YEAR 8 CAMP: 3 DAYS, 2 NIGHTS & AN UNRELENTING ONSLAUGHT OF CHAOS

It started the way all great stories do: A bus full of Year 8 students, backpacks stuffed to bursting, spirits high, and not a single clue how to pitch a tent.

Our destination? Phillip Island Adventure Resort. Our goal? Survive. Our strategy? Unclear.

Day 1: The Great Tent Debacle (and Other Nightmares)

Upon arrival, students leapt enthusiastically into tent set-up, a task that quickly descended into something between competitive origami and interpretive dance. At least 40% of tents were technically upright. Another 30% could be classified as “avant-garde housing solutions.” The rest? Unexplained modern art.

Then: the Hike. A test of endurance, resilience, and the ability to pretend you’re not dying inside. There was bonding. There was singing. There were at least seventeen serious negotiations about snack distribution ratios.

When night fell, the fire was lit and students turned their attention to the ancient art of marshmallow toasting. Some roasted them gently to a golden hue. Others produced flaming sugar meteors, waving them triumphantly like warrior trophies. The smell of burnt sugar and victory filled the air.

Then came the wide game in the dark, where students hurled themselves into the night with the stealth and grace of caffeinated rhinos. Strategies were invented. Teams were abandoned. At one point, someone declared themselves the “Night King” and sprinted in entirely the wrong direction for ten straight minutes.

Victory was never really the point. Chaos was.

Day 2: Moana Would Be Ashamed

Morning came far too early. Students emerged from tents like stunned meerkats, blinking into the cruel light of day, fueled solely by cereal dust and regret.

Then it was on to raft building — where students confidently channeled their inner Maui from Moana, shouting things like "You're welcome!" before immediately capsizing into the bay.

Some rafts actually floated (briefly). Others exploded into planks and screaming almost instantly. It was breathtaking. It was tragic. It was the stuff of legend.

Archery followed, proving that if you give Year 8 students weapons, miracles (and minor mayhem) will occur. Targets were hit. Trees were hit. Self-confidence was hit the hardest.

Hut building allowed students to test their architectural prowess with nothing but sticks, rope, and blind optimism. Some huts could’ve won design awards. Others looked like they had lost a fierce battle against a single determined possum.

Fire pancakes — a culinary experience featuring batter flung wildly into pans and results ranging from "slightly undercooked" to "pure charcoal disc". No Michelin stars were awarded, but the sheer commitment was inspiring.

That night, the trivia quiz raged. Tensions ran high. Alliances crumbled. Someone insisted Toronto was the capital of Canada with such passion that we almost believed them.

Day 3: Tired, Triumphant, and Slightly Sticky

Packing up was... a journey. Tents were peeled off the ground like reluctant barnacles. Sleeping bags refused to fit back into their original bags, causing more existential crises than the hike. At least one sock was recovered from inside a completely different student's shoe. We’re still not sure how.

The weather? Glorious — sunny, breezy, suspiciously perfect — almost as if nature itself wanted to see how far we could push human endurance without rain.

The staff? Absolute champions. Fielding questions like “Is this marshmallow safe to eat if it was on fire for 10 minutes?” without blinking. They deserve a medal. Or at the very least, a week in a luxury spa with no teenagers, no tents, and absolutely no wild games.