Family VagaBonding

It’s that time…bags packed, boarding passes, field trip ahead. Practicing what we preach…can we really zipline through the rain forest and keep up with math and vocab?

Sacagawea, Dundee & I are hitting the road (and seas) to find out. This time, it’s top spots on the mainland US and cruising through the Panama Canal. Stay tuned for museum updates, family connections, Costa Rica rain forests, conquistadors, and Cartagena pirates. Columbus is holding down the fort at home, while we get to chart a new adventure.

It’s early, still dark out, and time to go. Love that feeling, just as an adventure unfolds, when the checklist is complete and it’s time to do it. Let the adventures begin!

When your imagination wanders and you think of the movie-esque campground of the rugged Australian Outback, images of desolate scrub, horizons stretching beyond normal vision under a scorching sun, an oasis of sorts at the end of a dusty, narrow dirt road, and perhaps an old, faded blue tarp draped over some form of a dusty office outpost where, hopefully, someone in an Outback hat will eventually emerge and grant you a plot of ground for the night. Well, at least that’s what I imagined, and at Litchfield Safari Camp, I met my imaginary match. Rural, remote, dusty and absolutely perfect.

We trekked up from Katherine, and like everything in Australia, were reminded that it’s a long way from here to there. It looks simple enough, maybe three hours between Katherine and the Litchfield turn-off, but as Columbus and I have discovered, the good stuff is always way off the highway, and in this case, our campground was at the end of the road, literally. Now old-hands at the road-tripping aspect of RVing, we almost looked forward to our numerous encounters with Australia’s ubiquitous Outback road-trains, which Bill Bryson best describes as “…multilayered trucks up to 150 feet long…coming at you at full throttle on a two lane highway where it desires all of its lane and some of yours. (It’s) an explosive whoomp as you hit its displaced air, followed at once by a consequent lurch onto the shoulder, several moments of hypermanic axle action sufficient to loosen dental fillings and empty your pockets of coins, an enveloping shroud of gritty red dust and the metallic dinks and savage thumps of flying rocks, some involuntary oral emissions on your part as the dust clears…and a sudden, miraculous return to tranquility and smoothness as the car regains the pavement, entirely of its own volition. ” And Bryson didn’t encounter road-trains from an RV, with two children. Suffice it to say, we were ready for a tinnie from the esky by the time we rolled into Litchfield.

Waterfalls, monsoon rain forests, termite mounds the size of small huts, and desolate scrub to the horizon and beyond, Litchfield doesn’t disappoint. Trekking into the rainforest surrounding Wangi Falls, we found ourselves in a Halloween haunted house of sorts, hundreds of bats hanging in the trees above us, screeching wildly as they jousted for position, and spider webs encapsulating large chunks of the forest, home to the scores of massive Orb spiders we’ve come to love. The trek to Tolmer Falls took us through rugged scrub and over rock cliffs, rewarding us with magnificent vistas of the falls and the horizon beyond. At Florence Falls — the crown jewel of the bunch — Dundee was ecstatic as he swam under the falls and into the caves, while Sacagawea and I enjoyed swimming with the fish a bit closer to the bans. Exploring Buley Rockhole after lunch, quietly aware that our adventures were drawing to a close, Dundee and I were climbing over the rocks to our next swimming hole when he reached back and took my hand. ”Let me help you, mom,” he said quietly.

Thousands of miles, countless adventures, moments to treasure a lifetime.

Headin' home after a wild ride with the crocs

Australia’s Top End, Northern Territory. Vast, mysterious, rugged . . . a place that even most Australians seem not to find. You know from the moment you land in Darwin: this is a strange and wonderful place. Two flights and some twelve hours after bidding farewell to the Sundancer, we groggily stumbled into Darwin’s airport at 1AM, stunned to find the place humming. Flights coming and going, bars and restaurants at full swing, and people everywhere. It’s a long way, and only a certain breed finds their way here, so the airlines squeeze those revenues in the middle of the night, getting the planes safely back to points south for daylight, civilized travel. Yep. This is gonna be a wonderfully wild ride.

Hoses to fill tanks and empty tanks…and make sure to remember to distinguish the fresh water fill hose from the brown water empty. And the bathroom…images of Robin Williams emptying the tank in the movie RV convinced even the kids that the bathroom offered a wonderful spot to change clothes. Nothing more. There’s really only one way to experience this part of Australia’s wildnerness – up close and personal – so settled into our 22’ traveling home, we set off, still chugging down the wrong side of the road, but Columbus now feeling quite comfortable over there and me now resisting the need to lean to keep us on track.

