After an exhilaratingly stressful shuttle ride to the airport with a driver who found it entirely necessary to inform each new passenger that he had to return the bus to the "depot" as soon as he got back into the city, we were off on our great Reef adventure. The flight was smooth, though without the presence of our favorite flight attendant Magic (whose absence we should have noted as the biggest portent in the history of portents) it was somewhat lonely. Upon arriving in Mackay, we descended the metal stairs from the airplane onto the tarmac and were blasted with a 90-degree burst of wind. From mid-winter to mid-summer (but still winter...not to confuse you) in two hours. Pigs are a-flyin'.
I'll spare you the horrific details of exactly how it was that we made it from the Mackay airport to our quaint little hostel in Airlie Beach. We made it, that's all that matters. We settled into our little four-person cabin complete with its own bathroom, kitchen, and patio with a picnic table and a hammock, and went off in search of food. The path wound along the coastline, so as the sun set we got gorgeous views of the beach and Abel Point Marina from where our tour would depart the next morning for the Whitsunday Islands.
None of us were in the greatest of moods (due entirely to the fateful events that took place prior to our arrival in Airlie Beach), but we managed to find a cheap pizzeria with a Buy One Get One Free deal that appealed to us probably because we hadn't eaten anything at all that day (see above parentheses). After a quick meal we ambled on back to our hostel along the starry coast and, with the wish that we could redo the entire day, finally fell asleep.
We awoke early the next morning in time for a few Morning Coffee biscuits and a quick stroll to the marina where we were just in time to meet our departing boat tour. Calamity of the Day #1 (but luckily there weren't any more): our names weren't on the list of passengers. Fan-tastic. The crew was incredibly friendly and helpful, though, and we got the issue sorted out immediately. Once things were underway and the boat had left the harbor, the stresses of the previous day seemed to dissipate faster than the morning chill. We sat at the rear of the boat and took pictures of the passing islands, of the sailboats that, from a distance, looked like bath toys nodding in a child's wake.
Our first stop was Hook Island. The Whitsundays are all reef islands, but not really considered by Australians to be part of the reef. Hook, however, is surrounded by a sentry of coral that guards its shores from clumsy tourists in snorkel masks who don't know how to take their trash with them. We spent an hour or so snorkeling in the reef near where the boat was anchored, then climbed back on board and headed for Luncheon Bay where we ate a delicious buffet lunch that the crew had set up on the back of the boat...while it was moving. I was very impressed.
Stop two was Whitehaven Beach on Whitsunday Island. It had, without a glimmer of a doubt, the finest, whitest, most beautiful sand and the bluest, most tantalizingly perfect water I have ever seen. We spent two hours here strolling along the water, burying our legs in the sand, taking pictures, and combing the beach for any trace of shells. We also did what we consider an outstanding job of avoiding Marie, the tour's photographer. Nothing against her as a person--we thought she was sweet and darling and I personally was intrigued by her chin piercing and camo capris (I almost wrote pedal-pushers because I couldn't think of the un-outdated term)--but the poses she was having people do were absolutely ridiculous. One man had to lean forward while Marie instructed his wife or girlfriend or sister or daughter or whoever she was to drape herself over the man's back. Awk-ward. Marie had approached Amber and Zoe (my friends) about taking our picture because she was fascinated by the fact that they're twins, but we were swift and nimble and managed to escape the snap of her shutter, a job for which we congratulated ourselves once we were safely back on the boat.
Our final stop of the day was on the other side of Whitsunday Island, where we went on a quick hike through a sea turtle nesting ground (unfortunately, no turtle sightings to speak of) up to a lookout point that afforded an incredible view of Whitehaven Beach where we had just been. It was all turquoise water and white sandbars stretching off into the distance, and it was the perfect end to a perfect solution to an awful, horrendous previous day.
Still riding the good mood from the day before, we woke up early once again and headed to the bus stop where a free shuttle sent by the tour company would be arriving at precisely 7:10. Which it did, with one little problem: it didn't stop. We waved frantically at the driver as he drove past, but he just stared at us and hit the gas. We were puzzled. About three minutes later another shuttle stopped so all was well, but it was still an alarming start to an otherwise flawless day. We boarded the ginormous Cruise Whitsundays catamaran, and after making a brief stop at both Daydream Island and Hayman Island to pick up more passengers, began our two-hour (sorry, Gilligan) journey to the reef. We docked at a pontoon (pictured here) that has been moored at this location for four years, and it was basically a wonderland on water. It had everything: a glass-bottomed boat and a semi-submersible (both staffed with a marine biologist), an underwater observatory, roped-off areas to snorkel, a sun deck with lounge chairs, a covered massage area, all snorkel and scuba equipment, and the only waterslide on the Great Barrier Reef!
