David runs along a typical twisting-through-the-forest-along-the-edge-of-the-water path to an inlet, watching for koala and Tiger snakes. None. The tide is out so the inlet is a mud flat about the size of four baseball fields. Several pelicans, a dozen black swans, a lone egret, ducks and seagulls are busy feeding themselves.
Brekkie is a slow affair; everyone waking up at different times.
We all load into two cars and drive in tandem to Wilson’s Promontory where Jim as a school kid had to climb Mt. Oberon. There are no kings or fairies flitting in the trees but we do see a few kookaburras in the tea trees along a path beside an estuary that leads to a beach right out of France in 1870: A woman under a parasol, children playing on the wide sand, waves curling into the curve of the beach and two promontories embracing the whole tableaux. Think Monet’s Beach at Trouville with surfers.
We see our first wombat on the drive back … even cuter than an echidna or a koala. Cynthia gets out and takes a video. We see echidnas and emu. At least in our own minds, we have become quite the baggers of strange beasts (think Sendak’s Sky Kitchen).
Back at the batch, we have a long, lazy lunch after which W, Cynthia, Jenni and David walk to the inlet, which now is submerged in high tide.
Another big chill dinner with several bottles of “sick juice” (kudos to Jay McInerney) prompting heated discussions about the character of Australia, the nature of man, the future of the planet, the effects of time, accidents of fate, and other topics that Google is unable to resolve. It’s like being back in DC with friends at dinner, except we’re upside down with a different set of stars overhead.
Another relaxed day in Oz.
Two Tramps 