowhere to escape to, you have to breathe it in.
Doom-Breaking Recipe
Introduction
This is the annoying part where I prattle on about all kinds of unrelated crap rather than just giving the recipe, including my entire family tree. I would put a picture of my grandmother here, perhaps, surrounded by candles, or bore you to death about the historical events that led to the creation of this delicious meal.
Well, never mind that, let’s get on with it.
Ingredients
One dozen Double Brown Cans, chilled. Alternatively, you can replace this with Pink Gin Cruisers (they have to have the German eagle on them.)
Two or more kinds of cheese.
Crackers of some kind.
A bag of saveloys.
One or more camp chairs.
One or more friends.
One or more dogs.
A paddock. Alternatively, somewhere green where you can’t see other humans.
A tent and sleeping apparatus.
Method
Print this recipe off immediately. Then, please turn off your phone and put it in the miscellaneous draw. The draw that has all the nonsense in it that doesn’t belong in any other of the more ordered draws. Leave the phone there.
Important note, before leaving your phone in the draw, ensure that you have notified your friends of the location of the paddock.
Leaving the phone behind is an essential part of the method. Your fondle slab allows you to doom scroll through hundreds of news articles and social media posts, ensuring that you remain worried and anxious. While the initial feeling of not having your phone attached to your hands will be a strangely itchy sensation, this will pass.
Pack all your ingredients into your car or another transportation device. Do not forget the drinks. If you have no other ingredients, then the drinks, and a paddock, can still make a success of doom-busting.
Selecting a paddock is essential. There are alternatives to this, which we will explore. All of you will know someone who has a paddock. This is The Law of New Zealand. Ask around in order to find one.
The paddock should be large and open. You should not see any other humans, and any houses should appear tiny as you will be far away from them. The sense of isolation should be keen; this is most important.
Once in the paddock, deploy the camp chairs and drinks. Do not under any circumstances attempt to pitch the tent. It is no fun when you are sober. Pitching the tent should only be tried in the dark, when half-inebriated, with the threat of rain.
Cheese and crackers can be deployed to keep hunger pains at bay, and dinner will be cold saveloys.
As a child, when visiting the butcher with my mother, I was always given a cold saveloy as some kind of reward. Since then, my love affair with saveloys has grown, and despite Fake News around saveloys, they remain an integral food group in my life.
Saveloys are the perfect sausage. They are made of beef, lamb, AND pork. Then, the other 40% of the sausage comprises all kinds of things that are complex to spell. Finally, red food colouring is used when cooking, to give them that excellent colour that we all love.
Dr Ramon Pink says cocktail sausages (also known as cheerios or saveloys) should be heated before they are eaten and should not be offered cold to children at butcher’s shops or delicatessens. - People Urged to Heat Cocktail Sausages Thoroughly
What the hell Dr Ramon Pink! Talk about taking the fun out of life. Fake News indeed. I have eaten thousands of cold saveloys, sometimes with a side of tomato sauce, and never suffered ill effects aside from sometimes explosive flatulence. As we all know, farts are funny; this I consider being a bonus.
By now, you should be sufficiently relaxed (inebriated) that the tent can be erected. You may have as many people helping you as you wish; however, you must only use one hand, as a drink must occupy the other hand. This is the Advanced Method.
Burn the tent instruction manual for the Super Advanced Method.
Now, in a stumbling chaotic dance, erect your tent by any means necessary, ensuring that you actively work against anyone else trying to help. This makes the tent strong. Pegs are optional; if one wishes to fly away in a high wind while inside the tent, such as a magic carpet, do not use the pegs.
Once the tent is up, this may take some hours, which is why you should always have a drink in your hand, revive yourself with another saveloy and settle in to watch the stars.
With your stomach full of strange meat and beer (or gin), your feeling of Doom should now be retreating in the company of friends. Repeat this recipe as necessary for as long as it takes to reduce the Doom to a background hiss.
Places to camp in Wairarapa
Wairarapa valley contains many excellent places to camp. Unfortunately, you may have to spend time with other humans. This can be offset by the beauty of the spot and getting there early, so you may choose the remotest part of the campground.
