In Broome, I only cared about one thing. I was paranoid that Rob, with his short attention span, would become bored and therefore painful to be around, and so I became fixated on finding activities that would keep him occupied. I became obsessed with the idea that there would be sea-kayaking.

 I was pumped and ready, and not yet driven to distraction by the 154 mosquito bites that were to come later in the week,* and I was going to see me some turtles.

They promised me turtles.

But they didn't say how fast those little fuckers move. Time after time, someone would shout, pointing with their paddle, "TURTLE", and I would spin, searching the waterline for some dark, fast-moving turtle-like blob. Rob would gesture with his paddle, "there, THERE, quick, at 3 o'clock!" and I would swivel, eyes darting wildly, before inevitably, "..oh... no he's gone now."

After about an hour on the water I thought I spotted one, almost shouting and gesturing before my eyes came into focus and I realised it was a particularly fast-moving piece of seaweed.



If you want things too badly you can only be disappointed.
_____

A year later, snorkelling with my brother in Cairns, we saw a turtle. A big green sea turtle. We floated above him and he ignored us for a full 5 seconds before going on his way.




And then to bring it all full circle, my camera sprung a leak, and thus ended the epoch.




❤

*I counted