There was even more of the same when we reached our first campsite of the adventure, at Watering Cove. The beach was deep gold, with a skeleton tree traced across it in black sand by a little creek. There were sculpted rocks at each end, one of them so like an elephant’s head that it was entirely unnecessary that someone had gone to the trouble of carving an ear and eye into it. The little campsite was marked only by a flattened area of sand, and a long drop tucked into the bush, so we felt smugly intrepid.
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