The Bay of Fires - finally!

After nearly five years of saying I want to go to the Bay of Fires. I stamped my foot and changed my vocab. "March long weekend we are going to the Bay of Fires". It is amazing what a difference a couple of words can make. Friday afternoon I loaded up the ute and the kids and we headed for the East coast behind my camping buddy Megan and her tribe. We stopped at St Helens for dinner at the little boat fish and chip cafe where I had delicious seafood chowder, so thick and yummy but oh so filling that despite my best efforts I could not fit it all in. Then maybe 15 minutes north and we were pulling into Humbug Point. Tyres bumped over the corrigated gravel road as we descended into the camp ground at Dora's Point. After a couple of rounds of the area we finally found the perfect spot for our group. Tent nestled between native trees, sheltered from the wind and view of other camp goers. B1 got straight to work setting up a jump for his bike. His one request for camp was that I bring his bike, a shovel and a load of dirt. I declined the final item but assured him that there would be plenty of it at the site. And dirt there was, the horrible sticky type that blackens your feet and drives you to have a bowl bath before bed because you know you'll never get the stains out of the sleeping bags if feet go in the way they are. Shovel in hand B1 worked tirelessly for the 3 day adventure modifying and testing his jump and even made a smaller one for his sister. I have to say they really were amazing together over the entire weekend. B1 figured how to dink B2 on his handle bars and despite my visions of doom I refrained from stopping them. They did have one stack which resulted in a grazed bottom and a bruised ego, but otherwise I think the comradeship was worth it. Poor B2 fell victim to the barbaric tentacles of the treacherous blue bottles which washed into the lagoon on a big swell. Poor little possum she saw one coming and was suddenly surrounded with nowhere to go. Fortunately, I remembered that vinegar is no longer the prescribed first aid and we set off back to camp which seemed, at the time, like a very long 10 minute drive. Boiled the kettle and rigged up double soaking baths for each arm. She quickly found relief and within an hour there were no remnants of the once swollen wounds. That was our first visit to Binnalong Bay, it was such a shame it turned out so. However, the four children worked hard collecting copeous amounts of blue bottles and containing them in a small hole. The boys became quite skilled at picking them up with twigs to avoid being stung themselves. The following morning the blue bottles had disappeared as mysteriously as they had arrived. I was in the water at 7am, unheard of for me in these cold southern oceans. However, after 3 days of dust and grime the water felt heavenly and at that early hour I felt a serenity in my solitude. After packing up camp, we all headed back to the beach for a final swim and jumping off the rocks which is a family favourite in our household. A weekend of discoveries, flaming soldier crabs, muscles collected and cooked straight off the beach, experimentations, love, laughter, campfires and pure bliss. We are keen to get back there soon. It is such a shame we can't live like that forever.