First stop: Sacagawea’s jumping croc cruise. She’d heard of these crazy adventures before we left home, and this was her pick of the trip. We followed the directions, from the surfaced highway, to the gravel road, to the dirt track down towards the river, where we met up with Morgan, our guide for the afternoon. “Oh yeah, that’s Godfrey,” he said as we excitedly pointed to this monstrous, prehistoric creature watching us from the water, a few meters away. From our perch in the tinnie, we came up close and personal with Godfrey (a big guy at 5 meters and 100 years old) and his many friends up and down the Adelaide River as Morgan rammed the boat into the shoreline so the crocs could lumber up for a snack. Jaw-dropping and utterly prehistoric…. amazing. And what an introduction to the Top End!

From Mary River National Park to Kakadu and now Nitmiluk in Katherine, we’ve been amazed, moved and inspired by this magical place. This is Aboriginal country, with a history that dates back some 50,000 years, indigenous art to tell the story, and landscape unlike anything we’ve ever seen. As the sun settled into the afternoon sky, we climbed to the top of Ubirr to gaze across the mass Arnhem lands, extending forever across the horizon. At Nourlangie, we discovered the settlement nestled in the massive rock formation, emblazoned with art dating back thousands of years. We watched the sunrise over the Yellow Waters of Cooinda as jabirus, sea eagles, kites, and kingfishers soared overhead and crocs rested comfortably up and down the shore. Then later that day, welcomed the setting sun from the waters of Katherine Gorge, floating among the cavernous cliffs of gorges older than time. We’ve held our breath as wallabies and kangaroos gather by the dozens in the early mornings and late afternoons, scavenging for food and casting a curious and trusting eye our way.

Settled into a wonderful routine of self-contained living, we’ve enjoyed breakfasts with the sunrise, lunch in whatever park or scenic vista we stumble upon, and dinner under the stars in state parks across the region. Grilling steaks and burgers on the communal barbies, Columbus has honed his skills in this most revered Aussie male ritual, and has found new travelling friends along the way.

Feeling a million miles away from civilization – and not terribly interested in figuring out how to find it again anytime soon – we’ve honed new skills, discovered new wonders, and found, in ourselves and each other, nuggets we never knew were there. Yes, it’s a magically wonderful place, indeed.[Gallery not found]

John Boyce has had sailing in his blood since he was a kid. That’s obvious the moment you step aboard. He designed every inch of this boat, and carefully directed its creation over 3 1/2 years; his vision, the perfect private charter vessel. By our measure, the reality exceeds his wildest expectations.

Lynne Boyce is just one of those women. You marvel at her; you admire her; you learn from her . . . and you secretly wonder if she isn’t stashing Superman’s kryptonite in her small cabin below. How else does she possibly pull it all off so effortlessly?

Together, Lynne and John are a match made in heaven — or perhaps at sea. Lynne left her native England to explore the world, found her passion in shell collecting, and migrated to Australia on the whimsical tales of Banfield’s Confessions of a Beachcomber. John’s had sailing in his blood since childhood, and mixed with a good measure of entrepreneurial adventure, he seemed destined to a life of adventure on the water. Together, they’ve been chartering adventures around Sydney during the summers and the Whitsundays by winter for well over two decades. And by our measure, there’s no chance of them getting bored and moving on anytime soon.

Lynne’s life’s passion — the shells, the seas they inhabit, and the amazing symbiosis that makes nature so enchanting — is infectious. She’s not just a guide through this spectacular world; she’s it’s steward, and she brings her guests into its spell. And she manages to do it while the chicken’s in the oven, the prawns are marinating in the galley, and the potatoes await her touch to peel and prepare. Three gourmet meals per day appear effortlessly, and between each, adventures to some of the most spectacular vistas, waters and hidden gems of this Australian paradise. . . . and she does it all, smiling, welcoming, effortlessly.

John, the quintessential captain, takes the helm, charts the course, and brings the adventure up close and personal for each of us…while always making sure the chardonnay is chilled and ready in time for sunset. His vintage Aussie charm and quick wit give way to delightful conversation, and he’s quick to find the passion in each of us. He’s taken Dundee under his wing, sharing sailing instruction and stories of the seas, while he and Sacagawea have become fast friends, affectionately nicknaming her “Zoomie” for her lightening speed underwater.

Our week in the Whitsundays has been magical, to be sure. Memories will last a lifetime, and perhaps we’ve been changed, if even just slightly, by the wonder and inspiration of this special place. Seasoned vagabonders always say, tho, that it’s the friends you make along the road that make travel special, weaving the fabric of connectivity between people and lands. I’m quite sure we now understand exactly what they mean.

