Posts Tagged ‘Australian’

The largest sandpit in the world

Thursday, 16 April 2009

After buying myself a new pair of sunglasses (identical to the ones I had lost overboard while sailing), I started another exceptionally long coach journey. Given that I am trying to work out what my next career step should be, and that the scenery in Queensland doesn’t change for hundreds of kilometres, I was forced to confront my career plans.

Zzzzzz, the next morning, I was in Hervey Bay, gateway to Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world. The plan here was to embark on a four-wheel-drive safari for a few days, and once again cut myself off from the mainstream of Australian culture.

The hostel I was staying at was going to arrange everything. We would be put into groups of ten and packed off to the 4WD rental agency. In fact, they were so efficient, they treated us more like cattle and barked orders at us (not great for 6:30am in the morning). Our mutual dislike of the barking woman made our group gel pretty quickly.

We started to wonder what we were getting ourselves into after arriving at the rental agency. We were informed about the numerous ways we could damage a 4WD and have our deposit (several thousand AUS$) taken away from us. Due to lack of sleep, I nodded off several times during the informational video, and so relied on everyone else to update me later.

Admin over, now time for the fun bit (mildly disrupted by the revelation that Liz had spent AUS$14 from the kitty on a watermelon while doing the food shopping)! [Don’t worry Liz, we didn’t mind really]

A 4WD was absolutely necessary for Fraser Island. As soon as we drove off the ferry, we were bumping up and down sand tracks in the middle of a forest. There is no earth on the island and anything that grows, grows in the sand. Once we got over to the other side of the island, we found Seventy-Five Mile Beach, the equivalent of the M6 Toll in this neck of the woods.

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In the evening we were able to cook for ourselves at the well kitted-out campsite.

Nat in charge of sausages.

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Left-to-right: Joachim, Martin, Josh, Jørgen

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Left-to-right: Mary, Emily, Anne Line

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The next morning we had our first close encounter with the local wildlife. While cruising along at 80kph on the beach with all the windows open, someone notices a huge huntsman spider on the rear windscreen [follow the link, they look pretty scary]. Cue outrageous screaming from everyone… We’re all tied in with seatbelts so there’s nowhere to go. Ten people hopping up and down screaming in a fairly tight space was certainly entertaining. Then the spider starts to move towards an open window! Cue more frantic movement as everyone rushes to close their window. The poor spider, possibly sensing the loud noises, then disappears.

Two minutes later, the same spider appears behind Josh’s head (fortunately still outside of the van). Josh seems terrified when everyone points at him and starts screaming again!

We never saw it again, although we endured the rest of the journey to the next headland with all of the windows closed. Happily I was able to enjoy a cool breeze once we arrived.

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Bad news at lunch: the ice water has leaked into our remaining meat supplies. The only items of food left are some vegetables, lots of bread, crisps and Eric the watermelon (having now acquired a name).

Resisting the urge to ration, we dig into Eric immediately. Liz bids fond farewells to her love…

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…and we gorge ourselves…

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That afternoon I had my first go at driving the 4WD. I can’t quite remember how many people I had told I had only driven two times (thanks Kirstin and Bosun!) since passing my test last April, but the reactions were fairly positive as I was speeding along at 90kph on the beach (except the time I shifted from fifth down to first gear – I was aiming for third).

On our final day, we explore more of the island interior, which as well as having forests is covered by the odd vast desert…

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… and a scattering of crystal-clear freshwater lakes…

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…before a manic Martin videos himself driving…

… on the way to catch the ferry back home.

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Full photo album at http://www.flickr.com/photos/alxdxn/tags/fraserisland/

Video of Martin’s driving at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uj3kpg7TY1s

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Sailing the Whitsunday Islands

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

After several exciting days of diving, I couldn’t help but try to dive one of the best dive sites in the world: the SS Yongala.

Unfortunately I discovered they day before I was hoping to dive it, that the trip had been cancelled due to bad weather. Short on time, I converted my 7-hour coach ride into a 12-hour one, and just kept going to my next destination, Airlie Beach. I suppose that means I’ll have to come back to Australia some other day to do the Yongala!

Airlie is the gateway to the Whitsunday Islands, a magnificent group of volcanic peaks separated from the Australian mainland by a narrow passage of a few kilometres. It is also quite a pleasant, compact town with plenty of backpacker accommodation and agencies arranging yachts for charter.

Upon presenting myself at my hostel’s booking desk my first morning to book a sailing trip, I was asked whether I wanted to join a “party boat”, “traditional boat” or “racing boat”. Having had quite enough to drink at The Woolshed in Cairns, I erred away from the “party boat” and went for the racing option even though it was considerably more expensive. “Right, well there’s a boat leaving in 45 minutes,” the agent declared. Keen to make best use of my time, I jumped into action.

