Pyjamas On Poulsen's Hill

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Pyjamas on Words and photos: Andrea Ferris

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’m not a virgin anymore. In fact it was my third time but by far the best because friends joined in. I was waving my hands in the air and hollering stuff in the heat of the moment—and it was hot. Now that it’s all over I’m exhausted, but in a happy, self-satisfied way. It’s such a pity I have to wait until next August to do it again … hang on, it’s not what you’re thinking … I’m talking about camping at the Gympie Music Muster!

They say there are three essential items to take to the Amamoor State Forest in Queensland’s Sunshine Coast hinterland every August: gum boots, a Driza-bone coat and a hat. But that’s rubbish! There’s a fourth: funky pyjamas.

No self-respecting ‘Musterteer’ would be seen dead wandering past hundreds of campsites on the way to a truck full of showers with daggy pjs. The event calls for nothing less than a brand-new pair of flannies—in particularly bright colours with a matching top. And, if you’re feeling a bit superior, a towel to match.

My Muster experience this year began a full four weeks before the event started. Armed with wooden stakes, old rope, little tents dragged out of the back of the garage, and a picnic basket, ‘the other half’ (TOH) and a few friends 84 | Go Camping Australia

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set out in convoy for Amamoor State Forest with me following on the motorbike (to blow a few desk-bound cobwebs off). TOH rightly decided that this year we were ‘roping off’. No, not an event where cowboys chase after calves, the practice of paying extra for your Muster ticket to reserve a choice campsite. Easy for us because we live on the Sunshine Coast—perhaps not so for those that travel from interstate.

Tens of thousands of people camp at the Gympie Music Muster in all manner of set-ups from the squillion-dollar fifth-wheeler mobile mansion to a fifty-dollar dome tent from Target. Some arrive in May just to get ‘their’ treasured pozzie for the four-day country music festival, now in its thirty-second year.

Back in 1982, Gympie-based country music trio, the Webb Brothers, with the help of the Gympie Apex Club, put on a fundraising dinner and concert at their Thorneside property to celebrate a Tamworth Golden Guitar win.

Bush timber and borrowed Queensland Rail tarpaulins formed the main stage; jam tins with holes punched into them made showers; a long-drop dunny was dug; drinking water was trucked in and a season pass was twenty bucks.

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Camping at the Gympie Music Muster.

A tad less than $10,000 was spent on entertainment (about two percent of today’s budget); about 2000 people turned up and the event made about $12,000 for charity—a roaring success from all accounts.

The event grew in popularity and in 1985 the Muster was then held at its new home in the Amamoor State Forest where permanent infrastructure has continued to be added over the years.

Since its inception the Muster has raised more than $14 million for charities Australia-wide and now has more than fifty community groups involved in its success.

Muster camping is daunting for a virgin Musterite.

After a beautiful twenty-minute drive out of the village of Amamoor on some bitumen, but mostly graded gravel road, through the native and pine forest and across several clear, rippling creeks, a rudimentary check-in gate is reached manned by friendly volunteers armed with free programs and helpful advice. But don’t get chatting or you’ll hold up the camping convoy, which can be fifty or more vehicles long at times.

Then the camping area choice begins: basically it’s acres and acres of freehold farm paddocks and some state forest

park with loosely designated names such as Poulsen’s Flat, 5 ways north and 5 ways south (although clearly there’s only one way in and out), Ferral Hill (the names says it all) and, TOH’s much-coveted Poulsen’s Hill—which we quickly dub ‘Muster Heights’ befitting a better calibre of pyjamas—which is at the very far western end of the site.

Poulsen’s Hill is freehold land leased to the Muster organisers for the duration of the festival. While not an expert, I’d be guessing the area would be about fifty acres give or take a cowpat or two. It’s treeless and bounded by a dirt road going nowhere west, a creek on two sides and another paddock over which the sun sets in spectacular fashion. The slope east-west up from the creek flats, where you cross a bridge to access the festival precinct, is enough to raise the heart rate and can be traversed from top to bottom in the time it takes to drink a stubby, air dry medium-length hair or whistle a John Williamson song.

Seeking as much ‘privacy’ as can be had amongst 20,000 campers, TOH had chosen the ‘back stalls’ of the Hill nestled up against the cattle yards (handy to hang the tea towel) with a 360 degree view of forested hills in the distance and

1: Bring a hat—and a smile!

