Wilsons Prom

kangaroos and koalas and wombats, oh my!

Our night in the forgettable teeny town of Foster was worth it, because we arrived at Wilsons Promontory National Park ('the Prom') by 9am on Sunday and were able to get a campsite.  On the drive in, we saw this fun road sign…the stout little creatures on the bottom of that sign are wombats.  I was SO excited at the prospect of glimpsing these little ones!  We saw a couple of kangaroos, but my eyes were peeled for wombats (I didn’t know this at the time, but they are nocturnal).

And, those wacky Australians did it again with naming things.  I’m not making this up—as we passed a creek, we saw a sign that said ‘Poop Fellon Me Creek’.  Not kidding; I can only imagine the scenario that led to the naming of this little body of water.

The campground is chock full of kids, and they all seem to have a plastic cricket set.  Three games at once were going on in the playground area, and our boys joined in, learning the rules as they played.

The Prom is beautiful—mountains, ocean, and river all blend into one at the Tidal River campground.  As you’d guess from the name, the river changes depending on the tide, so at low tide it’s virtually a dry bed with water along the edge, and at high tide it’s a completely filled in river.  

the beautiful path leading to the river

It all meets the ocean, which is also lovely to spend time at. 

The broad expanse of gentle waves washing up on the shore was the perfect place to practice skimboarding.

This whole day by the water was enjoyable, but I was basically tapping my fingers and humming and patiently waiting for dusk, when the wombats supposedly emerge.  All over the place you can see wombat nests, little hollows dug out in the brush. 

We all went on a nature walk at dusk, but alas, no wombats.  When the kids were tucked into their sleeping bags, Sam and I went back out—and were handsomely rewarded with the most fuzzy cuteness marsupial ever.

I’m in love; with a nice man’s super-strong flashlight illuminating the adorable little animal, I was able to creep closer and closer and ended up on my belly taking a nice close-up picture as it munched happily on grass.

I resisted the overwhelming urge to snuggle it.

There was a perfect stuffed animal version of a wombat at the visitor center gift shop, and it was a grim realization of full adulthood to know it would be ridiculous to purchase a stuffed animal for myself.  I settled for a wombat-themed dish towel, and I may or may not be seen snuggling it in my kitchen in the near future.