Manta Rays on the outer reef

So beautiful...

Blogging, even from the Outer Reef!

Holding our breath as we snorkeled, we could hear the distinctly magical sounds of whale songs wafting across the currents. Absolutely magical….but not necessarily a surprise. We’d been escorted by whales as we sailed to the outer reef yesterday morning, some 40 miles off shore and a beautiful three hour sail from our overnight mooring nestled amidst these special islands. Pods of whales swam with us, tails slapping the water, adults and babies leaping out of the water. While we were often the only boat in sight, we were definitely not alone.

I’ve dreamed of exploring the Great Barrier Reef since I was no older than Sacagawea and my older brother brought me shells from this spectacular paradise, so far away. This week’s adventure has been the realization of that dream, and today’s excursion to the outer reef, the exclamation point. With images of Finding Nemo dancing in our minds, we set out, swimming over the edge and into the deep blue sea. gliding over coral gardens as Nemos — oops, I mean, clownfish — darted in and out. We gazed into caves to see what treasures they held, and lay still in amazement as reef sharks darted just in front of us.

As stewards of this magnificent place, Lynne and John are careful to make sure we’re in the right place at the right time. Lynne made sure we finished lunch quickly and admonished us that the dishes could wait: we’ve got a date to make. It seems that manta rays congregate on certain corals, just at certain times based on the tides. She’d checked the charts, and we weren’t going to miss out. As if on cue, there they were, lazing around the coral as we approached in the tender. An amazing sight, these magnificent, gentle creatures . . . as we swam with them, they’d glide up and around us, as if to say hello, then dart off to the next coral, waiting to see if we’d follow. Eyes wide, we eagerly played along, gliding gently above them as they rested, them swimming madly across to the next stop as they darted away. Quite a game of hide and seek, and we loved every minute of it!

We’ve enjoyed 24 hours on the outer reef, snorkeling time and again, and watching in amazement as the tides continually change the seascape — reefs popping up above the water’s edge, then disappearing again a few hours later. Still waters on top, betraying the strength of the strong currents below. And at night, after the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, the stars exploded across the sky, dancing across the Milky Way in a celestial ballet unlike any we’ve ever seen. The waters gently rocked us to sleep, and awoke us again as the sun slipped back into the morning sky. Often alone — not another boat in sight — in this magical place, we couldn’t help be awed by the splendor, and humbled by our great fortune to have found this boat, these guides, and this experience. Lucky, indeed.

Everyone had told us the Whitsundays are special. Seasoned sailors at home got that dreamy look when we mentioned our plans to come here. Locals around Australia seemed to heartily approve when we mentioned our sailing plans. Yet somehow, I don’t think we fully appreciated the brilliance of what was in store. There’s something about the raw beauty, the best of nature without man’s interference, that seems to touch the soul. And with that touch, it brings vision, clarity, connectivity, and strength. Sharing in the magic — parents, children, friends — is intoxicating . . . something we each seem to intuitively know is inspirational, special.

We’ve wandered lazily around the islands, from idyllic inlets to breathtaking bays. During our snorkels, we’ve discovered new worlds of corals, scores of glorious fish, and an occasional reef shark. Hiking into the islands’ interiors, we’ve seen vistas that touch the soul, walked across sand that glistens like new snow at Whitehaven beach, and discovered indigenous creatures like the green bummed ants (whose bums, when licked, supposedly taste like lime sherbet, according to the backpacker guide we encountered on our walk).

Onboard the Sundancer, as we roam from point to point, we’ve settled into a relaxed cadence — glorious meals, spirited conversations about all manner of topics, and a peaceful enjoyment of solitude at sea. The kids are inspired; they’ve embraced it with fervor, and pitch in at every point. Dundee is first mate when it comes to prepping the dinghy for our snorkeling jaunts; Sacagawea is masterful at managing the laundry strung along the lines; and both have taken the helm to do dishes when their turn comes. As we sat watching another brilliant sunset last night, Columbus and I exchanged that knowing look . . . these are the moments, the memories, that weave the fabric of our family. We are blessed to be here.

Time to snorkel!

Exploring Whitehaven

Sacagawea at work

Albert!

Old and wise, Albert

Breathtaking

There’s a clever soul holding court in the corals of the Whitsunday’s Manta Ray Bay. Albert, a humongous maori wrasse much bigger than Sacagawea, has been captivating visitors for more than two decades. Lovingly named Albert by the local guides (in honor of Cosby’s character, Fat Albert), Albert is quite a show stopper.