2: Despite the number of people you can hear a pin drop at night.

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3 hundreds of happy campers perched on the slope below. Our friends in camper trailers circled the ‘wagons’ and we set up a communal fireside area in the middle. We quickly made friends with two couples from Sydney in caravans on one side and another couple from Rockhampton in a camper trailer on the other.

If you don’t rope off or arrive three days before the event begins, be prepared to offer your firstborn child to anyone willing to let you share their piece of paddock. It’s a tight squeeze and anyone with ‘personal space’ issues has to leave them at the Bruce Highway exit.

Nevertheless, there is some semblance of order. Laneways are signposted and numbered (all caravans are white boxes on wheels after a big night); there’s room to drive around (looking pathetic and needy if you don’t have a spot reserved); but manoeuvring vans and trailers into tricky and tight left-over spots is not to be tackled if tired, hungry, hung-over or you haven’t given your wife flowers for some considerable time (all past hurts will quickly rise to the surface!).

The slope closer to the top of the hill makes setting up interesting. Bring wheel chocks, blocks of wood, an extra step and a spirit level. Wise tent campers position themselves with head up and feet down the slope—for obvious reasons!

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Poulsen’s Hill smells, um, rural. The paddock is cleared of animals and mown just before the event, but it’s up to campers to pick up horse and cow dung unless they fancy bringing it back to bed with them after a middle of the night comfort break.

The question I get asked the most—apart from: ‘You’re going where for how long?’—is: ‘What are the toilets like?’ I suppose it’s something we all do therefore we all have in common, but it seems to me there’s a certain seven-year-old-boy fascination about toilets that comes to the fore when discussing camping.

Thirty years of mustering on, there’s still the odd long-drop toilet block scattered around the campsites. The floors are freshly laid with wood shavings, hand sanitiser dispensers are hung on the walls in the absence of water in basins and the door locks work. Day one they’re fine: day five they’re for the desperate only! My tip: take a scented hankie with you—works a treat.

Being they are what they are and don’t pretend otherwise, the long-drops are cleaned often and re-supplied with good-quality loo paper.

Some wussy but well-organised campers hire a port-a-loo from a local company, which is delivered to their roped-off site and collected after the event. How else should one start the day than a bleary-eyed trek down a hill to share your

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4 ablutions with several other campers in a row of unisex Kenny-esque toilets? My tip: take ear plugs!

Joking aside, these amenities have revolutionised events. To the credit of the operators, they are kept clean, relatively odour free, well supplied and in good working order. There are plenty of them and I didn’t ever have to wait to go.

One of our camping friends returned from the loos one morning to relate a hilarious tale of a bloke that completed his mission only to find there was no loo paper. He bleated out an embarrassed request for help, which sparked a lot of ribald banter between all his throne-sitting companions until he was eventually rescued with a roll.

Showering is another group activity— segregated this time—in the back of a truck! Yes, about ten shower stalls with nylon curtains line one side of a semi-trailer and the other side is a wooden bench and pegs for clothes. It’s a tight, steamy, damp fit girls and boys, but the water is hot, the pressure is good and it’s a welcome freshen-up after a dusty day’s Mustering.

Seasoned truck-showerers have a few tricks and tips: don’t go at peak hour (early morning or evening); wear something simple to and from (like funky pjs) and don’t bother with underwear; go in thongs or Crocs; forget fussing with makeup or hairdryers; and leave modesty behind unless

Our Muster Les and Deslie Mitchell, Thorneside, Brisbane Musters: 13 Deslie: My first Muster was in 1998 when friends invited me for the line dancing. Les couldn’t get time off work but he came in 1999 and was hooked. We’ve only missed 2007 and 2008. When we had kids we went camping a lot with a tent. We upgraded to a better tent for the Muster then borrowed a camper trailer once so we could get off the ground and then we bought this basic camper trailer. We use it to go away sometimes with the cars [classic cars], but we don’t get the opportunity that often.

We both work for Goodman Fielder: Les is in margarine and I’m in bread! I’m on night shift and Les is on day shift, but it works well: Les doesn’t have to fight for the remote on the telly!

