Jingle Bells...

So here we are, back at the dropzone the week before Christmas as planned. It’s a bit quiet as Shaz has gone to Sydney and the girls are away heading for Melbourne for Christmas, but this suits us as Rob is still suffering, he tries jumping but after one jump admits defeat and grounds himself so that, and the fact he isn’t eating, convinces me he must be ill. Now officially nicknamed the black lung he rests pitifully upstairs while I run back and forth into town to buy him various cough medicines and complete my preparations for Christmas. By the Friday we manage to get him into the doctors and with the help of some antibiotics and the temptation of more muffins (the only thing he can stomach) he appears to be past the worst just in time for Christmas. I’m on top fitness mode by now, running and swimming 2 out of 3 days, the early mornings aren’t easy but at least with Rob being ill we are having early nights too so I’m feeling relatively healthy and fit.

I battle with a turkey quarter (I broke a wooden spoon trying to prise it out of the freezer then fight to debone it once defrosted,) finally liberating enough meat for two I admit defeat and bin the rest. On two rings I do the best I can to approximate a Christmas dinner on Christmas eve, and it is actually quite edible, Rob even manages to eat most of it, his first proper meal in over a week.

Christmas day dawns bright, sunny and hot as ever, I manage an early morning dip in the pool to afford Rob a bit more of a lie in and then we sit and watch the Christmas lift fun jump land. Everyone is now under orders to be ready in an hour and surprisingly they are (might be the thought of missing out on the beer that keeps them in check…) We now juggle around with the 3 vehicles to get 20 people and all their food and booze on board then we are off to Wivenhoe dam for our Christmas picnic. The weather has clouded over slightly so the heat becomes bearable and we give a hand to carry all the picnic stuff down to a spot by the lake. There is enough food here to feed about 40 and unfortunately it is right under my nose so I’m picking on it all day, super scrummy though. Rob and I are sporting the enormous sunglasses that he has bought us for Christmas and mine quickly get adopted by Belgie who refuses to take them off all day. A few glasses of bubbly and a couple of bottles of beer later and we’re into the party games. An introduction into “pigs” and then a demonstration from Nicole on how to tie a cherry stalk into a knot with your tongue has everyone literally tongue-tied for ages.

Before we know it the sun is going down and we set off back to the DZ with the designated drivers taking control (Rob being on antibiotics does have its advantages!) Back at the DZ a crowd is there waiting with many people turning up after doing the “family thing” earlier in the day. The leftovers from the buffet come out and then Macca throws on a sausage sizzle… I’m stuffed! Not the most conventional Christmas day but a good one.

Caves and Turtles

We’re heading for Bundaberg famed for its rum, ginger beer and, what’s attracting me there, turtles, but its too far for us to go in one day without a monster drive so we opt for a stop near Rockhampton at the Capricorn Caves. A natural cave formation that exists largely above ground we arrive just 5 minutes too late to hop on a tour, so we book ourselves on one for nine the next morning and relax up at the camp site where kangaroos are hopping happily about and tree frogs and cane toads peer out at you from all the drains. Even a shrub turkey pays us a visit while we’re having tea hoping for some leftovers.

I rise early next morning and go out for a run, much to the amazement of the kangaroos who view me with a very startled expression as I puff on by. Rob is feeling even rougher today, he thinks the old woman from the café the other day may be a witch who has cursed him, either that or he is coming down with the “black lung” (ref. Zoolander!). Fortunately the cave walk is really gentle and we get to take it all in, including a couple of swooping bats within a couple of hours and are back on the road.

