“It has arrived,” I proclaim enthusiastically. “Go on dad – open it! Go on dad – open it!” offers Master, unwittingly mimicking the computer mouse’s required action.

The email attachment is double-clicked with a combination of trepidation and excitement. 

Hollers and hoopla erupt – the dog retires to the corner – we have won the lotto! 

“We are so lucky,” exclaims Miss with wisdom beyond years, and a thirst for carefully planned adventure.

The lotto win remains the best $16 per night we’ve ever spent. The Wightmans are tent camping aficionados. 

On a field trip with a cohort of students in the North-East, we were caught in a torrential downpour. The kids’ tents, purchased on special, from a large national retailer were quickly flooded, with visions of floating sleeping mats etched in my memory. 

The trip was abandoned, lobbing at a nearby teachers’ residence to wait-out the rain until day break.

On return, to collect articles strewn across the campsite, my shelter remained intact; bone dry and capable of surviving an icy winter in the harshest conditions. 

It was purchased for the famous survival camp, where Katie and intrepid trekkers followed-on an incredible tradition, which defined students, created generations of friends, and provided stories for years. 

Consequently, we lay claim to be the most organised tent holidaymakers in Australia. Just ask our friends …

Freycinet National Park comprises giant sheets of granite that were once mined, bringing grandeur to buildings still standing in Hobart’s CBD. 

The Parks and Wildlife Service Tasmania website outlines the naming of the National Park: “The adjacent peninsula was initially thought to consist of a chain of islands, but this myth was dispelled during the visit of Nicholas Baudin, the French explorer, in 1802-03. The brothers Freycinet were senior officers on Baudin’s expedition, although it is unclear which one the peninsula was named after.”

Parks and Wildlife introduced formal camping grounds, providing a designated granite camping base, composting toilets, fresh water and parking bays, coupled with access to your own piece of paradise, Richardsons Beach, with unobstructed views of the Hazards. 

It is a remarkable experience and we would pay much more.

The lotto for sites at Freycinet National Park was finalised on September 14, 2018. The process for summer camping begins much earlier with entries closing July 31 strictly at 4pm.

You patiently await the draw determining your luck, like the old Saturday night Tattslotto segment, with parks staff assuming the roles of grey and beige clad government officials, introduced during a break in Hey Hey It’s Saturday. 

Ironically, I tried to bring in a similar set-up at the Bay of Fires, and more precisely, Cosy Corner. To say my then office was flooded with aggressive phone calls and letters is an understatement. 

We withstood pressure for a significant period, however, the constructive criticism wore us down, with explanations lost in the noise of anger, provoked by the notion of introducing a small fee to deliver sustainability.

Formal camping grounds are inevitable, as tiptoeing through pristine coastline whilst encountering non-bio-gradable toilet paper surprises, is no way to protect one of our most valuable assets.

Cold showers are also provided at Freycinet, however, the kids spend so much time in the water, only a quick rinse to relieve hair and crevasses of salt and sand is required. 

The national park is one of my favourite places in the world. 

It is not only an incredible landscape of unimaginable beauty, it offers a horizon I wish I could paint. 

The campsites first came to my attention when I jointly opened the rebuilt Wineglass Bay Lookout, encouraging camera crews, on a warm day, to carry equipment there and back because we knew it was an opportunity not to miss. 

I vowed to return, when time permitted.  

To dream of another place in the world costing $16 per night for a family, with beachfront bliss, stretches my imagination to the limits. 

We will enter again and may not win, but palpable anticipation will remain just like a Saturday night on the couch when we were kids. 

“Don’t forget the ant powder and EpiPen, Dad. Mum is scared of spiders and allergic to jack jumpers!” reminds a thoughtful youngster.

“Already organised; packed and stored in the usual spot,” I obsessively reassure.