Lucky Kids

We shared a look, Sara and I. The kids were nattering away, having Santa hat drawing competitions on the pvc tablecloth bought especially for that purpose. They’d already made a mess of the anti-pasto type Christmas lunch, and as they ignored Vivaldi’s “Gloria” playing in the background, they leapt onto their second bottle of Bundaberg’s finest ginger beer. As they guzzled and giggled, we shared a look because we know we are lucky kids.

Sara, kids and chair



Oli, out squatting in his (in torrential rain)

Kimmy, oustanding in her field

 

Ivy at Raspberry Hill lookout

We have been on the road for 365 days. Tomorrow will mark a year since we hooked up Kimmy for the first time and made the torturous journey down to Barwon Heads from Melbourne. An hour and a half of pure terror. I’ll never forget the look of relief on Sara’s face when she saw Sal there to greet her with a glass of wine, and Jacko met me with advice and common sense. So long ago.

 

3 little reindeer

At that time we had planned to be home for Christmas. It was an Anderson Christmas this year, so the call to Mum to tell her we wouldn’t be back in time wasn’t easy. Instead, we are on the banks of the Mann River, 70 kilometres west of Grafton, staying on some blokes’ farm. Incredibly, this farm is not far from the property that was settled by Mum’s family back in the 1800’s. The property where my Grandmother was born. Funny how things work out. It’s conceivable that I could have still lived there. Unlikely given my complete lack of farm skills, but conceivable. Ramornie is no longer in my family, but I am drawn to this country.

 

Getting ready for a feast

The debate once we were certain we were not coming home was where Christmas should be. Cousins, Aunts, and friends all asked us to stay but we decided that it should just be us. Beach or bush? Caravan park or national park? In the end, Rorys’ offer of his mates’ farm was perfect. A friendly river at the bottom of the hill, lush green hills in the distance, and a flat, accessible caravan friendly site with only the occasional happy cowboy churning past in a Toyota ute for company. The boys elected to set up the tents they found by the
bins in Yamba; Sara, Ivy and I were in the van.

 

Santa sacks

Christmas morning and not too early a start. Santa had managed to find us, spilt his milk, probably in disgust, while the reindeer made a mess of their carrots as per usual. Pressie highlights were a sundress for Ivy, lollies for Ned, old Nat Geos for Oli, and a new camp throne with chiller box that can hold up to 130kgs for Sara. Two of her could sit in it! Pancakes followed pressies, and adventure followed pancakes!

 

 

The fantastic four arrive home safe...and late

Sara dropped us off about 6 -8 k’s upstream with a canoe and two tyres. Several mini-rapids were negotiated without incident but a lot of laughter, at least until Ned bruised his bum. Panic only set in when we realised we were going to miss the return deadline we had set with Sara. The thought of her sitting on the bank, torn between looking at her watch, and looking for us through the binoculars put an end to a leisurely float. We powered down the river, towing Oli in his tyre, going backwards down the final set of rapids not because it was more fun, but because I had completely lost control of the canoe by that point. It was more fun though. Two and a half hours after saying goodbye to Sara, we saw her again just as it began to rain and just before she asked the happy cowboy for help. Home safe to Kimmy and our Christmas lunch. Sara and I shared a look and had a sip. We are lucky kids. Merry Christmas and thank you to my family for this special year.

 

H

Boundary Creek Falls