There’s a certain sound to a bunch of goons arriving at Licola Wilderness Village. It’s not quiet. Cars pulling up, boots hitting gravel, backs cracking from the long journey, shouts across the way when you spot someone you haven’t seen since the last time we did this. Old mates, new faces, hugs that could be handshakes and handshakes that could be hugs. It’s good noise. It means we’re here, Camp of the Broken Road has begun.
Just what we needed.
The road in was long enough to shake off that thing we don’t talk about. Twisting through bush and valleys into the wilderness felt like a step out of regular life. That’s the point. We don’t do camp to get fancy. We do it to get real. To pull each other out of routine and land in the middle of something honest.
Everyone shows up in their own way. Some come ready to get stuck into every activity, others just want to sit near a fire and let the quiet settle in. Either’s fine. There’s space for that. TGBC isn’t about being the loudest person in the room. It’s about showing up, taking part, and having each other’s backs. Camp just gives us more room to do that.
After gathering at our cabins, greeting the new guys, the goons chipped in and got to work—marquee up, band stage sorted, fires lit. Friday night was ready to roll. Before the festivities got underway Shay welcomed everyone. This year’s camp was our biggest yet—180 goons from chapters across Australia, New Zealand, and the US. Shay reminds us of why we are here, why we do this. He tells us to try something new, step out of that comfort zone, do something you wouldn’t normally do. Most of all, “have a good fucken’ time.”
It didn’t take long to find our rhythm. A red truck rolled up on the field, parking next to the marquee, the sides flung open revealing a mobile bar. Cold beer on tap! At camp! Hell yeah! The brilliant people from Maffco Brewery and Distillery served cold frothy lager, pale ale, and porter while goons mingled, chatted, and grooved to the excellent live music. The fire roared, guys talked late into the night, stories shared, new friendships made.
The Stuff We Did
Camp isn’t about ticking boxes — it’s about having a go. And this year, there was no shortage of ways to do that. You could get your hands dirty, your brain ticking, or your feet moving. No pressure to be good at any of it. Just get involved.
Saturday came in hot. The early crew hit the trail run while others geared up for the Hard Hike. We’ll get to that in a minute. If that wasn’t your thing, you could master a chilli sauce, paint with a wine in hand, bind a book, crochet something useful, or try to meditate while surrounded by the chaos of 180 goons in the wild.
The afternoon rolled into action — Bloodbowl battles, cryptic crosswords that made your brain sweat. The Band Camp jammed, the choir harmonised. Tarte Tatin was baked. Yeah, tough guys bake too. For the more active types, we threw discs around a golf course, shot arrows, and lobbed axes.
The Hard Hike
No two ways about it — it was tough. It was the kind of climb that makes you ask yourself why you’re doing it halfway up—and then answers you at the top. The legs burned, the air got thin, and the path wasn’t always clear. But we moved. One after the other. Sometimes in silence, sometimes with encouragement, sometimes just with the grunt of effort. Not everyone made it to the top, but it wasn’t just about the end. It was about knowing we did something difficult together. Damn it was hard, but it was worth it.
The Cabin Comp
Keeping the cabins from last year together meant we had some history, camaraderie, something to play for. Donning our cabin t-shirts, emblazoned with our cabin name and logo we headed off into the breach to compete in tug-of-war, cricket ball throw, chess, and for the artists a sketch and poem were submitted for judging. By the end of the weekend Cabin 9 were crowned champions, hoisting the trophy and sipping the winner’s champagne.
Then the rain came…
The promised rain settled in on Saturday evening, but it didn’t stop us. Open Mic Night was a standout—raw and real and fun. Some belted out classics that had us foot tapping, like Tom’s rendition of Johnny Cash. Other goons got up and sang their own original tunes. The crowd had everyone’s back the whole way. Who would have thought there were so many talented musicians in this bunch of book loving men. The evening was full of movies in the gym, boardgames, and porch chats. The fabled Liar’s Dice game sprung up in the hall with some brave souls roaring into the night.
Sunday started wet and we took it easy. For some, the opportunity to slow down, read and talk on a cabin balcony was the order of the day. Unfortunately, the favoured River Flotilla didn’t go ahead this year. But there was still plenty to do with Big Bash Cricket moving to the gym, the blacksmithing demonstration proved popular even in the steady drizzle, many rounds of boardgames were had. In the afternoon four guys got up on stage to deliver a TED Talk. We heard all about coin collecting, and learnt how to master cryptic crosswords, build a pizza oven, and train your dog.
Several goons learnt the American folk-style dance Clogging, expertly taken through a routine by Josh King. After only an hour’s practice the troop performed for the whole camp and despite the lack of rhythm and timing were treated to rapturous applause.
Our last dinner was shared before we gathered into groups for a book club to discuss All the King’s Horses by Kurt Vonnegut. Of course we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to talk about a book at camp!
Why we do this.
At TGBC, we say camp isn’t about getting away — it’s about showing up. What we get out of a weekend like this doesn’t fit on a schedule. It’s not just the activities — though throwing axes and singing sea shanties sure doesn’t hurt. It’s the in-between moments. The chats while walking back from the fire. The laugh you didn’t know you needed. The quiet understanding that no matter where you’re from, or what kind of week you’ve had, here — you belong.
Friendships were forged fast. Not because we all like the same things, but because we all show up the same way. Open to trying. You meet a guy Saturday morning during paint n sip, and by Sunday night you’re singing karaoke like you’ve known each other ten years. If you came this year, you know what we’re talking about. If you didn’t — join us at the next one and find out for yourself.
Because Camp of the Broken Road isn’t just a weekend; it’s a reminder that you’re not on the road alone. And next year, the road leads back to us.
