It’s official: I’m the big 32.
This is how it all went down:
read more ↓Saturday morning at the crack of dawn I hopped a puddle jumper with my travel mates, Maite and Cody. We landed in Kangaroo Island at about 7:30 and got picked up by Craig, the founder of a company called Exceptional Kangaroo Island. They specialize in catered island tours, and Craig proved the point by immediately driving us to the home he shared with his wife and two children to make us breakfast.
“Do you have yogurt?” I asked.
“Honey yogurt,” he said, peering into his fridge.
I wrinkled my nose a little. I knew I was going to be downing sugar at some point over the next 24 hours, but I wanted to be careful-ish leading up to that point. “I’d prefer plain if it’s possible.”
“Well, let’s just walk next door about five minutes to the dairy,” he said, and closed the fridge door.
And that’s exactly what we did. Next door, just a five-minute walk through his own sheep farm, was a dairy that specialized in sheep’s milk yogurts and cheeses. As Craig wandered the property looking for the owner, a ton of sheep baaaaaaaaaaa’ed away at us (prompting Maite to comment that it felt like we were being heckled.) Unfortunately the dairy farmers weren’t in so we walked back to Craig’s place and had honey yogurt (which was delicious and perfect) with homemade muesli and tea.
Our first stop for the day – after dropping in on his son’s cricket game – was Sea Lion Beach, where all the Australian sea lions hang out and suntan when they’re done diving for food. There were tons of them, and because Craig has special licenses and agreements with a lot of the wildlife reserves on the island, we were able to go walking along the beach just a few feet away from them instead of staying on the boardwalk to watch them from afar. From there, Craig drove us to a little hideaway spot in the bush where he’d set up a bar-be-que and picnic table in the shade. He made us King George Whiting fish with grilled potatoes and sheep’s milk cheese along with a fabulously fresh salad. Delish.
Off we went again and drove along the American River, then went to the other side to see Pennington Bay, which was stunning. Powdery sand, water that was a mix of turquoise and cobalt, dramatic cliffsides… and practically nobody on the beach. I immediately ran down the stairs and kicked off my shoes so I could dip my toes in the water. (A sidenote about the water: looks Caribbean, feels Arctic. Brrrr!) I walked along the shore to the furthest cliff and back again, where Maite approached me and asked, “Not a bad way to say goodbye to 31, hey?”
I nodded. “It’s the perfect kiss-off,” I told her. And then I decided to scale one of the giant rocks that looked out onto the sea. I was high up enough that I couldn’t hear anything but the waves. It felt like I was the only one out there. I looked out onto the water and watched the waves roll in and out, crashing against the rocks beneath me. Bye-bye, 31, I thought. And out came the tears. I felt sad at first – like I said before, 31 was a pretty tough year. But it was also incredibly rewarding, hence why the laughter came next. I finally found myself happy to move on from 31… but also at peace with all the turmoil and gifts it had given me.
I finally climbed down from the rock and we drove to our accommodations for the night: a B&B called Hog Bay Hill. It had only opened in May, but the owners – a married couple – had done a tremendous job with it. All three rooms overlooked the ocean and boasted giant king-sized beds with cozy bedding, dark wood floors, flat screen TVs with in-room DVD players, and the best part, L’Occitane bath accoutrements. Score. But the ultimate came in the form of dinner that evening. One of the owners, Justin, was a chef with two of the top restaurants in Adelaide, Bridgewater Mill and The Manse. I find it hard to describe how incredible the meal was, but here’s a shot: fresh baked rolls accompanied pumpkin salsa and grilled sheep’s milk cheese for a starter, cheese and veggie-stuffed chicken with grilled potatoes and asparagus swimming in a creamy onion sauce made up our main, and for dessert, a creamy panna cotta with organic island-made honey. It should come as no surprise that I went straight to bed right afterward and slept for 10 hours.
I decided 32 had to start off right, so before I moved a muscle out of bed I turned on my iPod and listened to “Like It Or Not” by Madonna (I know you hear me, Shar.) I hopped in the shower and got dressed, then met up with Maite, Cody and Julie, the other co-owner, for breakfast. Julie and Justin had thoughtfully given me a birthday card along with breakfast (which, for the record, was a fluffy goat cheese and sweet potato frittata, fresh fruit and tea.) Craig picked us up and drove us out to sea again, then asked if anyone wanted a snack after the two-hour trip. Cody said yes, I agreed, so out of the truck we went. Craig pulled out a Tupperware container and a table cloth, then led us to this little pulley that was set up on a track on the dock. He laid out the table cloth and secured it – it was pretty windy – then opened the container. Inside was a chocolate cake.
“We made this with almond meal, and just a tiny bit of sugar,” he said, and made a valiant attempt to light a birthday candle in some pretty strong winds. It didn’t work, but they sung happy birthday to me anyway, and gave me the knife to cut the cake. It was so moist, fudgy and delicious that we each had two pieces (luckily it was a small cake.) As I digested, I was treated to a cart ride down the tracks and back again. I threw my arms in the air and giggled. It was almost better than Disneyland. (Note that I said “almost.” Also note that there is sarcasm in that comment. I’m leaving it up to you to decipher which way to take that comment.)
Next stop, the beach. For whatever reason we all decided it would be a good idea to get in the water. Having been on beaches in about a bazillion corners of the world this year, I desperately wanted to include Australia in that list, so I tiptoed out into that freezing cold water despite my better judgment and tried to pep talk myself into diving in. I didn’t have much time to think about it, considering Cody – who had run down to the opposite end of the beach – made the decision that tackling me on his way back was a great birthday gift. So whether I liked it or not, I was in the water. And it was damn cold. Like, hypothermia cold. At least we weren’t being pummeled by Perfect Storm waves.
Back in the truck we went, and drove to another cliffside spot for lunch (another incredibly fresh green salad with grilled chicken – yum.) We followed that up with a visit to the New Zealand Sea Lion habitat before driving up to Remarkable Rocks, a granite rock formation that looks like it was designed by Salvador Dali. And then, on the way to Kangaroo Island Wilderness Retreat, I finally saw it – my first live Kangaroo Island kangaroo. It was so engrossed in eating that I was able to get a foot away from it. Thankfully there’s photographic evidence that can attest to this.
Dinner started with smoked salmon, avocado and horseradish sauce on popadoms, and was followed by prawns in coconut cream and chilis. But it was dessert that made it the birthday meal to end all birthday meals. The menu was filled with fantasmagorical desserts like complicated parfaits and raspberry tarts and sticky banana bread pudding, but I ordered – and got – a simple, unspoiled, magnificently classic Magnum bar (word up, my Azorean sisters!) And it was, quite simply, the best thing ever.
I walked back to my room in near pitch blackness flanked by wallabies and possums looking for dinner. I slid open the patio door to my room and closed the shades behind me, stripped down, hopped into bed and watched Borat. And then I drifted to sleep.
It was the perfect ending to a perfect day.
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