The biggest lesson from my mini gap year with my son
Yesterday at the Great Barrier Reef was always going to be a tough act to follow, physically and emotionally; we had scattered my son's ashes there. However, on day six of our gap-year-in-one-week my younger son, Rider, and I check out of the stylish Sundays hotel, heading to the marina for the appropriately named Reef Ryder — Hamilton Island Watersports' half-day, super-fast cruise. There is snorkelling off Chalkies beach, Haslewood Island, before hopping over to Whitehaven beach, Whitsunday Island, for more swimming and staring in wide-eyed wonder at the loveliness of it all. Rider snorkels at Chalkies, but I miss meeting a giant sea turtle by opting to hunker in the shade, contemplating our 'journey' thus far. Because it really doesn't matter how far you travel (and it's 9,721 miles from Heathrow to Chalkies beach), the cliché is true: you take yourself with you.
For Rider and me, the challenge was not to 'escape' our grief at the death of his older brother, Jackson; that would be — will always be — impossible. Instead these extraordinary shared experiences are a temporary sticking plaster while we make more permanent memories. Which conceivably helps us to move forward, carrying our grief. Since Jackson left us many of those who miss him most profoundly are using his 21 years of abundant energy, charisma and zest for life as fuel to see us through the rest of our lives. Personally, after Jackson's death and my partner's recent cancer surgery I have also shrunk my universe to fit, to cope. Here, however, I sense it gently expanding again. And that feels good.
At Hamilton Island's marina, it's a five-minute walk from the Reef Ryder Rib to the ferry taking us back to the mainland. There, at Airlie Beach — formerly a backpacker pitstop, now moving upmarket — we'll spend our final two nights in separate rooms (much to Rider's relief) at the pretty Coral Sea Resort hotel, situated on a rocky promontory overlooking the bay. In fact the rooms are very comfortable apartments with yet more gorgeous views. And breathe …
Rider wanders back into town to explore and I take the rest of the afternoon off — decamping to the poolside bar for a Caesar salad and a mocktail, accessorised by a good book. Which, in turn, segues into sunset cocktails and poolside dinner at the hotel's Coral Sea Pavilion restaurant with Rider. We have one more shared adventure in the diary tomorrow, and although packing so much into our days has been exhilarating, it has reminded me that I'm not 18. My head and heart are always up for new experiences — hungry for them even — however my body is also keeping the score. As a result I occasionally feel fragile and exhausted — yet why on earth wouldn't I feel every minute of my 61 years when the last two have been so brutal? That night happily we both have the deepest and most relaxing sleeps of our trip.
Our final scheduled outing also sounds suitably relaxing: Red Cat Adventures' trip to Cedar Creek Falls with rock pool swimming followed by a 'chillout session at the Northerlies Beach Bar & Grill' is right up my alley. Unfortunately at the Red Cat office in Airlie Beach we're told that this trip doesn't take place on Mondays. I've entirely lost track of the days of the week, but I take their word for it — and I'm happy to clock off early. Nonetheless I can also see Rider's crest falling — as can the (charming, British) staff member at Red Cat: 'Mate, how do you fancy jet-skiing?' I happen to know this is a box Rider is keen to tick and while this is our last full day together I'm very happy to bale. 'Go,' I say. 'I'm really enjoying my book.' In truth you couldn't get me on a jet ski if you paid me.
Two hours later I spot jet skis shooting across the bay and have to avert my eyes. I've always tried hard not to be the kind of 'helicopter' mother who worries about young men pushing their physical boundaries — even without the benefit of a joined-up prefrontal cortex. Indeed I never was that mother until September 20 , 2023. A policeman arriving at the front door at 1.45am to tell me that my son was dead ensured I am capable of catastrophising depressingly fast these days. It's a relief when Rider eventually returns, wearing a smile as wide as the Great Barrier Reef.
'That was the best. Thing. Ever. Our guide was the coolest bloke.' He pauses … 'His name is Jackson.'
