The Steele Creek bivvy was fashioned from roughly hacked beech logs, some left overs from NZ's attempt to launch a satellite into orbit (1977) and hunters' spittle. It was pretty 'rustic' but it was a roof and it was free so who's complaining? It did harbour a bunch of mice that seemed to be training to join Le Cirque du Soleil. I avoided these by opting for the free standing cot bed rather than the bunks that formed part of their circus routine. I slept like a Pharaoh. Steve and Dom were missing in the morning. I presumed they had been press-ganged into the circus by burly rodents.
Steve refusing to enter our night's accommodation. Come on Steve, it's lovely, jump in!
Steve preparing logs for the campfire - strictly verboten but everyone else seemed to have done it so...why not? Looks like Steve's got a giant log growing out of his noggin. OK, he is a bit of a plank-head but I think that's the camera fooling us.
Dom adding to the fire whilst I cook up supper.
Supper didn't really work out so we decided to cook and eat our socks instead. Only kidding. They were foul. We went hungry!
Steve embracing the fire. I guess he was looking for a warm companion for the night and decided it was his best chance. Too bloody right. That or a mouse in a maid's outfit swinging on a trapeze.
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