Week 3 in Australia - Hervey Bay and Beyond

At Hervey Bay

Tues. Sept. 27 – Chores and Chilling Out

Today was a downtime day, for the most part. The place was awash with kids as it was school holiday week and the place’s owners were looking after all of the neighbourhood’s energetic boys. I escaped this howling circus (it testifies to Meg’s ability to lose consciousness that she was able to nap through this) and went for a walk. There were many people strolling but no one swimming along the long, sandy beach. The tide was out, so folks were walking along the sandbars. It was a nice place to stroll and watch these tiny but feisty crabs threaten me with their claws before they quickly dug themselves back into the sand.

Later, back at the hostel, we got dinner together and waited for the special movie night to start in the common room. The movie was “The Castle”, an Australian comedy about a guy who saves his house from being demolished by a planned airport expansion. It was mildly humourous and the other people in the room were oblivious to it. We had to be ready to watch whales the next day, so we gladly headed off to bed.

Weds. – Watching Whales Exhale: A Tale

We had initially requested the morning “Whale Watch” trip but it was full so we settled for the afternoon one. The bus picked us up at our hostel a little before noon and then went on to about a dozen other places. This was the school holiday, so many a family brood got on the bus, with attitudes ranging from nice to seriously bratty. We had to wade through a crowded tourist plaza to get to our boat and then it was lining up for having our ticket processed and running to grab whatever seats we could. By the time we got on, there was only bench space along one side, but it was the side that the photographer was on so we hoped that boded well. We had about an hour to get out to where the whales were so we had a lackluster safety demo soon followed by an assembly line lunch. At this point I wasn’t thinking that the tour was up to much, as we had about 70 people on the boat with us, the food was mostly tasteless and on the way out we only spotted whales from a great distance.

Slappy whale.

As we got further out, we had nice views of sandy Fraser Island, whose coast we were following and the whales swam closer. We spotted a few mom and calf pairs that would surface and spout every few minutes, but none got close to the boat. The boat actually had enough space for everyone to have a look, but we had to keep scurrying around the deck to get to where the action was. The captain sounded like the teacher in old Charlie Brown cartoons and those able to decipher announcement led the group and others followed, cameras stuck out at all angles. At one point the captain lowered a microphone into the sea and we were able to hear the famous “whale-songs” over the loudspeakers. Unfortunately it wasn't the right season, so we only heard a snippet before it faded out. We spotted a few humpbacks (all our whales were humpbacks) closer to the boat and then came the highlight of the trip...A large male swam within 60 feet of the boat and stayed alongside us for at least 10 minutes, enough for everyone to get a video (see ours attached). He repeatedly thrashed his tail back and forth on the water. People speculated he was either scaring off sharks or asserting himself for other reasons, but it was mesmerising and well worth the trip.

We saw a few other whales, closer to the boat this time, and then had to head back to shore before sundown. On the way, some dolphins joined us and swam in front of the boat for awhile. We stopped on the way back because a young calf must have been learning to breach and was jumping out of the water repeatedly, being escorted by his/her mum. This was the only time we’d seen breaching on the trip. Alas, we ran out of time and really had to motor back, so the focus shifted from the sea to the sunset. The whole process of whale watching was interesting, as many ships were out and it was a game of radioing around to find out where the the whales were and then hoping that you could get your ship to where the action was before they went away.

Everyone enjoyed the sunset and then either put on their woolies, or retired to the inside cabin as it grew quite chilly out on the water without the sun's warmth. We got back just as it was getting dark and it was fully night by the time we ended the milk-run bus drop off. After an iffy start, the whale watching was definitely worth it. And it was a huge improvement over our previous experience in Cape Breton, Canada, which involved no whales and a kidney-crushing ride in a Zodiac. Back at the hostel, dinner was mellow and we compared travel notes with a Dutch and a German woman. We encountered quite a few of these folks travelling on their own, and noticed that they were unusually strong and well –informed about places. This was probably necessary for them to survive, dorm-hopping in hostels in strange countries.