Les: The muster is our escape. One of the best things is that you pay one price and choose what you want to see. Every year there’s something new that you’ve never heard of that is really great; it just keeps bringing you back. Everyone comes for the same thing; it doesn’t matter whether you come from the country or the city. I’ve never seen a fight. People get drunk, but there’s no trouble: it’s safe. I’ve never known anything stolen.

Deslie: We come here for ten days and try to take the same spot every time. It gets the early morning sun. We’ve been here when it’s rained a lot and the flat areas near the creek have been four inches under water—I don’t want to be in a tent down there.

Les: Once [when raining] I had to build a trench around the top end of the tent. We like this spot; it’s not far from anything. The walk up the hill gets the heart going.

Deslie: The food’s good—everything is just good. We like that the money goes back into the community. Nothing is overpriced.

Les: We are country music fans, but we like any music. I watch the country music channel and most of my new CDs are country music. I said to a fellow the other day: ‘If the Rolling Stones turned up here it’d be perfect!’

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Deslie: For the amount of people here the facilities are good. Sometimes they have a hit and miss with the water [for showers]. You can’t complain about the cleaning, it’s brilliant.

The showers are greatly improved from years ago. When it does rain you just have to put up with the mud. My advice to newbies is: never forget your Driza-bone, hat and gumboots.

These are the three must haves—and layers [clothing]. You never know what the weather will do. Also, come with a good attitude and accept what’s here and make it as good as you want. It is basic camping, but it’s what you make of it.

Les: There’s no problem with everyone being so close to each other. People look out for each other; that’s what it’s all about. If someone hears that you’ve forgotten something they’ll offer it.

you’re well practiced at dressing clutching a towel with one hand.

Despite the luxury of hot showers, I was reminded we were actually camping from an overheard discussion among four young girls as to whether they had removed the marshmallow stuck to their feet!

Toasting marshmallows around a campfire is a much-loved tradition and can be enjoyed by Muster goers between 4.00 pm and 9.00 am unless there’s a total fire ban. Fires must be in enclosed rings—something we didn’t have, but were given by friendly rural fire brigade volunteers doing rounds of inspection. It’s bring-your-own wood, which can be bought from roadside stalls on the way from Amamoor or off the back of a ute that tours the campsites daily. As the evening sets in, smoke from hundreds of campfires settles

You meet people here and they become good friends.

1: Crossing the creek from Poulsen’s Hill to the Muster site.

2: A Poulsen’s Hill campsite with bar.

3: Unisex Kenny-esque toilets.

4: The Muster General Store.

5: Showers on a truck—hot and welcome.

6: Poulsen’s Hill camp in the late afternoon.

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Our Muster Tim and Lee-anne Bierton, Kabra via Rockhampton Musters: 0 to Emu Creek on the Fitzroy River outside Rockhampton; it’s a lovely, quiet spot. They have a catfish derby there every year.

This is the second time we’ve been in this camper trailer. We’ve only had it since Easter this year. Normally we just take the ute and a tarp and swag. There are still a few things to learn about it—like the dew drips through the roof! I’ve always gone to race meetings in the bush and I had that down to a fine art: setting up the tarps in twenty minutes. This one takes a bit of learning to set up.

Lee-anne: We love the Muster. It’s great. It’s the people. It doesn’t matter where you go you see something different: the way camps are set up; how everyone walks past in their ‘jarmies’ going to the shower.

Tim: Everyone is so friendly: true Australian country people. You don’t feel afraid. You can walk away and leave your tent open and know it’ll be the same when you get back. The crowd is wonderful.

don’t have to go anywhere to get anything— except summer clothes!

Tim: You’re miles away from any power or anything and what they’ve done here is fantastic. The thunder boxes are cleaned everyday and they’re tidy—it’s just great. The organisers have done a wonderful job. I guess they’d have it down pat after thirty years.

There’s nothing to complain about: except the bloody hills! They could have had it on the flat ground. We might go down the hill a bit next year.

We’d definitely rope off again; it was well worth the trip down to do it. When we enquired they [the organisers] said we’d find a campsite easy, but our friends advised us to rope off.

We did and chose here [Poulsen’s Hill]. You see other people rock in [late] and think they’re going to get a place and they can’t—it’s pretty hard.

Lee-anne: We were prepared for freezing cold weather and rain because that’s what everyone told us: ‘Don’t forget your gum boots and Driza-bone’. We got here and it was stinking hot during the day and freezing cold at night.

