So with a packed esky, a newly aquired beach tent, and an air con set to full blast, it was time to set off for the fabled white sands and crystal waters of Jervis Bay. Luckily, Rock's characteristic apathy in leaving accomodation booking to the last second proved a masterstroke in inadvertent genius - the Bed & Breakfast was perfectly situated at the far end of an out-of-the-way penninsula, literally perched on an idyllic white beach with hardly a soul in sight.
Even luckier, the beach tent's patented pop-up technology proved to be no idle boast (unlike Rock's claim that "the map's in my head"). Without the need to prove his outdoors bushcraft in tentmanship, Rock was free to start putting together some draft shots for Sports Illustrated's 2008 Swimsuit edition.
The name's Cahan, Rock Cahan. And if you shake or stir my ice cold coke and lose all the fizz, you'll be seeing the business end of my beretta. Cunningly using his pasty skin as the perfect camouflage against the pristine white sands, Rock strides purposefully towards... the SPF 50 protection of the beach tent.
The Sports Illustrated shoot continues, albeit with great difficulty when every shot is punctuated by a lengthly hair styling sessions.
Oh no! Was that a drop of water that splashed on my hair! Oh the horror! The rest of the beach could be forgiven for thinking a 3m Great White was lurking in the bay, such was the speed of the dash back to the safety of the tent.
Enough sand and surf for one day as the sun sets over the deserted beach. A cooling sea breeze and the quite lap of the surf in the background - the perfect way to wrap up Australia Day.
The shadow hand of Rock's sundial can only signal one thing - it's fish and chips time!
To fend off the hunger while waiting for the chips to reach their perfect Australian Day golden brown, Rock manages to tear his lens away from the bikinis long enough to try his hand at a little sunset artistry.
Now that's what I'm talkin' about! Tempera and honey prawns, barbeque scallops and a heaping plate of golden chips and crispy fried fish. Topped off with the the iciest of cokes. And so fresh it had all been swimming around the bay that morning - about the same time in fact Rock was illustrating why he failed his Minnows Swim Certificate.
Day two dawned bright and sunny. Rock didn't notice though, his face was burried in a huge plate of bacon and eggs, served up on the B&B's seaside verandah.
With a feed like that, something had to be done to chew through a few calories, so it was off to the wilderness for a 9km bushwalk the wound its way past secluded coves and then up through coastal scrub and into an untouched eucalyptus forest. 'Sup bro, what's going down in da hood? Mei brings a little inner city style along for the walk. The lone pelican was less than impressed.
Now this is cool! Almost hidden from view behind the tussock was the entrance to a natural stone tunnel, carved by the fury of the wind and surf into the very face of a sheer cliff face. After about 10m of hands and knees crawling, the tunnel openned out onto a tiny ledge, half way up the 50m cliff face, with the pounding surf churning a dizzying distance below.
Hey, there's New Zealand! Mei either demonstrates superior eyesight or an un-superior sense of geography.
"I'm sure the trail should be over there... Rock demonstrates the superior navigation skills which turn a routine tramp into an epic trek over half the penninsula.
Rock just can't accept that somehow the ocean is over there, instead of over there...Day three dawned with... another beach and another huge breakfast. To spare you the photos, we'll cut straight to the action.
No stuntmen, no George Lucasian desire to film in front of a blue cardboard box, no invisible wires. Just expert camera work and a superbly timed jump on top of a lookout. The fertile plains that surround Jervis Bay stretch out below, while a now rather tight t-shirt stretches out above...
