The more time I have spent in Aus, the more I have come to realise how the sheer size of this country has served to create a strong divergence in local knowledge between the different states, and that of resident and tourist. Kangaroo Island and “Tassie” (yes, Australians love to abbreviate) seem to be widely known by most Australians and foreigners alike, but you say Phillip Island and tend to be met with raised eyebrows followed by a “sorry dunno mate”. No less beautiful and, when you consider all the wallabies and swelling population of Little Penguins, not much less populated, Phillip Island proudly competes with the likes of these other southern Australian islands. Just a two-hour drive from Melbourne city centre, it holds a reputation for being the wild island retreat for city-dwelling elite who wish to escape the relentless noise and activity of cosmopolitan life. They can leave the office, hop in their “Ute” (utility vehicle- you would be surprised how much this one is used) or perhaps their hatchback Tesla, and be on an untouched, deserted beach for sunset. Not bad right? Alternatively, it can be an outdoorsy haven for the “good-vibe” seeking youth to surf, swim, and tend to their throbbing heads still sore from a Yah Yah’s Thursgay night out. I will let you work out which bracket we fit in to.

 

Having picked up our trusty 8-seater ride (she goes by Cheryl thanks) with a broken door and non-functional boot, we made our way through Victoria’s flat green countryside. I was immediately reminded of the vibrant English scenery back home, but only briefly as the crystal blue coast and white sand came into sight. Sadly, I struggled to equate it with that of Pebble Beach or Brighton Pier. Quick shout out to ‘Car Next Door’ who never fail to deliver cars full of character and charm with excitable and rather erratic personalities; a polite way of saying run-down and unreliable. Cheryl, however, was a particularly cheeky one who liked to flash various emojis to keep us wondering whether we had enough battery or oil to get us from A to B.  Such fun and arguably the one that did NOT get away, phew!

 

The six of us were almost complete strangers and I had only met two other members before, but we all quickly clicked and bounced off each other’s energy and buzz for the weekend ahead. Arriving at the hostel we made our first friend; Bob, a hilariously classic name for a stranger, and even better, a stereotypical barefoot Aussie trailing a free-flowing ponytail and exuberating a hippie-chill aura. Too good to be true. Unfortunately, the blossoming friendship was cut short when we asked if he might kindly swap rooms with Nic to allow us to all be together. But not to worry, we continued to consider him every time we saw an unwanted sofa or bed for sale (forever in our hearts Bob).

 

Equipped with an exceptional kitchen and social area, we headed out to explore and pick up ingredients for a highly sophisticated dinner of rigatoni al pesto, or more colloquially known as pesto pasta. Almost immediately, it became evident quite how valuable Cheryl was for there was no other way of getting around on this quiet island. We stopped by Ventnor beach to watch the sunset with nibbles, passing a wild wallaby chilling at the bus stop clearly having waited quite some time for his ride. We all relaxed in a happy trance at how surreal this wild island was and how the six of us strangers had ended up here. This moment of appreciation was eventually interrupted by rumbling stomachs, so we returned to our hostel to take over an hour boiling pesto pasta (don’t ask) before we sat down to eat. The evening was pleasantly spent playing cards, chatting, laughing, and getting to know each other. After the, some might say ‘executive’, decision to embark upon a sunrise hike the following morning sand, for some reason, not take our big pot of Greek yoghurt for an ‘on the go’ breakfast (more of a 5:1 decision), we called it a night. We were lulled to sleep by a nice sleep talking story and slept soundly until all six alarms went off at 5:59am. I think it’s safe to say we all made a mental note to seriously discuss the number of alarms actually necessary to wake up, if not for setting the tone for the rest of the day than for our cardiac health.

 

Our hike began at Cleeland Bight Beach where we marvelled at the sleepy sun slicing through the sheets of white cloud whilst strolling along the crisp, untouched sand. We delivered the customary “how you going” at a passing fisherman who proceeded to explain his morning routine of walking along the beach at sunrise to get in his steps. His sincerity assumed that we clearly understood how steps only count when the sun is still rising, naturally. The trail took us on a 9km circular tour of the most southerly point, Cape Woolamai, beginning in luscious green Jurassic ferns where wild bouncing wallabies replaced roaming dinosaurs. The route cut across the harsh headlands that proudly showed off secluded bays and sheer coastal drops. Gull Island Lookout offered particularly beautiful views but caused complete havoc for my banana-eating locations league table, taking top place for its own, and well deserved too. From here, we reached Beacon Point which rewarded us with spectacular views of both the north and south coastlines in one snapshot. The north displayed slow, deep yawning waves that stretched for miles along the beach, whilst the south was an aggressive show of frothy waves crashing against the shore. Later, at precisely 9:30am when all wallabies promptly disappear, as per Anton’s instructions, we arrived at Pinnacles Lookout. Here, dramatic shards of pink granite protruded upwards soaking in the sun to radiate a bright orange colour that contrasted sharply against the deep blue sea and piercing green grass. Finally, the hike concluded at the picturesque Woolamai surf beach where a bunch of brave surfers in wetsuits cruised the relentless waves as onlookers shuddered, awaiting their return.

