Tully for us was bananas, a dead snake, white water rapids, Alligators Nest, a laundromat and the golden gumboot. And rain. The sun came out round lunchtime, perfect for an afternoon fish. Jacob went down to the point at Hull Heads where we were staying. I was back at the van painting with Bodhi. About 40 minutes later, Jacob comes staunching back holding what looks like a cross between a crocodile and a sea snake. It was 75cm of pure ugly with needle sharp teeth that break into the toughest skin. Jacob retold the story with hand gestures of how he wrestled that freaky fish like a deep sea angler, reeling then pulling, reeling then pulling. The fish flew out of the water trying to snap at him in a last attempt to escape the hook but he was no match for Jacob. Everyone in the camp was in awe, no-one else had caught a thing. He filleted it with ease for everyone to see, this sea monster with its once gnashing jaws was full of bones. Jacob chopped his head off and paraded it around the park. Battle won.
Night came and so did the mosquitoes, thousands of them. They were out for blood. I was snug in bed, about to get stuck into a delicious book, juicy, full of flavour, just the right amount of spice when they came at me like B-52 bombers, whizzing past my ears. Fearing for my families safety and armed with a book light and less than average reflexes I chased them around the van. Swinging at them like King Kong, the book light flashing like a glow stick at a rave party, smearing blood all over the canvas walls. Bodhi lay there defenseless in a sleeveless shirt. His chubby cheeks and arms a meal for many. Still swatting, I slain the kin of any who entered my kingdom. After about a 20 min battle, peace was restored, a stalemate between the mozzies and me.
Until morning. They had recovered in numbers and sent reinforcements, a full 600 strong battalion surrounded our vehicle. We were trapped. The morning sun was on their side, and sweltered us out. We burst out the back door, aeroguards blazing and continued the onslaught. But there was just too many. Beating down our resolve we waved a pair of dirty white jocks in the air, admitted defeat and conceded Hull Heads to the brutal, bloody vampires of the quagmire.