Camped in Rollingstone, Qld we had a shower of rain during the night. (Readers please note: a shower in tropical north Queensland seems to be the equivalent of Melbourne’s annual rainfall in a matter of ten short minutes). We raced outside to drop the clears on the annexe and by the time we’d finished unrolling and zipping the rain had almost stopped. All we could do was stand and laugh because I was in a T shirt and Woody in his undies and there we were soaked to the skin and dripping, just a couple of drowned old farts.