Bundaberg is host to one of the favoured breeding sites of three types of turtle, most predominantly the loggerhead. This time of year is their breeding cycle so the huge females who are 30plus years of age haul themselves up onto the beach to lay their eggs. As they only do this once every 4 years we feel privileged to have the opportunity to witness it and we’re lucky enough to get places on the tours which are run by the conservation teams in an effort to restrict the number of people onto the beach at this important time. We have to wait for nightfall then we’re ushered into a mini stadium where the process of observing the turtles is explained. We’re to go out in 3 groups (at 60-70 people this seems inordinately large), keep our torches off and not to make a sound. They have teams of 2-3 people out on the beach patrolling it in search of the turtles, when they spot a turtle they wait until it is right up the beach and digging it’s nest before they radio in and we go out to witness it laying its eggs. Apparently by that stage the mother is unlikely to be put off by a huge crowd of people watching and if we approach from behind we can shine our torches and it won’t be put off… all seems a bit unlikely but we patiently wait our turn and around 9:30pm we get the call to say our turtle is up the beach. We’re shown along by a screechy voiced guide who makes us halt as she mistakes a pile of rocks for a turtle coming out of the sea (she works here, surely the pile of rocks is in the same place every night?) If her voice didn’t alert the turtle to danger, then the flash lights of people’s cameras probably did. The poor turtle takes flight back to the safety of the sea with everyone crowding and straining to take a look, to add to its ordeal the rangers have grabbed it and are manhandling it to take measurements off it for their records. You could be forgiven for thinking that the poor thing is crying as it looks around and struggles to break free in obvious distress. Finally it is released and drags itself back down the beach to the sea where it will swim around for another couple of days before plucking the courage up to try again.

The guide cheerfully says that the turtle was probably put off by some stones where it was trying to make a nest and ushers us back to the centre to wait for another poor turtle to haul itself out of the water to lay its eggs. Rob and I are disgusted and feel terribly guilty to have been any part of the whole debacle, we leave a note in the guestbook to that affect then depart back to the campsite much upset by the whole experience.

The following morning Rob’s illness is still progressing but we’re thankfully nearing “home”, just one more night away which we’ll spend on the sunshine coast. We cruise down the coast from Noosa looking for a prospective place to stay for the night and settle on Coolum, a surfers paradise with great beaches and surf, plus a string of shops for me to finish my Christmas shopping while rob relaxes on the beach. Off his food now completely he stays in the van in the evening while I fix myself something up and he puts up with the banter from the next caravanners telling him off for leaving me to do all the work. They are that bad he won’t even let me do the dishes for fear he might get accosted. That night we are given the pleasure of hearing the local carol concert, at least it might have been a pleasure if it hadn’t gone on all night, by which I mean at 1am we were rewarded with an almighty firework display and then a DJ took over the stage and played cheesy pop until 4 or 5am, all at full volume. Just what you need when you’re trying to sleep. This wasn’t at the campsite by the way, it was at the next park, it was just played so loud it my as well have been on the next plot to us. You could hear cries of dismay coming from all over the camp each time he played yet another record…

Refreshed by a rather small drink from the juice bar and a muffin from Mc D’s we head off and are back at the dropzone by afternoon, to a big sigh of relief from Rob and a warm welcome from Macca and Suzie.

Eco Camp

Our next port of call is set to be the Eungela National Park. I’m in search of a duck billed platypus and this is apparently the place to see them. Only about half a days drive from Bowen we get to the park early afternoon and happen upon a campsite called the Platypus Camp, ideal. The camp is the home of an aging hippy and a fantastic prospect it seems. We set up camp and have a wander past the toilets set in the woods and the showers which despite there being no elec or gas in the woods boast hot water thanks to a wood-burning stove. Further down we get to a swimming hole in the river and a selection of inner tubes to float around in, so we take a dip and leisurely float in the river, a welcome release from the heat of the sun we can also observe the fish swimming under us and the dragonflies skimming the water above. It all seems quite perfect.

With plenty of time still left in the day we have time for a stroll up to the waterfalls with several more swimming holes. I was under the illusion that we were just popping to a platypus swimming hole so was wearing my flipflops, aka thongs, rather than more substantial footwear and they actually prove adequate for the 7km round trip as the track despite containing over 400 steps is reasonably well made. The swimming holes prove well worth the trek too, the waters being crystal clear and incredibly deep. Rob even spots a huge eel sliding down into one of the lower rock pools.

