Commander Westley and the Watchtower of Crab Fest

Sunday morning began the way many great adventures do.

With Westley jumping on the bed.

I woke early to the joyful chaos of a small human using my mattress as a trampoline. Eventually we wandered down to the kitchen just as dawn broke across the sky. It was the kind of sunshine that makes the whole world feel like it has had a very good cup of coffee.

Today was Bike Adventure Day.

The bikes were waiting, but before we could leave there was important preparation to be done. Nathaniel performed what can only be described as hero’s work in the shed. Tyres were pumped. Brakes were checked. Batteries were charged. He helped me lift the bikes onto the carrier on the car and tightened the ratchet straps like a seasoned expedition engineer. I could not have been more proud of my little 7 year old handyman!

Unfortunately, during this highly professional operation he also managed to lock the shed keys inside the shed.

Keys, it must be said, are the absolute bane of my existence.

There was a brief moment of logistical despair. However, a spare key was eventually located and the expedition continued.

Nathaniel had his helmet on.

I had the snacks. Pancakes, cooked earlier at Westley’s firm insistence and carefully packed for a takeaway picnic.

We drove to our destination, a brand new bike path along the estuary that we had been wanting to explore.

Then it was time to mount up.

Westley was strapped into the baby seat on the back of my bike like a tiny admiral preparing to lead a naval expedition.

“Ready, Captain?” I asked.

Westley raised one arm dramatically and pointed down the path.

“THIS WAY!”

Which, if you know Westley, meant the adventure had officially begun.

Off we went along the path beside the estuary. Nathaniel pedalled close behind us while Westley sat high in his throne at the back, issuing directions like a seasoned explorer.

“TURN THIS WAY!”

We turned.

“GO FAST!”

We went faster.

“Thank you mum!!!”

Westley was delighted.

Running a cycling expedition with Westley in charge is a delicate balance between bravery and listening very carefully to a two-year-old.

The breeze smelled like salt water and seaweed and the path sparkled with fresh adventure ahead.

Then, around a bend, we made a discovery.

A tower.

A real wooden watchtower standing tall over the inlet to the canals.

Nathaniel spotted it immediately.

“LOOK! A FORT!”

Now, if there is a fort, there must be a mission.

We parked the bikes and climbed the stairs to the top where the wind whistled through the wooden rails and the canals stretched out below us.

Nathaniel looked around very seriously.

“This,” he said, “is our defence tower.”

Westley nodded like a general reviewing battle plans.

Nathaniel grabbed an imaginary cannon.

“Enemy ships approaching!”

Westley immediately joined in.

“BOOM!”

“BOOM!”

“BOOOOOOM!”

The two of them began defending the tower with a spectacular display of invisible artillery, bolting up and down the stairs giggling, launching cannonballs into the imaginary sea.

They insisted that I sit safely at the very top.

“Mum stays here,” Nathaniel instructed.

“For safety.”

Which apparently meant that while they fought the invading fleet, I was promoted to Queen of the Tower.

I accepted the role with dignity, and took the opportunity to read a few pages of my latest novel.

In a quiet moment, we could hear the thumping of music drifting over the water from the Crab Festival.

"Let's go there next Mum!" said the boys.

So, after the great Battle of the Canals had been won, we climbed back down and continued our expedition.

Next stop: Crab Fest on the Mandurah foreshore.

The closer we got, the louder it became.

The thumping music grew in volume.

People laughed while waiting in lines that stretched for miles.

Food stalls lined the path in every direction.

The first thing Westley spotted was an art table where children were painting bright red crabs.

“PAINT!” he shouted.

So he sat down with a little brush and a cup of paint and carefully created what may or may not have been a crab.

It had legs.

Lots of them.

Possibly more legs than most crabs usually have.

But it was magnificent.

Nathaniel, meanwhile, painted a very impressive race car with green flames.

Then suddenly a giant crab appeared.

Well… technically it was a person on stilts dressed like a crab.

But when you are Westley’s age, that is essentially the same thing as a real crab.

The crab person waved enormous claws at us.

Westley stared up in total amazement.

“BIG CRAB!”

Nathaniel, being older and wiser, whispered excitedly,

“That’s the stilts I was talking about! I want a turn on those.”

Eventually we reached the food stalls.

“Do you want to try some crab?” I asked.

Westley looked thoughtful.

Doubt crossed his sweet little face.

He considered the piles of crabs cooking in gigantic cast iron pans.

He considered the smells.

He considered the entire culinary situation very carefully.

Then he pointed confidently.

“CHIPPIES.”

So we bought crab for Nathaniel and me.

And chips for Westley.

The crab was… underwhelming.

Nathaniel took one bite and announced with great confidence,

“Mum cooks way better crab at home!”

The chips, however, according to Westley, were the greatest chips ever created.

He proceeded to eat a truly heroic pile of them.

We sat on the grass by the water watching the Red Bull speed boats race across the inlet, the ferris wheel spin slowly in the sky, and the world drift past as people wandered through the festival.

It had been a very important day.

A bike expedition.

A tower battle.

A crab painting.

A meeting with the King Crab.

And the discovery of perfect chippies.

Later, as we rode home, Westley sat quietly in his baby seat with the breeze ruffling his hair.

Then he raised his arm and pointed forward once more.

“THIS WAY.”

Which was very helpful.

Because it turns out that when Westley is navigating, every road leads to adventure. 🦀🚲