While Zoe and Amber changed into wetsuits and went snorkeling, I hopped onto the semi-submersible. If there were any deadly animals in close proximity to the pontoon (which was anchored at Knuckle Reef), I wanted to see them first where they couldn't pose a threat to me. It's a good thing, too, because otherwise I would not have met a man and a woman--cousins--from Seattle, and definitely would not have learned that if you cut your finger underwater at or below 10 meters, your blood looks green. Now that is vital information if you ask me!
I still have yet to develop the pictures I took with my underwater camera, but this gives you a clue of what the reef looks like. Evidently coral (this is not coral) is closely related to jellyfish, so if you touch it it not only cuts you but it stings you. There's a type called fire coral that makes your hand sear about five minutes after contact. You're not supposed to touch anything underwater anyway, but I was not in the mood for pain so I was extra careful. We were docked at the pontoon for four hours which was plenty of time to explore everything and to take so many pictures that I swear people were concerned for my mental health. To be honest, I was too.
I had acquired, the previous day, what I have christened my Near-Miss Sunburn (meaning I nearly missed seeing it...until I caught a glance of my back before getting into the shower) so I had to be overly cautious about sun exposure. This turned out not to be a problem because there was a rack of wetsuits on the pontoon near the changing rooms. I could have used some professional guidance when it came to picking out my size, though. The ones that looked big enough around the abdomen were approximately one and a half times the length of my body. I selected one that looked like the right length, but as it turned out it was an XXS (I don't care which island of Denial Land you're currently vacationing on, but I am NOT an XXS) and I ended up completely paranoid that I would rip it while bending down to put on my flippers. No catastrophes though.
On the ride back to Airlie Beach the crew popped Finding Nemo into the DVD player, which I thought was quite appropriate. We pulled into Abel Point right as the sun was setting, and joined our fellow mob of sun-drowsy, delirious tour-goers as they clammered to the parking lot to await the shuttle back to our accommodations. Once back at the hostel, we made a quick trek into town for some food. We had discovered the day before that the grocery store closed at 5:30, so we were forced to order take-away from a Thai restaurant that had, in its little refrigerator by the door, a green drink called "reduced sugar Aloe" that made me not want to eat. I did though (don't worry!) and we finished the evening/night with some ice cream, some possum-watching, some showering, and a whole lot of sleep. Up the next morning for our drive back to Mackay, and once again back to the middle of winter. I was ready, though. I think the cold runs in my blood.
After an exhilaratingly stressful shuttle ride to the airport with a driver who found it entirely necessary to inform each new passenger that he had to return the bus to the "depot" as soon as he got back into the city, we were off on our great Reef adventure. The flight was smooth, though without the presence of our favorite flight attendant Magic (whose absence we should have noted as the biggest portent in the history of portents) it was somewhat lonely. Upon arriving in Mackay, we descended the metal stairs from the airplane onto the tarmac and were blasted with a 90-degree burst of wind. From mid-winter to mid-summer (but still winter...not to confuse you) in two hours. Pigs are a-flyin'.
I'll spare you the horrific details of exactly how it was that we made it from the Mackay airport to our quaint little hostel in Airlie Beach. We made it, that's all that matters. We settled into our little four-person cabin complete with its own bathroom, kitchen, and patio with a picnic table and a hammock, and went off in search of food. The path wound along the coastline, so as the sun set we got gorgeous views of the beach and Abel Point Marina from where our tour would depart the next morning for the Whitsunday Islands.
None of us were in the greatest of moods (due entirely to the fateful events that took place prior to our arrival in Airlie Beach), but we managed to find a cheap pizzeria with a Buy One Get One Free deal that appealed to us probably because we hadn't eaten anything at all that day (see above parentheses). After a quick meal we ambled on back to our hostel along the starry coast and, with the wish that we could redo the entire day, finally fell asleep.
We awoke early the next morning in time for a few Morning Coffee biscuits and a quick stroll to the marina where we were just in time to meet our departing boat tour. Calamity of the Day #1 (but luckily there weren't any more): our names weren't on the list of passengers. Fan-tastic. The crew was incredibly friendly and helpful, though, and we got the issue sorted out immediately. Once things were underway and the boat had left the harbor, the stresses of the previous day seemed to dissipate faster than the morning chill. We sat at the rear of the boat and took pictures of the passing islands, of the sailboats that, from a distance, looked like bath toys nodding in a child's wake.
Our first stop was Hook Island. The Whitsundays are all reef islands, but not really considered by Australians to be part of the reef. Hook, however, is surrounded by a sentry of coral that guards its shores from clumsy tourists in snorkel masks who don't know how to take their trash with them. We spent an hour or so snorkeling in the reef near where the boat was anchored, then climbed back on board and headed for Luncheon Bay where we ate a delicious buffet lunch that the crew had set up on the back of the boat...while it was moving. I was very impressed.