One hour later a group of eleven of us, and two crew, are sailing out of the the Abel Point Marina on former America’s Cup contender the Southern Cross. Definitely a “racing boat”! Here she is.

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Provided there were enough other volunteers, we could really help out as much or as little as we liked on the Southern Cross. However, with respect to one’s personal property, there are some basic precautions one should we aware of before volunteering. Unfortunately, we were not prepared and within fifteen minutes of leaving the marina, Tobias (Switzerland) and I had lost our sunglasses overboard! (And I had only bought the sunglasses in Sydney two weeks previously.) Andy the skipper, who really should know better, also had his baseball cap blown overboard, but given that this floated we were able to make a detour to pick it up.

Given the fairly tame wind conditions, the boat picked up some good speed, and we were leaning heavily away from the wind. Just a couple of minutes down below to use the loo was enough to make me quite seasick (and I rarely get motion sickness). After some time we arrived at out first destination, Whitehaven Beach, where the sand is supposedly some of the whitest and finest in the world.  We all hopped into a rib (called a tender in Australia) to be taken to the shore. It got a little cloudy as we arrived, but we enjoyed the beach (in our stinger suits given the jellyfish issue). From left to right: James (UK), Tobias (Switz), Maud (NL), Jenny and Hans (Sweden), and Rutger (NL)

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After a fabulous sunset (see below) and slap-up supper on the boat, the stars came out. The moon set shortly thereafter and we had a perfect view of the stars of the southern hemisphere, including the namesake of the boat, the Southern Cross. Unfortunately the rocking deck meant there was no opportunity for long-exposure photography,  but here is the sunset I mentioned earlier.

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Feeling all soppy and overwhelmed by the stars, I fell asleep on deck. When I woke in the morning, I saw James and Maud had done the same.

The next morning was quite dramatic: Rutger, who had been seasick since we left dock, started having heart palpitations, and had to get urgent medical assistance. A call was put out over the radio, and we altered course to take us to the nearest hospital on a private resort island. About half-an-hour later, we were met halfway by a high-speed boat that we transferred Rutger to to take him the rest of the way. There wasn’t much anyone could do while we were waiting, and we discussed afterwards whether we thought the response should have been quicker. I thought that given we were so far away from habited land, and yachts don’t react particularly well to helicopters, half-an-hour was as good as anyone could have expected. We heard over the radio later that afternoon that Rutger had been airlifted to the mainland from the resort island hospital.

With two members of our crew down (Maud had accompanied Rutger to the resort to help with translation) and not much else we could do, we carried on with our excursion. This included the opportunity of swimming to our own island and laying on the beach for the rest of the afternoon.

Reunited with Maud later that afternoon, we had another great meal and sunset.

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We visited another island the next morning…

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… and given we were covered in salt water, the private waterfall was useful.

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Unfortunately it was then time to sail back to Airlie Beach, but before we could do that, there was another dramatic development: as we switched back to the motor for our final approach towards the marina, the rope supporting our mainsail got stuck within the mast i.e. we couldn’t bring the mainsail completely down. Andy, the skipper, was going to have to climb up the mast and cut the rope from the other end. N.B. The mast of the Southern Cross is 100 feet (30 metres) high!

Andy was going to need ropes, lots of ropes, to help pull him up to the top of the mast, support his weight, deliver equipment to him, and eventually bring him back down without him falling off. Although Andy was really the only one who knew which ropes were going to do what, he was over 30m away, and was going to need us to do the leg-work. We must have learnt a thing or two about how the ropes work over the three days, as everything seemed to go swimmingly (with the help of the Portuguese deputy on deck level). My role was to translate between native-speaking Andy thirty metres away, and the mainly continental group on deck.

With that drama out of the way, we were able to bring the original drama to a close when we saw Rutger greet us on the marina as we docked.

That night we celebrated with a drink or two (as demonstrated by Sandy below)

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Trials in Cape Tribulation

Sunday, 8 March 2009

My first 10 days travelling were fairly luxurious: I stayed in a hotel in Singapore and on Sarah’s sofa in Sydney. Now I was alone and on a budget; the youth hostel beckoned…

I arrived in Cairns airport at 6pm with nowhere to stay and a five-year-old copy of the Rough Guide to Australia taking up 1kg of my luggage allowance. After picking up the rucksack I am to become fairly attached to, I was relieved to see a huge accommodation board in the corner of the terminal with a free telephone to check availability. Two phone calls later and I am sorted.