Before moving here, I would take myself away over weekends to reduce the Doom. Here are some of my favourite spots.
Cape Palliser Pinnacles
The Cape Palliser Pinnacles site is located deep on the south coast of the valley. It is a bargain at $8 a night for adults and $4 for children. A walk takes you through the weird pinnacles if you can be bothered, though I do not recommend this after drinking and eating saveloys.
It’s a wild spot, and one night here, I was caught out by a surprise southerly. One of those monsters that sneak up on you during the night, blowing in at 50 knots with rain that feels like a mob of angry darts professionals has attacked you.
I slept in the car and retrieved the tent from a nearby tree the following day. Then the sea tried to eat me by crashing up over the coast road on the way home.
Recommended equipment for this site: Reading the weather forecast before you go.
Dangers: Bears.
Corner Creek Campsite
Corner Creek Campsite is located a stone’s throw from James Cameron’s land on the south coast of Wairarapa.
It is said that sometimes on quiet nights, you can hear a man weeping in the distance. This is James Cameron trying to figure out why it has taken twenty years to film a sequel to his Avatar film.
An all-wheel-drive vehicle is recommended as parts of the road can get quite deep in the gravel at certain times of the year. This, however, provides great entertainment.
Once, having put up my tent, sufficiently inebriated, I sat in my camp chair and watched someone get stuck in the gravel. It was clear they were going nowhere, and all the usual tricks did not work.
A city person, in a shiny ute, eager to try out his four wheel drive capacity, puffed himself up and drove in to rescue the car. He, too, became stuck.
Over an hour, three other good samaritans found themselves stuck in the same gravel pit. It was like an impromptu version of Treasure Island where the contestants now needed to work together to figure out this Great Puzzle as the tide came in and the sun went down.
In the end, a tractor was procured from some nearby location, a significant amount of cash changed hands with the driver, and the vehicles were rescued from inevitable Doom. Everyone was happy, especially the driver, who appeared to have enough money to buy several dozen Lion Browns, the Double variety of course, and many kilos of saveloys.
Recommended equipment for site: A tractor.
Dangers: James Cameron.
Kimberley Reserve - Levin
Yes yes, I know it is not in the Wairarapa, but I have a good story about camping here. Kimberly Reserve is just far enough from Levin to avoid the all night bogans doing burnouts but not quite far enough to prevent bogans from camping there, if you get my drift (ho ho.)
It is a figure-eight campsite, relatively flat, near a river, with amenities and plenty of space.
Many years ago, when I camped there, I met a man from Levin who was staying there with his family as he did every year. Dave No Front Teeth, as I will call him to protect his identity, was an excellent man who was fiercely kind and wanted everyone to Have Fun.
Dave No Front Teeth had an old Holden Kingswood Station Wagon. It was all rust and V8. Tied to the back of the monster was the bonnet from another Holden Kingswood, attached via a tow rope that was probably thirty feet long.
Dave No Front Teeth and I had a few beers, and he then proceeded to fire up this campground ride. Clearly, the locals were used to this.
One sat on the bonnet and was towed at ever-increasing speed around the figure of eight campsite by the roaring straight V8 with its back door down and kids hanging out. Dave No Front Teeth spent most of his time looking backwards, beer in hand, yelling, “HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT TOWNIE!” and roaring with laughter.
I ended up in a flax bush on my last run, which Dave No Front Teeth declared to be “EPIC!”
Recommended equipment for site: A bonnet.
Dangers: V8s towing children at high speed.
Indonesia, Bali, Ubud, Campsite that may not be mentioned for ongoing legal reasons
OK, so this isn’t even in New Zealand, but it has, you guessed it, a great story. And I promise you this is true.
I spent a bit of time in Indonesia and met up with a friend many decades ago as he was coming back from a six-month bar crawl through Europe. Let’s call him Trouble because he was and still is.
The campsite was essential, and it had an excellent bar attached to it. At that time, Ubud wasn’t particularly popular, so it was quiet the night we were there. This very impressive tree to which a monkey was chained was in the middle of the outdoor bar.
I am sure there is a whole article on how Indonesia exploits animals. But that is for another day.