 

After rewarding ourselves with coffee and cake (or a butter-chicken pie, naming no names) we returned to the hostel to chill, play a game of round-the-world ping pong (both classic and essential), and prepare some sandwiches before hitting Ventnor beach for the afternoon. The sun was out smiling sweetly behind its UV 6+ rays (eek) and we stretched out to soak up its warmth and relax in the peace and quiet. The British in us came out when we decided we simply MUST have a swim in the ice-cold sea, all the while Australians strolling past in their jeans, blundstone boots, and thick padded jackets with faces aghast and twisted in confusion. Did we misunderstand how seasons worked here and think it was summer, or were we just mad? Then they would hear our accent and suddenly understand; ahhh the British. We dried off in the sun and played cards whilst helping ourselves to boxed red wine to the soundtrack of the lapping waves rolling behind us. We were, however, frequently interrupted by various highly kickable small dogs, but rest assured, no dogs were rendered airborne at any point.
 

As afternoon lazily transitioned to evening, it was time for…PENGUINS! I know, probably not what you were expecting but, Phillip Island is home to the largest colony of Little Penguins. Every night, over four thousand tiny penguins, as small as your forearm in fact, flock onto this one beach every evening to sleep in their burrows 2km inland. Their rather uncreative name does not do them justice; whilst they might be little, they have quite the presence and exhibit bold, confident personalities. Unfortunately, they weren’t quite as punctual as hoped (ETA 19:57, arrived 20:05, tut tut), but it gave us plenty of time to experiment with how many different penguin merch we could wear all at once, and at what point staff would “kindly’ ask us to leave.  A fun game I would highly recommend to everyone. However, once the penguins did arrive, it was hard to believe they were real! Huge swathes of them waddling up the beach and embarking on their long, tedious journey to their burrows. We were able to follow them and watch them make progress, all the while our childish side coming out with squeals of excitement. A very surreal sight that we will never forget.

This pretty perfect day ended with a trip to Woolamai Surf beach for which prepared by we draping ourselves in layers and woolly hats. We enjoyed some more wine (white, not boxed this time) with chocolate and gazed up at the stars. Standing there all we could hear was the sound of the waves and nothing else. It was total peace.

 

The next morning the Greek yoghurt was at last cracked open (finally) before we headed out to the Summerlands to see The Nobbies and Pyramid rock. This is located on the most western point of the island and is home to a colony of Australian fur seals along with lots of different bird species. We wandered along the boardwalk that hugs the rugged coastline, and took in the stark view of the cobblestone rocks projecting upwards and the crashing waves, daring you to dive in. En route we passed the blowhole, showcasing high velocity southern swells storming into a wide sea cave before being rejected with force and spraying outwards with a furious echo. It was an impressive sight and we were lucky to have the sun guiding us all the way.

 

Our final stop was the Koala Conservation Reserve which works to channel ecotourism funding towards conservation efforts, research, and education programmes. Well-kept and with few physical barriers, if it weren’t for such laziness, koala escape would be an easy feat. We walked along treetop boardwalks in search of various snoozing and munching koalas high up in the trees and were fortunate enough to see them close-up. They peered at us through their tiny squinting eyes whilst balancing on the most precarious of branches. A sort of sly tightrope yoga where they teasingly glare at you, daring you to give it a try. One of the coolest things I took away from here was just how premature the young joey is when born. Koala gestation lasts just 35 days at which point a joey weighing only 0.5g blindly climbs up through the mother’s fur to the pouch, where it resumes growth for a further 5-7 months. CRAZY! Another fact you probably didn’t know; the leading cause of death in koalas is not falling out of a tree, but…chlamydia.  

 

Moving swiftly onwards, before hitting the road to re-join the chaos of the city we enjoyed one final essential Phillip Island activity; no, not the Chocolate Factory. Fresh fish and chips at the San Remo’s Fisherman’s Cooperative! We all basked in the final rays of sun and raised a chunky chip to an unforgettable weekend adventure, revelling in how we did so much in such little time, and quite how relaxed and refreshed we feel.

 

Until next time Cheryl and the gang xoxo

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