Going Walkabout...

A couple of weeks ago Linton broke her little toe. At least it certainly looked like she did. The purple and black mash of skin where her toe was supposed to be gave her no end of grief or pain and curtailed all of her running and walking activity for too long. Flip flops were her only footwear. This momentary blip in her ability to walk comfortably, reminded us both of just how reliant we have become on our own two feet and just how far we have come and gone - walking.

One of the much anticipated joys of coming to Oz was going to be the temporary and somewhat experimental freedom gained by not owning or operating a car. We had chosen to take this year of opportunity to try, among many other things, and live without the many conveniences and expenses that owning a car brings. No insurance. No gas. No parking. No dings, dents or depreciation. No nothing. We figured not driving a car was going to, in fact, make us money! And in the process we would gain the less tangible but nonetheless satisfying perks of less personal responsibility for global warming, better fitness, less traffic-induced stress, as well as the chance to “really explore the city” on foot. Well, after nine plus months of this experiment and with the aid of this blogger’s microscope –I would have to say that the jury is still out on the opportunity costs – the measurement of the relative wins versus losses - associated with our lives as pedestrians.


Without a doubt, walking has at least allowed us to retain some form of fitness. Linton has done much better with respect to being active, but the walking to and from the university everyday – about 5 kms – has at least provided me with the feeling that I, too, was burning off something. In fact, I love it just for the opportunity to think about things. Perhaps I am burning off some form of mental clutter along with last night's pot roast. Indeed, many a blog entry or essay paragraph has been written in my head as I traipsed down Rathdowne Street.


Along with the fitness, the will to walk has become something of an accepted “given” every time we open the front door and this too has been a bit of a welcome revelation. Back home in Toronto, our first inclination was always to drive because it was faster and more convenient in terms of carrying or carting all of those important things we must carry or cart. In reality, when you don’t own a trunk, you can still make do, just fine. Our backpacks have become a permanent part of our wardrobe. In the past few days, I have been seen walking the streets of Carlton carrying potted herbs, groceries, scooters, a Christmas tree and an occasional kid. I like to believe that the tired arms, legs and back that exist as a result of all this slow, physical, bipedal transport is not only getting me in better shape but also somehow making me a better person in some sort of strange, personal Karma-like way. There’s got to be some pay off beyond tighter buns and a cleaner world. Doesn't there?!


The kids have also done really well with the walking. There have been very few whining moments where one has exclaimed “I wish we had a car” and indeed the six or seven rental cars we've rented for holidays have probably mitigated that somewhat. Yeah, I guess walking to Sydney wasn't really in the cards! There are still the occasional parent-assisted moments, but for the most part we walk and walk and walk wherever we need to go. We also talk while we walk and I wonder about this “found” moment in our lives as well. Can you truly have the same type of conversation with your kid while you are in the front seat and they are in the back? Is it still possible to connect in a conversation while you are fiddling with the radio, planning your route, and trying to turn left? Is the pace of driving and the life that comes with it just not that conducive to having a thoughtful conversation with your son? Linton and I have had some incredible conversations just by strolling over to the post office! The investment of time involved in walking seems to come with a most sublime bonus - the opportunity to communicate.


However, recently I have begun to notice a few ways that walking may have limited our Australian experience. We bought the boys scooters for Christmas to help in their ability to wend our way around Melbourne and while they have certainly had the desired effect, I have noticed a couple of things about them in terms of affecting our walks. For one, the boys are now often far ahead of us and thus the opportunity to talk is not as available. Secondly, the scooters actually allow the kids to go farther, faster. Now this is mostly a bonus in terms of covering ground, but it has also got me wondering if not owning a car was in fact the best way to go. How much of this great city have we missed because it was just that much too far away? Would we have ventured out more often, every weekend in fact, to see what lurked beyond the next suburb? Would the relative costs of running an old junker up and down the streets of Melbourne been outweighed by the benefits of seeing and doing more when our old legs just couldn’t bear the thought of pounding the pavement one more time? Does life with a car make that life richer or poorer, in fitness or in wealth of experience?


My theories are about to be put to the test in another way as we have finally got around to sprucing up two of our landlord’s bikes. They are nothing fancy and indeed the seat on mine is hard enough to make granite look comfy. Nonetheless, Linton and I hope to soon set out upon the bike trails of Melbourne to see what else we can see. Would we have got around to walking these same trails? Probably not. Will our Melbourne experience be changed as a result of seeing a few more sites? Maybe. Would I recommend to someone else in a similar situation to get themselves a car? Probably. And I guess, having said that, my verdict is in.

