East Coast Expedition: Setting Sail Among The Whitsunday Islands

Jan 20, 2011

This morning I woke unsure of my game plan. I had to figure out a way to get myself on a Whitsunday Sailing trip, and fast. I went to Travel bug, the travel company I had booked my trip through, and explained my situation to the gal there. She said there was nothing she could because I didn't book the trip through her; however, she offered to call Andy herself to see if he could work something out for me. Fortunately, she got through to him no problem (I was relieved, but irked that he didn't reply to me. I called him a few not-nice names in my mind). He said that he had a couple of other travelers who were in the same boat as I (no pun intended), and he was going to see what he could do about getting us on another boat that afternoon. Now I just had to be patient and wait and see if Andy could work his travel agent magic and pull through big. Lucky for me (and him), he did! (I won't linger on the what I would have done had he failed). Andy was able to move me (at no extra charge) from the Venus boat to the Tongarra boat trip which was scheduled to set sail at 3:00 p.m. that afternoon. The Tongarra cruise was similar to the Venus trip in almost every regard except that it was on a different style boat and we were to sleep on the boat rather than at a resort. These differences were trivial; I was just overjoyed that I was going to be able to go on any trip. My heart skipped with joy as I breathed multiple sighs of relief. Operation "Sail the Whitsunday Islands" was back in motion!

RIP

With only a few hours before the departure time, I had to hurry my tush out the door to prepare for the trip. This entailed packing a small bag to take on the boat with me (you were only allowed a small backpack on the boat due to space constraints), putting my large baggage in storage, and purchasing any necessities I needed for the trip; specifically sunscreen, water and a book. Oh, and a hat. I went through great care trying on hat after hat after hat to find the perfect one to wear on the boat, knowing that I would eventually want shade from the sun's powerful rays. I liked the hat so much that I wore it straight to the dock, where we were greeted by the two-man crew (more about them in a bit) and ushered on board the Tongarra. Not more than a minute after we had shuffled ourselves on the boat deck, a huge gust of wind came and blew my brand new straw hat right off my head. I watched in horror as my sun shield took a rapid nose dive straight into the ocean water beneath us. My mind was shouting, "NOOOOOOO!" as I observed my beloved new hat sink slowly below the surface. I turned to the skipper and asked tentatively, "Is there any chance of getting that?" He just laughed. "Nope," he said. "That's gone to the fishes." Crap. And that was the end of that. My heart ached, knowing I had been in possession of the hat for just 20 minutes. I wasn't prepared for our love affair to end so abruptly or soon. But I am a big girl, and big girls don't cry over hats. So I said a quiet farewell, brooding with likelihood that I would be a deep shade of red by the end of this trip.

A few minutes later we were gliding across the ocean water, pulling out of the dock and entering the open seas. The Tongarra had set sail. The Tongarra was a catamaran boat (12 meters long, 8 meters wide) designed to charter passengers around the Whitsunday Islands. Catamaran boats are stable, with a large front deck that allows its passengers to move freely around the boat. This one was 12 years old. It had 26 beds, a kitchen, two toilets and one shower. The skipper of the Tongarra was Mick, a young (early 30s), thin Aussie who sported a brown buzz cut, shades and a hat similar to the one I had purchased but only his had a string to tie around the neck. Clearly, he was an experienced, older and wiser sailor than I. Mick was the modern day Gilligan; the commander of the vessel responsible for safely navigating the Tongarra around the islands. The other crew member was Dave, the deckhand. Dave was my age, and a highly entertaining individual. He had light blond dreadlocks from which numerous trinkets and "things" hung, such as soda can openers. Dave was the guy who told us what to do. He helped Mick operate the boat (pull sails, etc.). And most importantly to me, he was our chef; he kept me fed and full for the entire trip.

The Tongarra Boat

Our first day on the boat was an uneventful, relaxing one. We spent the entire afternoon sailing towards the islands. The scenery was absolutely stunning. I lied out in the sun, reading and chatting with the other passengers. There were 3 Canadian girls, 2 Italian girls, a French girl, a group of 5 Germans, and 3 English folk. Everyone was extremely nice, as usual. No one could believe that I was 24. And I couldn't believe that most of the other passengers were only 18 or 19 years old. It's common in Europe for teens to go travelling for a period after high school before starting college, which explained why I was so much older than most of my co-travelers. They also couldn't believe that I was from New York. In their eyes, New York was the city of all cities. The fact that I came from the outskirts of the Big Apple was exciting to them.

Lounging on the boat deck

We "parked" the boat at 6:30 p.m., right when the sun was setting. Dinner followed. We sat on the boat deck noshing on fish with onions and peppers, mashed potatoes, coleslaw and bread. Although we didn't have to cook, we did have to clean our own dishes. Of course, while I was washing my plate I got stung by a nasty insect which resulted in my finger swelling to twice its size. It was tingling and throbbing painfully for the remainder of the evening and trip. But I told myself, "If this is the worst animal encounter I experience while in Australia, then I'm certainly not going to complain about it." But it did really hurt. A lot.

We watched the sun set over the island mountain tops. It was breathtaking. Once the sunlight disappeared, there wasn't much to do on the boat. We played some card games and drank wine. Then it was time for bed. The Tongarra is unique in that its passengers can sleep on the deck under the starry sky, an opportunity I was thrilled to take. I grabbed a mattress, lugged it onto the boat deck and sprawled out on top of it in a sleeping bag. The idea of sleeping under the stars on a catamaran boat deck sounds much more enjoyable than it actually is. That was one of the worst nights sleep I've experienced in a very long while. Part of it was due to my swollen, throbbing finger that was keeping me up. But most of it was due to the wind that was whipping angrily against the tarp that hung above our heads in case it started raining during the night. The obnoxiously loud, scratching sound it produced woke me up practically every 20 minutes. Not exactly the beauty sleep I had hoped for.

The sunset over the Whitsunday Islands