We had the honor of a private audience with Albert, snorkeling under the brilliant sun amidst breathtaking corals and fish by the hundreds. Albert, and his friends GT, sauntered up from the depths to greet us. His stunningly blue head, lips and chest give way to incredibly complex and beautiful patterns across his fins and body. He glides up from beneath, his soulful eyes meeting ours, one by one, as he swims up to say hello. Sacagawea was looking the other way as he approached, perfectly positioned for a kiss as she turned to see him. Squeals of excitement and delight permeated the waters as she reached out to gently stroke his body as he swam by.

Swimming with him, looking into his wise, soulful eyes as he so trustingly and knowingly met our gaze and greeted us, gently rubbing his head and body as he glides by, there’s no doubt that he’s simply a magnificent creature, one of nature’s many wonders. He touched each of us in so many ways. Sacagawea, a strong but tentative snorkeler, learned to dive with gusto under Albert’s tutelage. Dundee became decidedly more confident, while also seeming to grasp a greater understanding and appreciation of this underwater world he was discovering. And Columbus and I, we simply kicked back and enjoyed the simple splendor of it all… this place, our children, the wonders of the world before us.

Day two on the Sydney Sundancer: more sailing, more snorkeling, more hiking, more gourmet meals, and more quality time with new friends and family. Pretty tough to get used to, but we’re doing our best.

It’s simply perfect. Our day began early, with breakfast in the cockpit as John set sail for Hayman Island. Our first task of the day: hiking to the top of the island for breathtaking views of the Whitsundays and the reef in all directions. We looked down across the Hayman Island resort, considered one of the area’s top resorts, and felt a slight twang of pity for them; their experience couldn’t begin to compare to ours, we thought. The kids chatted excitedly with Lynne as she explained the flora and fauna of the island, spotted a green tree snake darting into a hole, and shared her history of shell collecting throughout the islands, and the world. We gazed across the reef to a shelf between two islands, our next destination for reef walking and shell discoveries.

Back onboard the Sundancer and with a bit of time before lunch, John escorted us on a “magic carpet ride” of sorts, a snorkel tow around a most brilliant coral bay. We were joined by turtles, fish of all varieties, and a shimmering palette of coral colors, shapes and sizes. Both kids have become quite skilled in the water, with Dundee diving down to explore the cracks and crevices, and Sacagawea’s eagle eye spotting the most obscure creatures.

Back onboard, Lynne was waiting with an incredible mac nut curry chicken salad. We dined alfresco, while chatting excitedly about our morning’s adventures and discoveries. Typically not game for such interesting flavors, even the kids devoured it. . . . new foods and new adventures. (NOTE: More to follow on this amazing chef we’re blessed to enjoy. From her galley, about the size of my master shower at home, she produces meals that rival the top restaurants of the world. And she does it while chatting away with us, and between her guided hikes, shell collecting and reef walking. She’s a gift, and we’re just lucky to have come aboard.)

Our reef walking, shell discoveries, and animal spotting adventure across Langford Reef was magnificent! The reef itself was fascinating . . . exposed for several hours/day, it looked from a distance like something otherworldly, almost like a lunar surface. But once up close, it came alive, with urchins, cucumbers, sand dollars, seashells, and even an octopus darting between coral croppings. With her own small collection at home Sacagawea was hooked, and danced from spot to spot as Lynne found new treasures for her to explore.

As the sun settled towards the horizon, we nestled into our protective bay for the evening, and Sacagawea and Dundee took their spot on the back platform for a bit more fishing. Still working on their angler skills, today’s adventure led to Dundee carefully saving Sacagawea’s finger from the sharp prongs of a hook, then diving in to rescue the reel that jumped out to sea during the commotion. Quite an adventure!

Once again, another spectacular sunset, and with wine in hand, we celebrated another glorious day. As John fired up the barbie to grill our evening’s prawns, we moved in to join him. Word has it that Boycie’s barbie skills are legendary, and we didn’t want to miss out. As you might imagine, we weren’t disappointed.

Views-- and moments -- not to be missed.

It's rare air at the top of Hayman Island

Saved from the fishhook, Sacagawea soaks up the sunset

Sometimes, there are moments in life when words seem simply inadequate..incapable of capturing the moment’s magic and mystery. Sacagawea discovered one of those moments this morning, eyes wide and dancing, as she said time and again, “this is awesome.” The setting, the forward deck of our sailboat, perched amidst the Whitsunday Islands, as a pod of whales — two adults and two babies — spun synchronized pirouettes just off our port side. Absolutely magical. Raw, powerful, captivating… nature at its finest, and us just privileged enough to snag a glimpse.