And yet maybe after having made a choice to walk this year, I shouldn’t second guess it, but rather enjoy all that we have learned as a result. The car and its accompanying lifestyle, for better or worse, await us when we get home. Perhaps, my only hope is that we might leave it in the driveway, once or twice, in honour of all that we have learned - by walking in Australia.

The Australian Enigma

The other day I was thinking about what I might say when we return home and someone asks me, “So, what is Australia really like?” And I realized that in that brief, maybe awkward moment, I wasn’t really sure what I might really want to say. There are the obvious quips and quick generalizations which keep the conversations light and short but they would also betray the truth – or at least, my version of the truth that I had lived. Of course, in general the commentary will be complimentary and cordial. That is the truth. This country and its culture have fit us like a new glove, comfortable, exciting, but maybe with a slight pinch or two due to its “newness”. However, in a slightly longer, slightly more in depth conversation – say, like in a blog entry - I might be tempted to try to explain some of the more interesting, puzzling, and maybe even frustrating parts of Australian society that a “man of leisure” like myself has had the opportunity to notice as I strolled from café to library and back again. Perhaps, by laying out my muddled facts, like the dregs of a latte in my well worn coffee cup, I might see new and clearer reason for some of those things “Aussie” which continue to perplex.

I would like to begin by saying that I really know very little about this country . For some, that admission alone should give me pause before going on and revealing just how ignorant I am. On the other hand, I would also propose that the majority of us base a lot of what we believe on a few sketchy facts that represent the sum total of “jack” – in the big picture and vulgar vernacular. She looks thin, she must be obsessive. He smokes, he must be a jerk. That kid’s a brat, his parents must not care. We all do it every day. Assuming we know something about which we know nothing. However, I have lived in Australia for almost nine months, we have travelled and read extensively, the newspaper gets dissected daily, the news comes into our home nightly, we can begin to count some Australians as friends…I think we are at least allowed and maybe even qualified to have an opinion about the country and its citizens. It is an outsider’s opinion granted, which, for many reasons may be totally irrelevant or perhaps, the most relevant of all. So, if I am in fact asked the question, “What are Australians really like? What will I say…

Let me begin by saying that I have found parts of Australian society quite conflicted. By that I mean that there seems to be so much and so many in this country that stand in direct counterpoint to another. Let me start with attitudes toward Britain. There is an obvious love-hate conversation going on here. The Governor-General seems to be an office that is given great regard and is currently held by a bit of a stuffy, older white woman. Fine. Yet, there is also a fairly serious conversation going on about Australia doing away with its ties to England and truly going it alone as a republic. In general, history has imbued this country with colonial ties in language, government, food, what side of the road to drive on, etc. and yet to listen to the average Aussie, anything to do with “the Poms” is to be ridiculed and beaten like a medal count at the Olympics. But to say the same kind of thing about "their princess" Mary, a commoner from Tassie who married into the Danish throne, would probably not be "cricket". I say, if you truly want to get rid of something like the monarchy, you should do what we do in Canada and simply ignore it altogether. And while on the topic of government, I do find it quite “cool”, in a slightly teeny-bopper way, that the current Minister of the Environment is the former lead singer of Midnight Oil. Now, if we could just get Gord Downie to run for office back home.

And then there’s the fashion. Apparently, Australia has some of the most sought after clothes designers in the world – Wayne Cooper is huge - practically forcing fashionistas like Paris Hilton to travel all the way to Melbourne just to buy a dress or ten. And yet, whilst walking down Swanston Street, I have never seen more strangely dressed people in my life. I know, I am mostly referring to the under 30 set here and in great danger of sounding as out of step as I think they are; however, the style is a sort of grungy Goodwill meets faded surf shop for the guys and a Barbie meets tacky vintage lingerie store for the girls. And make sure it’s tight! I exaggerate to a point, but there is still nothing remotely good looking about 4 piercings, 5 tattoos, greasy hair cut and gelled to look like an electrified mop top, skin tight black jeans, a fading Billabong singlet and a pair of $5 thongs. On the arm of this GQ wannabe are often women with a similar number of tatts, some bizarre form of restrictive leather footwear travelling halfway up their leg, in a pouffy dress that might just cover the fact that they are wearing underwear while pushing up and out all or what little bust there is making sure that the brightly coloured bra straps are defiantly displayed. Did I mention that both of these paragons of appearance often accentuate their distinctive look with a well-placed ciggy and a can of Jack Daniels? I create a caricature of the extremes but not by much on some Saturday night tram rides.