The pièce de résistance was a round treehouse on the roadside, set about two meters off the ground, with a built-in circular table. This was clearly the VIP Area, so Trouble and I occupied it immediately.
After many Bintangs (awful beer unless just about 0 degrees), we decided that the monkey needed to be liberated. This was our One Good Idea for the day. I distracted the staff with an order, and Trouble untied the monkey, and somehow, I still don’t know how he managed it, coaxed it into the treehouse.
The monkey was pleased with this. After all, it was now in the VIP Area. It sat as monkey’s do, ate peanuts, and we ordered it a banana. For a time, all was well, the bar staff relaxed, the monkey relaxed, we settled, and all was well with the world.
Then Trouble bought Tequila. Correction, an entire bottle of Tequila. Things began to get a little fuzzy. The Monkey, who we had unimaginatively named George, drank one of our beers at some point. The bar staff decided that it was perhaps time that George was returned to the tree, and we agreed. One must draw the line at your monkey companion trying to drink your beer and not buy his own.
George, however, did not want to return to the tree. We quickly named him Angry George.
Trouble and I moved to the far end of the treehouse, and George began to hurl the remnants of the fine repaste at the bar staff. I didn’t blame him. It isn’t kind for a monkey to be tied to a tree.
Bottles and plates flew, Angry George chattered at his would-be captors, and passersby stopped to take photos of the entire scene; thank god there were no social media in those days. It was turning into a literal circus as Angry George scaled the treehouse.
Then the unthinkable happened. Angry George seized the Tequila bottle and made to throw it. Trouble and I both shouted “No!” simultaneously, and Angry George then realised that the Tequila was clearly a Precious Thing, a commodity of some kind. So he bolted off into the campground with it at high-speed.
And that’s where we leave the story readers because I am very far off track.
I was just kidding. I wouldn’t do that.
Angry George set off at an incredible pace through the camp; I chased him as best I could, and wherever I went Trouble followed, bellowing curses and demands.
This was in a time when the Indonesian government had just been through elections. The ruling party, an autocratic regime, had narrowly won over a democratic party. Most of Bali had voted for the democratic party, and as a result, when they lost, they threatened to riot.
This is pertinent information because the tourist spots on the island hired guards in case this eventuated (but that’s another story), and they had armed them with submachine guns.
Our entourage now included two submachine gun-toting guards, several bar staff, the camp manager, Trouble, and some other tourists who the hooting and hollering had waked.
Angry George climbed a nearby tree and shrieked at the crowd in rage, shaking the tequila bottle menacingly, and was joined by several other monkeys from the surrounding bush.
A standoff ensued with both groups shouting at each other, demands were made, threats were issued, and that was just the human contingent. God only knows what the monkeys were saying.
Angry George threw the Tequila bottle at the bar manager in the end. Having been tied to a tree for quite some time, this was the final act of defiance. Then, Angry George had a quick conversation with his gang before retreating into the darkness of the forest, never to be seen again.
Fin
That took an unexpected turn, readers, did it not? God only knows where the mind goes sometimes, and I can assure you I was sober when I wrote this.
By now, the feeling of Doom should have receded, of course, was the purpose of this article, and you should be printing off my recipe and getting out into nature. Nature has a way of calming blood pressure.
Get to it.
Postscript: Nature’s healing powers
Studies have found that people who are sick or suffering mental pressure heal faster if they can see a tree. Sitting in nature has the most significant effect, and in the 19th century, this is why hospitals were often built with great gardens around them. In the 21st century, where money dictates everything, new hospital builds are often empty office blocks devoid of any nature.
The power of nature is so strong that even a picture of a tree will cause you to heal faster. Again, controlled studies showed that patients in hospitals who had a picture of a tree in their room healed faster than those that did not.
So get out there, and eradicate the Doom. Even if you sit under a tree.
Scientific American: Nature that Nurtures
Final note: The video still above is taken from a short clip of Hunter S Thompson actively relaxing, by having a gunfight with his neighbour. This is not recommended.
Absolutely hilarious. "Fondle slab," is my new, favourite phrase. I added you to my blog roll.