And thus we awakened to our first morning in the Whitsundays, welcomed with open arms. We came aboard yesterday, meeting up on Hamilton Island with our delightful hosts, John & Lynne, to set out on our week’s adventure aboard their spectacular 54′ sailboat, Sydney Sundancer. They’ve been hosting private charters around the Reef for more than two decades, yet still have that special touch that immediately made us feel we’re the most wonderful guests they’ve had aboard. A week on a live-aboard sailboat is a first for all of us, but with their gentle guidance, we’re quickly catching on.

The Whitsundays are a cluster of 74 exquisite islands scattered about the Great Barrier Reef, with all but a handful of them completely raw and undeveloped. It’s idyllic, one of those spots you dream about, and I find I’m pinching myself to believe we’re really here. We sailed out of Hamilton Island Marina as the sun settled into the afternoon sky, and anchored in a beautiful little bay for the evening. John ferried us by glass-bottom tender to the beach, where Lynne led us on a sunset walk up into the rainforest, through ancient trees and cackling kookaburras, and back onto another beach abit further up, where John and our chariot met us. We watched the sun sink below the water’s edge from our trail perch above the beach, catching the palette of crimson and gold through a canopy of forest green. This week will pass much too quickly, I realized with regret.

The morning’s whales simply set the stage. It’s still our first day onboard, and already we’ve enjoyed gourmet meals between our adventures of fishing, sailing, and — the first of what will be many highlight moments — snorkeling one of the naturally wondrous reefs of the area. Sacagawea and Dundee proved to be naturals in the water, gliding between coral heads, spotting fish of all shape, size and color, and excitedly surfacing to report their latest amazing discovery. We watched in awe as eagles swooped in to catch fish swimming near the surface as we snorkled, hoping they didn’t mistake us for a tasty morsel. Then back at the Sundancer, Sacagawea and Dundee swam with batfish, not the least shy about swimming up to say hello.

And as I sit on the boat’s deck, watching the kids fish from the platform as they sing our bedtime favorite, “Glad to have a Friend Like You,” with the sun setting on the horizon beyond them, I find myself humming a different tune . . .”and I think to myself, it’s a wonderful world.”

We’ve had a magical week in far north Queensland…first the Daintree, then several days in north Cairns, on a remote stretch of beach in Kewarra, at a wonderful resort nestled in the beachfront rainforest. While Cairns is a bustling beach town — with all the touristy honky tonk and beach buzz — Kewarra is a world away. In some ways reminiscent of our Kailua, it’s a sleepy neighborhood, with this little resort tucked into the bush at the end of the road. Friday night is pizza night on the beach — (much like our outings to Bob’s in Kailua!) — and we sat under the stars at the beach shack, nibbling prawn and tandori chicken pizzas with the local families who congregate each week. The kids played in moonlit sand with neighborhood kids while we soaked up the soulful music and intoxicating magic of this special place.

We’ve done our share of tourist musts, including the skyrail and train roundtrip to Kuranda. Beautiful scenery both directions — more rainforests, crocodile infested rivers, and exotic birds soaring through the skies. Kuranda seems a bit overtaken by the visitors, but we found a wonderful pub a bit off the beaten path for a local lunch of Guinness pie on the verandah. Not a bad way to spend the day!

Once again, our temporary home has been spectacular. The Timara Cottage at Kewarra is an original Queenslander home, originally built at Mossman gorge by one of the first families to settle the region. It was moved to Kewarra some twenty years ago and restored to it’s original condition. Huge verandahs encircle the 2 bedroom cottage, where we enjoyed lunch and family down time every day. Surrounded by lagoons on three sides, we shared the tranquility with the birds, fish, and the occasional rustle in the bush…wildlife we knew was out there but never quite showed itself. As we packed up and sneaked out before sunrise this morning, a huge tail and animal back-end darted into the bush in front of us…a kangaroo perhaps?

So many adventures, so many pictures, so many memories.

In a place this prehistoric – where something around every bend is certainly ancient and potentially lethal – there’s an undeniable urge to get up close and personal with it. Sacagawea and Dundee swam with the turtles in the beautiful – and shockingly cold — waters of little Cooper Creek, while Columbus and I kept a nervous watch for crocs. (As Carmen told us, “Never say never, when it comes to crocs, but I swim here regularly.” Some comfort, I guess.) We explored to the end of the road at Cape Tribulation — named such by Captain Cook when his ship was wrecked and subsequently salvaged by wrapping the sail under the ship and nursing it to shore – then just a few miles beyond, on the unpaved, rugged Bloomfield Track that meanders up the coast to Cooktown. (But don’t tell the folks at Hertz of course.)

