I must be getting old because I used to be able to sleep in past dinner, and now I wake up around 5am like clockwork despite my very best efforts. Brittany (as she will be happy to remind you) is one year younger than me so the old **** gene has yet to kick in. While she slept like a rock, I grabbed some OJ from our little fridge and watched the sun slowly rise over the ocean. More pesky clouds meant I could only actually see the sun for a few minutes, but it was beautiful while it lasted! Our first stop of the day, the Killer Whale Museum, was so close to our hotel that we were able to just walk over. It's one of those oddball local museums that the guidebook made sound just weird enough to be interesting, but neither of us went in with high expectations. Back in the early 1900's shore whaling was a major industry in Eden, and the museum tells the story of a particular killer whale (Old Tom) and his pod. Apparently, Old Tom was stinking smart and he would persistently jump around in the bay until the whalers hopped in their boats, then he would lead them to a whale that the pod had already corralled and worn out. The long shoreman would harpoon the thing, and when it finally keeled over they would let Old Tom's gang eat the uber delicious lips and tongue before hauling the carcass in to harvest the blubber. It was a bizarre and unprecedented symbiotic relationship that lasted for a few decades before Old Tom finally kicked the bucket and his body washed on shore in the early 1930's. Somebody had the bright idea that his bones could make an awesome tourist attraction, so they pulled him out of the water and kept his skeleton to the creepy delight of children everywhere. I actually learned quite a bit about whaling, but it isn't exactly a subject I wanted to brush up on. Hearing about how the invention of the exploding harpoon finally enabled people to take down Blue Whales (which they promptly did in such mystifying numbers that they were just about driven to extinction) is kind of a downer. On the plus side, the kitschy hand-painted displays did point out that Australia now bans all whaling of any kind, and the populations are slowly coming back. Eden is dead for the moment, but it'll be packed in a couple of months when you can lay back on the beach and see Humpback whales breaching in the bay. This place might be worth a second look after all... We were supposed to drive a little ways down the road to Ben Boyd National Park (I don't know much about this weird rich dude but the little bit I've heard makes me want to read a book about him), but the stinky weather has continued and hiking around in the rain just doesn't sound like much fun. Fortunately we're still pretty loosey goosey with our schedule so we decided to mix things up and head for Wilson's Promontory National Park, which was about 7 hours away. To break up the trip, we stopped in a little town called Mallacoota, which was a "hidden gem" according to our incomprehensibly optimistic guidebook. These guys must have really low standards for what qualifies as a hidden gem because it was pretty much exactly like every other tiny town we've seen so far: some pretty water, a couple of restaurants, and a row of dinky shops that haven't been renovated since 1973. I've been really surprised by how rural this route is. I guess I just assumed that everywhere we went would be a well-travelled tourist town, full of things to do, but the reality is very different! Most businesses close in the late afternoon, and if there are five restaurants total, only one or two will stay open for dinner. There is usually a really old building (like a post office, telegraph station, or hotel from the 1800's) and then a gas station or two. We've only come across one movie theater, which was super tiny and had two showings per day. I've always been enamored with the idea of country living, but I'm still trying to figure out what people DO around here after the twilight hour of 4pm! Maybe I wouldn't do as well in the sticks as I thought. While Mallacoota wasn't exactly bustling with activity, I at least got to enjoy a Lazy Yak Pale Ale, which is made with real bits of Yak so you know it's good (just kidding; the Yak flavoring is artificial). I had one of my usual yak-related migraines around that time so we walked into a pharmacy and I asked the guy for something strong before we got back on the road. He handed me a box of codeine, which did the trick and (per Brittany) is apparently pretty tough to get in the States. I guess I found my first souvenir! Still not sure what to do the rest of the day and not feeling up to driving all the way to Wilson's Promontory, Brittany scoured the guidebook and found a little island along the way that's known for its wild koalas. I never knew this, but koalas were hunted almost to extinction for their fur. Who could shoot one of these things? I mean, I'm pretty heartless