While travelling together, Rider and I have learnt that you can feel simultaneously blessed and cursed, and that navigating life's extreme light and shade remains hard work. Nonetheless sharing this past week with my son has been a privilege. Courtesy of my Aussie parents, Australia has been a home from home for me for a lifetime; now it is Rider's happy place too.
'Mum — it's been incredible.' Thirty-six hours later and we're back in Brisbane airport. Rider's off to spend a month at a Muay Thai martial arts boot camp with some of his brother's friends in Thailand — where it will be his dad's turn to 'crash' our son's gap year. And though there's still an hour before his flight, after a final hug he says — gently but firmly — 'And now you can leave.' So, reluctantly, I do. Because here's another thing I've learnt the hard way: if you really love them, somehow you find the strength to let them go.
Kathryn Flett is spending a month travelling in Australia. She was a guest of Tourism and Events Queensland (queensland.com). The Coral Sea Resort has B&B doubles from £176 (coralsearesort.com)
• Kathryn Flett: Should I crash my son's gap year?• Kathryn Flett: Yes… I crashed my son's gap year. Here's what happened• Kathryn Flett: Me, my son and the gap year I crashed: what's working (and what's not)• My mini gap year in (probably) the most extraordinary place on Earth
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There, at Airlie Beach — formerly a backpacker pitstop, now moving upmarket — we'll spend our final two nights in separate rooms (much to Rider's relief) at the pretty Coral Sea Resort hotel, situated on a rocky promontory overlooking the bay. In fact the rooms are very comfortable apartments with yet more gorgeous views. And breathe … Rider wanders back into town to explore and I take the rest of the afternoon off — decamping to the poolside bar for a Caesar salad and a mocktail, accessorised by a good book. Which, in turn, segues into sunset cocktails and poolside dinner at the hotel's Coral Sea Pavilion restaurant with Rider. We have one more shared adventure in the diary tomorrow, and although packing so much into our days has been exhilarating, it has reminded me that I'm not 18. My head and heart are always up for new experiences — hungry for them even — however my body is also keeping the score. 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In truth you couldn't get me on a jet ski if you paid me. Two hours later I spot jet skis shooting across the bay and have to avert my eyes. I've always tried hard not to be the kind of 'helicopter' mother who worries about young men pushing their physical boundaries — even without the benefit of a joined-up prefrontal cortex. Indeed I never was that mother until September 20 , 2023. A policeman arriving at the front door at 1.45am to tell me that my son was dead ensured I am capable of catastrophising depressingly fast these days. It's a relief when Rider eventually returns, wearing a smile as wide as the Great Barrier Reef. 'That was the best. Thing. Ever. Our guide was the coolest bloke.' He pauses … 'His name is Jackson.' While travelling together, Rider and I have learnt that you can feel simultaneously blessed and cursed, and that navigating life's extreme light and shade remains hard work. Nonetheless sharing this past week with my son has been a privilege. Courtesy of my Aussie parents, Australia has been a home from home for me for a lifetime; now it is Rider's happy place too. 'Mum — it's been incredible.' Thirty-six hours later and we're back in Brisbane airport. Rider's off to spend a month at a Muay Thai martial arts boot camp with some of his brother's friends in Thailand — where it will be his dad's turn to 'crash' our son's gap year. And though there's still an hour before his flight, after a final hug he says — gently but firmly — 'And now you can leave.' So, reluctantly, I do. Because here's another thing I've learnt the hard way: if you really love them, somehow you find the strength to let them go. Kathryn Flett is spending a month travelling in Australia. She was a guest of Tourism and Events Queensland ( The Coral Sea Resort has B&B doubles from £176 ( • Kathryn Flett: Should I crash my son's gap year?• Kathryn Flett: Yes… I crashed my son's gap year. Here's what happened• Kathryn Flett: Me, my son and the gap year I crashed: what's working (and what's not)• My mini gap year in (probably) the most extraordinary place on Earth
