East Coast Expedition: Whitsunday Islands Magnificence

Jan 21, 2011

We got a very early start today. Dave politely woke the ship up at 6:00 a.m. by blasting a hip hop tune over the loud speaker. Now that's a wake up call; and one that I welcomed eagerly since I had been lying awake since the sun came up at 5:00 a.m. There was no time to waste, we had islands to explore and seas to snorkel. We set sail during breakfast, which was very difficult to eat standing up on a moving boat bouncing over choppy waters. I only spilled half the milk in my cereal bowl. We arrived shortly after to Whitsunday Island which is home to Whitehaven Beach, the most famous and most photographed beach in all the world. (Side note: all the islands in the Whitsunday Island group have different names, this one just happens to be named Whitsunday Island. Other islands include Hamilton Island, Hook Island and Bird Island). Whitehaven beach has the whitest sand in the entire world. It is composed of 98% pristine silica, which makes it exceptional to use to exfoliate skin, clean jewelry, brush teeth, and construct mirrors. The Australian government will slap you with an outrageous fine if you stupidly try to smuggle some of their precious gold out of the country. You might as well walk into the ocean without a wet suit and get stung by a boxer jellyfish because your behind would be toast if they caught you. Badly burnt black toast.  Dave hauled groups of us over to the island from the Tongarra on a small motor boat. Once on the island, we embarked on a short hike through the forest until we reached the lookout, where we were exposed to the most magnificent view of Whitehaven beach just yonder. It was absolutely spectacular. I felt as if I had magically fallen into a postcard; the beach was dreamlike. I had to pinch myself repeatedly to assure myself that I wasn't hallucinating.

The world's most photographed beach: Whitehaven beach. Hello paradise

After spending a good chunk of time staring in astonishment at the beach, we zestfully scurried down the bath to the beach. I hesitantly approached the boarder where the forest ended and the beach began. The sand was so white I was afraid to step on it. Hah. Who am I kidding? I saw the beach and bolted like a dog chasing madly after a squirrel. The sand was incredibly soft and vividly blinding. That paired with the most tranquil, turquoise blue water was almost too much for me to bare. Almost. I had walked straight into heaven; already my heart was aching knowing that I only had 2 hours to enjoy this ethereal place. I was determined to savor every minute in paradise. I spent a good while strolling the long beach, taking in my dreamlike surroundings. Then I threw on my wet suit and ran like a Baywatch bombshell into the alluring, seemingly perfect waters. I knew better than to judge a sea by its color, however. These tides, like those in Cairns, were contaminated with those evil killer jellyfish. Thus a full body wet suit was a must. Even with it on I was still nervous because my hands and feet were exposed, but this was no time to be a wimp. I frolicked, flipped and floated through the warm waters blissfully.

That's some white silica sand right there! Whitest in the world

With my Canadian co-passengers (who let me steal these pics from them)

Yes that is real. And I was there. Pinch me again.

Eventually, it was time to descend from heaven and return to the boat. If it wasn't for the fact that I was so hungry, I think someone would have needed to forcibly carry me off the island. The good news was that after lunch we were to spend the entire afternoon snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef, which we all know is my new favorite pastime activity. I was psyched. Skipper Mick took us to two different locations to go snorkeling, parking the Tongarra on the islands' outskirts. I suited up, grabbed my goggles and cannon balled into the water. It was as if I had jumped into a massive aquarium full of tropical fish and bountiful, colorful coral. This snorkel experience differed slightly from my snorkel experience in Cairns because the water her was more shallow, so I was much closer distance wise to the reef and its inhabitants. Being up close and personal to the reef further amped up my enjoyment of snorkeling. It was as if my goggles were made of giant magnifying glasses, because I could see the coral crevices and colors, features and movements so much clearer. And the beautiful, exotic fish fluttered by me from every angle, just inches from my face and fingers. Dave, who was floating above us in the motor boat, tossed heaps of fish food into the water around us which attracted the fish to us like magnets. Literally hundreds of fish frantically swarmed around us. I was smack-dab in the middle of a fish feeding frenzy. It was incredible. The fish didn't even pay attention to us big blobs floating amongst them. I touched little fishes in the wild with my bare hands. What a surreal and unforgettable moment. I was on a snorkeling high.

Fishies! They were that close. This was during the feeding frenzy.

Talk about electric. 

Not me. But I experienced that. 

