Ninety six hours – if you live in the southern hemisphere. Twenty four hours longer if you’re in the wonderful summery northern hemisphere.
When I was young and TV had just begun in my home town, I fell in love with a little show called Tales of the Riverbank.
It wasn’t the animals so much, it was life on the river, a secret life. Little animals tucked away in the long grasses and shrubs of the riverbank and even better, animals that had adventures.
In that once-upon-a-time, Dad would sit and read Wind in the Willows to me and Ratty and Mole became my heroes – particularly Ratty because of his love of the water and boats. I was a child of the water then.
And when my own children were young, we became devotees of the BBC TV production of Wind in the Willows.
We all began kayaking about 11 years ago, and in that time have paddled together in many different places up and down our east coast. But over the years we have decreased in number through age and injury and we’re now trying to have one BIG kayak per summer, to add to the little ones we try to have once or twice a week. I’ve not been for many this year because of Mum’s accident and because of windy weather but I wouldn’t miss the BIG one for the world. We augmented our shrinking numbers with two extra ladies this year. A lovely group…
Last year was somewhat of a milestone birthday and as it passed, I made a mini-Bucket List (sort of child’s beach-bucket size) of all the things I want to do between now and whenever.
It involved things like a helicopter ride to my favourite place. A light aircraft ride to a world recognized wilderness area. Visits to all the parts of this absolutely beautiful state that I have never seen because I’ve been too busy visiting overseas places, or too busy looking after family, or too busy living in cities away from Tasmania, or too busy ‘being’ on the coast. Scuba-diving lessons. (Not sure about this one as I am claustrophobic, which come to think of it may affect the helicopter and the light aircraft, but on the plus side I love swimming underwater.) Climb to the top of Mount Maria and so on…
Communication; it takes two. Stay with me and I’ll explain.
Today we took the boat once again to Maria (pronounced Mar-eye-ah) Island. A glorious day, and where we chose to moor, so calm that one could barely tell where water ended and land began. The family left the boat and decided to walk along the coastal track to the lagoon and bay where we wished to swim. I had brought my kayak with me and decided that I would paddle round to the bay. Maria Island has snakes here and there and I figured I’d rather take my chances with the water than snakes as anyone who has read this blog knows I have a snake-phobia.