We drove up to the northern headland of the beach to find a place to settle in for the evening. The sun was setting, and the spot Mark was hoping for had already been taken. Luckily, we saw a few other well sheltered camp spots half way up the beach, and turned back to build our nest.
The spot we chose was surrounded by tall sand dunes that would stop the wind from getting to our fire. We were lucky enough to have perfect weather, with no clouds and no wind to interrupt our evening. The stars were clearer than ever in the sky, without the moon until about 8pm when all of a sudden I saw it rising over the oceans horizon. It lit up the camp site so much that I put away my torch and could FINALLY see where I placed my fork.
“Hope we don’t attract any dingoes.” I joked -sparking Mark to tell me that there were hardly any dingoes left here, and that if a dingo was to take our chicken, that’d be a rare site to see.
The next morning, the first thing I noticed, were these foot prints.