Camping in the time of omicron

My second-born loves our annual family camping trip. He talks about all year long. He tells people we've just met about it. It's a defining feature of his year, the sparkling jewel, and once he even expressed it is better than Christmas. 

January 2022, the rolling chaos of covid smashes omicron on the world. It's summer here downunder, but this winter-loving virus decided that it was going to spread in this sun-baked land anyway.

We are passed lockdowns, even with tens of thousands of new cases every day. I think people in Victoria would crack into little pieces if another lockdown was announced.  So, we must individually pick and choose where and when to take the risk of catching bloody covid.

Knowing that if we couldn't go camping my little one’s heart would break, I minimised my risk in the run up, cancelling my yoga classes, skipping my beloved singing lessons and avoiding shopping centres and indoor gatherings. There was a potential close contact for Moo, but the RAT came back negative, and we packed our car to the brim and off we went. 

Now this isn't just our nuclear fam camping, it's my mother and father in-law, my sister in-law, her hubby and their 2 teenage daughters plus a friend, my brother in-law and his wife, our friends the Chenzos, their two kids, and Chenzo's parents. This year my beautiful friend Mary, her hubby and 2 kids came too.

Other family and friends visit. My kiddos are surrounded by adults and kids that love them.  It's pretty special.

The kids (& adults) spend the days floating down the creek on inflatables running alongside the camp. These huge black yabbies sometimes crawl up on the bank, and occasionally we see little fish and eels, plus there are loads of ducks floating along (& pooing on all our stuff at night - random). We play card games under the shade of the huge gums and in the evenings the kids play cricket until it's too dark to see the ball. 


The kids have a freedom they experience nowhere else just yet.

Now don't get me wrong, we arrived home covered in bruises and mozzie bites, with creek mud as a second skin. Luckily, I was the only one sporting a horrendous sunburn.

A couple days into the trip Chops got heat stroke or food poisoning. There is not much privacy at a campsite, and the poor thing had to vomit in salad bowl hiding behind our tent. He had to go chill out for a day or so at our friend’s house close by.

There were personality clashes and sibling fights, plus my puppy did not enjoy the experience ... too many flies, too many people; just too much for a covid-doggo. The inflatable mattress got punctured, the flywire screen damaged - probably both by the doggo.

And let's not forget that camping stuff seems to grow and multiply.  Packing up in 35-degree heat is a serious workout.

My niece has tested positive for covid (fortunately she only has very mild symptoms), and we are all wondering where she got it with the rest of the crew getting negative RATS.

Covid dependent, we will do it all again next year.