Back at the camp we’ve been told that the best time to see the platypus is dusk or dawn so we prepare tea then seal it off while we go to the platypus pool to watch and wait. Over an hour later it is now pitch black and apart from some fireflies flying by we’ve seen nothing. We return to camp to finish making tea, the level of insect life is extreme. We’re constantly being buzzed by bugs over an inch in size and there are mosquitoes everywhere too. I stay out long enough for a possum to come and sit on our eski in search of food then I retreat back into the van to eat my tea in relative peace. That night it is hot and humid in the van but there is no reprieve, the level of insect life outside prevents us opening the door and with no power we can’t even run the fan.

By morning I admit to myself that I’m not an eco warrior and we shift camp to the DOC camp back in the main park. On the way we have to drive the poor van up an incredibly steep hill and I’m not sure it will make it, but it does and near the top we stop for a coffee at a café run by a rather eccentric old lady. We’re still at the park by lunchtime, so after following the advice of some rather noisy yanks we make our way to a small lake and stand silently in the woods watching for the elusive platypus again. At first we just see a couple of turtles rising and I’m starting to think that the Americans have been mistaken but then sure enough we see a platypus. Much smaller than I’d expected, but definitely a platypus, it even stops to give its head a scratch before dipping back down into the water. After seeing several more, we’re being bitten quite badly by mosi’s again and we beat a retreat back to the campsite. Rob is feeling a little off colour so opts for a lie down and I think to put up the huge mosi net that I’d bought before going to fraser. Its perfect, does just the job, why didn’t we think of that last night? Rob is dozing with the doors open, but again with no power it’s still pretty hot. Satisfied that we’ve seen the platypus, the sole reason we were staying in the park, we head back down the hill to the tiny township we passed through on the way to the park.

Our luck is in, there is a campsite and we wallow in the swimming pool and the spa, then shower and head to the pub for tea, laughing at the poor suckers left up at the camps with all the mosi’s and the heat. Still not feeling 100% Rob doesn’t even finish his “sheep shearer’s/ozzy stew” so we call it a night and relax under the pleasant breeze of the fan back in the van.

Back Down Southwards

Townsville is about as far as we’re going North and we have a whole rack of things we want to do on the way back to Toogoolawah so the following day we head back down the coast.

Looking for a place to stay for our next night we take a chance on a town called Bowen. With nothing much in its favour in the description in the lonely planet guide we’re pleasantly surprised to find a pretty campsite right by the harbour and we set about exploring the sea front. The tide has gone out quite a way and the beach stretches round from the harbour as far as the eye can see. As we get closer the sand appears to be moving. The sand is covered in thousands of tiny crabs which scuttle frantically away as we approach. There are so many of them that you can actually hear them scrabbling along the beach then burying themselves in the sand. They don’t look like your normal sort of crab either, really round with markings on the body that make it look like the head of something much larger, almost alien like. Further down the beach we spy starfish, dozens and dozens of them and if you look carefully you can see them moving along too. Really fascinating. Its getting late so we about turn and resolve to continue our explorations the next day.

Up early again for our run, we notice the colours still present on the sea from the sunrise and resolve to get up and watch the sunrise the next day (at 4am approx., yikes). Exploring the town by car we find not only a good selection of small town shops but also a fantastic array of golden beaches and turquoise seas with hardly a soul on any of them. Rob is delighted at a sign on one of them warning of crocodiles and sets off in search of one, I take the safer option and do a bit of beachcombing. With a lovely chilled day and the purchase of some huge prawns and sausages from the local fishmonger and butcher we relax on the beachfront at one of their bbqs before returning to the camp to turn in.

A brilliant sunrise greets us in the morning, we’ve walked down to the tip of the harbour to watch it and as we walk back towards camp we’re rewarded as the sun continues to send the sky different shades of crimson, orange and gold which is reflected beautifully on the water, with the silhouetted masts of the boats forming a perfect contrast. We don’t unfortunately see any dugong for which the area is famed but we’re happy enough with the sunrise and crawl back into the camper to grab a couple more hours sleep.