There are no taxis and two huge red-necked middle-aged Australians at the taxi rank. To my surprise, when a taxi turns up after a few minutes, they invite me to share a cab with them into town. I probably only spoke to two Australians that I wasn’t buying something off in Sydney, so this was an opportunity to double my tally. Although I tried to act cool by dropping in lots of “mate” and “cheers”, they immediately label me a pom.

My two new friends have just flown in from Wongamolla or somewhere equally bizarre-sounding. They have very little luggage, but a large polystyrene box with some impressive yellow tape wrapped around it emblazoned with the words “PASSED QUARANTINE”.

“So mate, what’s in the box?” I ask hesitantly.

“Ahhh mate, it’s a turtle…”

Apparently, one can hunt them in the place they just got back from, and the two of them had made a boys’ week away out of it. Then again, perhaps I just didn’t get the Australian sense of humour.

I had a couple of days to kill before my liveaboard diving trip to the Great Barrier Reef left from Cairns. So encouraged by my roommates at the hostel, I arranged a two-day trip up to Cape Tribulation, north of Cairns. Cape Tribulation was so named by Captain Cook in 1770 when his boat hit the reef and he had to stay put for three months to make repairs. This mishap combined with searing tropical heat and unfriendly locals lead the captain to name the cape after the trials and tribulations he experienced when based here. Nowadays the cape is magnet for backbackers who want to experience the fun of the World Heritage listed Daintree tropical rainforest.

When booking my trip to tropical Queensland, I had not properly investigated the weather, and although the south of Australia is in summer (even given the rain in Sydney), the north of Australia is actually in “wet season”. Within two hours of leaving Cairns and in the middle of a boardwalk (a trek through forest on a walkway) our entire party gets completely drenched within a couple of minutes. The extreme humidity also means our clothes can’t get dry until we return to civilization in Cairns.

I check into the Cape Tribulation Beach Hut with Clio (UK) and Khanh (Canada). “Hut” in this respect means “close to nature” (we are eco-tourists after all) and so all huts in the complex appear to have been colonised by these huge golden silk orb weaver spiders. Fortunately the colonisation has been limited to the exterior of the buildings and the insides appear to be invertebrate-free.

Golden Silk Orb Weaver outside my hut in Cape Tribulation
Golden Silk Orb Weaver outside my hut in Cape Tribulation

First adventure activity of the trip is jungle-surfing! This involves being kitted out in hard hat and safety harness and zip-lining between trees within the forest canopy about twenty metres above ground. Great fun had by all.

Alex aka Crocodile Dundee kitted out for zip-lining in Cape Trib
Alex aka Crocodile Dundee kitted out for zip-lining in Cape Trib

Khanh prepares to take a leap
Khanh prepares to take a leap

Clio in mid-"surf"
Clio in mid-surf

Next adventure activity: a night-time rainforest walk. All the best wildlife is meant to come out at night, however I was a bit disappointed and getting a bit bored towards the end of this excursion, particularly when our guide started explaining the “three stages of spider web evolution”. Next adventure activity: how to get back to your hostel two miles away in the pitch black with more tropical rain threatening to make an appearance. Khanh, Clio and I had came to into Cape Trib town to enjoy a few bevies with some of the other people on our tour bus including Helen (UK). Once the bar had shut we needed to get back to our beach hut which was further away than promised – Khanh and Clio had already made the journey one-way. The solution? Get two Aussies to give us a lift in the back of their pick-up truck (called a “Ute”)

Next day, and the adventure continues: how about some horse-riding through the rainforest and along the beach? When my horse had two hooves in the sea and two on the dry sand, I was in theory inside two different World Heritage sites at the same time (the Daintree Rainforest and the Great Barrier Reef). The group got up to a canter which was great fun considering some of us had little experience (my childhood memories of trotting in the New Forest now eclipsed).

Taking the horse for a little wander along the beach
Taking the horse for a little wander along the beach

For elevenses, we stopped off at a creek with a natural pool. I went for a swim and took along a biscuit to break up and feed to the fish. I misunderstood the advice from the guide however and didn’t realise I shouldn’t go swimming with the biscuit. Within seconds I’m surrounded by fish nibbling at my hand. Shocked by the creatures I can’t see, I let go of the biscuits sending mushy pieces all through the water. One obviously confused fish then mistakes my nipple for a tasty bit of cookie… my yelp was mistaken by some in our group as the start of a crocodile attack!

On the way back to Cairns, Helen, Clio, some more in our group and I swam in the famous Mossman Gorge. However, this was no creek, and anyone swimming in it has to make sure they aren’t swept down the river into the rapids!

All-in-all, Cape Tribulation was a little expensive (I suppose I did do a lot) but tremendously fun. I just had to make sure I got enough rest for the 6am start the next day to go diving; apologies to Helen for not making it out that evening