The Cotters in Perth: Camping for Christmas. Part 1.

Friday 23rd December dawned bright and sunny (as most are here) and we were off down to the far South coast to a place called Denmark. Denmark is a beautiful "hippy" style seaside town about 450 kms from Perth, a drive which takes approx 5 hours. We were to spend Christmas camping with Brian's cousin Lorna, her partner Sue and their son James. We had told them that our earliest likely departure time was 9am, possibly 10 if things went badly with the packing. They were aiming for 7am, definitely no later than 8, as they have a trailer tent which takes a fair bit of putting together. We agreed we'd meet en route or possibly even down there.
10am came and we were still trying to fit everything into the car. I was worrying about how far behind the others we were when the phone rang. The conversation went a little like this.
Sue: " How's it going there?"
Me: "Erm, well, we're not ready yet. Thought the car was packed till we realised Brian had forgotten to put in the ice box." (the ice box is 62 litres so this was a major problem)
Sue: " Well, we haven't actually left yet either, but will be gone in the next half hour or so."
Me: "OK. Still got the bike rack to load but we won't be too far behind you."

At quarter past twelve that day, after having to remove pedals from bikes and stuff things under seats, we pulled into the local "Super Cheap Auto" store to buy more straps for the roof rack, before finally setting off !!

By five thirty we arrived on the camp site and had the further stress of unpacking everything again, putting up the tent, blowing up beds, putting up fairy lights etc. The kids just got on their bikes and cycled round in laps of the site until it made us adults feel giddy to look at them, but at least it kept them happy.

Next day was Christmas Eve. We went into town early to get some shopping, then back a little later to get a new gas bottle for our camp stove as it turned out the one we bought with it wasn't compatible ( thanks very much Mr shopkeeper for selling us that combo). The weather was beautiful and we decided to take a trip to a beach called Greens pool a little way along the coast.

Wow, they sure know how to do beaches down there. It was a stunning inlet with rocks around so that the full surf was broken up and the "pool" area was perfect for children to go in. There were plenty of steps to go down to get to it though. A fact which caught me out later when Ru needed an urgent poo after going in the cold water, and the loos were up top at the carpark!!

One of the permanent residents of the site was a 75 year old white rasta with beard and dreds called Bob. Bob could take up a whole blog post all to himself, but suffice it to say he had taken rather a shine to us, largely on the basis of Brian and Lorna being Irish ( he was of Irish descent) and Brian's ability and willingness to chat to anyone. He lent us a second icebox for our beers, some glasses, and generally offered words of wisdom about the area. He also decided to pop over for a few Guiness' that evening, when we were trying our hardest to get the kids to bed and do the "Santa" thing successfully in tents. It was an interesting evening to say the least, but we did eventually manage to get everything done and be a little bit sociable too.

Christmas day came and Alfie tiptoed across from the boys room in the tent to ours. In the middle section was Santa's sack full of pressies for the boys. He whispered as if Santa might still be around "He came Mummy. He did!" Ru awoke and the tent was soon filled with the sound of ripping paper and oohs and ahhs. At ten we went off to Christmas day mass in the town. This is a picture of the first thing I saw as I got out of the car:

Approximately the size of my hand. Yuk!

The church was so cute, like something from a film, felt like it should be full of Amish or something:

Oddly enough the parish priest was an ageing Dubliner so there was some small hint of home for Brian at least!

When we got back to camp we had a visit from Santa in the local fire truck. They tour the whole town and park on Christmas day every year, sounding the siren, ringing the bell and throwing sweeties to the children. What an exciting sight. I was so thrilled for the boys I nearly forgot to take a photo!

Christmas dinner consisted of breaded chicken, mash and glazed carrots. The breaded chook was eaten with a dollop of Ocean Spray cranberry sauce on the side as a nod in the direction of proper Christmas dinner, but we passed on the Brussels sprouts this year due to lack of demand. In fact we ended up with a rather larger group at our table than originally planned as the boys had made a friend, Liam, who was with his parents a couple of tents away. They came over for a glass of bubbly in the run-up to dinner and ended up bringing their table, chairs and meal over with them. We had plenty of crackers and Santa napkins to go round so the more the merrier it seemed.

I did insist on one Christmas tradition. Christmas Pud. There was a brief interlude after the main course while I cycled up to the microwave in the camp kitchen at the other end of the site with said pud tucked under my arm, and orange paper cracker hat at a jaunty angle on my head. I then had to wrap it in a couple of teatowels to bring it back, turn it out and feed some brandy in and over it in order to set the thing alight. This was a novelty for all at the table apart from Brian and myself, but everyone entrered into the spirit of the thing pretty well and we sang "We wish you a merry Christmas" before devouring it with loads of brandy butter and squirty cream. In all, it could be said to have been an unusual, but not at all unpleasant, Christmas day.

Boxing day we headed West to the "Valley of the Giants", a forest of huge Tingle trees where they have built a treetop walkway that takes you 40 metres into the canopy itself.

Sue is terrified of heights but was persueded to give it a go. She did amazingly to get all the way round as the whole structure had a definite swing to it.

Presentation of a well deserved certificate!

The trees themselves were really beautiful, old and full of character, something that could actually be appreciated far more from ground level.

This one made me think of Enid Blyton stories, there's surely an elf living there.

This tree is actually named "Old Grandma Tingle" I think you can see why.

The boys stand inside a huge tree trunk.

Chilling out, hoping for ice cream.

We went for dinner on the way home as between fear and plain old excercise we were all starving, then Brian and I took the kids for a drive to have a look at another beach close to town called Ocean Beach. Thus called as the ocean meets the inlet on which Denmark sits, it has beautiful views from its viewing point, and scary currents in parts.