Thurs. – Ferrying to Feral Fraser Island

“Created by over 800,000 years of drifting sands, Fraser Island is an ecological wonderland- World Heritage Listed site known as K'Gari, or paradise, by the local Aboriginal people...”(Lonely Planet)

Today was our big trip day, so we got up early and again took the milk-run bus. This bus was specially designed for 8- year-olds, with 2 people barely fitting across the 3-seat clusters. We got to the ferry dock and waited to board but this turned out to be unusually tricky, as it was wavy and windy and the flat-bottomed ferry kept getting tossed around. After 4 or 5 tries, it landed at a precarious angle, long enough for the foot passengers to sprint on board. After that, it went back out into the water and took another 20 minutes to land cleanly enough for the cars to hastily dock. It was grey and cold outside so we stayed in the cabin with everyone else and occasionally caught glimpses of the marmalade, aloof ship’s cat.

After we landed, the hordes separated into their groups. We had chosen the 2 day tour, which was lucky as our group was never larger than 14 people. We met our guide and driver, Shane, who immediately cracked so many jokes that we began to wonder about his sanity. He needed his wits about him, as 4WDs are essential for driving the island ,the largest one in the world based entirely on sand. The roads would have flummoxed our car within 5 minutes, as it was, seat-belts were essential to keep us from flying around the vehicle. The right of way on the island went to airplanes first, then buses, and finally then 4 x 4s. Shane drove quite quickly, as keeping up momentum was essential to avoid getting bogged in sand. He kept up a rolling commentary while we drove and seemed put off by none of us laughing too much, the only giggles coming from the group of Taiwanese girls every time we went over a big bump.

A view from Fraser Island's only rocky hill.

Our first stop was at “Central Station”, a name given by the loggers who developed the roads there and cut down a lot of the old growth before the island was protected in 1991. We passed through a campground with dingo cages to protect food, similar to our Canadian bear boxes. Shane had to pick up the luggage of three tourists who had joined our group, and so left us in the woods examining the trees for10 minutes. After his return, he talked about the trees in the area and headed to the clear stream nearby. The water appeared to be invisible over the sand and very little lived or grew in it, except for a cluster of impressive king ferns. We walked along “The Trail of No Return” (meaning we would only be met at the other end) with Meg proudly chosen to lead the group. I filled our water bottles with what was referred to as the cleanest water in the world. It tasted like water. The walk was short and sweet, through the lush rainforest with occasional glimpses of sand. Meg liked fiddling with palm fronds that we were told were used as canteens by the Aborigines.

Shane was there to meet us at the end as promised, and we headed to the “Eurong Beach Resort” for our buffet lunch. After that stop, he drove us to “75-Mile Beach”, which was aptly named as it was perfectly sandy for hours each way. The disturbing thing was that this was the main highway of Fraser Island, with SUV s, buses and trucks whizzing up and down it at 80 km/h. I suppose that our bus was part of the problem, but it took a lot of the exoticism out of the place.

We drove for more than an hour up the beach until we got to Indian Head. This was a rocky lookout where the locals spotted the Europeans from. It’s also the only rock on the island and the stable point that all the sand built up behind the thousands of years it took to form the place. There were some short concrete piers near the edge and apparently it was a $700 fine to cross them. Most people did anyway (but not us) and I didn’t see much ticketing going on. The views were great and a whale was spotted far out to sea. After clambering down from the viewpoint, we were supposed to see the “Champagne Pools” (tide pools with foamy bubbles) but the road was blocked by half a dozen stuck vehicles, so Shane figured that the bus would end up joining them, so we started to retrace our path.

Our skeletal shipwreck.  Note tourists keeping 3 metres back.

