CHAPTER 9 - AUSTRALIA PART II

Mo 2/8/99 - Sydney

John woke early to fetch Rachel (DiBello) who landed in Sydney at 7am. I imagine the long anticipated reunion must have been very emotional. John had been a bit quiet lately, and I guess he worried about having everything right for Rachel.

I suggested that I have the car's overheating problem analyzed while they spend the day together. I wanted to procrastinate, but John repeated the importance of the problem, so I was off. I first found the Sydney Car Market, where travelers rent a space in a parking garage to sell cars. On a summary sheet of how the process works were four garages recommended for the required inspection, and I chose one only because I then was lost in the city, trying to navigate the one ways and strange neighborhoods while fighting with a wet and torn street map.

I left the car for half an hour and walked through the cascading rain in search for a bite to eat. The cocky mechanic only looked at the car when I returned, wet as possible, and probing around with a laser temperature sensor gun, announced the radiator was buggered and then jotted down a few items totally to $A400. Well, that wasn't in the budget at all. Four hundred dollars?! Wow!

I drove around to auto wreckers and found a radiator for $A70 at Jap World. With a borrowed bucket to drain the system, our trusty adjustable, and two screwdrivers, I replaced the radiator on the sidewalk outside that borders a road of heavy and scary flowing traffic. The rain was still coming down in blowing sheets, I cussed, and strained with the cheap tools. Finally, over an hour later the new but used radiator was in and I returned the old one for $10. Then, the car wouldn't start. It doesn't like being wet I realized. I let it sit, then tried again, and it ran horribly, but led me home until the car overheated.

That night we enjoyed a vegetarian all-you-can at the Hare Krishna restaurant in King's Cross, then walked around, poking our heads into bars and other nightspots.

Tu 2/9/99 - Sydney

I should have picked up a few other car pieces yesterday, but under the circumstances and the weather, I didn't think about it. Today John and I trooped back to Jap World and spent two hours waiting for pieces, then swapped them in the road. This included a fan temperature switch, heater hose, EGR, and a few interior screws and floor mats.

In the mid-afternoon we visited the New South Wales Gallery, seeing Old European, 19th century Australian, Aboriginal, an modern art. There was also a cool exhibit from art school students with art creations that tax the term 'art' such as female body armor and welded metal pieces but also really good stuff, two chalk paintings of violin parts being my favorite.

For dinner we followed a lead from the Lonely Planet for an all-you-can eat on Kent St. in the city near the cinemas and Chinatown. The walk from King's Cross crossed Hyde Park and passed through Martin's Place, a pedestrian walkway between the city's imposing financial buildings. It was late afternoon and we caught the bustle of the city, people dressed for business walking quickly and blindly along. After a wrong turn and backtracking caused by the author, we finally found our restaurant - out of business. After deciding on Chinese and then much indecision about which one, we settled on a clean looking, pink spot, and sat down to American food amidst clouds of smoke

We again leveraged Australia's cheap movie night and took in Very Bad Things, a very bad movie.

We 2/10/99 - Sydney to Port Macquarie

We checked out of the Springfield, went about individual chores, and planed to meet at the car at noon. I booked a Whitsunday Islands sailing and diving trip, contacted a clinic about rabies and hepatitis shots, inquired about canyoning, and learned of a couple good spots to stop before Byron Bay. Meeting at the car, I found John with half the trunk on the ground staring down disgustedly and Rachel near him in tears. "Apparently the drivers door was left unlocked, someone rifled through the car and took Rachel's bag", he said. Rachel had left most of her clothes and camping gear in the car, her luggage bag and sleeping bag were gone. After a few accusations, I suggested they call the police, and five minutes later we knew that someone had found her bag strewn about, picked it up, and was to drop it off at the police department soon.

While shopping in NYC before the trip, I had my car broken into. In Moorea John and I had our belongings taken from the tent and I lost my sunglasses and watch. Since then we made paranoid statements whenever we misplaced something, but I guess that fear lessens with time. Here we were in the countries largest city, in the drug and prostitution center, but we still left valuables inside the trunk and miscellaneous items visible inside the car. Although I brought my kit into the hotel, we should have at least cleaned out all visible items. John had parked the car in front of the Springfield in a no standing zone, and when a ticket writing patrolman came by to threaten us, we told our story, then had a good time discussing the different ways druggies break into cars (tape through the door), prostitution, stabbings, murders, undercover detectives, and so on.

