Post boat blues and booze

Having left the boat, we attended to our immediate needs - finding a place with wifi and aircon, and finding a toilet that didnt rock when you sat on it. Luckily for us, a local cafe took pity on the scrawny (well, the other two... I wont pass for scrawny for a while) and unwashed backpackers and let us stay under their ceiling fans for a few hours, sorting out travel plans (greyhound now claimed they had no buses travelling south for over a week...) and accommodation. This achieved, we passed out in the cool bliss of an unmoving bunk....!

Having been offered free pizza as an incentive, we turned up to the after boat party at a nearby bar. Unfortunately, apart from our party, the bar was completely empty - not the best indicator of a good night out. We swiftly retired to a nearby backpackers hostel, where we drank beer and goon to the accompaniment of a persistent frog.

It was then that other stranglers joined our merry band. Including the captain and chef of the boat that we were meant to travel on, Mandrake. The captain swiftly whipped out his guitar. Awkward turtle moment. All through uni (and before) I had despised that moment when someone who thinks (or maybe can!) sing takes out a guitar and decides to serenade the group. What do you do as a bystander? Either you listen intently (which can be painful, or creepy) or you push the song to the background (which can be seen as rude or dismissive). It became clear quite quickly that the only option in this case was number two. I did quite well merrily ignoring the singing until I was asked for my requests. I mumbled something about the Beatles. Something that vaguely resembled said band followed seconds later. Erm, yay?

The rest of us, joyous to be reunited after less than 12 hours apart got straight back on the drinking games. A long game of 'what the fuck' ensued - those nearby and trying to sleep sent hate vibes through the trees. Olly, who had acted as our chef for the last few days, encouraged a game of dentists chair - being tied down with arms and legs secured, while someone covered your nose and poured goon into your mouth. Seconds later, cries of 'my dreads' made the game stop to check that the aforementioned were still intact...

I stuck to the 'tropical paradise' (goon, lemonade and mango juice) and listened in horror to stories of things that go on on the party boats in the area. Thank god we didnt innocently stray on to one of them...!

When the last of the other passengers retired to their bedbug ridden bed (cries of 'thats not a bedbug, thats a bedfox! had been heard all night), and we had spotted a pregnant and very large rat, we decided it was time to call it a day. But not without a sighting of this guy.

In case the photo doesn't indicate the scale - with legs this was the size of my hand...

Whitsundays: breathtaking beaches, sensational sunsets and trailing turtles

The morning dawned. Awash with excitement (and sweat!) we dragged our bags along the main street to the Ozsail office. To discover that 1. they couldn't take our bags, so we had to drag them all the way back again, and 2. the boat we were headed out on had changed AGAIN. From Habibi to Mandrake, we were now setting out on Avatar. All we knew was that it was a catamaran. This was enough to give good vibes. Walked around the familiar baking boardwalk to the marina, to be greeted by a huge group of men. Ok. Don't panic. We appeared to be the only females on a 30 strong outing. (As it turned out there were two more, but they were travelling as couples)

Then round the corner came our deck hand. We could barely believe our eyes. It was the dreadlocked flasher from the day before! Talk about a bizarre coincidence... He turned out to be ok - funny, if a little disturbing at times...!

The boat was beautiful. It holds the record of at one point being the fastest boat on the East Coast - winning the Sydney to Hobart race etc. Now its kitted out with loads of tiny cabins, big enough to roughly fit two people lying side by side, as long as they dont move, or breathe too much. Our berth was open plan and right next to the kitchen. The men eyed us strangely. We were a little afraid.

Until we left the harbour, whereupon we forgot all our worries as we motored out into the bluest of waters, under a baking hot sun.

Words really cant describe how amazing the next few days were, so I will keep it brief, and let images do the talking. We stopped for snorkelling and were beseiged by jellyfish - the little blighters still managed to sting us, despite the insane stinger suits that we were all told it was compulsory to wear (like morph suits... but even more unattractive...) before outrunning a storm and heading to Whitehaven beach to moor overnight. The sunset was absolutely breathtaking.

The night was so hot and sticky that we all slept on deck. I've always wanted to do this. However, after waking up with a twisted spine, cricked neck and covered already in dew and sweat, I thought a little different! It was relentlessly, overpoweringly hot. Therefore, waking up at 6 wasnt too much of a hardship!