There were several stops on the way back. The first was at a mini-canyon, “The Pinnacles”, which was supposed to have the colours of the rainbow visible. The orange, red and yellow part of the spectrum was well represented, but the place was fairly anticlimactic and most people wandered in and out of it in five minutes. The next stop was at a shipwreck, “The Maheno”, which sounds cool but it was a cruise ship headed to a scrap yard in 1935 when a cyclone knocked it onto the beach. The army had used it for target practice, so you couldn’t tell what was weather, or weapon-damage to the thing. It was a big rusty skeleton with the bottom coated in a healthy layer of barnacles. Of course, everyone ignored the posted warnings to keep 3 metres away from it and climbed into the frame. The next stop was at “Eli Creek”, a shallow cold, freshwater creek where you could take a boardwalk up and walk back down through the creek, without getting your shorts wet if you stepped around the deep bits. Meg got into her swimsuit and did the thing properly, I merely walked it as the day didn’t really hold enough heat to dry off properly after. Lots of buses and people were around and many kids were playing in the water. All along the beach there were camping areas filled with tents, mainly filled with families enjoying the school holidays. The most popular activity on Fraser Island was fishing, with poles and lines being cast along most parts of our drive along the beach. Eli Creek was one of the few places along the coast where the water was deep enough for any swimming; as the ocean surf had undertow, rogue waves, and sharks aplenty, to discourage any swimmers.

Lucky for Meg, the sun finally came out, which made the creek much more desirable. This was our last stop, so we headed back to the resort and checked into our quad. We kept hoping that our quad-mates wouldn’t arrive, and we weren't disappointed. We paid less for a huge space, complete with kitchenette, than the people who opted for doubles, score! Meg got showered and we hung out in the room until dinner, covering the extra beds with our stuff simply because we could...

Dinner was a superior buffet with tasty pasta and a good Greek salad. The wine seemed pricy until we noticed that one red was $7 a glass but $13 a bottle. This was half of what they were charging at the store and was a decent wine. We sat with different people this meal, as we left the German speakers to their own table at lunch only to find that the Taiwanese girls didn’t have enough English to converse. Now we found that two women were Danish and had better English than German and the woman with them had excellent English as well. One was doing her law practicum in Sydney and the less fluent couple were the aunt and uncle of a girl studying education and phys ed at a local university. We had a good chat, particularly with the Danish women and their friend and got to bed later than we expected. Before we went to sleep, we took our flashlight and went out onto the beach hoping to see the local wild dingoes. We were told that if we saw one we should stand tall, cross our arms, shout and slowly back away. The entrance to the resort was guarded by an electric fence including lines going over metal railings on the road precisely to keep the dingoes we wanted to see, out. At the beach, all was dark except for the stars and the approaching headlights of a few SUV s We had a romantic stroll, no dingoes though, and then headed back to our room to snooze.

Friday- Luscious Lakes and Dynamic Dunes

We woke up early enough to go for a run on the beach before breakfast. It was amazing: we were barefoot running on sand which stretched on as far as the eye could see. We met a few people out for an early stroll/run but we all kept close to the water so that the 4 by 4 traffic couldn't mow us down. The sun was up and the waves were crashing next to us all the way down and back.

We returned to the resort for a quick breakfast, sitting by ourselves so as not to subject others to our smelly outfits. We then packed up and got on the bus for our first destination, Lake McKenzie. This “lake” was actually a giant rainwater puddle. It was breathtakingly blue (see photos), with a low pH that made skin and hair feel super soft, which it really did! Thankfully our guide showed us how to get to a less crowded part of the beach, as this was a stop for every single tour group on the island! We had a good long time because we were on the two-day trip, so Meg and I swam across it. It took about half an hour each way and took us far from the maddening crowds. The water was too cold for locals, but all the tourists swam in it. It was a little cool getting in but you got used to it almost immediately and then it felt really refreshing. The weather was also very hot and sunny so the swim was very welcome. The water was super clear, and one could see the bottom, which meant it was deceptively deep and you had to be cautious when diving. After resting a few minutes on the other side of the lake, we swam back and dried off on our beach.

Lake McKenzie, with wannabe mermaid.

The sandy march to Lake Wabby.

On the way back to the bus there was a picnic area where Shane had set up tea with muffins, cookies, and fruit, for us. We drove back to “75-Mile Beach” but stopped at the entry path for Lake Wabby. It is surrounded on 3 sides by a gum tree forest and the “fourth is a massive sand-blow which encroaches on the lake at the rate of 3 metres per year” (Lonely Planet). We were provided with 2 sandwiches and a juice box for lunch and then had a 2 km walk to the lake. This was well blazed and we were able to do it in our sandals.

It was a pleasant enough walk through the woods but was uneventful and we just chatted amongst ourselves. Just before the lake the path opened out onto an area of sand dunes that appeared to have come from the Sahara. The dunes were strange, as there was no middle vegetation. The trees just stopped at the edge of the sand. We had a short hike across the dunes, then they sloped down steeply to green Lake Wabby. The lake was stunning, with schools of catfish swimming close to shore. It was quite small but the heat from the sand made a swim delicious. We watched ducks and fish and sat at the edge of the lake enjoying the day. Some people had brought skim-boards and were tobogganing down the dunes into the water, which looked like a blast. Just before we left Meg and Shane started talking politics and kept it up without either taking a breath for the next hour.

We packed up and headed back to the bus, with everyone staying well back of Meg and Shane other than a German boy who seemed fascinated by hearing so much uninterrupted English. We saw a large lizard on the way back and someone spotted a snake up a tree, but we were safe. We headed back to the resort and said goodbye to our three tour mates that were taking a different bus home. We had a beer, relaxed, and got changed out of our swimming clothes. On the drive back we went over an overrated stretch of road called “the roller coaster” (you had to slow down so much before going over it, that it was no fun) and walked through the lobby of the only other resort on the Island, the luxurious “Kingfisher Bay Eco-lodge", before boarding the ferry. I stayed inside for most of the trip as we had spent so much of the day outdoors. Meg walked around the ferry but I didn’t sense that I missed much.

It was getting dark when we landed and we were concerned that the office of our hostel would be closed by the time we got back. No worries though, and they even switched us into a premium room at no extra cost, lucky us, again!

Sat – Cliquey Clients at Caloundra: Why the French Seem so Snobby

Travel day! We got up, organized and packed our stuff and got ready to leave. We had a good chat with the owner of the Woolshed Backpackers, Brent, who seemed to be a fine fellow. Along the way we stopped for lunch and were targetted by a couple of black and white birds (apparently as ubiquitous in Australia as seagulls, and equally attracted to people with food). Meg fed them some of her Rye-vita bread and they fought furiously over it. The rest of the trip was uneventful.

We arrived in Caloundra at a hostel that had been converted from a motel. The owner was of French background and the backpackers seemed to know this as it was the only place we stayed with a real presence of French people. We checked into our room, which was an en-suite with a TV, true luxury. I later walked the beach which had a strong current and no one swimming. The tide was out and people were walking on the sandbars and through shallow water to a sandy island that lay parallel to the town beach.

Swimming off a sand dune at Lake Wabby.

That night we went down to participate in the free BBQ that they had every Saturday. The owner remembered that Meg didn’t eat red meat and had thoughtfully picked up turkey burgers and chicken sausages. People were gathered out there and we spoke to some Germans who were working the strawberry fields and getting paid by the kilo. The French people were mostly working and staying in the hostel long- term and so weren’t super chatty with newcomers. A pair of Brits sat in lawn chairs apart from everyone else, and an elderly Australian woman who was wandering around, complaining. There was plentiful food at the BBQ, with tzatziki and grilled veggies to put on your meat. We spoke to the owner as he was grilling, and learned that he was educated in California and emigrated here with his family, alternating managing the hostel and indulging in his passion for surfing. He was giving surfing lessons to hostellers the next day and organized activities and jobs for them all week, nice guy. We asked him why the French people at the hostel seemed more reluctant to speak with us than the Germans (until I spoke French to them). Being French but bilingual, he observed that that their English is weaker as their TV is all in french or dubbed, whereas the Germans get a lot of original English programming with German subtitles. Seems reasonable, and we even noticed this disparity in language later in our travels (when I had to do a lot of translation for our French companions in Darwin). We ate, had a beer, gave up attempting to socialize with people and went back to our room. We were braced for sleeplessness as Saturday nights in hostels can be loud, but the workers worked seven days a week and started early so things quieted down nicely. We watched some Mythbusters and a fun music quiz show, RockQuiz before going to sleep.