Which brings me to another area of complete mystification - the Australian attitude toward drinking. It’s an area where I wonder if they are willfully trying not to connect the dots. The legal age to buy alcohol is 18 though there is seemingly nothing wrong with younger people drinking – in the park, on the train, on the street. While they’re at it graffiti, bar brawls, and general hooliganism seems also to be a requirement. A recent statistic in the paper announced that Australian kids are drinking 8 more litres per year per kid of coolers, (they call them alco-pops – no wonder!) than the next closest country, England. This would also put them at 12 more litres per year than Canadian kids. There are huge issues in the club areas of Melbourne with the clubs and drunken violence. There is a sense of entitlement surrounding high school kids and their breaks where the media-fuelled expectation is that the kids just need to blow off a little steam. Behaving like a “bogan”, “hoon” or “larrikin” is almost a condoned rite of passage. Public service ads in the media are some of the hardest hitting I have ever seen and but to little effect. There is a bottle shop in every pub and on every block – so alcohol can be more convenient. The pro sports teams and their athletes condone a lifestyle of play hard, party hard – so alcohol is more popular. I had no idea that cricketers were the life of the party. Not a week goes by where there isn’t another high profile athlete getting in a brawl, crashing a car, or doing something ridiculous after a few cocktails. Perhaps because the mainstream media is our main source of information and it tends to focus only on the negative angle, we are immune from hearing another side of the debate and yet, in my view, they are just paying cheap lip service to the issue and its increasingly ill effects will never go away in the land of “No worries” until alcohol is seen to be a privilege for adults and not a right for any and all who’ve had a hard day or just passed grade 12.

I have the same opinion about the popularity of sports betting here. Maybe I am willfully naïve to the amount Canadians drop at the casino, on Pro Line or around the poker table on a Saturday night; but again, I see Australia trying to be all things to all people and doing neither well. We will endorse gaming and betting and casinos, inheriting the inevitable crime that comes along with that, and then we will wring our hands when families are destroyed by gambling addictions. Hopefully a few billboards and PSAs on TV will convince the masses to do the right thing. Unfortunately, like Ontario, once the government gets hooked up to this seemingly endless supply of funds, can you ever pull the plug? Better to just stop being so uptight, let the people govern themselves, and pay the addicted gamblers back with a better road to drive home on, right?

Indeed, there seems to be a deeply entrenched concern for retaining an Australian’s freedom to be themselves - individuals choosing to live well and prosper with the land – strong and independent all the way. I think they model themselves more after the Americans in this way. However, as in the states, this attitude does not easily lend itself to developing a few more caring and egads(!) socialist policies. Abortion laws are years behind Canada while paid maternity leave is something they are just starting to consider. They say no to nuclear power but are willing to sell all of their uranium to the Chinese. They are a nation of 22 million and yet they have the 10th largest military in the world! They have lost 10 soldiers in Afghanistan to our 110. They are in a 12 year period of drought with some of the most sun days of anywhere in the world, and yet the government is having trouble creating any comprehensible incentive plan for people to convert to solar power. The area, as we have so tragically seen, is prone to bushfires and yet people are allowed to build and live in homes without any insurance! The reservoirs are at 30% capacity and yet no one wants to take on the responsibility of paying for alternatives like a desalination plant. There is this frustrating dichotomy of life views “down under” that has created some bizarre and untenable extremes. While the media chases champion surfers at Bondi under the shadow of the Opera House – drunk kids fight outside strip clubs fuelled by designer drinks made by the companies their heroes play for. Can Australians have it both ways?

Please don’t get me wrong. Coming from a Canadian society that seemed to make me tense just walking out the door, Melbourne is a breath of fresh air. There is none of the keeping-up-with-the-Joneses feel to living where we do and I think it continues to get easier to meet people and talk to people than in Canada – though maybe that’s because we are the foreigners with the strange accent. Or maybe it just feels more relaxed because we are. Whatever the reason, it remains an interesting study in societies when you are allowed to compare the two. If anything, I might even chock it all up to the differences between our geography and climate. Thus, even if we or they wanted to adopt some of each other’s attitudes or mores, the weather or land might somehow have something to say about it. I can imagine how hard it might be to utter “no worries, mate” when it’s dark and 20 below in the middle of February. In light of all of this, Canada becomes an enigma as well. No more perfect or balanced about many of the same issues. I guess what is really frustrating for this cold Canadian, so ready to embrace a new, better and warmer culture is that when the sun, sand, and water are so perfect all the time – one wonders naively why the people part can’t be as well.

Expanding our Horizons in a Digital Age

One of my courses this semester is all about using the web and IT in order to better teach to a new age of student. It is fascinating stuff and really challenging me to re-consider everything I do in and out of the classroom in terms of connecting to the kids in a way that is all about “learning to learn” instead of being “programmed to learn”. This is the stuff that I really want and need in order to move my own pedagogical practices forward and yet, the more I get into it, the more I realize that in terms of real computer savvy, I have already been left far, far behind.