We circled the headland to a popular turtle breeding ground (two sightings in 5 mins!), waiting for the tide to rise. And then, amazingly, we were able to be the first people on Whitehaven Beach! Our photos from the lookout arent lying - the worlds 2nd most beautiful beach was completely empty and unblemished!

Consisting of something like 98% silica, the sand is pure white and like stepping on talcum powder. It is considered so valuable that the fine for removing even a small amount is $5000. The sea was completely clear and the perfect temperature. It was truly a dream, with huge rays and lemon sharks in the lagoon to put the icing on the whole experience.

Stopped to feed some sea eagles that the Captain was on first name terms with (as all good old sea dogs are...!) He was an awesome guy - 26 years skippering boats under his belt, he had had two huge skin cancers removed from his forehead the day before and was still at work the next day. His knowledge of the area was invaluable. He then took us to a spot where he pretty much guaranteed we could swim with turtles. The tourists looked at each other with some disbelief. Yeah, yeah, thats what they all say...

But no, in this case, it was no exaggeration. Within minutes we had seen one, which happily meandered around us, oblivious, or just unfussed by our company. After half an hour, I had seen four more!!!! And enjoyed long, unhurried swims (and the odd shell pat). It was magical. As was the sunset.

Three very happy friends.

After a night of hilarious drinking games, the Swedish, Dutch and German tourists having various hysterically funny language slips etc we drifted off on the deck. Another unblemished morning took us on the journey back to Airlie Beach. It was an utterly unforgettable experience, and without a doubt some of the best days of my life. I feel so, so lucky that despite all the chaos ensuing elsewhere we managed to have such an amazing time. 

Crisis continues

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.

Straya day: dramatic dancing and gutwrenching greyhounds

Due to the cancellation of yet another greyhound bus, we found ourselves in Cairns for Australia Day. My first actually IN Australia. Exciting times. And yes, I do celebrate it in London even though I can boast no Aussie heritage. Its not strange, its just a great night out!

So, rather than a boozefest at walkabout, we walked into Cairns early to visit the art gallery. Fab times and amazing aircon. Shallow? Me? Then headed to the market, where zinc fm were happily branding everyone with Aussie flag tats and dispensing free bbq. There was also free amusement in the form of various 'patriotic' outfit choices. The 60 yr old in the glitter flag halter top springs to mind...

Melting in the intense heat, we hung out by the lagoon until 4 oclock, the legal time that you can buy goon in Queensland. Silly rule. Goon, to you Brits is a box of wine. At $12 for 4 litres its the obvious choice for a night out. Or a night in. Or a midmorning drink. You get my drift. Unfortunately, we had to join the queue of other scabby backpackers being made to wait till 4 on the dot, which was a bit embarassing, especially with people wandering by shouting 'goon queue' at you. It was also conveniently situated right next to where all the homeless people hang out...

Armed with our goon (fruity lexia!) and another pocketful of Aussie flag transfers, we returned to the hostel to prepare for the night ahead. It was very strange to wear makeup for first time since leaving Sydney. Don't judge us - there's no point in these kind of sweaty conditions!



With no particular plans we headed to the hostel bar and were promptly adopted by a huge group of Naval Aussies. My friends know that I have a strange talent for finding military personnel wherever I go. They tend to be insane. This lot were no exception. After rounds of drinking games we lurched off to Gilligans - the massive hostel/bar/club, for a night of dancing like an idiot and shamelessly talking people into buying all our drinks. As the entry fee alone had wiped out our whole budget...

Many hours later, after losing Flo and traipsing all over Cairns in search of her, we collapsed into bed to be woken 2 hours later. Blindly packing (yeah, we lost a lot), we barely made our greyhound bus.
Which was terrible. Appalling. The memory makes me shudder. As the temp hit 37 degrees outside, or so the driver continually boasted, we had one question. Where was the bloody aircon we had been promised???

The bus breaking down in Townsville, and the drivers ringtone (the scream from psycho - Why? Why?) did not make for a restful journey, but we limped into Airlie Beach 11hrs later, just glad to finally be out of Cairns!

As the sun started to drop en route to Airlie Beach

Cabin fever continues in Cairns

Its been a frustrating few days. A pattern had formed. We wake up early and check out in expectation of leaving. Greyhound buses then ring and say yet another bus is cancelled. So we have to check back in. Through this method, we have now familiarised ourselves with most of the rooms in the hostel...

