How to Travel Australia with Kids

This month sees the publication of 75 Must See Places to Take the Kids (before they don’t want to go).    You see, while living and writing The Great Australian Bucket List, I was also travelling with my wife and two kids, aged 2 and 5, moving at a frenetic pace that very nearly did all of us in.  Family travel, I was learning, is an entirely different beast.   But we discovered some truly incredible wonders for all ages, gathered priceless memories, and also learned a thing or two.   To celebrate the launch of the new book, here’s some of that hard-fought wisdom for parents of young kids, and the people and family who support them.

75 Must See Places to Take the Kids (Published by Affirm Press)
  • There Are No Gurus

With due respect, any Mom or Dad who claims to have family travel figured out is delusional, likely fibbing, or paying someone a lot of money to look after their kids. The truth is: young kids do not give a flying crap about your best laid plans and intentions. Rather, they’ll make a crap while you’re flying (probably an explosive one, the kind that just violates a diaper).   Children under the age of five are frequently erratic, inefficient, agitated, annoying, moody, and instinctively know how to push your buttons. And this is before you take them on a stressful journey. Of course, you love them more than anything in the world, and there are moments of such tenderness, magic and wonder it makes all other forms of travel – backpacking, honeymooning, grey nomading – pale. But you will work for those moments, and pay for them in blood, sweat, tears and dollars. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

  • Flying

If there’s strategy, we tried it. Not letting the kids nap so they’ll sleep on the plane (they didn’t). Letting them nap so they’d be rested (they weren’t). Buying books, loading up devices, crayons for colouring in…the reality is that some flights are terrible, and some flights are not. Overwhelmingly, we found Jetstar’s crew to be sympathetic and helpful. Fellow passengers meanwhile could be broken down into several categories: a) We’ve been there and Thank God we’re not there any more b) How dare you bring your snotty kids on this plane and ruin my flight c) I’m right there with you and we’d chat but my kid is eating the tray that was last wiped down in 1997 …and d) Every cent I invested in these noise cancelling headphones was worth it. Never will time tick more slowly than when you find yourself on a plane with your screaming, inconsolable, jetlagged and overtired infant and toddler. The best thing that can be said for flying is that it eventually ends, you will land in your destination, it beats spending all those hours in a car, and with devices, flying today is very much easier than it used to be.

  • Driving

We drove almost 20,000 kilometres during our trip, and it definitely helped that we were in a comfortable Ford Everest. With direction from my toddler, I curated a playlist of 100 songs I knew my kids would enjoy, and adults might be able to stomach on endless repeat. We learned that snacks must be instantly accessible, along with wipes, and towels for sudden eruptions of projectile vomit on winding roads (watch for seismic clues like the kids being too quiet, moaning, or turning sepia). Good car seats are essential (we went with Britax) with the advantage of the kids being strapped in. Sometimes strapping them in was an easy process, and sometimes we’d lean in too close to fasten a buckle and get the open-handed slap to the face. Don’t blame the kid, you’re a sitting duck. GPS definitely takes the sting out of getting lost and provides some indication on how long the journey will take, not that this will stop the endless barrage of “Are We There Yet?”   Road games help, especially for the older kids. Drugs occasionally help, especially for parents.

  • Packing

Before you depart, resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to pack far more than you need. Imagining every conceivable scenario, you simply can’t help yourself. What if it gets unseasonably hot, cold, wet, dry, or buggy? If it does, you can deal with it with a quick visit to the store, mall or market. Our kids outgrew their shoes twice in 10 months. For almost a year, their wardrobe consisted of a small suitcase that seemed to refresh its garments along the way, when the holes and stains and smells overwhelmed the clothing’s usefulness. Even with a limited selection, our five year old would have meltdowns over her fashion choices, with a favourite dress or shirt cast out from one day to the next. Your best bet is to pack a travel uniform of sorts, with the same garment combo in multiples. Good luck with that.

  • Eating

The restaurants of Australia seem convinced that the most important food groups for every growing child are chicken nuggets and chips, pizza, mac and cheese, fish and chips, chicken nuggets served with mac and cheese, and pizza served with fish and chips.   Basically, all the essential minerals and vitamins one can get.    Of course, any time we ordered something that wasn’t from the Kids Menu, the kids would take one bite, and the bill would take a bigger bite. This is why we did a lot of cooking wherever we stayed, which not only saved us money, it also saved our sanity.

