Our family gap year: a different perspective

Posted on 6 June, 2019

A friend recently suggested we buy the kids their own camera to get their perspective on our family gap year (we’re taking 12 months off to travel Australia in a caravan).

Not only did that sound like a great idea, but it got me thinking. How much do we miss, as adults, simply because of our perspective?

Over the last 12 weeks, I’ve seen first-hand that children really do live in the moment. They’re not worrying about what we should do next, what someone else is thinking, or when we’re going to do that load of washing so we don’t run out of clean clothes.

They’re not thinking about where we should go next or whether we’re doing the right thing. They’re just living. They’re seeing, listening and absorbing everything around them.

When visited the Cobb and Co Museum in Toowoomba, there was an exhibition about Bush Mechanics—a documentary style TV show that followed an Indigenous community and showcased their mechanical skill and ingenuity in the bush, using whatever resources they had on hand to fix cars.

In one episode, four men were travelling to a gig with their instruments and sound gear piled high on the roof of their rather rusty, old car. At some point on their trip, the roof broke. Rather than give up or call NRMA (as most of us would) the men hacked off the roof with a tomahawk, tied it to the back of the car, piled it high with their equipment, and drove off, towing it like a trailer without wheels.

We then moved on and spent a couple of hours going through the rest of the museum—driving a car simulator through the desert; building huge cog structures and riding bikes to create electricity; looking at dinosaur bones and fossils and seeing all manner of old carriages and carts.

Later, as we were leaving the museum, we asked the kids what they’d learnt, fully expecting the answer to be something about horses and carriages or perhaps energy or electricity. Instead, Miss Four pipes up: “I learnt that if the roof of your car breaks, you can just cut it off and pull it behind you like a trailer!” (I’d completely forgotten about that part of the exhibition!).

Recently, an older couple got their luxury campervan bogged when they were trying to back into the spot next to us at a caravan park in Hervey Bay. Everyone stopped what they were doing to lend a hand, and with the help of two young guys and their four-wheel drive, we got them out of the mud and safely parked.

The man then asked the kids if they’d like to wash the mud off his van for $10—not only did they wash it, but they loved every minute of it. To me, it sounded like hard work. But through the eyes of a child, it was an exciting adventure—and being paid for it was almost unbelievable.

And just this week, we finally got up early enough to see a sunrise with the kids. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do since we left home 12 weeks ago, and staying on the coast seemed like the perfect opportunity. We got up early and went down to the Urangan Pier. It was very cloudy but we still saw some beautiful colours in the sky, and Master Seven took some great photos on our SLR.

Not only did he capture our personalities with some real-life moments rather than deliberately staged shots for Instagram, he took a beautiful photo of the pier—I might even frame it when we get home.

On top of all this, I’m beginning to see a theme emerging. Where I see jagged rocks and an accident waiting to happen, the kids see an opportunity to be explorers and discover ‘new’ places.

Where I see dirt and ants and places that snakes could be hiding, they see exciting spots to build houses for their little plastic dinosaurs.

Where I see fifty million river rocks that all look the same, they see tiny differences in every rock—some are smoother, some are darker, some have little swirls on them—and they collect their favourites that they cherish for days (or weeks).

Where I see icky, gooey mud and extra washing to do, they see hours of fun digging, squelching the mud under their boots and making mud cakes.

Where I see a ferry as a means of transport, their eyes light up as they eagerly watch the waves we make and excitedly point to things on the shore.

So I’ve made a promise to myself to try to see what’s really there, rather than what I think ‘might’ be there. To listen. To watch my kids more and see what they see.

And to remember that mud washes out. Hands can be cleaned. And scraped knees can be fixed with a bandaid and a cuddle.

My goal for this gap year is to come back with a different perspective. And I’m hoping the kiddies can help me with that.

If you’d like to follow our journey, check out @our.family.gap.year on Instagram or Facebook, or have a look at our blog – ourfamilygapyear.home.blog.

Images supplied.