One of the articles I am reading talks about the new “informational economy” as being “divided between people who are valuable to the network and people who are not” and where “innovation and flexibility are seen as key to productiveness and competitiveness – valuable people are, as the author argues, “Self-programmable labour…who have learnt how to learn, and are able to continue learning and adapting throughout their careers”. There is much here that I have already seen and appreciate in terms of which way the world is heading, both for my own career as well as the lives of my students, and I ignore this trend at the peril of soon being unable to speak the same language as the people with whom I share the classroom.

Another article described life in the 21st century as it relates to IT this way: some of us exist as natives in the world of computers and the internet while the rest are immigrants. The natives, like Colin and Alex, are born into the world and know nothing else. The use of computers is like breathing, natural and with no thought to the other options – like, not breathing. For the immigrants, we know another world - the world before computers, where we relied upon different approaches and techniques to learning, sharing information, etc. And while we may know, embrace and function effectively in the world of computers, we will never be able to see or breathe as “naturally” as the native. Seen from the perspective of learning a second language versus being raised as a native speaker, the analogy seems to fit very well.

And so, as an immigrant to the land of IT, though now wanting to know more all the time, I am faced with the daunting challenge of trying to re-program much in the way that I teach and have held so previously in high regard in terms of effective practice. It is very tough slogging because it forces one to reject much of the bedrock stuff that defined your personal and professional philosophies in favour of something that you haven’t seen or experienced in action. To continue with my own analogy, I am trying to learn how to breathe another way.

Personally, with respect to our approach to parenting – for some a topic more taboo than sex or income – we have struggled with respect to “electronics” in trying to find a balance with the boys that acknowledges and respects their rights and interests while at the same time limiting what they see or play and how long they do it. It is a constant battle for control with the computer itself never offering any advice of its own. A mere innocent in the whole transactional debate, the laptop and internet simply wait and wait, knowing one of us or maybe all of us will crack - scurrying for control of the mouse and uttering some pathetic defence like “I just want to check my email!” or “I just need to win this level!” We’re all addicted to a certain degree.

Then there is all of the current “literature” around the issue of whether or not the use of the internet and computers is harming our ability to read, write and for all intents and purposes, think. In Australia anyway, you can’t go a couple of days without reading some “expert’s” op-ed hand wringing about how the youth of today are being “dumbed down” by their obsessive and unrestricted use of the world wide web. I do not necessarily disagree. Yet, there are many others who argue that we are reading more than any generation prior thanks to the web and the ability to be exposed to more ideas and writing and to view it all with a more critical eye has only been enhanced by our time online.

All of which forces me to reflect further on the value of traveling abroad with children. Lint and I often try to imagine what all of this travel will leave etched in the minds of our kids. Anything? The right things? Will there be things that they have learned through this experience that they might not have gained simply by “logging on” back home in TO? It’s hard to say. What do any of us remember about being six or nine? And, given the trend, is this experiential attitude the right one to try to foster when all around us the world seems to be satisfying itself by staying at home and dialing up their own reality online. Actually, I know the answer – at least, the right one for us. But just like the theory around the natives and the immigrants, is our need to see the world more a legacy of an “immigrant” generation? Are the natives really restless? Or is this digital age simply a safer way to know less about more without ever leaving the warm, comforting glow of your monitor? At the very least, I hope our guys are being shown at least one more way, though perhaps old-fashioned, of learning to learn.

Tasmania Day 4 - Hobart and then Home

Hobart is a very pretty city that feels a bit like Halifax or a much smaller Sydney - and with a ton of history around every corner. We stayed at the Grand Chancellor hotel across from the main harbour and the view across the harbour and out toward the ocean was spectacular. In fact, while admiring said view, I happened to notice a big, black brutish looking boat and wondered...could it be? Sure enough the one, the only Sea Shepherd (aka Steve Irwin) was docked right in front of us, fresh from ramming Japanese whaling boats. It was great to get a look at this infamous boat in the somewhat rusted out flesh. Whether or not you agree with their tactics or politics, seeing the boat up close impressed upon me the courage and conviction of the people who would willingly drive their relatively small boat into another much larger one in the Antarctic sea. The gouges in the side of the boat told the violent tale. They were in Hobart to raise money for supplies and to find a shipyard to repair the hull. We really wanted to take a tour of the ship, but it didn't work out. Still, this was a great teachable moment with the kids.

When we arrived in Hobart, the only thing we really had on the agenda was a decent seafood meal and we found one at the Drunken Admiral right across the street from our hotel. The awesome decor is intended to feel like below decks on a 19th century schooner and the food was fantastic. As the boys checked out the great surroundings, Lint loved her hot rock salmon with a glass of Tasmanian pinot grigio and I managed to scarf down the biggest bucket of mussels I had ever seen with a local beer Boags, St. George. My only complaint was that there was not enough bread for dipping! We rolled out of there content to start the real touring in the morning.

