To celebrate winter, we took off for a two-night trip to the Blue Mountains with our friends, Kylie and Josh Brightman and their kids. I told my kids that there may even be frost on the ground, and Alex said he couldn't wait to do snow angels. Ha! Sand angels are more common 'round these parts. I was especially excited that the house we rented for our stay had a woodburning stove, not really to keep warm but because it exponentially increases the cozy factor.
Now, I grew up in flatter-than-flat Miami, but having lived in Colorado for more than a decade, I'm a bit snobbish about how people from flatter regions throw the term 'mountain' around. At 3,986 ft., the highest point of the Blue Mountains is quite bigger than 'Mount' Keira in our town (which rises to a measly 1,522 ft)--but it's still a far stretch to Denver's mile high altitude (not to mention the 53 peaks exceeding 14,000 feet).
Still, this area of Australia is so beautiful, and right from the cute town of Katoomba we saw the most famous rock formation in the Blue Mountains--the Three Sisters.
It was like herding cats on the hike we went on there--all five kids scampered ahead, weaving around groups of tourists and tromping in and around the muddy path.
|Jackson and Xavier stop to drink water droplets falling from the cliff overhang|
|the crew of 5--Isabella, Alex, Xavier, Jackson and Kenyon|
In typical kid 'the cardboard box is much cooler than the actual gift' fashion, the highlight of our pit stop in Katoomba for that whole lot was not viewing the majestic beauty of the Three Sisters or our hike winding down the cliff face--it was exploring a bushy area in the park adjacent to the public restrooms.
From Katoomba, we headed to Oberon and stayed at Casey's Bush Retreat. It's always a treat to stay at a rental home that does not have outdated country decor and shabby furnishings, and this place was great.
And because there were no mothers present to provide a semblance of sanity, the natural next step was to send kids INTO the wombat hole for further exploration. These photos were taken by Jackson, who lucky for him (and luckier for his father) did not find himself face-to-face with a wombat protecting its turf.
He went in far enough to tell me that 'it went up, down, around, and then broke off into different chambers'. If this kid grows up and takes an office job instead of doing something outdoors, I'll eat my shirt.