Cawndilla campground

it was a clear and magnificently starlit sky. after i had brazenly began to slumber beneath the infinite abyss of space i was awoken by a sound not dissimilar to a tar soaked walrus attempting to pull itself up onto a half melted snow cap. when i opened my eyes i found myself unable to move and witnessed the grotesque birthing ritual of the mudmen. a small eyeless child stood at the shore surrounded by vaguely humanoid mud fleshed creatures. the boys eyes had melted and dripped into the watery dirt below. the mud creatures began to coat the boy in muddy wax, and the sound of his lungs gasping in sullied soil have not left my ears since. from the motionless statue a horrific spectre of waterlogged form arose and walked and wailed to where i lay. the speech of gods and demons rang from the creatures foul mouth. an unforgettable experience but somewhat inaccessible toilet facilities.

No numbers on the camp sites resulting in conflict between late arrivals with overcrowding due to people who don't book. Very cramped and little space between sites. Difficult when so many camp sites are flooded. A long drive out so plan ahead.

The best spot ever