The fascinating Great Barrier Reef, up close and in person

There was one fish in particular who was a standout, and stole my attention and heart. His name was Elvis. This is not a nickname I gave him; it's his name. All of the Whitsunday ships know him, and call him Elvis. Why? Because he is the biggest, coolest dude in the sea. Elvis is a Humphead Wrasse fish, and he is "The King" of the sea. Elvis was a big, electric blue fish with a big 'ol hump on his forehead, like he'd been hit in the head with a line drive. I'd say he was about the size of my entire torso (according to Wikipedia, some male Humpheads can reach 6 feet in length). I had an immediate crush on Elvis the moment I laid my goggle eyes on him. What a stud. I spent at least half my time following him through his coral reef playground. He was so fascinating to me. I am officially an Elvis groupie; he had me "all shook up."  I spent the other half of my time in search of another famous fish: Nemo. Dave informed me that the tiny clownfish that stole our hearts on the big screen lived somewhere in sea anemones beneath us. When I learned this, I went on mission "Finding Nemo."  Unfortunately, I failed. I hovered above any and all sea anemones I could find, looking carefully for a bright orange fin to pop out and wave hello. I guess Nemo was taking a nap when we were snorkeling. That, or he was off on some PR tour around the ocean world. But hey, one of two celebrity fish sightings is just fine by me.

It's ELVIS!!!!!!!

See his hump of a forehead? Loved this guy, the King. 

Around the time that my entire body had become a wet prune, we were called back onto the Tongarra. As usual, I didn't want to get out of the water. Mick called me Dara Torres because I was always the first one in the water and the last one out. Now it was time to find our parking spot for the night and have dinner. Tonight we had spaghetti bolognese, which I thought was quite satisfying. However, the adorable Italian girls whom I was dining with squished their faces in dislike. "This is not pasta," they whispered to me in their broken English. "It's too mushy." I just laughed, glad that I wasn't a picky pasta eater. I spent the evening chatting with the crew (Mick and Dave) and Andy, an English gentleman who worked for a travel company back on Airlie Beach. I was intrigued with their stories of how they ended up in Airlie Beach working on board the Tongarra. I had great respect (and envy) for Mick and Dave. Yes, they get to sail the magnificent Whitsunday Islands every day for a living, but it is some seriously hard work. Those boys are out to sea weeks at a time, sometimes without a day off. I can't imagine not standing on solid ground for that long. Impressive.

Evening sunset on the Tongarra

After story time, Mick set up a light over the water in an effort to attract dolphins to the boat. I had mentioned that I had yet to see a dolphin, and he said they often came out at night. Shining a light on the water was a trick to try and lure the dolphins to us. See, the light attracts the little fish, which attract the bigger fish, which attract the dolphins. Well, we successfully managed to attract little fish and squid. And they succeeded at attracting the carnivorous GT fish (Giant Trevally). GT are powerful predators that hunt fish and sea animals of all shapes and sizes. Mick assured me that they don't attack anything bigger than them (like me). Although, he then went on to tell a story of how a GT went to chomp on a fish while their group was snorkeling and it ended up biting through a girl's boob. Ah yea. Pleasant, hey? I couldn't tell whether or not he was serious. He insisted it was the truth, but I just couldn't believe it to be true. I didn't want to. It was too unnerving, especially considering I had just been in the water with these sharp toothed fish. That evening I saw firsthand just how vicious GT are. Out of no where they would attack the smaller fish beneath us like a bolt of lightening. Suddenly I would see was a massive fin, similar to a shark's fin, raise out of the water and dart forward splashing violently, followed by total silence. Or, if the GT chomped on a squid, this silence was accompanied by a trail of ink that had previously resided in the squid's tentacles. It was eerie, but I couldn't stop watching the deadly massacre that was taking place before my eyes. I was watching an episode of GT's Gone Wild on the Discovery Channel live and in person. Actually, it was a GT's Gone Wild marathon because we watched this fish homicide for hours. Gosh that sounds terrible, but it was actually really cool to see nature at work. There was even a radar on the boat that showed on a screen how much activity was beneath the boat. Watching this, I could tell when a GT was coming because the lines jumped up wildly. Even with this knowledge I would jump with fright when the attack occurred. Eventually, we tired of this station and called it a night.

The Killer GT fish. Scary, huh?

Unfortunately, this night's sleep was worse than the night before. My finger was still throbbing uncontrollable from the sting. I seriously thought I was going to have to amputate my finger because it had shown no signs of improvement. It rained though the entire night which created an even more unbearably loud noise against the tarp overhead. It was too hot for a sleeping bag, but it was so windy that my sheet kept blowing off of me. Thus I spent the entire night wrestling with the wind to keep myself covered while simultaneously trying to dodge raindrops that were blowing under the tarp. On top of all this, the boat was rocking extremely because of the weather, and there was some object outside the boat that kept thudding loudly against the its side. I learned a valuable lesson that night: rough waters make for rough sleep. Maybe a pirate's life ain't the life for me.