Afterward, a small white examination room at the King's Cross police station provided a weird, surreal scene with Rachel picking through and folding her clothing, dirt and leaves being shaken from frilly undergarments. Only a cheap sleeping bag was missing.

On our way north to Byron Bay we stopped after six hours of driving in Port Maquarie at the Sundowner Breakwater Caravan Park. We rented a caravan for the night costing $A48.

Th 2/11/99 - Port Macquarie to Byron Bay

The Sundowner proved to be a real nice spot The caravan was clean and convenient to bathroom facilities and an inground pool. The grounds border a stone breakwater lining a river and end at the ocean with the sandy municipal beach. I walked along the breakwater when the sun was still low. People were out for the daily jog or walk. The stones along the walk were all painted in various colors, used as self made monuments to travelers passing through the town, hearts forever bounded together and tributes to rock bands.

For a reststop, we followed a lead from the Lonely Planet to a swimming hole in the Promised Land on the Never Never River, near Bellingen. After initial confusion, we were set straight by locals and found the best of the waterholes, swelling from the torrids of recent rains. We wandered a short distance through woods to a pool in the river about fifty feet across. There weren't rocks or other heights to jump from although across the river was a rope swing. The water was a light brownish color and to us, contrary to the locals report, the water was not cold. A fairly rotund man sat next to our picnic spot, reading a newspaper I a short beach chair. While the John and Rachel prepared the lunch spread, I went upstream to float down, but found my chest bumping rocks. The pool, however, was deeper, and I clambered over the leave layered shore back to our spot. I felt a bite on my leg and saw a small brown worm clinging to my skin. Looking for verification, I ask the rotund man of the intruder. It was a leach, my first ever experience. He noticed a second leach crawling along my chest and I flicked it away. I had a boyish excitement and curiosity of my this new toy of nature, and also the deep rooted repulse caused by a lifetime of bad stories and movies about leaches.

After lunch I swam across to the rope swing, not too sure the others would follow because of the leaches. The swing was a mechanical marvel. A long bare tree was placed diagonally across a live tree at the bank. Its top hung over the water and the rope was suspended there. The two trees were tied together at their intersection, and the dead tree's base simply rested on the ground. A third thin tree laid horizontally from the first two tree's intersection, parallel to the water, to a fork in a forth tree. It all looked a bit shoddy, but it was probably time proven. To go from the water to standing on the horizontal tree, I needed to extended one arm out to the rope bottom, the other up the bank to grapple a root. I was totally extended and hopped and dragged myself up the bank. There were notches cut into the live tree to assist in stepping up to the horizontal tree. I walked across, reaching out to the rope's end, leaning back a little and using the rope for balance. Halfway across, I grabbed high and swung to the water, not over it, but straight into the water from the waist down. I repeated the trip a few times, trying to raise my feet over my head to clear my body from the water.

John didn't resist, and soon swam over, then Rachel followed, squealing at the temperature like kid. John then had a go, landing chest first into the water. Again I tried and failed to clear the surface by bringing my feet overhead. John coaxed Rachel up for a turn, but being timid and afraid of heights, she rescinded. After repeatedly trying, I was starting to feel cold, and announced my last effort at clearing the water. The problem was that we had to reach up and out for the rope as we stood on the horizontal tree. Grabbing high and kicking my feet as hard as possible up and forward, my feet cleared my center of gravity and then my head, I was holding the rope between my legs at my crotch - I passed the water under my butt, spun around and plopped into the water. It was my achievement for the day. I swam back to the lunch spot then watched John again helping Rachel on the swing, my camera in hand. She was nervous, moving slowly, one step at a time. John, in his calm, smooth, relaxed, and reassuring voice, helped her out. She leaned toward the rope's end, staring nervously at the river, then did it, swung out gasping the rope and into the water. They were both excited and proud of her achievement. We all cheered and felt good about it.

