Whale-watching season is truly an awesome time to visit the Royal National Park.
The Royal or the Nasho, as the locals know it, is the oldest National Park in Australia.
Second oldest in the world behind Yellowstone in the USA.
It's home to Wallabies, foxes, deer, echidna and the odd wild pig.
There's a rumour that koalas hide in its depths.
I've been connected in one way or the other to the Park for the past thirty years and have yet to see or hear anything more of the elusive creatures than that rumour.
Birds, sea-life and an amazing coast-line are the main attractions of the Royal National Park.
For the cost of entry into the Park only, I took my three children out to spot for whales.
It was cold, wet and windy - typical for the middle of winter and for any day that I wanted to spend out doors really - but we rugged up, grabbed cameras and a picnic lunch and launched ourselves into the adventure.
The girls were extra excited because it was actually a school day and driving around with mum is much more fun than books and teachers.
With several optimal whale-watching spots to choose from I picked the one I knew the best and we headed to Wattamolla, a picnic and swimming area in the middle of the Royal National Park.
Wattamolla is Aboriginal for "place near running water" and is a popular site for picnickers - when it's sunny! Still, we weren't the only people there.
A bus driver was walking around wondering when his busload of students would be returning from their bushwalk and a few other small groups with binoculars were heading to and from the bush - lucky for me.
The start of the track out to the peninsular was a bit of a mystery, so we followed the other whale-watchers.
Wattamolla covers an area that includes waterfalls, a sheltered lagoon and an ocean beach.
From here you can embark on coastal bushwalks in either direction or just spend the day swimming, fishing or playing with friends and family.
At the picnic ground, the weather had been mildly winter.
By the time we reached the peninsular we were hanging on to branches and each other to avoid being blown over.
A designated viewing area was marked out with iron fencing and appropriate signage - like "No climbing on the cliffs" and "Stay on the safe side of the rail".
Quite a sharp drop from track to rocky cliff bottom so we were all happy to comply.
The view was amazing.
The sea was as black as the sky, and with not much between us and New Zealand except miles of ocean, we could see sheets of rain heading straight for land, and us! One daughter immediately announced it was time for lunch, one pulled out her binoculars and the other held onto me for dear, shivering life begging not to be let go.
My announcement that this was an adventure they would remember for many years was met with rolling eyes and desperate glances back down the trail.
The whole thing was made harder by the distinct visual lack of anything aquatic.
Not even seagulls! The girls were ready to give up.
I insisted we stay.
The weather worsened.
The food ran out.
The other intrepid whale-watchers packed up and left.
And just as I too was about to call it a day, a pod of black whales calmly swam past.
They didn't do anything particularly exciting, no tricks, no breeching, but the change in the atmosphere was immediate.
I had to fight for binoculars, though the whales were so close we didn't need them, and the wind and rain were completely forgotten.
The girls squealed with delight, counting whales, calling out, shouting out that there were more coming and is that a dolphin too, mum? I don't know if it was a dolphin or not, but we stayed and watched the parade until we were almost frozen and the bank of rain on the horizon had almost reached land.
The short track back to the picnic ground and our car, as rough and winding as it was, went barely noticed as we chatted and compared whale experiences.
The bus driver had taken refuge in his bus and all the other visitors, not as brave as we, had left.
The rain reached us less then six feet from the car.
We no longer cared.
We'd seen whales!