Come Fly With Me...

We’ve been blazing a trail along the coast of Victoria and South Australia, taking in the Great Ocean Road, and very beautiful it all is too. The weather has been fantastic; a little chilly, but more than made up for by the same bright bright sunshine we experienced in Sydney, with the result that everything seems technicoloured. Last year I bought my first ever pair of polarised sunglasses, and was amazed by the intensity of sand, sea and sky. I even informed Husband that I might just live the rest of my life wearing them, everything looked so much nicer... Well, along this part of the coast of Australia at least, you don’t need polarised sunglasses to make everything look gorgeous – it just is.

Our plan today was to go see the 12 Apostles (I’m Catholic, how could I not?), and then take in a little-known attraction called The Otway Fly. That was our ‘plan’.

We had not, however, taken into account the following:

1. The possibility that Boy #1's knee would have a disagreement with the paving stones outside the 12 Apostles visitor centre, necessitating a great deal of screaming, crying and shivering, a trip back to the car for extensive first aid equipment (an antiseptic wipe and a couple of Winnie the Pooh plasters), and medicinal biscuits all round.

2. The fact that the subsequent walk down the paved path would take place at snail’s pace due to Boy #1’s hideous injuries.

3. The visiting Japanese tourists wanting to sit down next to Boy #1 and take his photo (have I mentioned before that my children are gorgeous? I have?), and Boy #1’s rather over-dramatic reaction of jumping up screaming, and running to me 5 yards away, before taking another 5 minutes to calm down. (To be fair to Boy #1, if I was 4 years old, and some strange man sat down next to me and put his arm along the back of the bench I was sitting on, it would probably spook me too...).

4. Boy #2’s insistence that riding in buggies is for wimps. Not only was he not going to ride in it, in fact, but he was going to push it – all by himself. Preferably into the nearest group of strangers (mostly yet more Japanese tourists), and if at all possible, into the back of the legs of whomever was taking the group photo.

So, the first part of our day took a little - longer than we had anticipated, and by the time we had reached the Otway Fly and had something to eat, it was gone 1.00pm. (I later learnt that Husband had originally planned on leaving there for our next destination around that time. If you have visited or live in Australia yourself, you will understand at this point that we are both struggling a little with the concept of the distances involved here. Oh, yes, and with the fact that everyone actually sticks to the speed limit. Which, by the way, is no bad thing - we're just not used to it.)

Now, the Otway Fly (check the link if you think you might ever be in the area, it’s really worth seeing), is meant among other things to give visitors the chance to commune with nature in a peaceful and relaxed setting.

Not today, it didn’t. Well, not with us there, at any rate.

Where can I start? Perhaps with the discovery of the Dinosaur walk that prompted loud squeals and shouts of “See that one Mama? See? See?? That one is REAAAAAAALLLLY aggressive. Look out for his claws!” Or perhaps with Boy #2’s shouts of “Wheeeeeeee!”, as he raced down the hill. Or maybe, the peace was finally broken by the rattle & hum of the buggy’s wheels on the metal grating of the Fly (if you haven’t checked the link, bet you’re curious now, huh?), that alerted not just other people but all wildlife to our arrival (I think we saw a total of around 2 birds). Or could it have been Boy #1’s shouts demanding to be carried up the rather steep hill on the way back? Well, you can’t blame him. If I could have found someone to carry me, I would have gone for it. As it was, I was too busy pushing his younger brother up like a pasha in push-chaired splendour. As I told him when I could catch my breath again, and he wanted to know why no-one would carry him, sometimes life just isn’t fair...

The woman at the ticket office had informed us the walk would take an hour. Two hours later we emerged, tired out but unbowed, only for Boy #2 to repeat his older brother’s earlier mishap with his knee on a bigger, bolder, and much bloodier scale – and of course this time the car (containing the replacement first aid kit) was 10 minutes walk away.

All together now....Come fly with me...