Why Townsville?

Next day we set off for Townsville and arrive in the rain, to a rather grey looking place with some rather run down looking shops and not a lot else. We pay through the nose to look round Reef HQ, the largest artificial reef in the world supposedly, we fortunately arrive just as a tour has started so get to see the fish being fed and get up close to sharks and turtles and even see the box jellyfish. Next day we’re greeted by brighter weather and the early morning exercise routine we started in Airlie of running for 20minutes continues (I try to convince myself I’m not dying despite feeling close to it at points, how unfit am I?). Early morning is 6:30am as any later and it is just too hot to run. Townsville doesn’t look much better in the sun, we visit a large out of town mall, (where a shop assistant asks about our travels and then asks “but why Townsville?”), then go back into town and book a trip for the following day out to the reef. I’ve decided not to do a dive course as I’d rather just spend the time snorkelling and exploring. We park up by the beach after seeing someone packing a parachute (they do tandems onto the beach here) and wander to the Irish pub for a Kilkenny and a Guiness. On the way back, who do we see “cooking a few shrimp on the Barbi”? Andy! He is just making tea before heading for the bus again to go further up North. These bbqs are a fantastic idea, the local councils provide them near nearly all the beaches so you can just bring along your food and cook it free of charge wherever you like.

Next day we head out on to the Great Barrier Reef, we’re fitted out with snorkels and fins again, but as stingers don’t get out this far we don’t need the suits. I’m sure one poor girl wished she was wearing one in the afternoon as a close encounter with a bluebottle, (that’s a Portuguese man-of-war to you and me), left her with burns all over her back and arms. I think I’d have been terrified that it was a box jellyfish and I was going to die.

Within minutes of being in the water a reef shark cruises on by, a definite highlight, but after being spoilt out on the whitsundays I’m a little disappointed after that. After lunch we go out in a semi-submersible, which was fairly farcical as you couldn’t see a thing. Back on the boat I persuaded a reluctant Rob to go back in for another snorkel and we almost immediately spot an enormous crayfish, followed then by a giant clam. Then Rob spots a shoal of cuttlefish or squid, when we swim towards them they change colour. The only thing I’ve not seen that I really wanted to was a turtle. Just as we are rounding back to the boat there it is right in front of me so I paddle off frantically after it getting faster and faster as it in turn gets faster to get away from me. As soon as I relax and slow down it slows right down too and we’re able to cruise along with it for a while before turning back in towards the boat just as they summon us all back onboard. Magic. I’m grinning like an idiot and have had a fantastic time.

Airlie Beach and the Whitsundays

Airlie Beach is a backpackers mecca, owing chiefly to its vicinity to the glorious Whitsunday Islands. We spend a day orientating ourselves before booking ourselves on one of the sailing trips around the islands. 3days and 2nights are to be spent “live aboard” on the Derwent Hunter, a great big traditional sailing ship whose timber decks attracted my eye in the glossy brochure. As we lounged by the artificial sea (the real one has stingers so they have made an artificial one right next to it which is safe to swim in) back in airlie beach we look up and just happen to see Andy walking by. We catch up on his travels over a couple of beers as he is about to set off up North again. Early next morning we arrive at the harbour and aren’t disappointed. Possibly the biggest ship there and looking a lot like one of the pirate ships you see in the movies we’re ushered on board by an old sea dog who looks every bit the part, even sporting an eye patch. We’re introduced to Bianca, who will be in charge on the trip and she in turn introduces the rest of the crew, before we motor out of the harbour. Unfortunately what little wind there is, is going in the wrong direction for us to raise sail and this proves to be the case for the entire trip, but other than that the ship and the crew exceed our expectations and make the whole experience thoroughly enjoyable. Bianca shows us to our cabins and demonstrates how to use the shower and toilet (system of turning valves and hand pumping keeps everything going to where it should do…), then we are introduced to the snorkel gear and lastly the stinger suits.