  • Accommodation

Self-catering cabins at holiday parks (we had wonderful stays with Discovery Holiday Parks) and two bedroom apartment rentals (we stuck with Oaks Hotels) served us much better than a traditional hotel room. Kids need the space, you need the kitchen, and holiday parks come with jumping pillows, pools, playgrounds, and most importantly, other kids for yours to play with. We used an ultra-light, easy-to-assemble travel crib from Valco Baby which ensured our two year old had consistency. He’s a good sleeper, but our five year-old frequently ended up in our bed, and I frequently ended up in her bed, a sofa, and one time, on the floor in the closet. You do what you got to do.   Kids thrive on routine, and travel is all about shaking that routine up. Everyone has to give or take to make it work on the road. By everyone, I refer to parents giving up everything, and the kids taking as much as they can.

  • Activities

I’ve written several “bucket list” books that investigate unique experiences, and I’ve built my career as a writer who chases the extraordinary, a Connoisseur of Fine Experiences.   You can visit a beach, wildlife park, waterpark, or museum anywhere, so I had to dig a little deeper for activities that could include my kids. Stuff like standing beneath a snarling lion inside a cage or hand feeding Bluefin tuna in South Australia.   Stuff like swimming with baby crocs or in natural jacuzzis (NT),   being inside a glass box hanging off a building or panning for gold (VIC), kayaking off Fraser Island or feasting in a shipping container food market (QLD), sailing with dugongs and chasing quokkas (WA), petting stingrays and braving the world’s steepest railcar (NSW) and jumping on modern art and staring down ferocious devils (TAS). Of course, the kids loved the beaches (the Whitsundays, Bondi, Byron Bay), the wildlife parks (Caversham in WA, Cleland in SA, Wildlife Habitat in QLD, the Melbourne Zoo), the museums (Scienceworks and the Melbourne Museum in VIC, Questacon in ACT, the Maritime Museum in Perth) and waterparks (most of the Discovery Holiday Parks we stayed in, the Oaks Oasis).   But most of all, they loved ice cream. Because in the end, it didn’t matter what incredible activity or destination we ticked off, the best part was just being together, spending quality time as a family that we’ll always look back on with joy, wonder, and inspiration.

Despite the challenges – the meltdowns, the pukes, the frenetic meals, lack of sleep, intense drives – my family managed to breathe deep, laugh, play, capture memories we might only appreciate later, and celebrate the incredible Australian opportunities that came our way.

You can buy 75 Must-See Places To Take The Kids at Booktopia and Dymocks. 

 

Climb the Dave Evans Bicentennial Tree

 

Thin metal rods are poking out a giant tree, spiraling up and up (and up) towards a wooden platform, 75 metres in the Western Australia sky. These karri trees are amongst the tallest hardwoods in the world, and this particular tree, the tallest in the forest, was once used as a fire lookout for any trouble smoking in the forest.   It seemed like an innocent enough roadside attraction, just 15 minutes drive from the town of Pemberton, where I had refueled on gas and a beef pie.   I had wandered into Warren National Park out of curiosity, captivated by a sign directing visitors to the Dave Evans Bicentennial Tree. Playing on my iPod was U2, which in a very strange way, was a sign of perfect synchronicity.   Dave Evans is the real name of guitarist The Edge, and his namesake tree, a pure coincidence, seemed destined to deliver the same.

At the top of this lookout tree stands a large platform weighing two tons.   To get there I would have make my way up 130 erratically staggered thin black rods, thrusting myself up between ever widening gaps.   From the bottom it looked harmless enough, because I couldn’t see just how high I had to climb. I started eagerly, one pole at a time, a little unnerved by a very thin wire safety net which looked like it could maim more than save. It didn’t take long before I looked down, and my knees began to feel as wobbly as a Central African government.

It was one of those beautifully dangerous things I love about Australia, where the world’s most poisonous snakes and spiders might be living in your pillow.  I read an actual headline that week: “Man Breaks Leg Kicking Spider”.   The dry rolling countryside is rife with critters, while the long sandy beaches expose you to a strong sun that can bake you in seconds.   Still, this is gorgeous country, with a big sky, small population, and striking eucalyptus forests leading up to the country’s premier wine region, Margaret River.   25m above the ground, I realized that whoever built this tree path must have had one too many drinks. I was clutching onto the thin poles so tight my muscles were cramping, my toes clenched so hard you could crack a bullet between them.    Higher and higher, and just when I was sure I might absolutely wet myself with fear, I arrived at a small wooden platform. A truly unhelpful sign read: “That was the easy bit, mate!”  Aussie, oy, oy oy vey.