We hiked into the rainforest, along the boardwalks and paths, to explore the mangrove estuaries and rainforest floors that lead onto some of the most breathtaking beaches in the world, one of the few places where rainforest reaches to the ocean. We met up with Pru, a local naturalist, and wandered deep into the old growth forest, well beyond the paths and boardwalks designed for visitors, where we saw trees over 1000 years old, and plants known to date back several hundred thousand years. We collected shells on Cow Beach and Cape Trib lookout, climbed trees along the shoreline, and spotted birds, lizards, spiders and other native creatures unlike any we’d ever seen. We climbed the towers of the award-winning Daintree Discovery Centre in an effort to better understand this place, some 135 million years old and largely unchanged, and learned about species, once believed extinct, found thriving in this magical place.

We met up with our local river guide along the side of the road. “Don’t walk down to the river’s edge, particularly with children! Stay on the road and I’ll meet you there,” he told me when I booked our adventure to get up close and personal with salt water crocs. Watch the trailer for the movie Rogue, and you’ll understand. A rattletrap tin-can flat bottomed boat, cruising waters straight from jungle flicks, looking for prehistoric creatures longer than the boat with jaw strength that crushes instantly. “Water comes hootin’ down from the mountains,” he explained, “and these babies build their nests along the banks. Only one in 200 young crocs makes it to maturity, then they start dealin’ out the pain.” He went on the point out the occasional sloping edge, leading from the murky waters up onto the banks. “Nothin’ but crocs ever walk out of these waters,” he matter-of-factly pointed out. We weren’t disappointed….these prehistoric beasts lounged along the shoreline, casually lumbering in and out of the water. They rule, and they know it, and we loved every minute of it.

Capping our experience, Sacagawea, Dundee and I headed off for Jungle Canopy Surfing . . . ziplining from platform to platform in the oldest rainforest on earth. Simply amazing! We rumbled up the mountainside in a 4WD jalopy to base station, where we were outfitted with harnesses and helmets, then hiked up the mountain to the first platform. It was interesting to note that Sacagawea was the youngest of our group (perhaps not a big surprise), and that I was, by far, the oldest. I’m not sure which seems more incongruous – kids watching their mom sail across the jungle, or a mom watching her children dangling from ropes and harnesses in mid air. We zipped across riverbeds, through the prehistoric jungle, from ancient tree to ancient tree. We soared at speeds reaching 35 kilometers, and flew upside down along one course, just because we could. The grins tell the story…Amazing. Exhilarating. Spectacular!

The Daintree is a special place. In many ways familiar to us, with plants we have in our own Hawaiian backyards, and weather that feels like home….yet so distance, remote, and instantly healing. It is a place where time really has stood still, and a quiet reminder that we are simply passing through this amazing planet we call home.

Tropical North Queensland. Nothing quite prepares you for the raw beauty and the desolation. In retrospect, perhaps I missed the clues…most visitors book a comfy condo or apartment in Cairns or Port Douglas, then take daytrips into the Daintree, with guides, on compact little 4WD bush buses. But that’s most people. Not us.

In Kermit the Frog, our neon green rental car – perhaps easier to spot should we get stuck in a bog along the way – we cruised up the Cook Highway, from Cairns to Port Douglas, stopping for a stroll through the weekly market, lunch at Soul & Pepper, a delightful waterfront watering hole, and a few groceries and provisions, before heading into the jungle. At first rural, then remote and rugged, we made our way through Mossman to the Daintree car ferry, reminiscent of the car barges crossing Germany’s Rhine , but with crocodile warnings. Across the river, the road narrows and I catch myself scanning for dinosaurs who surely roam the land. It’s prehistoric, and stunningly beautiful.

Once across the river, everything is, for the most part, off the grid. Each spot – restaurant, B&B, cabin – is completely self contained, with catchments for “cloud juice,” solar power, water pumps, the works. Efficient, effective, sustainable….and a reminder that it’s way past time for the rest of us to catch up.

