Phillip Island is where my surfing life really began. As a landlocked teenager in suburban Melbourne, it was the first place I considered myself a quasi-local, courtesy of a mate's family's beach house we frequented every school holidays. It was a pretty mild form of localism we practised: "If you don't have a mate with a holiday house here, don't surf here." was our good-natured catch cry.

So, it is with a nostalgic rosy tint to me eyes that I tow the Expanda across the bridge from San Remo on to the Island. The rest of the family are not so enamoured with the Island. It is cold, grey and windy and there's not much for them to do while I go sniffing around for a marginal surf in uninspiring conditions. But steering the RAV4 down those familiar dirt roads, unhitched from the van, I'm in heaven. It is also our 10th wedding anniversary. We go out to dinner at a smart wine bar, the sort of place you once would never have found on the Island and then take the kids to the penguin parade.

The next morning, I find myself returning to the Penguin Parade, as its sheltered bay offers about the only decent wave to be found. It is three feet, clean and protected in the sou-wester, a reasonable right breaking nicely for a hundred yards or so, and not a soul out. I scamper down the hillside, and wade across the reef, unsure of the paddle out spot. I am suckered too far out along the Point by the mirage of large, shapeless swells that feather way out and promise a long ride, but fill up and vanish before your eyes. I am soon joined by an older local guy who knows the lineup better than me, and he waves to me, indicating the proper take off spot.

He's a friendly bloke but full of bad news. "Heaps of mako sharks around," he says, "because the water's so warm." Did he say, warm? And, sharks? "I thought you were pretty keen paddling out by yourself." he says.

He's spotted the NSW rego plates on the RAV. "What are you doing here? Did you take a wrong turn?" he quips. He joins in the chorus of disdain I have heard from Victorians everywhere, that they have had no summer this year. We have a good chat and I tell him a bit of my story, including the bit about us spending our 10th wedding anniversary on the Island. "It's a wonder she's still talking to 'ya." he marvels.

It's a fun, though unspectacular session and I don't last long. The spectre of the Mako Sharks and the realisation that we are just round the corner from one of the largest fur seal colonies in Australia begins to gnaw away at me. I am starting to think the state's fur seals are stalking me. And the family are awaiting my return. It's on to Melbourne to see family, then on the Spirit of Tasmania to explore more cold water delights.

It's time to pack away the lightweight rubber and shorts and t-shirts and pull out the vacuum packed winter gear. And it's only early March. Researching camp heaters suddenly becomes a pressing priority.

Onwards.

Total distance travelled: 2873 KM

Surf: Three foot right hand point break.

Family friendly tourist highlight: Penguin Parade and the Nobbies.

Local culinary highlight: Spice Island, in nearby San Remo, serves up an amazing Indonesian fish curry.