Port Vincent, on the Yorke Peninsula, is one of those spots which experiences large variations in tide height. When we arrived at 11.45pm on Friday night, the waves were lapping at the sea wall next to our campsite. The following morning, greater and greater expanses of mud flats were exposed as the receding water drained away leaving a wonderland of wildlife to be explored.Most prolific were the crabs. Large, small, dead and alive they were everywhere. One stretch of beach sported the evidence of a recent 'crab fest' with orange bleached, cracked shells and legs strewn all over the sand dunes. Under every rock burrowed a startled crustacean, green, brown and even nearly transparent. They were of course, ripe for collectors.
My intrepid crab hunters (plus a friend they made on the beach), showed great initiative as they converted an old Maccas coffee cup from the back seat into a crab scoop. Although we had forgotten spades, we certainly had buckets and before long they were laden with tiny, and not so tiny crabs of every colour and persuasion. What to do with them now? "Let's build them an 'environment'," chirped Small Boy,"a habitat!!"
"What's wrong with the perfectly good habitat you just removed them from????" pointed out the Nazi mother from within the tent where she had retired to check her photo results in the relatively lower light. After a period of scientific observation, the crabs were returned to their rightful homes as we observed the rapid approach of the returning sailing fleet.
But let us flash back to Friday night as the Baby Angel and I departed the city after her successful netball match (12-6 their way). I made a quick mobile call to Himself who was already at the campsite to check that all was well and let him know we were on our way. A somewhat harried voice greeted me and I could sense from his tone and the sounds of buffeting wind in the background....that everything was not going strictly to plan.
The plan had included three 'blokes' driving to the campsite and arriving in plenty of time to use the last of the daylight hours to chivalrously erect three tents before leisurely sauntering to the pub for a meal. The flaws in the plan were numerous. Firstly, there was the late departure and hence late arrival at the site, coinciding approximately with sunset. Then there was the very high wind. Add to this two unfamiliar tents (mine) a 9 year old and a less than practical 19 year old and I think you get the picture of the chaos that ensued.
Himself was fit to tie when I rang him and vowed that next time we'd hire a cabin.
Nevertheless, the BA and I set off on our two+hour drive in good spirits, delighted to be getting out of town. We chatted as we drove and I'm not quite sure how the subject arose but the BA ended up apologising for accompanying me and not giving me 'kid free time'. I found myself genuinely reassuring her. "But I love travelling with you. You're good company! You've always been a good travelling companion!"
(The BA and I have been travelling together, often alone, since she was 3 weeks old. We frequently made the 3+ hour drive to see my sister in Leeds; there was the brilliant camping trip to the Dordogne in France; the trip to Australia when she was 4 and although Mum and Dad came with us we split up and the BA and I did quite a bit of travelling by ourselves including bustrips down to Jindabyne in the Snowys and up to Boolcoomatta near Broken Hill. Back in the UK we travelled together to holidays with friends and family in Wales and Cornwall and at all times we easily shared space, both in the car and when visiting attractions. Our greatest adventure together was the trip back to Australia to set up our new life here in 2003.)
She blushed and looked shyly across at me. "Really Mum? Thanks! That's lovely."
When we got into the campsite at 11.45pm, Himself was sitting up waiting for us and much relieved. He has still to get used to the fact that his wife is a) independent and capable and b) a good navigator! When we left today he was also amazed and delighted that, whilst he sailed, I could orchestrate 2 kids to help dismantle numerous tents, air mattresses, camp stretchers and folding
tables so that our departure was virtually painless. :-) *pride*As you can see from the photo, the weather on our arrival was less than ideal and during the first night the wind came through at a cracking pace which had our tents flexing wildly. The little dark one was the BA's, the big blue one housed No2 Son and the Small Boy and the sandy coloured one behind was for Himself and me . Behind that orangey wall was the beach so we were in a prime spot.
The funniest part for me was the matter of my boys being unfamiliar with the tents. When we'd bundled the BA off to bed, Himself regaled me with the horror story of their arrival and tent erection drama. "There are bits of at least two tents in that blue bag of yours," he exclaimed in frustration. This caused me some confusion until I realised that No 2 Son had only managed to put up half the blue tent!!
Below is a shot of said tent in the back garden of our old house and I guess, if you hadn't seen a picture, you wouldn't intuitively know in a 15 knot gale, that it had a fly extension!! :-) Even funnier was my realisation the following morning that he had put the whole thing up without the ridge pole!! I guess tents with ridge poles went 'out' before he was born!All this 'drama' aside (I was glad I missed it) we had a great weekend. The state heat on Sat was a bit disappointing with the boys finishing 4th but they took it well and pulled off a second today for the Club Trophy Race. They are still hanging out for a first. While they were 'out' the kids messed about on the mudflats and did the crab thing. Below you can see a view taken over the wall behind our campsite with Small Boy in the foreground bending down and the BA in the distance at right near the breakwater. It's hard to see in this format but you can also see the fleet going out to the starting mark behind them.
One of the things which 'makes' a weekend like this for me, is the fact that you are relatively 'divorced' from technology. OK that's nonsense as of course we had torches, a shower block and access to the yacht club for tea but still, relatively, there was no TV, no X box, no DVDS..........OMG!!!!!!!!!
Unfortunately, the one thing I forgot to pack was cards but as it turned out, it was cold and blowy and we didn't have a full sized gas light/heater so at 9.30pm we were trying to convince the Small Boy that he might as well go to bed!! There was the potential for this to be pathetic on our part, except that of course he DID go to bed (after all, I was there), but he was all for bargaining like mad. He wanted to stay up. He wasn't tired.
And this is where camping is great. It forces you to deal with some uncomfortable realities of life. It is hard to do stuff in the dark. If you do not have electricity you may have to entertain yourself. You may have to
prepare your own food and it may be cold! You may have to get dressed to get up and go to the toilet in the middle of the night. You may have to go to bed early, because it is too cold to sit out and there is nothing else to do!!!!! :-) What a concept!!!!!!!Even though the wind buffeted us furiously through Sat night, Sun dawned in a much more promising fashion. On the left you can see the Yacht Club with some of the fleet of 505s and NS14s on their way back in after the race (tide coming in). I was shooting almost into the sun and the light on the water was amazing. I don't think I quite got it but...whatever.....
I have a Flaming Sword story from our weekend for those who are interested in that sort of thing. This one is particularly for you Golightly over at Pierce Toddler Project. I am incredibly moved by the fact that what I talk about here may have some impact on the world of child rearing.
Stay tuned for tomorrow's Flaming Sword story.
