Elle and the boys had two weeks holiday for Easter. So last weekend we headed up to UAQ Marine Club to go “camping” with some friends for a couple of nights.
We weren’t the only ones with a strange concept of camping. There were kids there with remote-controlled cars. Our friends mentioned, that form is better known as “glam-ping” – combining glamour with camping.
It’s not the kind of camping I remember.
In fact, I can’t even comprehend the advent of people bringing their own jet skis. Why do people go away to enjoy nature by powering along the top of the water as fast and noisy as possible?
Later there were other scenes more like what I was used to. An example was fathers passing a rugby ball to each other – trying to show they still have it. It may be the only reason why rugby balls get packed on holidays.
I really can’t judge people for attempting to relive their youth. I knee-boarded one day, water skied the next.
It was the first time I had tried skiing, and it was such a surprise to stand up on my third attempt. I was fortunate to get good advice, don’t think too much – which I found quite natural to do.
All the boys, except land-bound Owen, enjoyed the lovely warm water. Lewis particularly took to it on this trip. He even wanted to give kneeboarding a try, though decided against it after a few failed warm-ups along the beach. He was OK to miss it, there was more than enough fun riding on the boat, sitting on the donut being towed behind, having a fish, or just swimming.
Myles tried his hand at fishing, as he regularly does. Though he may be a bit hesitant to try it again. He was sitting on the back of the boat, feet in the water, casting the line out into the sea. Unbeknownst to him I had quietly slipped into the water from the front of the boat, and snuck around under the water beneath where he was sitting. Then I quickly pulled myself up onto the landing deck right in front of him and screamed. As he jumped about a foot in height, I’ve never seen his face so terrified. It would have been a different story if I happened to get a hook in my face, which I willingly risked.
It wasn’t the only fun we had on the water. All six of the big boys went out on kayaks one day. I was with Lewis, and out in the open water we spotted a few pieces of rubbish. It was a good opportunity to teach Lewis about doing our bit for the environment and fishing them out to put into the bin later. It was a little disconcerting though, when we made it to a secluded beach to take a rest, that there was a rubbish tip spewing hundreds of bottles into the ocean. It seemed to make our two pieces of litter we collected seem quite pointless. We sadly didn’t take any photos of Lewis & I out in the double kayak. Though just try to imagine me kayaking against the current, and five year old slacker in the front holding his oar horizontally the entire time.
Our two evenings were quite enjoyable – often playing hide & seek tag with the boys, despite an apocalypse of mosquitos or sand flies taking a real fancy with me in the dark. It’s a bit of a “sore” point. My wife is usually the one who gets eaten alive by insects and they leave me alone. I joke that it’s the reason I married her. This time however, unbeknownst to me, she cheated and applied repellent. So I was getting eaten for a change. When I shared this story at work, my Egyptian colleague could relate to it while staying there, though he had a far more interesting description, saying the bites caused him to truly hate his life.
It’s a lovely place to stay for a couple of nights. We happened to be there at the same time last year. Perhaps we’ll be there at the same time in 2015 also.
Maybe we’ll see our compatriot Keith Urban: