East Coast Expedition: Following the Rainbow to Rainbow Beach

Jan 24, 2011

I left Agnes Water at 6:30 a.m. I thought I was the only soul awake in the entire town, but while I was waiting at the bus station a white van drove by, started honking, and then pulled up next to me. At first I was a tad freaked out, until I realized it was none other than William, my surfer pal from the day before. What a relief. I was amused that the one person I knew in all of Agnes Water just happened to be the only other person in town awake, out and about. William was on his way to the beach for a morning surf. He spoke of his near future plans to travel around Australia moving from one surf competition to the next. How cool. If I was a real traveling nomad I would have asked him if he had a spare seat for me to come along. Of course, if I had more time I'd also be working on the Ocean Spirit Cruise in Cairns, sailing the Whitsunday Islands on the Tongarra again, and working at the Agnes Water hostel with Richard. If only I could clone myself and embark on all these adventures. I would just have to let my imagination take me on these trips, while the Greyhound bus took me further down the east coast to Rainbow Beach.

Rainbow Beach (Although not the view I saw when I arrived. I think you need a helicopter to see this)

Rainbow Beach, named so for its colored sands, is located on the Cooloola Coast in Queensland, Australia. When I first arrived, I wasn't all that impressed with the small town. It's name was much brighter than it was, or at least brighter than the miserable staff I dealt with at the hostel. However, I hadn't come to Rainbow Beach because of its name or beach. I had come because it was the gateway to Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world. Fraser Island is listed on the World Heritage List up there with Uluru and the Great Barrier Reef, so it was a must-see in my book. That's why I booked a 3-day, 2-night 4WD (4 wheel drive) guided tour of the island. The Fraser Island website described the island as follows:

"Fraser island is a precious part of Australia's natural and cultural heritage. It is a place of exceptional beauty, with its long uninterrupted white beaches flanked by strikingly colored sand cliffs, and over 100 freshwater lakes, some tea-colored and others clear and blue all ringed by white sandy beaches. Ancient rainforests grow in sand along the banks of fast-flowing, crystal-clear creeks. It's the only place in the world where tall rainforests are found growing on sand dunes at elevations over 200 meters. The immense sand blows and cliffs of colored sands are part of the longest and most complete age sequence of coastal dune systems in the world and they are still evolving."

The orientation for my Fraser Island trip was scheduled for 2:00 p.m. that afternoon. I gathered in the hostel lobby with about 50 other travelers, where we were divided into groups. I was assigned to group 'D' along with four English kids (Joe, Kit, Olivia and Nicola) and four Dutch girls (Coco, Alex, Eva and Claudia). Each was a group of traveling friends, and so I immediately felt left out. It didn't help that I had to sit on a secluded step because their skinny butts filled up the whole table. No one even realized I was a part of team 'D'. All that was left was for someone to turn on a flashing sign above my head that said "Loser" in neon lights. At least then they would have noticed me.

Orientation started out a snooze fest. First we watched a safety video which, aside from the bit about avoiding wild dingos, was as dull as could be. What followed, however, was a one-man entertainment show named Merve who gave the most amusing orientation I have ever had the painful pleasure to sit through. Merve was the big man in charge of the Fraser Island 4WD tours. He looked like the identical twin brother of Pirate Barbossa from The Pirates of the Caribbean, but with the swagger of a hippie from the 60's. He had an afro of a beard that that hung inches from his face, a snaggletooth or two, and a wee bit of crazy that tinkled in his eyes. But what I loved most were his epic, random remarks: "Don't be a wanker," he would remind us frequently. (A wanker, is the Aussie word for idiot or moron). "I hate wankers! As long as no one acts like a wanker than we'll be cool." That was another one be loved to say: "Be cool." He would also randomly throw up a peace sign as he said, "Peace to the world." I loved this guy. We need more pirate-hippie Merves in the world who throw up peace signs and advocate being cool instead of being a wanker.

Merve laying down the law. Followed by a "Be cool"

I wanted to give Merve a standing ovation by the time he had finished. Instead, I gave him my I.D. so he could check me in. For some reason he kept calling me by my first and last name, no one else. "Sarah Speers," he said, peering at me inquisitively. "I'm going to Disney World next year, you know." No wonder I loved this man, he had his priorities straight. "See you later, Sarah Speers." I wanted to reply, "Stay cool, Merve" but I settled for a friendly wave goodbye. By this time group 'D' realized that I was in it. When they learned that I was a solo traveler they went out of their way to include me. I very quickly grew very fond of the bunch, more so than any other travelers I met during my month and a half long expedition. I accompanied Joe, Kit, Olivia and Nicola to the supermarket to pick up some goods for our upcoming island adventure where we ran into none other than Merve. By his side was the most adorable blond-hair, blue-eyed little girl (I think ever Australian child starts out this way. It's creepy), who turned out to be his daughter Daisy. How this angelic Cindy Lou Who II (the little girl from The Grinch, in case you didn't pick up on that) came from Captain Barbossa is a mystery to me, but her adorableness further enhanced my love for the kookie dude. And he was taking her to Disney World! She didn't know what a treat she was in for. Somewhere beneath that beard was a man who dearly loved his little girl. I had to compose myself before I started crying in the produce isle. "Be cool" I told myself.

The remainder of the day isn't really worth relaying. I spent some time at an internet cafe, went for a jog along the beach, read a book, and packed for the trip. That night I drifted somewhere over the rainbow (in other words, fell asleep) to the tune of "It's A Small World After All" as images of Mickey, Captain Barbossa and Cindy Lou Who danced in my head. I had a feeling the next few days were going to be quite a memorable trip.

East Coast Expedition: The Town of 1770 in Agnes Water

Jan 23, 2011

I slept on the bus all night long until I arrived ten hours later to Agnes Water, a small coastal town located in a secluded, natural environment surrounded by beaches, coves and bays. I stopped in Agnes because a) it was the midway point between Airlie Beach and Rainbow Beach, my next destination, and b) Andy back at Travel Bugs in Sydney recommended it (although, by this point I was starting to question his veracity). The moment I hopped off the Greyhound bus I was greeted by a friendly Aussie who was there to take me to the hostel, which turned out to be a mere kangaroo hop down the road. During this brief transport, he said that he worked at a surf shop down the road and would be giving a three hour surf lesson at 10:00 that morning for only $17 bucks. What a bargain! I hadn't touched a surf board since surf camp back in October. It was time to give the whole surfing thing a go again, this time in the idyllic summer weather.

Agnes Water's Bustard Bay

I glanced at my watch; it was 9:45. I hopped out of the van, hurriedly checked into the hostel, threw my bags on a bunk bed, changed into my bathing suit and load on the sunscreen as quickly as I could. Then I pranced out the door and dashed up the road to Reef 2 Beach, the Agnes Water's surf shop and school. There were about 20 people congregated outside the place when I arrived. Phew, I made it just in time! The two surf instructors, T-Bone and Whitey (my chauffeur), instructed us to walk to the beach down the street where they would meet us with boards and wetsuit shirts. At the beach we gathered in a circle around T-Bone as he explained and semi-demonstrated how to surf. That lasted maybe 10 minutes. Then he told us to grab a board, get in the water and start surfing. I was surprised by how quickly his instructional "how to surf" lesson lasted. Had I not gone to surf camp previously, I don't think I would have had a single clue about what to do. Fortunately, I did go to camp and so I had at least a few cues of what to do. Still, camp had been months ago and so the question remained: would I be able to actually stand on a big 'ol surf board again?

The answer, I am thrilled to say, was YES. It was like riding a bike. Well, sort of. I don't take dozens of spills off a bike before I can finally get a good ride going. While I did tumble off the board here and there, I caught a bunch of good surfs which I rode all the way to the beach. What an exhilarating feeling. At one point I rode a wave ashore right next to an older surfer dude who was watching the lesson. "This isn't your first time, is it?" he said to me. My face lit up with a smile, while my insides erupted with joy. This meant I looked at least half way decent surfing, right? I instantly felt like a surfing pro, and I guess compared to most of the first timers around me who were flopping around helplessly like fish out of water that I looked like one too. This man had just said so. Boy was I was grateful that I had had a proper surf lesson prior. We continued to chat a bit on the beach, as I told him about my travels through Australia. His name was William, and he looked exactly how you would picture a beach bum: tanned and toned with blondish, ratty hair running down to his shoulders. He was a cool dude, and I enjoyed talking with him. Before I headed back into the water to continue surfing, he told me, "Make sure you smile when your on the board. You have a nice smile and you stand up more than most of them." I was flattered, not about the smile but about the "you stand up more than them" comment. My surfing confidence shot through the thin ozone layer above.

The surf lesson looked a little something like this.

By the time hour two rolled around I was starting to get frustrated. First off, there were way too many people in the water trying to learn how to surf at once. Flags marked off the small section that we were permitted to surf, which wasn't nearly large enough for 20 people to safely surf in without taking each other out. Thank goodness the boards were made of foam, otherwise I think I might have severed off several appendages in collisions with other wanna be surfers. Second, the ankle bracelet I wore to keep myself attached to the board kept getting tangled around my other leg. This made the kicking and standing part of surfing quite difficult. Third, I kept dipping the nose of the board under the water whenever a wave came which resulted in my body getting dumped into the ocean. I ingested a lot of salt water and was starting to get peeved. It seemed the more I tried to correct this problem, the worse I got. I will blame this on physical exhaustion. Regardless, I had a blast surfing. Considering I only paid $17 I got precisely what I paid for, and what I paid for was three fun hours surfing at a gorgeous beach in Australia. It was great.

I was exhausted when the surf lesson ended. I dragged my body back to the hostel and crashed for a bit. Then I did laundry, something I hadn't done in an embarrassingly long time. While hanging around the hostel, I met Richard, the hostel owner. He and I chatted for a bit in the common room. I told him that I was leaving the following morning to head south to Rainbow Beach. When he learned this he tried diligently to coerce me to stay there longer. He said that I needed to change my New York mentality of "Go, Go, Go" and stay and relax with nature. He even offered me a job at the hostel. I explained that my working visa had expired, which was of no concern to him. Richard said he would just pay me under the table. "I'll keep it in the back of my mind, " I told him. He replied, "No, no. Keep it in the front." I chuckled. Richard told me I needed to learn that I don't always have to be moving. And he was right, which was precisely why I moved to Australia in the first place: so that I could live the Australian life of leisure, as they say. He had no idea how slow my pace of life was now compared to back home. I had mastered the art of relaxation. And that's exactly how I spent my evening, relaxing with a book and talking with the two English girls sharing the hostel room with me. Again, they were so shocked that I was from New York. "I've never met anyone from New York before!" the one girl exclaimed. "You have to tell me all about." They were sweet, and I gladly answered any questions they had for me about life in the "concrete jungle where dreams are made of." Then I hit the hay. I had another early start the next morning, and I was eager to sleep in a real bed finally.

East Coast Expedition: Last Day Out To Sea Paradise

Jan 22, 2011

We rose early again today, this time to a different hip hop song compliments of Dave and his loud speakers. This was our last day out at sea. Well, morning actually. We had to be back at the harbor no later than noon because the next trip on the Tongarra was leaving at 2:00 p.m. later that afternoon. I told you these boys never got a break! After they dumped us off, they had just 2 hours to clean the boat and pack it up before doing the 3 day and 2 night trip all over again with different bunch of clueless travelers. But first, we got one last opportunity to snorkel again. I was the first one suited up and in the water. This was perhaps the last time I would go snorkeling in Australia, I wanted to savor every minute of it.  I quickly found my celebrity fish crush, Elvis.  He and I were forming a bond, I could feel it. Given more time I'm sure we would have formed a bond, similar to that of Ariel and Flounder. I certainly felt like a mermaid submerged in the Great Barrier Reef's spectacular underwater world. If only I could grow a mermaid tail on command.

Two hours later Mick gave the "Let's go" signal. Back on the boat, the anchor was lifted for the last time as we set off, back to the mainland. I exhaled a huge sigh of satisfaction, sadness and complete joy. Excluding my awful nights of sleep, I had had the most incredible time fulfilling my Whitsunday Islands fantasy. I was so grateful that things had worked out and I was able to embark on this unforgettable adventure. I was sad that it would soon be over (although I was looking forward to sleeping on solid ground again). Or would it? On the sail back Mick asked me what the rest of my traveling plans were. My plan, plain and simple, was to hop on a bus and continue down the coast. To my surprise, Mick then asked if I would be interested in coming out on the trip again with him that afternoon. The voice in my head's initial reaction was: "Ah, heck yes!" But the practical voice in my head replied, "I would love to, but I can't afford another trip."  To which Mick told me that I didn't have to buy another trip because I could come on the boat as a volunteer, meaning that all it would cost me would be some time helping the deckhand here and there with cooking and cleaning. Again, the voice in my head shouted, "YES! YES! YES!" But the practical voice said, "I'll have to think about it."

And think about it I did. The more I thought about it the more torn I became. The problem was that I had scheduled another 3-day, 2-night trip two days from now on Fraser Island. So going out on this trip again meant that I would have to cancel and reschedule that trip, which was a hassle but do-able if I really wanted to sail and snorkel the Whitsunday Islands again. I wasn't sure whether I could even reschedule the Fraser Island trip, and I was worried that I would be crunched for time getting back down to Sydney if I prolonged my time here in Airlie Beach. But when would I ever get an opportunity to sail the Whitsunday Islands again, the tropical paradise of all tropical paradises, and for free?! The answer was never. And so back and forth the voices in my head went, speaking valid reasons for why I should both stay and go:

Voice 1: "You're so sad that this trip is over. It's meant to be! It doesn't have to end yet." 

Voice 2: "If you stay then you'll have just two hours to go to town, re-check your luggage in storage, cancel your booked buses, and reschedule your Fraser Island Trip- if you even can." 

Voice 1: "Yes, but you'll get to see Elvis again! And this time you can successfully find Nemo!"

Voice 2: "You haven't slept a wink in two nights, Sarah. Do you really think you can handle two more restless nights at sea? Some sleep would do you good."

Voice 1: "Sleep? You can sleep when you're dead! You can sleep when you get back from the sailing trip in three days. There will be plenty more opportunities for you to sleep, this I assure you. But you many never get another opportunity like this again in your life." 

Voice 2: "You dreamed of sailing the Whitsunday Islands, and that dream came true. You had a fabulous time, yes, but you have more trips planned. Who knows what other fabulous experiences await you? You only have two weeks left, and a whole lot of Australia left to see. Continue onwards as planned, and cherish this one trip."

I was torn. Really, really torn. Eventually Voice 2 won the debate. I decided that I should stick to my original travel plans and continue down the coast towards Fraser Island. I told Mick how flattered I was that he offered me this opportunity, that I would love to go out again but that I unfortunately had to continue onwards. I had a bus to catch and more adventures to experience. He understood. Then turned to front of the boat and offered the same opportunity to the rest of the passengers. Like me, they all had future travel plans and declined his exceedingly kind offer. It really did seem too good to be true. Maybe that's why I said no, because it was just too good.

A few minutes later, we were approaching land. Now would have been the appropriate time for someone to climb to the top of the sail and shout, "Land! Land!," while pointing excitedly at a faint blurry mound in the distance.  The small blur quickly grew into a big mound of land, complete with trees, houses and roads. The next thing I knew, the Tongarra was being tied to a dock and we were climbing off the boat. I hugged Dave and Mick and thanked them for taking us on such a wonderful, magical trip. It turned out that this was Dave's one night off this week, so he made plans with our group to meet up that evening at a local bar. Until then, I passed the time with my favorite Italian girls at the Lagoon, the public pool in Airlie Beach (remember, no one can swim in the ocean so everyone goes to this pool). It was lovely to lay down on land that didn't rock back and forth, and the salt-free pool water was refreshing. In dire need of a shower, we each took turns bathing in the Lagoon's public locker room. It felt so good to wash my hair and put on clean clothes. Then we headed off to Maggie's Bar and the Phoenix Bar located down the road, where we met up with Dave, Andy and the rest of the Tongarra's travelers. We munched on pizza while chatting the night away. It was great fun. The more I got to know Dave, Andy and the Italians the more I grew to adore them. That evening I knew I made the right decision; traveling was about forming bonds with other travelers and I wouldn't have been able to do that with these four (nor gotten their facebook addresses) had I gone back out on the Tongarra.

That night I caught an 11:45 p.m. bus heading south. So I didn't sleep in a bed, but I assure you that I had a splendid night's sleep on that bus seat.

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.

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