After another long day of driving we arrived at Byron Bay and set up tent at Clarks Beach Caravan Park at the south end of town, on the beach.

We drove into town for a bite. Byron Bay is great! It's a full on young people and travelers beach and night spot. It has a good looking, clean, funky, downtown filled with alternative food, clothing, and trinket businesses.

Fr 2/12/99 - Byron Bay, eastern most point on continent

When we arrived last night, I wasn't very impressed by the campground. I thought it overcrowded and lacking any sort of attractiveness, especially after the Sundowner. It lacks a kitchen and picnic tables, but its location was superb and proved to be suitable and our best choice.

The weather has been extremely mixed, heavy rain, then strong sun, and back again. Of course the rain is annoying, especially when camping, but at least we know it soon changes.

Cape Byron juts east and hooks north, a lighthouse, one of the most powerful in the hemisphere stands on the hillside behind the beach. The beach is pretty, a long crescent shape of soft, squeaky sand. Because of the lands angle into the sea, the strong waves come at a strange angle creating a good rip tide in a semi circle along the shore. This current is very difficult to fight, the easy alternative is to enter at a rocky outcropping and use the current to carry you along the beach. After frolicking and drifting about, you find yourself up the beach, then walking south again to reenter.

At the rocky outcropping is a wooden staircase to a great viewing platform at the top. From this vantage point, the breakers are just down and to the side, so that surfers shoot the curl and hang ten on knarly surf. This is a hot spot for surfers, perhaps too many bunched up and vying for the same water here. Then the seascape carries on, other surfers and

boogie boarders strung out through the water. On the beach surfers walk with colorful boards under arm and the scene is completed with beach meat laying on and strolling the sand.

For dinner, we feasted! The local butcher, a real talker, sold us marinated steak and lamb and boerwurst. At the big grocers, John and I bought mushrooms, green peppers, onions, sprouts, carrots, and other veggies for a stirfry. The campground has a barbecue facility on the cliff overlooking the beach, with tables and cover. The meal was great, followed by John's cheesecake (just add water) with brownie creation.

We walked into town to find entertainment at the Station only to find the bus stops playing at 9:30pm because of local ordinance.

Sa 2/13/99 - Byron Bay

I joined John and Rachel in signing up for surfing lessons yesterday. I was especially psyched for I have spent many years in Newport watching surfers on the small waves there. Steve Quinn passed on an old free surfboard that was repaired for a return to duty only this past September, four years after I received it, and even then I didn't use it. Yet.

The morning had hard rain but the sky started to clear as we waited for a van to collect us near the campground. For $A20, we were to have three hours of surf lessons, including wetsuits, board, and a kebab meal. It was a deal we couldn't pass up, but soon fell bewildered to the operation. We were taken to the surf company owners house, a disgusting shamble near the town center, filthy and filled with a strange collection of artifacts such as 60's issue wall hangings, a crossbow, budgies, rusted typewriter, and warning signs on the bedroom and refrigerator written in child-like and drunken half sentences warning invaders of consequences

The van driver was a middle 40's, long haired, burnt out, probably drug riddled, surfer dude, and the owner was worse. After walking into the house late and verbally beating me for thumbing through his phonebook, he rambled on with a somewhat amusing dialog about the "most exciting day of our lives", and in a disorganized manner juggled phone calls, ran through his spiel, and found wetsuits for seventeen of us. After too much waiting, we were brought back to the beach near our camp, and a third long haired, surf burnt casualty spoke for half an hour on the "technically correct" methods of surfing. This guy was good, in between his dry drool, he precisely and concisely told us the four important points to know us beginners. "What do I need to ask myself? Am I in the middle? Am I in the center? Do I have weight on my front foot? Am I using my chest for balance?".

It all seemed to make some sense, but seeing him raise from his chest to a surfing stance in such a smooth, cat like move, I worried. I thought of how stiff I am in the mornings, and how gracefulness has passed me by. I have also heard of horror stories, of people spending months and years before standing. But, like windsurfing, I figured that a lesson would go far. Surfing must be a sport where lessons take away allot of the initial pain of learning.

