THE GREAT AUSSIE pub CRAWL

The intrepid adventurer Ernest Hemingway wasn’t the first to acknowledge that “it’s good to have a destination but it’s the journey that matters.” However, even Ernie, who spent a night or two under canvas when he was blasting away at the African wildlife, never endorsed camping. That’s because there’s a far more engaging way to spend your evenings.

Visualise the camper’s dream. A mild evening with the moon lighting up the ghost gums and the water burbling over the gibbers in the creek. The Milky Way above and the flicker of the campfire add ambience to the scene, as you sip a red from your enamel cup, drifting off to sleep on top of your swag.

Then the squadrons of mosquitoes attack. If you’re lucky, you’ll have crawled into your swag before the cold front hits, the wind sending rain into every seam of the riding gear hanging on your bike.

Possibly the storm will have abated by dawn. As you clamber into your sodden boots a blanket of flies descend, making it impossible to eat that soggy muesli bar.

Consider the alternative. You could have been in the pub, enjoying an icy cold schooner