Hobart is known for its Saturday morning market in an area known as Salamanca, and after a decent brunchy breakfast on the pier and a quick swim in the pool, we checked out and drove ourselves down to the market. Though it wasn't Saturday there was still lots to see and buy and while wandering around, we managed to load up on books, beer coolers and some killer coffee. A little more walking and we found oursleves in a place called Battery Park, where cannons used to defend the port. Today the cannons have been replaced by a lovely park with a really cool climber shaped like a sailboat. It reminded us, yet again, that a) Australia has the best parks and b) in the midst of all the great sightseeing, kids still need to have a good ol' play. We practically had to drag them off the thing.

With a couple more hours before we needed to get to the airport, we decided to head back to the car and then drive to the top of Mount Wellington which towers over Hobart offering unforgettable views. On the way up there were several hairpin turns and moments of playing chicken with the cars coming down the mountain - as no one wanted to go too close to their side of the road. I will admit to having a tighter than normal grip on the wheel as this was definitely as high as I have ever driven in a car. By the time we got to the top we were 1.3 kms above sea level!

Everywhere you looked you could see for miles and miles and vertigo, for some of us, was definitely on the menu. The kids frolicked like they were on the beach and not in the clouds and we marvelled at just how high we were. There were comparisons to the CN Tower or the top of Whistler but this was more like airplane height. The camera was firing everywhere as Linton and I wrestled it from each other trying to get the best shot. I'm not sure the pics do it justice but this might have been the single most impressive sight of our trip so far. After another white kuckle ride and few more games of chicken, we were safely back at the bottom and from there we whisked our way out to the airport to catch Virgin Blue, flight number 327 back "home" to Melbourne.

In just four and a bit days we had seen so much of a place that we never thought we would get to - and it had been incredible. Tasmania was yet another reminder of the powerful mantra that has been so much a part of our year - no regrets. Thus, my only regret about this trip is that we had not taken it sooner.

Tasmania Day 3 - Wineglass Bay to Hobart

Maybe the place we had been told to check out "whilst" in Tasmania (Australians use whilst a lot) was Wineglass Bay in the Freycinet National Park. About 45 minutes south of Bicheno, near Coles Bay, Freycinet is another mecca for hikers of all ages and abilities. That was good for us - because though we were all keen, the wheels could come off for any one of us at any given moment. We were getting into the hiking as a family, but one always needs to gauge the route selection with time of day, food in the belly, food in the pack, and just what you could deliver along the way in terms of highlights. Fortunately, we got some very useful ranger help at the visitors centre, (along with a fetching bucket hat for Col) and decided to do a 3km hike up to a lookout. Depending on how that went, we would then decide to hike down to the beach at Wine glass Bay. All things were dependent upon the boys, but both were in good form and keen for the adventure - in the parking lot, anyway.

The path itself was smooth, but the grade was steep enough and very quickly we realized that we would be climbing up and over a significant hill/mountain. After about 20 minutes of walking/climbing we rested and looked back over the parking lot and Coles Bay. The view was already amazing and it would have been okay to turn around right there. But there was the lookout above us and the boys were psyched - so up we went. Ten more minutes of significant work and we were at the lookout which offered an incredible view of the bay on the other side of the ridge. The lookout was quite busy and it was hard to commune with the vista while having to sidestep a dozen or so other people there for their own photo op. However, we were also hungry so we tucked into part of our lunch away from the madding crowd.

Again, we had the chance to call it a day right then and there but the beach was beckoning and the fact that at least for awhile we would be working with gravity was a serious selling point. Though there wasn't much selling. Soon all four us were scrambling our way down a steep but well worn rocky track while I entertained nightmares of having to do it in reverse with Allie on my back. The less than enthusiastic hello grunts of the sweaty people we passed on their way up didn't help in that regard.

25 minutes later and we were digging our toes into another of this country's most spectacular beaches. The great thing about this one was the fact that we had, in effect, worked to get here. It was pristine and gorgeous without a parking lot or a row of tacky surf shops to be seen and I loved the fact that the boys were now at an age to make this kind of discovery possible. We spent most of an hour lunching and playing in the sand with an extra little excursion to explore the rocky shoreline. Then, just as we were turning for home, someone on the beach noticed a gaggle, pack, or school of dolphins swimming off shore. They surfaced a few times as we madly tried to take a photo but then they were gone and we left resigned to this memory being stored simply, as a memory.