when it comes to meat but even I draw the line at living teddy bear. It got so bad that Australians started taking a few and putting them on islands in an attempt to save the species, and one of those islands was our next stop. Meandering through the Gippsland Lake District, we passed sign after sign warning us about wild animals. Kangaroos were the most common, but there were signs for wombats, possums, emus, koalas, and one particularly weird looking bird. It took about 15 minutes on Google, but Brittany finally figured out that it was a Lyre bird. It's very difficult to describe but it's kind of like a really big chicken with a long flowing tail that came off a disturbing combination of peacock and squirrel. Yes, it's weird. We've actually seen a couple as we've zoomed past on the highway, and they hop along like kangaroos, rhythmically waving their flowing tails as they go. We're still hoping to see a not-dead wombat (Brittany's corpse count is now up to five) but it's probably a long shot. They're the same color as the road, walk slowly, mostly come out at night, and there are approximately zero street lights wherever we go. The odds are not in our favor :( We also noticed that the trees appear to have been on fire at some point or another almost everywhere we've been. Big and small, they have dark scars of char along their bases, sometimes thirty feet up the trunk. After a little research we learned that 2009 marked the worst bush fires in Australia's history, and we were seeing the results. I don't know if they were around before then or not, but it helped us understand why we see so many fire warning signs. Some of them are digital, and they all have a dial on them with a color code for how likely a wildfire is that day. The (not so ) funny thing is that the best case scenario is "low", which is immediately followed by "high, very high, severe, extreme, and "code red". Basically, don't light a match...ever. Around 2pm, the rain had stopped and we pulled in to a little town called Paynesville, where there is a large ferry boat that takes you over to the koalas on Raymond Island. We paid our $10 fee and drove the car up onto the ferry, ready for a nice long ride to what we assumed must be a far away isle. Nope! Roughly 45 seconds after lethargically departing, the boat came to a full stop with a metallic thud. We turned to each other in disbelief and burst out laughing as Brittany realized "we could have jumped across!" Bringing the car was also pretty pointless because we immediately parked and were hot on the Koala Trail. I had kind of assumed that this island would just be a preserve or something, but this trail had us walking through streets and even the backyards of houses. We walked with our necks craned upward, desperately searching for little gray blobs in the waving branches of gum trees. We searched in vain for the first few minutes and I was a little afraid we'd come a long way for nothing, but that all changed in a matter of minutes. Once our koala vision kicked in we started seeing them everywhere: some sleeping, some chewing, some wondering why we have nothing better to do than side-step their poop while giddily pointing at them. One particularly soulful fellow looked right at us and instantly reminded me of my grandpa Barney. I think it was all in the eyes, and even Brittany had to agree that the resemblance was striking! Most of them were staying put without moving, but we did get to watch one's hilarious (and debatably successful) attempt to move from one tree to another. I think I just assumed that koalas would be adept and graceful climbers, kind of like a monkey. In reality it's as if a teddy bear was brought to life and attempted to climb. They're rigid, clumsy, and downright fun to watch! After seeing twenty, count 'em, TWENTY koalas and at least one kookaburra we got back in the car for the arduous ferry ride to the main land, stupefied grins permanently etched on our faces. Wilson's Promontory was still a couple of hours away but I just couldn't drive any more, so we pulled in to yet another sleepy town called Bairnsdale for the night. To be fair, it wasn't as "sleepy" as the other places we've stayed; there were THREE options for dinner. "Oz Mex" won out, and we got the feeling that the friendly servers were genuinely interested in why we would ever stop there. They must not get many tourists! We should make it to the Prom tomorrow afternoon, and, if the weatherman is to be believed, the sun will come out for a while later in the day. I've been looking forward to this for a long time and I'm getting excited! On a closing note: remember those jellyfish of doom that we saw all over the place on Pebbly Beach? Turns out they were Portuguese Man of Wars. But don't worry! According to the Australian government their sting, while as excruciatingly painful as being cut with a hot knife, is "probably" not fatal.