This is country that attracts a special breed. We navigate through the jungle to Cockatoo Hill Retreat, a remote B&B, where we meet Carmen, my internet friend through whom we’ve rented a riverside cabin. An elegant French woman, probably in her early 60’s, it’s hard to comprehend that this delicate, fragile woman singlehandedly owns and operates two eco-resorts in the middle of this remote jungle bush. Cockatoo Hill Retreat is a small, luxury resort, with four treehouses perched amidst the jungle overlooking the most spectacular vistas. Riverside cabin – our home in the Daintree – is nestled in the heart of 20 remote acres of riverside rainforest. When her husband – with whom she created this magical place – passed away, she simply took the reins alone and forged ahead. She kept the resort open during the wet this year, she tells me, through some startling depth of rain and scorching temperatures. Since Columbus and I held our breath as Kermit struggled to make the vertical climb and rugged switchbacks leading into Cockatoo, I marvel that this slight woman lived on this perch through some of the most fascinating – and inhospitable – jungle weather on the planet. It’s a special breed, living in a very special place.

We only preserve what we love.

We only love what we understand.

We only understand what we study.

These words hang in the lodge at Fraser Island, a poignant reminder of our place as stewards of this amazing planet.

As we rumble down sand tracks through the rain forest on Fraser Island, our guide cheerily tells us about the prolific wildlife indigenous to the region. Seems everyone here is particularly proud of the wide range of deadly snakes who call Australia home, but as he points out, it’s winter now, so the only snake we’re likely to encounter is the “harmless python” common to the region. Harmless python: two words I never suspected could be meaningfully connected. This is, indeed, a wild and wonderful place.

We’ve had several days of bush adventure, starting back in Sydney with a day trip into the Blue Mountains just a couple of hours west of the city. Truly spectacular, the Blue Mountains are often called Australia’s Grand Canyon . . . vast, diverse, imposing and breathtaking. From rock ledges, we looked out across incredible vistas to the forest below, and mountain ranges in all directions. We took a cable car down into a spectacular gorge, then rode an old coal train — vertically! — out of the gorge. Known to be the steepest train incline on the planet, they get no argument from us…what a wild ride! At the end of our day, we trekked a short distance into the bush and watched in utter awe as a family of kangaroos enjoyed dinner with us a few short feet away.

Now a thousand or so kilometers north, we’ve explored the magical wonder of Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world, and perhaps one of the most fascinating ecosystems we’ve ever experienced. Fraser Island has no roads, only sand tracks over which experienced rangers and adventurous backpackers navigate oversized 4WD vehicles through rain forests, bush country, miles of rugged beaches, and sand dunes the size of small communities. Wild dingos — considered the purest, and potentially most deadly, in the country — casually loped along side us as we trek down the beach to the shipwreck Maheno. Spiders the size of mice and ants the size of cockroaches dot the landscape. Eels that look like nature wasn’t quite sure what to call them — part lizard, part snake, part fish — swim up the crystal clear creeks that run through a spectacular rain forest. It’s wilderness unplugged, and we’re soaking up every morsel of it.

We’ve come to understand that it’s a special breed of Aussie bloke who call this bush country home. Their spirit of adventure, their passion for the land — and sea and air around it — is infectious. Such was the case of the wild-eyed pilot, who’s single engine plane sat on the beach, just in case some visitor wanted a bird’s eye view. Dundee and Sacagawea were immediately captivated, and reminded of the many planes I jumped from at another time in my life, I relented. Down the beach we roared, lifting off over capping waves, swooping back over rain forests, sand dunes, and crystal lakes . . . their eyes wide with amazement and awe.

Exhausted from our adventures, we settled into our cabin as the full moon rose into the night sky, and munching on cheese and crackers, PB&J and cookies, we compared notes, shared pictures, and laughed at our many adventures already. Definitely, family (vaga) bonding.

Just when you start to feel right at home…they speak the same language, and it feels strangely familiar…you’re quickly reminded that Down Under has its own rules of language. Take our bus ride from Mosman Wharf into Mosman last night. We’d walked from Cremorne around the bay, across these wonderful wooden bridges, and found ourselves at Mosman Rowers Club, only to discover it’s closed on Mondays. Not to be outdone, we decided to venture on into Mosman for dinner. As we waited on the bus, a delightful, elderly woman stepped aboard, and mentioned to the driver that there’d not been a sighting of Lord Nelson recently. With a glance our way as she settled in next to us, she went on to explain that Lord Nelson is a 50′ sleek black sailboat, often moored (and staffed) at Mosman awaiting her owner’s whims to sail. She explained the boat with great detail …her sleek design, towering mast, perfectly polished trim. ”That’s not to be missed,” I exclaimed, engaging in conversation with her. She looked a bit startled — perhaps slightly agitated — as she corrected me. ”No, as I said, it’s Lord Nelson.”

