Peaking at Mount Kosciusko
Peaking it
The best days are those unexpected ones, with no
expectations. I’m famous for hyping something up only to be bitterly
disappointed if it’s not as awesome as I thought it would be. Movies, TV shows,
parties, food… yes, food is a big one. The things I genuinely boast about are indeed,
unknown or unplanned things, that element of wonderful surprise.
Of course, I’ve heard of Mount Kosciusko, the highest
mountain in Australia, but I didn’t realise we’d be visiting it on our lap. I
had my must-see list sorted long before we left: Whitsundays, Port Douglas, the
Daintree Rainforest. John had his list, Fraser Island, Cape York, Tasmania
(next week – yeehaa!!!)
Going to Mt Kosciusko was not on my radar at all so loving
it and putting at amongst the top of our stops has come as a very welcome,
wonderful surprise. It felt like I was in a scene from a Camp USA brochure. I don’t want to peak too early, with much of our trip still
to go, but at this moment I have the overwhelming urge to say it’s been my
favourite (yes, I say that to all the boys places).
Bush camping again
I couldn’t remember the last time we bushed camp, it had been months of staying in friend’s houses enjoying the festive season, that when we parked up by the river under a mountain backdrop and lighting up the camp-fire did I feel at home again. I didn’t realise how much I missed it and how much truly I love it. Being surrounded by greenery and flowing water – pure serenity.
It was the first time I can remember feeling sad too. The realisation that we are on the home straight, that camping would become a rarity and not our daily blessing. I complained to a friend there was less than 12 weeks of our trip to go, to which I was laughed at, “Everyone else gets 4 weeks off a year and you’re already fretting about 3 times that.” Enjoying being back in nature, we suddenly feel too rushed and that we'll miss so much, we don’t want it to end. Let me tell you, we’re already planning our next trip!
With the promise of snow at the top, the boys were super excited about hiking up, the affectionately named, Mt Kozi. After the fun chairlift ascent, they practically ran the 6.8km path to reach the summit in under one and a half hours to stand upon the marker pronouncing themselves “Kings of the World” (well actually, just the highest people in Australia at that moment).
We were damn proud of them. With willingness, they can accomplish anything. The start of our trip was heaving with gorge hiking, but of late, we’ve succumbed to the leisure of summer chillin’ (laziness) that it felt alive to feel fit, capable and achieving a feat like conquering Mount Kosciusko.
Dashing through the snow
Snow atop Mt Kozi was isolated to small pockets, but that was enough for our Massimo and Rio, first time ever seeing snow, to have the time of their lives throwing snowballs at each other, making a tiny snowman and enjoying slipping and sliding about. Pure joy. I keep telling them how lucky they are at all they’ve experienced. They acknowledge it, but do they understand it and appreciate it? They’re kids, their job is to just have fun. They certainly were having fun and that’s my job, as mum, done.
I can’t wait to bring them back one day to see the whole mountain range covered in snow, to ski, snowboard, toboggan, build giant snowmen, make snow angels and have hour long snow ball fights. Something to, most definitely, look forward to. For now, being summer, the mountain is all about mountain biking.
Mountain Biking
I had no idea I loved mountain biking, but I do! Who knew?! It is exhilarating, scary, fun, dirty and so very beautiful. I don’t even own a mountain bike, which speeding and breaking over the dirt tracks on my standard road bike made it even more scary and exhilarating. It was rocky. It was muddy. It was slippery. It was crazy fun! The initial fear turned to disbelieving confidence and we just kept on. I was so impressed with my kids who didn’t baulk at the distance descending the mountain, just the desire to ‘smash it’ and the refreshing reward of washing off their muddy legs and bikes in the freezing, ice-melting river at the end of it all. Bliss.