The trek back up was in fact, pure joy. Once the hill began to get a little steeper, I engaged Allie in a running series of non-sensical knock knock jokes that propelled us back up and over the offending ridge in record time, with nary a piggy back or a shoulder ride to be seen. Both boys were heroic and I think genuinely proud that they had knocked this "bad boy" off. Only one minor wipe out marred the rest of our return to the car and as I signed out of the day walk book, I noticed we were only 20 minutes beyond the return time I had guessed at on the way up. Given all of the potential for an abridged or longer hike, the fact that we were all safely back at the car within a reasonable timeframe made me feel like we almost knew what we were doing. Such satisfaction immediately bred thoughts of future hikes and canoe trips as a family. I truly hope so. And with that we tumbled into the car and headed for Hobart, two twisty but spectacular hours of driving away. This place, this Tasmania, continues to offer us the new and the spectacular, day after amazing day!

PS - While we were in Tasmania, there was a minor earthquake (4.6) 200 kms outside of Melbourne that rattled windows a bit. We were in Taz and didn't feel it. Then yesterday while we were sitting at home, Linton and Colin said they thought they had felt the house shaking a bit and sure enough we heard on the news that there had been another tremor (4.5) or what they are calling an aftershock. Given the fact that they have not had one, let alone two, tremors of this size in more than thirty years and combined with the record heat, bushfires and the record amount of rain last August, we are starting to feel like we've jinxed the place! Never a dull weather moment in the land of Oz!

Tasmania Day 2 - Launceston to Bicheno

Launceston is like Barrie, only nicer and and with hills. Situated at the end of a very long fjord-like river emptying into the Bass Strait, the city is set on rolling hills and is second only to Hobart in size. Walking the streets last night looking for good Chinese food, which we found, I was again impressed with the way Australia's smaller cities and towns are so clean, vibrant, and seemingly "economic-downturn" free. This was a place to raise your kids, walk to the corner store, wave at your neighbour and feel as if everything was indeed right in the world.

Our second day's agenda had not really materialized by the time we had checked out, but Linton had read about a "gorge" kind of place in the middle of town with a chairlift and a cafe - enough said! Upon arrival we were stunned by the sudden beauty. Tucked at the end of a non-descript street the Launceston gorge is a bizarre but wonderful combination of touristy kitsche and outdoor activity. A suspension bridge, chairlift, walking trails, lake, swimming pool and cafe combine together to make a perfect place to spend a few hours outdoors with kids.

After some thick toast and cocoa puffs, we boarded the very rickety and very high chairlift and began to creep our way across the gorge. This thing claims to have the longest single span of any chairlift in the world - I might add the longest and the scariest. As the chairlift was almost 40 years old, I was sure we were only one or two revolutions away from plummeting onto the rocks below - especially as we passed some very large bikers in the chairs heading the other way.

Safely on the other side, we visited with a few resident wallabies and skinks while negotiating which paths to partake in. After a wonderful lookout and a wobbly walk across a suspension bridge, we waved goodbye to the gorge and Launceston and set our sights on Bicheno and Wineglass Bay about a two hour drive away. Once again we patted ourselves and the kids on the back for finding and enjoying a natural, outdoor activity. That may sound a bit weird, but we continue to be pleased with the way the kids have embraced our travels and have found fun away from the usual distractions. It is always more interesting and exciting when you feel like they are running with you versus being dragged.

After a very rare wrong turn which found us having lunch in a playground in a place called Swansea, we picked up a few groceries and headed north to Bicheno and our lodgings for the night. As luck would have it, the more campier retreat we thought we were staying in, turned out to be a much nicer resort with just maybe the best view of any place we had yet stayed in Australia. It was high fives all around as we soaked up the view, the pool, the table tennis room and an incredible beach, complete with its very own penguin tour.

Not content to simply soak up the great spot however, we drove back into town to check out the local blow hole which turned out to be a fabulous decision. This thing was amazing. Huge swells would pound into the shoreline, travelling down a narrow chute in the rock, and then explode out the end. You could walk right up to it and be drenched by the towering spray. We weren't quite that bold - something to do with dad's vice-like grip on their arms - but the kids had fun running away from the water as it raced back into the sea. This was nature teaching them how amazing it could be and truly one of my favourite Australian family moments so far.

The night was stunning and we took turns back at the resort wandering the fenceline by the beach under a gorgeous full moon looking and listening for the little penguins making their nightly return from a day's fishing. There we were, on the very eastern edge of Tasmania, a long, long way from home - maybe the furthest away yet - but the beauty of the place and the quality of the day sent us all to bed with the sense that this life, right now, was very, very good.

