Traveling south of Perth for a week with a then eight month old BUB.1 epitomised what is good and bad about traveling with babies.
We got to see some beautiful sights, but not for long. We very often saw the sights alone as the other one waited in the car with the sleeping baby. We dashed a mad relay to drink in some of the most stunning sights on the planet. For just an instant.
As well as visiting some of Willy Wonka’s family in Perth itself, we managed to cram in Fremantle:
Cottesloe:
Yallingup:
Margaret River:
Pemberton (where Willy Wonka climbed the Gloucester Tree):
Rottnest Island:
William Bay national park:
and onto Denmark and Albany. If you don’t know Australia well, this is a tiny slice but it’s vast.
But once in a while we pulled up to somewhere like this beach in the Walpole Inlet, where we parked the car right by the water while BUB.1 snoozed in the back. There was no one else there and we could take in what was the most still, calm, beautiful place I have ever been. Together. Alone.
For that moment, everything else disappeared. The chaos, the schedules, the responsibility, the rushing. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that traveling with babies or children isn’t worth it.
What would life be without these moments, however brief they may be?
DiscomBUBulated 