So, full of hope and excitement we arrived in Airlie Beach. First impressions were a fun filled town, right on the water, with the ocean sparking an amazing aquamarine. Unfortunately the whole of the town is being torn up by roadworks...but we didnt let this get us down. It was new! It wasnt Cairns! And most importantly, it was the gateway to the Whitsunday Islands!
Despite the current sizzling heat and clear blue skies, the impact of the recent tropical storms was all too evident. The shore line is littered with the remains of smaller boats, while some larger yachts are almost completely submerged, with others beached and beaten apart. Its likely some owners wont mind from an insurance point of view, but personally the sight of a lovely 30 foot racer with only its mast still above water was pretty sad.
We had also managed to arrive in the midst of a crisis. The entire town was cut off from phone lines and internet access due to cyclones hitting further down the coast. This also meant no ATMs were running and no credit card machines working. As a great coincidence, it was also a bank holiday, so banks were out of the running as well. With a town full of backpackers and running only on cash, trouble was brewing, and fast. We panicked. We had no more cash to afford another night at the hostel and to pay the marine park levy for our trip, which was to leave the next day.
We decided to follow up on a rumour that the ANZ bank in the next town was still working. An hour later, having walked in the scalding midday sun, we arrived (looking like we had just got out a shower... Nice) to a fifty strong queue. With every new person, you held your breath, praying that the ATM wouldnt run out of cash. In our first luck for days, it held out. We treated ourselves to half a watermelon each - costing a whole 55c. Very hard to eat without a knife, noses should be retractable, surely?
While lounging, glorying in dismissing our problems, we saw a man with long dreads coming out of the market. Wearing a bushwalker hat, he had cut the top off to allow room for his hair. As he boarded a bus, we noticed that his shorts were ripped all the way down the bum crease and across one cheek. And he had decided to go commando...
Walked back to Airlie Beach and headed straight to the lagoon in search of shade and cool water. Diving in, it became apparent this was not to be. The lagoon was approximately the same temperature as a warm bath. Damn. Collapsing in the shade we fell asleep. I awoke to discover that I had burnt the area between where my shorts finished and my bikini bottoms started. I looked ridiculous.
News of the ongoing devestation further down the coast made our troubles look incredibly shallow. On the sunshine coast the tide had brought in a thick layer of sea scum, which had formed a thick foam. Residents photos made it look like snow! Back at the hostel, the suffering continued... On examination of the pool we found it closed, bearing the handwritten sign 'pool closed. Will burn skin'. Joy.
Despite the current sizzling heat and clear blue skies, the impact of the recent tropical storms was all too evident. The shore line is littered with the remains of smaller boats, while some larger yachts are almost completely submerged, with others beached and beaten apart. Its likely some owners wont mind from an insurance point of view, but personally the sight of a lovely 30 foot racer with only its mast still above water was pretty sad.
We had also managed to arrive in the midst of a crisis. The entire town was cut off from phone lines and internet access due to cyclones hitting further down the coast. This also meant no ATMs were running and no credit card machines working. As a great coincidence, it was also a bank holiday, so banks were out of the running as well. With a town full of backpackers and running only on cash, trouble was brewing, and fast. We panicked. We had no more cash to afford another night at the hostel and to pay the marine park levy for our trip, which was to leave the next day.
We decided to follow up on a rumour that the ANZ bank in the next town was still working. An hour later, having walked in the scalding midday sun, we arrived (looking like we had just got out a shower... Nice) to a fifty strong queue. With every new person, you held your breath, praying that the ATM wouldnt run out of cash. In our first luck for days, it held out. We treated ourselves to half a watermelon each - costing a whole 55c. Very hard to eat without a knife, noses should be retractable, surely?
While lounging, glorying in dismissing our problems, we saw a man with long dreads coming out of the market. Wearing a bushwalker hat, he had cut the top off to allow room for his hair. As he boarded a bus, we noticed that his shorts were ripped all the way down the bum crease and across one cheek. And he had decided to go commando...
Walked back to Airlie Beach and headed straight to the lagoon in search of shade and cool water. Diving in, it became apparent this was not to be. The lagoon was approximately the same temperature as a warm bath. Damn. Collapsing in the shade we fell asleep. I awoke to discover that I had burnt the area between where my shorts finished and my bikini bottoms started. I looked ridiculous.
News of the ongoing devestation further down the coast made our troubles look incredibly shallow. On the sunshine coast the tide had brought in a thick layer of sea scum, which had formed a thick foam. Residents photos made it look like snow! Back at the hostel, the suffering continued... On examination of the pool we found it closed, bearing the handwritten sign 'pool closed. Will burn skin'. Joy.
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