Stop two was Whitehaven Beach on Whitsunday Island. It had, without a glimmer of a doubt, the finest, whitest, most beautiful sand and the bluest, most tantalizingly perfect water I have ever seen. We spent two hours here strolling along the water, burying our legs in the sand, taking pictures, and combing the beach for any trace of shells. We also did what we consider an outstanding job of avoiding Marie, the tour's photographer. Nothing against her as a person--we thought she was sweet and darling and I personally was intrigued by her chin piercing and camo capris (I almost wrote pedal-pushers because I couldn't think of the un-outdated term)--but the poses she was having people do were absolutely ridiculous. One man had to lean forward while Marie instructed his wife or girlfriend or sister or daughter or whoever she was to drape herself over the man's back. Awk-ward. Marie had approached Amber and Zoe (my friends) about taking our picture because she was fascinated by the fact that they're twins, but we were swift and nimble and managed to escape the snap of her shutter, a job for which we congratulated ourselves once we were safely back on the boat.
Our final stop of the day was on the other side of Whitsunday Island, where we went on a quick hike through a sea turtle nesting ground (unfortunately, no turtle sightings to speak of) up to a lookout point that afforded an incredible view of Whitehaven Beach where we had just been. It was all turquoise water and white sandbars stretching off into the distance, and it was the perfect end to a perfect solution to an awful, horrendous previous day.
Still riding the good mood from the day before, we woke up early once again and headed to the bus stop where a free shuttle sent by the tour company would be arriving at precisely 7:10. Which it did, with one little problem: it didn't stop. We waved frantically at the driver as he drove past, but he just stared at us and hit the gas. We were puzzled. About three minutes later another shuttle stopped so all was well, but it was still an alarming start to an otherwise flawless day. We boarded the ginormous Cruise Whitsundays catamaran, and after making a brief stop at both Daydream Island and Hayman Island to pick up more passengers, began our two-hour (sorry, Gilligan) journey to the reef. We docked at a pontoon (pictured here) that has been moored at this location for four years, and it was basically a wonderland on water. It had everything: a glass-bottomed boat and a semi-submersible (both staffed with a marine biologist), an underwater observatory, roped-off areas to snorkel, a sun deck with lounge chairs, a covered massage area, all snorkel and scuba equipment, and the only waterslide on the Great Barrier Reef!
While Zoe and Amber changed into wetsuits and went snorkeling, I hopped onto the semi-submersible. If there were any deadly animals in close proximity to the pontoon (which was anchored at Knuckle Reef), I wanted to see them first where they couldn't pose a threat to me. It's a good thing, too, because otherwise I would not have met a man and a woman--cousins--from Seattle, and definitely would not have learned that if you cut your finger underwater at or below 10 meters, your blood looks green. Now that is vital information if you ask me!
I still have yet to develop the pictures I took with my underwater camera, but this gives you a clue of what the reef looks like. Evidently coral (this is not coral) is closely related to jellyfish, so if you touch it it not only cuts you but it stings you. There's a type called fire coral that makes your hand sear about five minutes after contact. You're not supposed to touch anything underwater anyway, but I was not in the mood for pain so I was extra careful. We were docked at the pontoon for four hours which was plenty of time to explore everything and to take so many pictures that I swear people were concerned for my mental health. To be honest, I was too.
I had acquired, the previous day, what I have christened my Near-Miss Sunburn (meaning I nearly missed seeing it...until I caught a glance of my back before getting into the shower) so I had to be overly cautious about sun exposure. This turned out not to be a problem because there was a rack of wetsuits on the pontoon near the changing rooms. I could have used some professional guidance when it came to picking out my size, though. The ones that looked big enough around the abdomen were approximately one and a half times the length of my body. I selected one that looked like the right length, but as it turned out it was an XXS (I don't care which island of Denial Land you're currently vacationing on, but I am NOT an XXS) and I ended up completely paranoid that I would rip it while bending down to put on my flippers. No catastrophes though.
On the ride back to Airlie Beach the crew popped Finding Nemo into the DVD player, which I thought was quite appropriate. We pulled into Abel Point right as the sun was setting, and joined our fellow mob of sun-drowsy, delirious tour-goers as they clammered to the parking lot to await the shuttle back to our accommodations. Once back at the hostel, we made a quick trek into town for some food. We had discovered the day before that the grocery store closed at 5:30, so we were forced to order take-away from a Thai restaurant that had, in its little refrigerator by the door, a green drink called "reduced sugar Aloe" that made me not want to eat. I did though (don't worry!) and we finished the evening/night with some ice cream, some possum-watching, some showering, and a whole lot of sleep. Up the next morning for our drive back to Mackay, and once again back to the middle of winter. I was ready, though. I think the cold runs in my blood.
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