We met with our new friends from SV Illawarra on the jetty one morning and all rode our bikes down along the coast, parallel to the airport and then walked over a stile through a cow paddock and began following a trail through the forest and scrub. By the time we reached Muttonbird Point, we had about three minutes to ooh and aah at the view… before it began pouring with rain.
Back we trudged. Wetly. We rode back to the jetty, abandoning our plans of further adventuring. The four of us were entirely soaking. What a thrill it was to be able to throw each Small under a hot shower, while M dinghied back to Bella Luna and got everyone a dry change of clothes. He and I then had showers and all our wet and muddy stuff was bunged into the washing machine. Bliss…
Malabar. “A half day walk,” said the guidebook. Took us just over three hours or so – pretty epic views from the top of soaring cliffs, terns circling around our heads.
Once we had finally made it to Kim’s Lookout, we sat down and ate a muffin and half an apple each. It felt that we had walked soooo far – of course, walking downhill from there back to the bay where we could see Bella Luna, felt like a breeze…
Ride to Little Island.
“An easy ride,” he said. “Mostly flat all the way,” he said.
We were all off walking our bikes up hills at least twice on our way between the jetty and the ride that ended where the walk up Mt Gower begins. (We would have attempted it, but you have to do it with a guide and it costs $100 each…
We walked through a palm forest with a huge Banyan tree wending its way in amongst it and emerged on to the grass in front of Salmon Beach under the cliffs of Mt Lidgbird.
We made some rock stacks and wandered a bit further. Small DB was clambering around on a tiny island near the shore. I later discovered its name: ‘Little Island’.
“Look mama,” she said. “This stone has writing on it.”
It was a little pale coloured stone, not bigger than a fifty cent piece. She had found it on a rock ledge on the tiny island. In a neat hand, in what was obviously permanent marker, it read:
Roy 2.2.1961 – 16.6.2010
Beloved of the earth.
It was the name of my uncle, and the birthday of my dad. I spent several minutes musing on it. We put the stone back gently where Small DB had found it.
There needs to be a word for the slight level of frustration of being an early riser living in a floating cubby with three other people, two of whom would be happy not to become vertical until 9am or so. It’s impossible to be quiet in an acoustic box, but Small DB and I try if its before about 7.30am.
But there was a morning a few days ago that we knew would be the last reasonable window (as far as the tides were concerned) to visit the Herring Pools. We’d been lucky enough to be sitting near Tenille, the local tourism person, while she was having lunch in museum cafe one day – she marked all the awesome spots on the island she thought we would all enjoy, and told us about taking a group of kids to the Herring Pools.
This was enough to get M out of bed before 7am 😮 – and go with Small DB and I in the dinghy through North Bay, where we anchored in the shallows and walked to the Gulch. A sublime sunshiney morning…
We climbed around until we found the pools – they are just as the guidebook describes; “…each one is a gemlike cameo of marine biota…”. Not all of them were gemlike enough to distract Small DB from her Rubik’s cube…