The other bastard thing on our trip - besides the wind and the beach shade AKA The Beast? Fishing. As mentioned, I grew up in Lancelin - home of windy windsurfing and fab beaches and crayfish. My Father, the #1 Pop, he's a crayfisherman. I get seasick. Never really did the fishing thing, in the same way I never got into the beach thing. But I dutifully went out to KMart and spent $24.95 on a Junior fishing rod (I'm so stingey I only got a Junior one....hot pink....me and the 10yr olds were eyeing them off in the store). #1 Hubby had his rod already, and so I did my wifely duty and bonded with him over fishing.
What a shit thing that was. Firstly, the wind we experienced on the beach was only intensified when we're stuck out on a platform at a height above the ocean. And there's no shelter. No sand, granted. But nothing at all to stop my ponytail from bitch slapping me in the face every 3 minutes.
It was so windy, that we actually had to put in a concerted effort to not be propelled to the railing ourselves.
|I kid you not, we weren't far off holding on to stop ending up horizontal ourselves|
It was so windy, the bloody fish had buggered off to some calm and quiet haven without telling us or the other idiots persevering with the fishing in the face of gale force winds.
It took 20 minutes for #1 Hubby's bestest stubby holder to fly into the water. Much smugness from yours truly, as I had only just advised him that he should just put it in the backpack or risk farewelling it as it shot over the edge. Which it did, exactly as I had predicted. It's nice to be right.
So for the next 10 minutes of fish-free fishing, we watched this stubby holder float in and out, taunting us. It was the most entertainment we'd had since we started fishing.
Then another fisher's (fisher's? fishii's? fisherdude's?) bucket went over. Now it was just funny. He grabbed his toddler, fearing she'd be next. I was fully prepared to ask her to grab the stubby holder while she was down there, should she go shooting over the railing at any moment.
This was followed by a plastic bag belonging to a group of Japanese tourists. They squealed and came rushing over to take photo's of it. Most fun we'd had all holiday by this point.
In the end, there were no fish. But we hadn't laughed so hard since we left home 3 days earlier.
We had not taken (any fish) from the ocean - but, instead, we had given back to the ocean, in our own way. Sort of. I sincerely hope it appreciates the Phnom Penh Foreign Correspondents Club stubby holder that I had to go a long way to get. Clearly, this warrants a return trip to replace it (Mother Nature, not such an evil bitch after all).
I'll spare you the details of having to re-pack 90% of what we took with us. Being that we were too lazy to even microwave most of the meals I took with us, and we didn't actually end up needing the large medical kit, the kettle, the full set of linen or the cooking pots and utensils I had taken. It was possibly more painful and stressful than packing to go away on holiday, as we had the 3 kids to contend with at the same time, who had chosen the last night to wake every 30-40 minutes on a rotating roster. Brilliant how they can come together as a team when
it gives us the shits or causes us pain they want to.
Suffice to say, now that we've been home a few days - I have found a similar holiday park, with the same amenities and then some. It even has an extra kiddy playground, a lake, a giant trampoline type thing, and THREE swimming pools. I was beside myself when I found out they give you an extra TV in the master bedroom.
It's 20 minutes from our house.
Not 4.5 hours.
Twenty fucking minutes.
There will be no more 3D travelling for us in future.