Went on Cairns' one and only walk today. Through the botanic gardens and up a hill, it provides a great view of the airport to the soundtrack of the highway. Nah, its not all bad. There are also views of the city and green island in the distance. And we encountered many toads (one of whom got sick of the cameras and commando rolled down the hill to get away - was v impressively executed) and two rock wallabies. We also got eaten alive by mosquitoes and God knows what else. So successful I feel!

At least the sun finally came out today, so we luxuriated half in, half out of the lagoon reading hideous books about Glaswegian hairdressers turned serial killers. As you do.

Preparations under way for Australia Day tomorrow. Or 'straya day as James called it. Should be a good one!

Restless in the rain

Having finished our respective diving courses and with one day left in Cairns, we became restless, in most part due to the terrible weather. Sunshine state my arse. Its rained harder (pretty much every day) than I've seen since Christmas Day. Yes, that was a bummer.

Sunshine state? Hmm

We were also keen not to spend more money. You are invited to believe that it is impossible to do anything out here unless you are part of a guided tour, for which you pay muchos moulah for the privilege. After cross-questioning Brad at the travel desk in the hostel, he admitted that it was possible to visit the tablelands without doing a tour. Brad is amazing. He winks and giggles and calls you 'darling' every other word. His favourite phrase seems to be 'cheap and cheeky'.

Forest dragon thing. Not Brad.

The evening before our German roommates (sweet, but very young, and spent a lot of time just sitting in the hostel room watching movies) had gone out to sample some of the local 'herbal merchandise'. Returning after we were asleep (us oldies) they had evidently thought it very sweet to bring us flowers, which they had scattered on the floor between our bunks. Unfortunately we didn't notice these when we got up at 7, and in the dark room managed to trample them all. This incident was rather awkwardly not eluded to when we returned later that evening... Assuming they were rather embarassed. Well, I would be. To add insult to injury, we checked out this morning before they were awake, so didnt say goodbye. On hearing our latest bus had been cancelled we then had to check back in, and have been put in a different room. So we are now sitting in the bar, cringing in case they come in and think we just requested a room change! Nothing could be further from the truth - the new room smells even worse, and on meeting one room mate he told us that the guy on the other bunk was 'a little strange'. We discovered this to be true. On meeting, he asked where we were from, and then started talking about foxes, and flying foxes, and how if we went to the library we could hang upside down with the flying foxes, and we should introduce them to English foxes. It was, erm, bewildering.

So we hired a car and set off! Back on the open road. Toot toooooot! Wind in the hair etc. Well, more like rain in the hair. It was torrential. Arriving at our first destination we started off to walk to the nearby Barron Falls. 20 minutes later we were soaked and fearing for the lives of our cameras. I volunteered to run back to get the car. By the time I returned I looked, and felt, like I had got in the shower with all my clothes on. And then we couldn't see the falls because the cloud was so low. Doh!

Barron falls. What we could see of them, before the cloud dropped.

The radio was also a casualty of the weather. So we had to resort to a couple of spotify playlists I had on my  phone. Unfortunately, one of these was 'the super fabulous gay playlist'. So we cruised along the waterlogged roads to 'macho macho man!' Distractions were provided in the form of roadkill. There was a disgustingly large amount. Luckily we weren't responsible for any more by the end of the day.

We stopped at a dam...

We visited a beautiful lake (well the tourists pics were beautiful) which was again obscured by the general cloud and rain. And an amazing curtain fig tree. Probably about 100ft tall with immensely long roots that made up about 90ft of the tree. It was astounding and other worldly. We also stopped at some markets. One specialised in Kangaroo skin products. There was a kangaroo skin bikini. And a kangaroo skin man thong. There was also a pair of kangaroo bollocks adapted to fit the head of an automatic gearstick. Blimey.

Curtain fig tree

The landscape changed and became greener and wetter. Almost ethereal with the low cloud grazing the treetops.

A circuit of three waterfalls was rather more successful. They were all utterly beautiful and broke us out of our 'drive by shooting' mentality. Not what it sounds like. This involved driving up to beautiful things, winding down the window and taking pictures without having to get out of the car.

Milla milla falls

The drive home was long and incredibly windy through the mountains, which, with the slippery roads I did not enjoy driving. Feeling rather sick, we hit the low ground. Whereupon the heavens opened again. The rain was constant and incredibly heavy - the windscreen wipers screaming in indignation. As night began to fall it became impossible to see, which scared the shit out of yours truly behind the wheel. Our return to Cairns was marked by some very tricky sign reading - at one point I literally swerved out of the left hand turn lane at the last moment, indicating I thought, but instead hit the windscreen wipers (naturally). Having changed sides, I then indicated. Unfortunately left, rather than right. I pity whoever was behind me. Although as Harri pointed out, at the least they now knew I was a potential threat...

