There’s a particular kind of quiet that settles over Lake Gkula at dawn, the sort of quiet that gets promptly shattered by a small child on a bike shouting “WAIT UP” to seven other small children on bikes. Hopefully you were already awake by then… but also not a bad reason to start the coffee drinking early. Over the past three weeks, that soundtrack became the unofficial theme song of our best Lake Gkula camping season yet. 

Culturally, it really clicked this year. The people who rolled in with their swags and eskies didn’t just camp, they brought the Woodfordian spirit with them. Conversations around the fire, workshop attendance, the genuine curiosity about what we’re putting out into the world… it felt less like hosting a campground and more like hosting a very relaxed extended family reunion, where nobody argues about politics (hopefully…) and everyone shares their marshmallows (HOPEFULLY…). 

Over the Easter long weekend alone, we had 1,709 people on site: campers, volunteers, and staff combined. That’s a small town’s worth of humans, all coexisting peacefully, which is frankly more than can be said for our current global village (YOU KNOW WHO WE’RE TALKING ABOUT). 

“This is what we do now” 

We heard this phrase so often it started to feel like a slogan we should print on a banner. Multiple campers, some of them three-year veterans now, told us they wouldn’t dream of spending Easter or the school holidays anywhere else. The live music, the workshops, the yoga then swim in the lake first thing in the morning: this was the list, in that order, with very few amendments. 

One woman told us, with the conviction of someone reciting a sacred text, that the lake swim “is the reset button.” Her children were nowhere in sight, presumably eating an ice cream, riding, or building something structural out of sticks. 

On the subject of sticks… 

Which brings us to the cubby incident. Or, more accurately, the Great Cubby Gang Wars. 

Our site team noticed a suspiciously large pile of sticks accumulating along the southern boundary of Woodfordia. The working theory was: bonfire. A big one. Possibly a ceremonial one – uh oh. They kept a loose eye on it, the way you might keep a loose eye on a toddler holding a permanent marker. 

A few hours later, the pile of sticks had transformed into an architecturally ambitious cubby. The site crew were simultaneously relieved (no bonfire) and deeply impressed (structural integrity? At that age? Unsupervised? Well done young ones!). 

The relief was short-lived. The very next day, a rival gang of children moved in and tore the whole thing down. We do not know why. We do not know who. We do not know what, if anything, was being avenged. The demolishers vanished back into the bush like rogues. The site team, who had emotionally invested, are reportedly still processing it. 

Craft time, splash time, boogie time. Good times all around.

The lorikeet situation 

The cubby dispute is symptomatic of a broader phenomenon: at Lake Gkula, the children travel in flocks. The kind that wheel through Woodfordia on bikes, chattering at impossible volumes, appearing suddenly in the classic Mighty Ducks ‘Flying-V’ formation near the General Store. Parents kept telling us the same thing, almost word for word: the safety and freedom for the kids here is unlike anywhere else. They let them go. They let them roam. They let them, evidently, build and destroy small civilizations in the scrub. 

Hammocks, table tennis, and questionable statistics 

The table tennis setup this year, by our calculations, 34,382 rallies were had — roughly 97% of which ended in someone yelling “let.” The official hammock zone logged an estimated 2,300 hours of sleep, though we’re counting anything from a twenty-minute doze to a full afternoon coma. The numbers are rigorous, in the sense that we made them up with great confidence. 

The sh*tty stuff 

The waste management system, borrowed straight from the Folk Festival playbook, worked a treat. Campers genuinely respected it, and the grounds after departure required only minor tidying. So: to every single camper who sorted, rinsed, and did the right thing — thank you. You are our people. 

It’s probably also why 103 groups extended their stay. Why wouldn’t they? You come for a weekend and leave having built a cubby dynasty. 

Gameshow night… 

The last night of the camp ended with yet another musical delight, and then, surprise! Family theatre games transformed into The Great Game Show, led by Wendy, Shannon and helped along by the ever dedicated and knowledgeable Leon. With teams competing for the almost out-of-date treats from the General Store, it was a fierce face-off of silliness for all ages. While a little rough around the edges in terms of presentation (Vana White was unable to attend but we have our invitation out to her for the Spring edition), the Great Game Show was a massive hit. We can’t wait to see how it evolves for the Spring camp.   

The Folk Festival 

Lake Gkula camping has quietly become a primer for the Woodford Folk Festival. More than a few campers told us that they’d love to come back in December to experience the full thing. Which is exactly what we hoped for — a slower, greener, more barefoot introduction to what Woodfordia is at its heart. 

Same lake in Spring this year. Same bikes. Possibly the same cubby. Possibly not. 

A last night ceremony on the beach brought together the long-haul

crew and patrons. While sad to say goodbye to these fine folks,

we look forward to seeing them again soon at The Planting.