Tasmania Day 1 - Melbourne to Launceston

Fresh from a night where dad and Colin attended a way cool Coldplay concert while Allie and mom had their very own movie night, Thursday saw our busy family stuffed into a taxi and on the way down to Station Pier eager to set sail for Tasmania! A late addition to our Australian travel itineray, we had booked ourselves a four day "holiday" that coincided with Australia's Labour Day weekend. We were all quite excited by the prospects for this trip as Tasmania seemed to represent the far off, the exotic and the unknown. We would not be disappointed!

Boarding the Spirit of Tasmania, the boys were giddy with excitement. Admittedly, I too, was giddy but more perhaps with trepidation. I wondered if my sea legs would hold up under 3-5 metre swells and if the good ol' ferry itself might have just one more journey in her across the notoriously nasty Bass Strait. The total distance is about 460 kms and takes about 11 hours from Melbourne to Devonport on the north coast of Tasmania. The Spirit is quite a large ship and is capable of carrying several hundred cars and 1400 passengers with a majority in cabins. The boat is very well appointed with a casino, gift shop, two restaurants and two bars and while at sea we ate dinner, enjoyed the arcade and watched High School Musical 3 - woohoo! It was a perfect mix of activity for the kids and as the boat began to bounce we were all comfortably tucked into our bunks - excited to be sailing the ocean blue and relieved that Troy and Gabriela were reunited for prom!

Apparently we didn't sink during the night because as the sun broke over the horizon we were steaming into Devonport. Though not as bad as sleeping on the Ghan, the boys were again the winners in terms of good versus bad sleeps. Linton and I shared a collective group of ailments including insomnia, sore backs, temperature issues, etc. Or maybe we're just getting old. Regardless, we were keen to extricate ourselves from a cabin and grab a breath of fresh, albeit Tasmanian, air.

Once we had successfully failed the sniffer dog test - he managed to nail for us for apples and croissant residue(!) - we collected our stylish Ford Falcon and headed where else but McDonalds. Keen for a second cup of joe and maybe, just maybe, an egg McMuffin, we gathered our thoughts and still wobbly sea legs to come up with the day's plan. The weather was gorgeous and with that as our guide we turned toward Cradle Mountain National Park and the prospect of seeing one of Australia's few Unesco World Heritage sights.

One thing we were to quickly appreciate about Tassie is that it is a land of hills, vales, and mountains and the roads are all of the twisty variety. We had crossed over with a large number of bikers and once on the highways we could see why - the driving is unbelievable. If you were on a motorcycle, or in a fast car, or without a little guy in the back who is prone to twisty-road-induced nausea, you would have the drive of your life down here. It go so that my brake foot was cramping and I was longing for a straightaway of more than a few hundred metres!

Once in the Cradle Mountain National Park we did a few shorter walks and checked out the visitors centre. Tasmania is a place for hikers and they do a very good job of creating a variety of hikes for all ages and abilities. The boys seemed to love the outdoor activity and there were very few moments where a piggyback was required. We then drove a few more kilometres into the park to have a look at the actual Cradle Mountain so named for the rounded shape created by the two peaks. Snow blanketed the very topmost parts of the mountain and a cool wind kept us in fleeces and pants. The air, light and colours gave us the sense of a cool Canadian fall day and made the land far more familiar than many parts of Oz.

With Launceston, our eventual destination, a few more hours away we drove down the mountain and out of the park with rosy cheeks and happy to have made this diversion. Tasmania, as we were quickly discovering, is a land of unique and remarkable natural beauty and though it might take a few extra twists and turns to get there, it was already proving to be well worth the effort.

March 1 - Around the Bay in a Couple o' Days!

With the Wilson's Prom fire officially putting the kybosh on our much-anticipated camping trip, we pointed our rented, but luxuriously appointed Hyundai Elantra, south toward Geelong. With a promise to be kept to the boys - something about a waterpark - we decided to take the weekend to drive all the way around Port Phillip Bay, a round trip of approximately 250kms. Along the way the plan was to stay in Point Lonsdale at the very tip of the narrows into Bass Strait and to visit as many scenic, quaint, and cool places we could fit into about 36 hours of travel. It was a great weekend.

The city of Melbourne is situated at the very north end of Port Phillip Bay and is in effect not really "on" the ocean - at least, not the big, bad, deep and wavy kind of ocean. But for a very small opening in the southernmost part of the bay, this enormous body of water is more like a large lake - almost 2000 square kilometres large! Surprisingly though, despite its size, the bay averages a depth of only 8 metres! The 'back beaches" in the bay are calm and plentiful and we had already spent Christmas Eve day on a beach on the eastern shores in an area known as Mornington Peninsula. For this trip we would start on the western shore and the Bellarine Peninsula with a much anticipated ferry ride over to the eastern side and then home. But first, to Australia's first dedicated water park - or some similar claim like that.

