27th May 2017 – a little late, but better than never!

So off to Perth we toddle with Miss G, Mr D and Master 2 for a few days of post camping R&R.

The last hurrah was a trip to Rottnest Island – home of the selfie quokka.  So, armed with my extensive, tight arse tourism brain I set about researching the ultimate in stingy trips to the iconic island.  And weren’t we rewarded.  Combining the Entertainment Book with the weekly Tight Arse Tuesday special the boat trip run, we saved a staggering 50% off our trip across the water to snorkelling and quokka heaven.

Packing up we found the cheapest parking possible (of course) and headed off for a coffee before boarding – perhaps not such a great idea considering it was a bit rocky and we had consumed a few wines the night before.  But we managed to keep it down and stepped off the boat and onto the Rottnest Wharf into a gorgeous January day armed with snorkel and mask, an abundance of food and beverage and a determination like no other to get close enough to the furry friends for a great selfie.

Given we had felt a wee bit queasy on the way over, we popped into the island chemist for some special tablets and kiddie anti seasick lollipops for the small fry – just in case. We were taking our hosts to dinner that night so wanted to make sure they had great appetites!

After planning our day we began the walk to our first destination – Bathurst Lighthouse and Pinky Bay via the museum.  What was amazing first and foremost was the incredible history of the island – and sadly – the disgraceful history of how white man treated indigenous people both on the island and in the jails.  It didn’t sit well with me that the prison on the island, which had been home to such despicable atrocities toward indigenous people, had been refurbished into a hotel where guests spent the night, probably thinking it was funny they were in an old prison.  Something about it felt really off to me so I would never stay there, however, a trip to the museum is a must and we were delighted with what we learned.

We were surprised as to just how many little cottages were on the island – we had thought it to be a small place, but there are hundreds of cottages spread out across the island all in the style of the first settler.  And you can’t just decide to go and stay in one – for starters you need to win lotto to pay for it and the cottages have waiting lists – so plan ahead a few years if you want to go there – alternatively you could buy a boat and sail over there.

So, onwards to the quokka as the kids had been talking about them for a solid six weeks. And the little fuzzballs didn’t disappoint.  Cutest little rodents EVER, and very well-trained in the art of the selfie.  The little balls of fluffy gorgeousness were everywhere, but of course the fry had to be reminded not to touch them – who knows what diseases they had – probably none but always better to be safe than chewed on by a quokka!

Diving into the water was a shock to the system – utterly freezing but so amazingly clear. The fry and I were suitably impressed given we have glided over the spectacular Great Barrier Reef in our own backyard.  Wanting more, we opted for another wander over to the next snorkelling spot – The Basin.

Another sensational, but bone chilling snorkel accompanied by some serious current of which ensured we got our daily dose of exercise fighting it, Miss 12 and I were lolling about on the surface before spotting a shark and deciding it was time to get out of the water!  Now, I have snorkelled with sharks before – I have even patted one from behind – but that was a white tip reef shark and it was asleep and wouldn’t have attacked me anyway.  I have also had one of them slip over the top of me into view whilst diving – but again – a white tip has no interest in my bubble blowing.

Being on the water and unable to Google the species and knowing Mr Great White was a fan of the area, we double finned back to the beach.  After a fill of home-made salad rolls, each with their own name on it, cake and chippies (all brought from home of course!) it was time to head back to the main village.

Time for parenting nightmare 101 in which we lost the kids.  Yes, we lost our children – as did the Aunty.  The whole thing was rather funny in the end and I have to say, I was incredibly impressed and proud of Miss 12 and Miss 10 as they had actually been listening intently to the conversation regarding our plans for the day earlier on.

Our second stop was the Basin and during the walk from Pinky Bay to The Basin we had discussed taking the road less travelled back to the jetty for the return to Perth.  The fry were listening – it involved taking the third road on a three-way choice through the centre of the island.

So, meandering, as us old farts do after our engaging moment with Mr Great White (it was probably a Nurse Shark which couldn’t have given a continental about us – but hey, as I said I couldn’t Google it), we changed our mind and took the middle road. Halfway along I couldn’t see the fry so I checked with the Husband and Miss G.  Nup, negative on the little people.  Shit, shit, shit.  Where have they gone?  So Miss G and the Husband took the low road, I went back along the middle road and still no dice.  All I remember is the conversation so, with the fabulousness of mobile technology I advise the other two so-called responsible adults I am power walking the third road back to see if I can find them.

Of course Miss 12 has spent far too much time on Insta and run her battery down so I couldn’t call her to find out in the words of Tourism Australia – “where the bloody hell are you?”

Almost back to the jetty and STILL no sign.  Shit, shit, shit turns to fuck, fuck, fuck  and all of a sudden my mobile rings and a female voice, bathed in total distain, sarcastically questions,  “Hello Miss N? Hi, this is “blah blah” from the Visitor Centre, I have your daughters here …” YEAH!  They knew what to do – they went straight to the visitor centre and told them their crap parents had lost them!  Hallelujah!  Let me tell you people – this is the most important parenting tool next to not losing them in the first place – tell them where to go and what to do if they get lost – or their parent lose them!  Every cloud has a silver lining – thank God the cloud we lost them on was an island!

They were totally freaked I was going to be stark raving furious, but to be honest, we’d actually lost them and I was so proud they had done exactly the right thing I couldn’t be mad.  I was PO’d about Miss 12 running her phone down – we sorted that one out quickly though and that will never happen again.  They had heard our conversation two hours previous, lagged behind us, got to the three-way turn without being able to see us, discussed the previous said conversation and decided to go the way they had heard we were thinking of going.  Upon the realisation we were not there, they ploughed on, at pace, to the Visitor Centre and dialled the number mummy had made them memorize from age 5.  To us – this was a parenting WIN.

By this stage vodka was necessary prior to departure, so a travelcalm and a few voddies and a lollipop for the kids we were ready to rock it back to Perth and chow down on a good old Aussie, suburban Chinese meal in one of the dodgier parts of Perth.

The next morning was departure day, time to say our farewells to our trusty steed who had delivered us over 5,500 kilometres across the country on our dream trip across the wide brown land as a family.  There was a tear in the eye as we farewelled the old girl, determined to book her again on our next adventure – Darwin to Perth via Broome and some Whale Sharks.

Bundling up our worldly possessions into our K-Mart bag lady bags, we farewelled our friends in Perth and gave everyone a good laugh at check in – an even bigger one in the Qantas club – seriously – who are those BOGANS?

They were the SJP’s – returning from seven weeks of an experience of which we can never really explain how much of an impact it had on us as individuals and as a family. So I’m glad I wrote about it so we can forever remember it – as truly and without sarcasm (abnormal for me I know) a family experience of a lifetime, crossing our exceptional, beautiful, lucky country – Australia.