Phillip Island to Inverloch

A loud cockerel woke us as the sun started to warm the tent. Outside he strutted importantly amongst his copper-burnished hens, all gleaming in the morning sunshine.

Light of heart we enjoyed lazily pedalling across Phillip Island looking hopefully up into the eucalypts at the koala reserve (only a giant fibreglass one spotted), and down Surf Beach’s long golden sands.

Crossing the bridge back to the mainland we were greeted with even longer goldener sands as we cruised along the Bass Coast Rail Trail, the colours popping toothpaste-blue and ochre-yellow. We delighted in hearing the loud sweet love songs of frogs every time we passed water. Lilz saw his first kangaroos which he described as like a deer-rabbit.

The gloaming found us battling head winds around the point at Cape Patterson, with exhilarating glimpses of the deep blue Bass Strait sea.

Tent up just as darkness fell and we ate noodles whilst catching up with family over FaceTime.

FROGS by Norman MacCaig

Frogs sit more solid
than anything sits. In mid-leap they are
parachutists falling
in a free fall. They die on roads
with arms across their chests and
heads high.

I love frogs that sit
like Buddha, that fall without
parachutes, that die
like Italian tenors.

Above all, I love them because,
pursued in water, they never
panic so much that they fail
to make stylish triangles
with their ballet dancer’s
legs.Read more