It was an unusual day, but certainly memorable!

Diving dynamics

Set off out to the reef with slight trepidation. The rain had come in overnight, and it had been pissing down ever since. I worried about visibility. The other younger females on board worried about their hair... 90 minutes out to the reef and we were off!

What followed was 7 amazing dives. It was warm enough that only a short wetsuit was necessary (decided not to worry too much that the snorkellers were all in stinger suits and we weren't). Buddied up with a young guy called Simon - for the first time in my life I was the more experienced of the two, so I was responsible for depth, checking air, plotting the course etc. Exciting, but problematic with a digital camera in tow. Photographers are notoriously bad buddies.

Within minutes of descending we had seen our first clown fish. Great start. Foxface rabbitfish followed, and other species in abundance. The second dive of the day delivered triggerfish (aggressive and territorial, one of them took a dislike to me and charged!) and a gorgeous little cowfish, which was responsible for me crashing into the reef and lacerating the back of my left leg. Smoothly done. Always good to be bleeding when 30 metres down in shark territory!

For the third dive, we transferred to the boat on which we were to spend the night. Taka was an old, single hull, probably around 50 ft long. My little bunk was in the gunnels of the ship. With the swell as it was, I aimed to spend as little time there as possible. Three people were already being violently seasick, as the crew (mostly Aussies and Kiwis) merrily discussed the oncoming cyclone. WHAAAT??

Apart from this, the crew were awesome - one guy even treating us to an underwater gangam style display! The other divers were a mixed bunch. A very large American in a 'honey badger dont give a shit' t-shirt (LOVE!) and a backpacker of the 'in India WE do this' variety. Keep dreaming love, we all know you're a Cali girl...

The easiest way to feel more normal and forget the waves was to head back down under the water. The nearest bommie was awash with little glassfish, which promised lionfish in the near vicinity. They didn't disappoint - think we saw about 5 of them! Our ascent, with the obligatory 3 minute safety stop at 5 metres was made all the more interesting by a curious batfish, who swam straight up and started investigating us. Slightly unnerving, but it passed the time!

After dinner we headed down for the night dive. Standing on the dive deck looking out into the inky black water, it did not feel remotely natural to be considering getting in. Especially when the crew switched on the spotlights, bringing in the sharks. The water was teeming with them - various people helped matters by chucking them some bacon. However, despite this daunting spectacle, this did mean that they were all busy at the back of the boat, so we could jump off the side and descent unaccompanied.

Well, not for long - Trevallys soon joined us, using our torch beams as guides for their dinner. About a metre in length, these silver fish are very solid, and you certainly feel it when they bump you out the way! Other highlights included spotting a sleeping parrotfish, which had sealed itself in a mucus bubble for protection. Everywhere the torch shone, millions of the little red eyes of crustaceans reflected back. It was completely different to any dive I've ever done, and a fantastic experience. On the ascent, the silhouettes of circling sharks above (luckily just reef sharks!) was quite a sight.

After a very fitful nights sleep it was all go again. The waves had grown overnight, tossing you from one side of the bunk to the other. Unfortunately, I woke around 1am with an overwhelming desire to pee. But with the sea so rocky, and the toilets all outside, I suddenly had a flashback to the 'Life of Pi'. If I was to get up, naturally I would get washed overboard into a lifeboat with a tiger, while the rest of the crew and clients drowned! Better to cross my legs and wait till morning...

I'll try and speed this up! 3 more dives that day with butterfly fish, angelfish, moorish idols and yet more clownfish. With one dive to go I was ever so slightly disappointed that I hadnt seen a turtle. Everything else had been amazing, but that would be the icing on the cake. The last dive site was by far the most visually stunning. We took on a 30m tunnel - pitch black in parts, and quite tight, but the feeling when you emerge is amazing. And then my buddy Trevor starting gesticulating wildly at me. I looked around confused, I could see nothing. He mimed the awkward turtle at me. I felt slightly affronted. Then I suddenly got it - he could see a turtle. God knows why I hadn't - a beautiful green turtle was right in front of us! It paddled placidly around, gorging on sea lettuce.

It wasnt until I got my photos back that I realised we could have seen a turtle on our first dive - we, erm, were just looking the wrong way!