We set out after Hector had woken up from his morning nap and drove round the harbour to Charters Bay. This was as close to the island as we could get, without sinking in knee deep sand. After our previous experience with Hector in the canoe, we decided to just make a wee padded area for him to sit on the bottom of the boat. That way he could lie down if he needed to or come for cuddles. This was all well and good, except babies don't understand the idea of boats and the need to stay in the middle so you don't fall in. In the end, Stephen paddled Hector and I across the bay to Quail Island. It was a lovely paddle.
Upon arrival, Hector was plopped down on the sand which he commenced to eat with great gusto. A few moments later, he let out an almighty burp - which Stephen postulated was due to the calcium carbonate mixing with stomach acid forming carbon dioxide. Further research is required to verify this hypothesis. Obviously, more trips to Quail Island are needed.
We then popped Hector in the backpack, grabbed our posh picnic and headed up to the top of the island in search of some sun.
The optimal solar sight was soon found on the grassy lawn in front of the visitor centre, so we threw down our blanket and set out our lunch. Prosciutto, crusty bread, fresh pesto, stuffed pimentos, truffle cheese, Italian sodas, panaforte, and hand made chocolate truffles indulged our taste buds and filled our tummies. It was a gloriously beautiful lunch in an absolutely wonderful location. I can only imagine how different it will be come summertime and there are other families enjoying the same thing.
Hector and mom enjoy the last of the lunchtime sun before it disappears into the bush on the other side of the lawn.
Hector and dad read up on the history of Quail Island - from resource cache, to farming home, to quarantine site, to leper colony, this place had it all.
With lunch just a full feeling in our stomachs, we wandered back to the canoe, packed up and headed out. The tide had gone out a little, so there was some dragging to get it afloat, but we were soon back out on the water.
Back at home, we pulled our tasty venison shanks from the slow cooker (best thing ever) and sat down to a delicious anniversary dinner. After retiring to the lounge, we sprawled out on the floor and settled into some playing before Hector went to bed. Unfortunately, in the immense haze of fun we were all having, Hector managed to slap the front of the pellet fire and burn his poor wee hand. (it was on at the time). And so our day, having been so wonderful, was now a screaming, crying mess of hurt. Cold running water, panadol, and a call to the health line got us out into the car and off to after hours (it being 8pm by now). Apparently, everyone likes to go at that time and the place was packed.
Two hours later, we were home with a sleeping, bandaged baby, and two much more relaxed parents. We tucked Hector into bed, poured some champagne, and celebrated our first anniversary as a family.
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P.S. Hector's hand is all better now.
