← PreviousWhere we finally dive into real Sydneysider lifeSettling into Sydney life didn't quench our thirst for discovery. Every weekend took us to the remotest corners of Sydney, and we were learning to be real little Sydneysiders immersed in the culture. We'd been in Australia for more than a month and still hadn't seen a kangaroo, an anomaly that had to be fixed. We told our little group of friends and took the train to Morisset Park, two hours north of Sydney. The railway followed a magnificent route, skimming the water along bays worthy of Southeast Asia and through picturesque little villages with an old-world feel.
When we reached the entrance to the park, we came face to face with a kangaroo, the first in a very, very long series. It was alone, standing upright at the edge of the forest. We approached slowly and quickly understood it was used to humans and wouldn't be afraid of us. Touching its back, I felt muscles as hard as steel under its skin, and we thought it might be wise to start being afraid of them ourselves.
This one was separated from the rest of the mob, which was in the clearing we were heading for. Whereas we'd expected to see a few scattered animals, there were kangaroos everywhere. We were all overexcited! You should have seen us, real kids full of wonder. At first we were a little wary and tried not to startle them, but like the first one, they were very docile and not the least bit fearful. So we took loads of photos and stored up dozens of memories. These animals were majestic and so far removed from anything we knew. They were a far cry from the bouncing caricature we were familiar with, full of power and grace. We watched joeys climb into their mothers' pouches and males try to assert their alpha status within the group. We lingered and lost all track of time.
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Our plans for the day didn't stop at the kangaroos, so we had to get back on the road, somewhat reluctantly. Next on our programme was Newcastle, further north of Sydney, first to visit the little city and then to see what locals call the Bogey Hole, a man-made pool by the sea, carved into the rock by convicts in 1820 and filled by the incoming waves.
As the place was full of families with children playing in the water, we felt confident and went to cool off along with the Australians there. Note to self: never trust the people of this country again when it comes to safety. We'd barely got into the pool when we moved along the ropes to join some teenagers having fun taking the rollers head-on. The waves were gentle and not very strong, so we weren't wary, until one of our friends, who'd stayed at the top of the steps, shouted at us to watch out for the wave coming in. We couldn't hear very well what he was saying, but his finger pointing out to sea gave us an idea of the situation, and turning round we saw a wall of water racing straight at us.
It was the first of a set of three waves, each higher than the last. Our friend Céline was swept away by the third, and she probably owed her rescue to Cassandre, who had the incredible reflex to grab her by the arm and the strength to pull her out of the water despite the force of the current as she saw her being dragged off. A little buoy that had been near them was carried by the current against the rocks and was already out at sea, gone forever. We'd come close to tragedy, and we swore never again to judge how safe a place was by Australian standards.
Céline came out with bruises all over her legs and scrapes everywhere, quite a souvenir that ended our day a little earlier than planned. The poor thing could barely walk and we had to carry her to the station, where we took the train after this emotionally intense day. Nature had shown us its cute side with the kangaroos but also its formidable power with those frightening waves. Australia would later teach us that nature is stronger than anything, especially in that country.