Camp Campers Frosty Night in a 2021 Kia Carnival

I want to share. I’ve often been accused of oversharing, and at the risk of exceeding even that, let me tell you about this weekend of unintended camping in a Kia Carnival.

All is not as it seems.

The usual suspects were up to pussy’s bow, readying themselves for a long weekend at Drover’s Rest. 5 cottages have been moved to form posse of poignantly poised pensions around a central garden and obligatory water feature at Drover’s Rest’s far vinyard.

Ethan and I volunteered to tarry a ton of decorated doonas, plump pillows, and enough silver plated candle sticks to make a comforting glow visible from space. Meanwhile, Max and Casper kept Max’s mum mesmerised with tasty morsels washed down with lashings of French fizz. It was her birthday you see, and Casper and I were to surprise her by turning “Versailles” into a Bedouin tent.

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ABOVE: 2021 Kia Carnival

It will all become clear in just a mo.

Ethan and I rattled up the freeway towards The Hunter, with the Carnival loaded to the plimsoll. We left early to avoid traffic, or so we thought. We finally turned in to Drover’s Rest, after 3 hours delayed by yet another P Plater head-butting the sandstone canyons on the M1 with his aged Falcon.

We tucked the Carnival into the comfy carport at the back of “Versailles”, the largest cabin in the settlement. For those not familiar with the estate, Max’s mum loves travel and has now named each little cottage in a manner somewhat overstating their diminutive dimensions.

Here is where the tale goes tits-up.

Eschewing the lofty impressions created by the historical influence of their nomenclatures, the cottages now have electronic locks whose combinations are fettled by a phone app. Max’s mum has taken to securing her little empire by regularly changing the codes. I think you can see where this is heading. We had been plunged right royally into the poo. Even the big house was Fort Knox. Max’s mum lives on site usually, but the tap of an app locks that down too. We couldn’t even turn to the hairy chested hunks often seen darting between the rows. The vineyard flunkies clock off at 5, so Casper and I alone, with the temps rapidly heading south. Frantic texts had gone unanswered.

Things looked grim

Unable to jolly-up the cabin for the imminent celebrations, we lit the fire pit, and opened the hamper, and chowed down like it was our las meal. After our 3^rd bottle of red wine, it was time to turn in.

When the sun shines, make hay!

We put pillow cases on 30 pillows, and laid flat the seats in the Kia, and covered every surface in all manner of fabric and soft furnishings. The floor had blankets, rugs, and doonas spread across it. More blankets were jammed in the doors to block out the light, and keep in the heat, not that there was much of that. What we didn’t need, we piled up on the verandah of the cottage.

The interior of the Kia had transmuted into Moorish moguals harem. Piles of pillows and colourful blankies completely enveloped us. It was like a big fluffy adult version of a kiddies tent in the lounge room.

High single digits are fine when you have a roaring fire, but when you’re camping in a carnival, not so much.

The floor was not quite flat, which is terribly frustrating. Moving some pillows sorted that out.

After and hour of plumping and preening, we huddled down. Just as Casper started to snore, I felt the need for a pee coming on…..