Stinger is the nickname of the deadly box jellyfish that are prevalent in the waters around the North Queensland coast at this time of year. To prevent getting stung, whenever you enter the water, even for a swim, you’re advised to wear a stinger suit. The particular ones we’re given on the boat are made from lycra, similar to the fabric used to make the rash vests that surfers wear, only these ones are full suits that zip up the front and in two colours so it looks like we’re all in fancy dress at a star trek convention.

We arrive at the first island in the group and head off over the top to a lookout point from where we can see right across the group of islands and the clear white beaches and turquoise waters below. Then we tramp down across to the beach and round to a private cove that Bianca knows from previous trips and don our suits for the first time. Much hilarity, posing and taking of photographs later and we finally get round to getting in for a swim which after the heat of the beach is a very welcome relief. The scene on the beach later as the suits hang in the trees drying off is quite bizarre almost as though we have all shed our skins.

Back on the boat we’re treated to some good food and we get to know everyone on the boat. One of the guys admits he is a “bit of a snorer” and says he will sleep up on deck to keep out of people’s way, he has even brought ten sets of ear plugs with him for people. The next morning even these efforts don’t seem enough as one of the girls threatens to kill him if he makes as much noise for a second night running. I’ve not been disturbed at all so I think it a little harsh, but when on the second night he positions himself up above the hatch to our cabin and the deafening noise is funnelled down to us all night I can quite see where she is coming from. We spend the second day snorkelling on the reef around two of the islands. After a bit of fiddling with the mask and getting used to breathing and wearing the fins I’m happily bobbing around taking it all in. The array of fish is stunning, with parrot fish nibbling away on the coral everywhere you look, shoals of stripey fish pestering you as soon as you get in the water, angel fish, huge groupers and even a ray swimming by. It was difficult to get me out of the water. Late afternoon I decide its “beer o’clock” and Bianca fetches us back to the big boat in the little motor boat collecting a few others back too. One of the guys suddenly complains that he is getting an asthma attack and we speed back to the boat to get his inhaler. He’s wheezing quite badly by then so rests down below for a while to recover. Later in the evening when he reappears I ask how he is feeling and he confesses that the attack had been brought on by stress as he had really wanted the loo and wasn’t sure we’d get back to the boat in time… a little too much information methinks…

The final day was spent lounging on board the boat (the deck got so hot in the sun that you couldn’t stand on it so I took to shuffling along on my towel to get about although there was a big covered area if you wished to stay in the shade) and hiking up one of the islands to see another great viewpoint over the islands. The heat made us all fantasize about much better ways of getting back to the boat than walking, such as a big waterslide or flying fox zipslide. A bit more lounging on deck once back onboard saw us back to harbour with yet more interesting local info from Bianca who really was a font of knowledge on all the area.

Sunshine Coast and Beyond

Heading off late Monday afternoon we decide to make our first stop at Noosa at the top of the sunshine coast. Noosa is supposedly a rich persons playground and it is certainly very picturesque. A close-up of some pelicans feeding is the highlight of our evening but we soon turn in with the prospect of an early start and some serious mile munching to do the next day.

Travelling up the Bruce Highway, aka HWY1, its easy to forget that this is the main “motorway” in Australia. The majority of it is single carriageway with barely any traffic coming in either direction, except for the colossal trucks that can come thundering up behind you and in some instances try to intimidate you off the road by driving up close behind and sounding their horns. Undeterred we pootled along in our little camper and by late afternoon we were up at Gladstone. According to the lonely planet guide most of the scenic places to camp in the area were over at the coast which would mean a 60 mile round trip out of the way so we settle for a campsite on the edge of one of the small towns that we are passing though. Described as basic in the guide we’re pleasantly surprised to find it equipped with clean modern washrooms, a swimming pool and communal bbq area, just the job and it gives us the headstart we need to get on to Airlie beach in the morning.