The small irony of this day was the fact that after dreaming of this park for weeks on end as we sweltered through January and February, the temperature on the day was down right chilly! It almost rained, even! Though not the best water park we had ever set our suits on, that was lost on the boys and the sound of their laughter and screams was worth the price of admission. We did it all, slides, rivers, buckets, and tubes, including mom and dad, and were thankful that the cooler temps were probably keeping a few thousand people away. We more or less had the place to oursleves which forced us to play not one, but two rounds of mini-golf! The horror! After a few flips and flops on an enormous jumping pillow we loaded up and headed out for our accommodation at the Pt. Lonsdale Guest House.

I feel like we have already seen a lot of Australia's glorious coastline, but it never fails to impress me when we roll into another seaside hamlet nestled into the rock and scrub. Somewhat off the beaten path, Pt. Lonsdale is a sleepy but awakening little gem of a place that has all of the requirements retiring boomers and well-to-do Melburnians need in a vacation home. From historic lighthouse to expensive eateries, this was Lorne-redux, but without the cavalcade of tour buses beating you to your favourite table. I loved it and found myself slowing down at the real estate office to play my favourite game of "what if".

After checking into our room, which for all of our desperate last-minute booking, was a perfectly acceptable steal, we headed down to the main drag to rustle up a bit of tucker. Settling on Italian, we more or less opened the place, but it wasn't long before we met someone we knew! Unbelievable. In walked a family, from the boys' school, that we knew had a place in Pt. Lonsdale but with whom we had made no plans to meet up. So we all sat down to a fun meal, full of laughter and talk and pizza. We were then very kindly invited back to their place for a little more play and a night cap. If you ever needed an experience to make you feel "normal" or comfortable living away from home, a chance meeting of a friendly familiar face in a far off place, might just do the trick. The boys had a great time destroying the place with their three kids and we left somewhat guilty at the mess.

Next morning, after being awoken far too early by the screams and laughter of the kids staying in the room below us, Colin and I hit the local IGA for provisions and the requisite skinny latte and long black. After a quick pack and a promised table tennis game, we decided to check out and then check out the local lighthouse and accompanying jetty. Point Lonsdale, and its across-the-bay neighbour Sorrento, have made a name for themselves over the years for saving many souls destined for Davy Jones' locker. The lighthouse continues to be an important marker for ocean liners coming into the bay, though a special pilot must board all boats coming in and leaving in order to navigate through the tricky series of rip currents, shoals and markers.

Wanting to get the ferry at a reasonable hour, we headed for the very trendy Queenscliff and the ferry docks. As luck would have it we had five minutes to spare and caught the 11:00 am - I think we were the second last car on. The trip is about 40 minutes and we enjoyed roaming around the ship and thinking about the fact that our car was "floating" across the water. After docking in Sorrento we headed out to Portsea and the very western end of the Mornington Peninsula where a long walk on the beach revealed a very cool rock outcropping. In need of some grub of the pub variety, we wandered back into Sorrento for a long lunch and a little shopping. I was in a state of mourning as I had just "blown out' my long-serving flip-flops, but after a little retail therapy in a local surf store I was feeling much better, thank you. This area of Australia is quite well-to-do and has a Nantucket or even Bermuda feel to it with huge mansions overlooking moored yachts and secluded beaches. As we pointed the Elantra north towards Melbourne, we confidently ticked Sorrento off as another place we would happily live, if we had a few extra mill...

But this holiday weekend was not over yet! Delivering on yet another lost promise, we climbed our way up to Arthur's Seat and a pretty cool maze-garden-park-playground sort of thing. As with so much of what we have seen and done, we continue to explore the country through the kids and their sense of curiosity and wonder. Though not directed at the same things we might find interesting, I continue to feel that we are sowing seeds here and Linton and I are simply along for the ride. If that means a few waterparks and cheesy maize mazes on the way - so be it. Having said that, it was completely my desire to drag us back to the bay for our last stop on the tour. Having noticed it on a map, I was intrigued to check out a beach called Canadian Bay and at least take a picture. Sadly, it was a major disappointment with only a dilapidated sailing club and an uninspring stretch of sand. More Scarborough Bluffs than Martha's Vineyard...or was I just becoming blase? I guess it can't all be life-altering.

Climbing back in the car we all agreed that this had been a great mini-trip. And it was. And I need to continue to remember that. Whether we are in a chilly waterpark, a noisy inn, a tired corn maze, or a boring beach - I cannot take a minute of this for granted. Nor should I always filter it through older, wiser?, adult eyes. It's all new and different through the eyes of the child and I shouldn't impose my expectations - complete with cost and convenience evaluation attached. We need to keep this world as big and as awe-inspiring for our kids for as long as we possibly can - one short weekend at a time.