A sturdy tanned Australian fellow crawled down from above, drenched in sweat.    “C’mon mate, once you’re this far, you may as well go all the way to the top,” he said, in that typical Australian drawl which makes any stranger seem like a good ol’ buddy.     It encouraged me to continue my climb, cursing the damn Australian sticky flies, relentlessly exploring my nostrils and ears.  I reached another rest platform, and another, and then another, until at last, I was on top of the tree, dripping in sweat, staring out above the lush forest in all directions. The sea cast a blue glow in the distance.   My knees were still swaying, but that might have had something to do with the tree itself, dancing to a gentle ballad in the wind.   During strong wind, the tree can sway 1.5 metres in either direction.

Cautiously, I made my way down, wondering why they don’t sell T-Shirts at the bottom of trunk:  “I survived the Dave Evans Bicentennial Tree.” I wondered how many people had slipped. I wondered if the safety net worked. I wondered who Dave Evans was, and whether he was the unfortunate chap who could answer both questions. Assuming the latter was affirmative.

The ordeal took an hour, far scarier than any tree I had ever climbed.  There wasn’t even an official around to call an ambulance should you drop out the sky, all the way to hell, do not stop and collect your broken bones.   If there was, he might tell me “it’s just a big tree, mate. We have spiders bigger than this.”

Q is for Quokka

Not long ago, the only animal most people could name with a “q” was the quail. Social media has since disrupted the animal alphabet, thanks to a small, friendly marsupial with a penchant for goofy faces, and an enthusiasm for selfies. Quokkas are hot, and #quokkaselfie is officially a thing, which is good news for the place you’re most likely to encounter them. Rottnest Island is a half hour fast ferry crossing off the coast of Fremantle WA, and even if the quokkas weren’t so dependently adorable, it’s a destination that surely belongs on the Australian Bucket List.

Rottnest is not a resort island in the traditional sense. No mega hotel chains, no glitz or bean-shaped swimming pools. While buses and tours circle the 11-km long island, all visitors arrive on foot, and the primary means of transport is a bicycle. When Dutch sailors first explored the island in the early 1600’s, they named it Rotte nest, confusing the abundant quokkas for rats. Not much happened until European settlers arrived centuries later, failed in their attempts to plant crops, and subsequently turned Rottnest into a penal colony. Today, these same buildings house visitors in self-catered rustic accommodation, and I see families and couples relaxing on their patios, watching cyclists ride down the dusty streets of the main settlement, Thompson Bay.

There are a handful of restaurants, and the local supermarket is well stocked with everything from fresh fruit and veggies to snorkelling gear.   I park my bike at the Settlement Railway Station and hop on board a train to the Oliver Hill Heritage Site.   During World War II, the Allies installed two massive 9.2 inch artillery guns on Rottnest that could fire a huge 178kg shell. History and war buffs will love the tunnels and gun tour, but Rottnest is really one for nature lovers. It boasts 63 beaches and nearly two-dozen bays, many secluded and quiet enough to own for the day.   To get there you’ll have to pedal out, or use the hop-on hop-off bus that circles the island.   Parker Point and Salmon Bay, protected by the adjacent marine reserve, have white-sandy beaches. Sand dunes provide a windbreak in stunning Parakeet Bay. Armstrong Bay has outstanding snorkelling, Fish Hook Bay its limestone cliffs. Strickland Bay offers wild waves for surfers, while Henrietta Rocks has a wreck to snorkel. There’s a beach and a bay for everyone, which is why you need a few days to find the one you love most. As for the quokkas, they love all.

There are some ten thousand quokkas on the island, and they don’t have to worry about becoming road kill.   Visitors twist and contort themselves to get the perfect selfie, perhaps one with a quokka raising an eyebrow, or flashing a toothy grin. Roger Federer visited the island and his quokka selfie quickly generated over 500 million views. My wife took a photo of my attempted selfie, a meta-selfie as it were, as I tried to keep my kids from touching their new favourite living stuffy. Authorities strongly advise visitors not to pet, feed or make fun of the quokka, which is detrimental to conservation, and probably hurts its feelings.   As always, the quokkas themselves are more than accommodating. I’m convinced these guys are one Pixar movie short from becoming global superstars. Q, from now on, is definitely reserved for Quokka.

Click here for more information about visiting the quokka on Rottnest Island.
Pick up ferry and tour tickets from Rottnest Express.