Our new best friend, she went on to explain that the Mosman Hotel, where we thought we might dine, isn’t in Mosman at all. The Buena Vista one, however, is right in the middle of Mosman and is simply wonderful, particularly at lunch, when they offer the two-for-one. She entertained us all he way up the hill and into town. As we headed our separate ways, she noted she’d once worked on “the mainland,” in Ohio actually. A soul mate for Columbus.

A bit more of Bryson’s wisdom rings true: An air of cheerful industriousness suffuses the scene. These are people who get to live in a safe and fair-minded society, in a climate that makes you strong and handsome, in one of the world’s great cities — and they get to come to work on a boat from a children’s storybook, across a sublime plane of water and each morning glance up and see that famous Opera House and inspiring bridge and the laughing face of Luna Park. No wonder they look so damned happy.

In our three blissful days so far in Sydney (including the extra one the date line gave us), we’ve come to know exactly what he means. First, meet Johnny, the delightful chap claiming to be in negotiations to buy the charming Cremorne Point B&B we’re staying in, who offered us his Mercedes to get to dinner one night. (We declined, noting that we’d rather practice driving on the wrong side of the street in a rental car first.) Then, there’s that skyline, blissful by day and absolutely exquisite by night, and those iconic views of the Opera House and bridge, imposing from every angle. And finally, there’s the whole food scene: internationally infused, yet distinctly Australian. Where else can you find a restaurant where you order your meat at the counter, cook it on the barbie conveniently located in the middle of the joint, and swill beers with your fellow grill mates in the process?

We’ve delighted in a taste of it all. We’ve enjoyed the symphony at the Opera House (and hope that our fellow listeners understood our sleeping nods to be ones of melodic enjoyment, not simply jetlag), grilled steaks on the barbie at The Oaks in Neutral Bay and at the Mosman Bar & Grill, Columbus and Dundee braved the Bridge Climb to shout at the tops of their lungs from the pinnacle of the bridge, and we’ve spun, twisted, dangled and slid through the rides of Sydney’s iconic amusement spot, Luna Park.

It’s a magical city…the launching spot for a magical adventure.

In his book, In a Sunburned Country, Bill Bryson writes, It has more things that can kill you than anywhere else. Of the world’s ten most poisonous snakes, all are Australian. Five of its creatures — the funnel web spider, box jellyfish, blue-ringed octopus, paralysis tick and stonefish — are the most lethal of their type in the world. This is a country where even the fluffiest of caterpillars can lay you out with a toxic nip, where seashells will not just sting you, but actually sometimes go for you If you are not stung or pronged to death in some unexpected manner, you may be fatally chomped by sharks or crocodiles, or carried helplessly out to sea by irresistible currents, or left to stagger to an unhappy death in the baking outback. This is a tough place.

With Bryson’s insight fully embedded in our psyche, we felt it our responsibility as parents to try to understand these creatures before heading out in the outback in a campervan and sailing the Whitsundays with two children in tow. Children, I might remind you, who’ve grown up in Hawaii where there are no snakes and the only critters to be feared are centipedes and wild pigs.

Sydney’s aquarium, the Widllife World and the Taronga Zoo brought us up close and personal. We saw the critters that kill and maim , got lost in the Wombat caves, got personal with koalas and kangaroos (tho no cuddling yet…we hope to do that later), and even managed to get swarmed by butterflies. What’s disconcerting, though, were all the deadly, toxic mysteries we didn’t see. Try as we might, we simply couldn’t spot that blue ringed octopus in the small tank he calls home. If we can’t find him in there, how the heck are we ever supposed to save ourselves on the Great Barrier Reef?

Oh, and yes…there did seem to be a Nickelodeon invasion at the Aquarium, and yes, Wart, that’s Patrick hiding behind the shark!

Such a familiar — yet exciting — feeling. Traipsing through the airport, bags and passports in tow; settling in for the duration….even from the middle of the Pacific, Sydney’s a long flight. Sacagawea noted, as we headed down the jetway, “I like this feeling, these adventures!”

Finally, on the distant horizon, we catch a glimpse…the continent that’s also a country, big, vast, rugged, yet also cosmopolitan and complex. The icons come into view — the Opera House, the bridge, the skyline. G’day mate!

Good news! Bonus Day in Sydney! Sometimes screwing up can be a good thing. Yep…I’m a newbie when it comes to the date line thing, so I somehow believed we arrive a day later than we actually do. Now I discover we have one whole day I hadn’t planned on…more sights, more adventures…and yes, perhaps even the famous Bridge Climb. Yes, screwing up can be a really wonderful thing after all.

Simplify. Adapt. Enjoy. Words to live by.