You have to dress for Melbourne weather.

We’re country music people. I grew up with Slim [Dusty] and Reg Lindsay and others.

Charlie Pride was my mum’s favourite singer.

But, you don’t have to be a country music fan to enjoy the Muster. Brian Cadd and Russell Morris were absolutely fantastic. Even the old die-hard country fans enjoyed them—they were just dynamite. Lee-anne’s sister is here and she’s not a country fan, but she’s enjoyed it.

Tim: We’ve always been campers and we get away whenever we can. We like to go

It’s great to have a hot shower when you’re camping rather than a sponge bath. The toilets are always clean. There’s everything here, you

Lee-anne: We’ll definitely be back. We’ll bring two sets of clothes next time and see if the kids, friends and family will join us.

into the valley and the mouth-watering aroma of barbequeing meat makes the tummy rumble.

Campers are spoiled for choice with food. Many bring their own supplies, as they would for any camping trip, however there is a ‘general store’ inside the Muster precinct that sells the usual stock-up provisions like milk and bread and a few grocery items. If it’s a real break from chores you’re after, diners are spoilt for choice. Spread throughout the precinct are fast (and slow) food stalls to tempt the fussiest foodies; Indian, Thai, vegetarian, and the obligatory burgers, hot dogs and fries just to name a few.

There’s no power in the paddocks! Generators are allowed and most people respect their neighbours and don’t run them at ridiculous hours.

Those without generators listen out for a bell that signals the ice-supply ute is doing the rounds raising money for local charity. Bring your own water and top up from a water-supply truck on site.

You’d think that thousands of people crammed into a paddock attending a music festival would cause frayed tempers, highlight inconsiderate behaviour, and result in sleepless nights—not so.

There’s a camping camaraderie and unwritten code of conduct on Poulsen’s Hill: partying is done inside the event precinct; campsite music is kept low-key; neighbours make friends of each other

immediately and share whatever they have; and everybody’s gear is safe.

If you’re all tuckered out before the entertainment finishes, on the Hill just the back bass beat of the music can be heard echoing through the forest punctuated with the murmur of neighbours discussing their favourite acts of the day over a hot chocolate around the campfire.

Sensitive sleepers (such as myself) benefit from earplugs, but on waking in the wee small hours you can hear a pin drop.

Certainly Poulsen’s Hill, as I said, attracts a particular calibre of pyjama wearer. Other camping areas, put it this way, probably don’t own pyjamas let alone bring them camping; they’d be sleeping with their boots on! Alcohol is prevalent: people go to great lengths to set up their own bars complete with Bundy flags and other ‘pub’ decorations and they have a great time, but there’s rarely any nasty drunken behaviour on display.

This year the Queensland Police mounted unit wandered through the campsites chatting to folk— more to give the horses a day out in the country than to keep the peace I believe. Everyone I spoke with had never had any ‘trouble’ in camp or had any property stolen or damaged.

The Gympie Music Muster is a uniquely Australian event. The unofficial uniform code

comprises an Akubra (or country-style hat of any description), boots (preferably RM Williams or Ariat), jeans (Wrangler or Blue Dog), a blue singlet (probably Bonds), and a Driza-bone coat.

For some reason city folk that wouldn’t know the difference between a steer and a heifer feel compelled to shine up the plastic and buy a hat and silver belt buckle from one of the many retailers on site. Not that you have to fit in; there’s no peer pressure out here, it just feels… appropriate.

A narrative on the entertainment and all that is to offer once you enter the gates of the Muster precinct is the stuff of another story—possibly for another type of magazine. The Muster experience is so much more than the music; it’s really about the thousands of people who leave the comfort of homes every August to set up camp in the middle of a paddock; make new friends and show off their pyjamas in public.

Tim: We arrived on Wednesday afternoon; it took nearly six hours to get here.

Lee-anne: We’ve never been to the Muster before. We decided to come because the girls at work used to come every year and kept telling us about it. Now the kids have all grown up and the horse is in the paddock so we thought it was a good opportunity to get away.

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1: A patriotic campsite.

2: Muster main stage at night.

3: My camp on top of Poulsen’s Hill.

4: A sign marks the end of the official campsite area.

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