We started in waist high water, three instructors pushing us along with a wave as we tried to stand. I felt like a kiddy being coddled and pampered by a parent, like I wore floaties on my upper arms and was experiencing the ocean for the first time. I lasted a few pushes with unsuccessful attempts at standing before being brought along by the tide to the point of having to walk back up the shore. That was good because I felt uncomfortable with some aging surfer hippie staring at my black rubber ass and giving me a kiddie push. I stayed amongst the smaller waves, chest high, and after another three attempts, managed to stand but I was moving so slow the board bobbed and sunk backwards into the sea.

When my board was assigned, I questioned to myself the tape on the sides an assumed there were holes. I felt the board turn heavy immediately, and the added weight caused fatigue and I could only lumber back around, dragging th board. I did have a couple of somewhat decent runs, one where I passed a fellow student who commented, as I walked up and down the board to change its pitch.

After a couple hours I noticed most of the class was out of the water and I followed, my board dumping a load of water through the drain hole. I could see most people were exhausted, and assumed that they also found the first day of surfing fun but frustrating and tiring.

Since we arrived in Australia, I have enthusiastically questioned people I met of their adventures around the land, asking where they recommend. A couple of people mentioned Minyon Falls, near Byron Bay, and with a share of local knowledge, we made the falls our afternoon destination.

We were surprised to find a muddy two kilometer walk, we wore only sandals and squished the brown muck between our toes. We passed a large, fat, two foot lizard - eek! I think he was more scared of us and quickly scampered away. Various birds called and frogs sent there scratching noise out across the forest, a pleasant mass of sound. The trail lost us a few times amongst piles of rocks, then came across the impressive 100 meter falls. The water came from the sandstone cliffs not in just one flow, but spread across the lip and down in sheets. Amidst the ribbons, dense pockets of water fell and like a comet the outside edges peeled off into a finer mist, the center ball of water crashing below. This also reminded me of falling white fireworks, I stared mesmerized. John and I swam through the pool and under the falls, the cool water filling the refreshing anticipation we assumed.

Dinner was in town, a cheap but good chicken and rice dish ($A4.50). Walking back along the beach, stars shown well, Orion, the Southern Cross, and Megan's Hairdryer were easily found.

Su 2/14/99 - Byron Bay

I saw Rachel from a distance returning from the loo and immediately noticed something strange. Her forehead had a strange triangular protrusion in the center. May first, stupid reaction was that she was good with makeup because I had never noticed it before. She reminded me of pictures I saw as a kid in the scandal sheet newspaper The Enquirer of birth deformed children with strange and hideous faces. One had a triangular bum from hairline tapering to the nose. No, it wasn't just makeup. Something funky happened to Rachel last night or yesterday. She was scared and horrified.

On out way to a local fair in The Channon, we stopped at the local public hospital. They waited at the hospital, I parked in town and quickly walked around, looking for good pictures that may give a feel for this cool town. An hour later Rachel had seen a nurse and had two anti-histamine pills. The nurse guessed a tick bite was the cause.

The Channon is the most popular local fair, on every other Sunday. It was a county fair basically put on and attended by granola hippie types with food booths such as Thai and organic meals, and vegetable stands, and a lot of handicrafts. The fair circled a green area where camel rides were available, we didn't investigate. I tried a emulsified frozen banana and blueberry cone, bland but okay, and bought 400 grams of honey roasted macadamia nuts. nearby to Channon is Doonan, Australia's macadamia capital. This, I was excited about.

I had heard about another swimming hole near Channon from more than one person. Protester's Falls on Terania Creek in Nightcap National Park was fifteen kilometers north, most along a rutted unsealed road. I wasn't too keen on the gravel road, but locals said the falls was special. When we arrived at the trailhead, the skies were tearing hard The trail was as muddy as yesterday's, but only 0.7 km long, and passed through rain forest. I really enjoyed the rain forest walk, trees lush green, long twisted vines, and patches of blue sky beyond the dripping vegetation. Halfway along the path was a board walk over the river. The plants, unusual to me, and the wetness upon everything was like a tropical garden. Just further on, a cute work of nature's art include short cascading falls culminating in a pretty pool. John disappointedly asked aloud if this was the falls. For a moment I though so, and was happy with this scene. We soon realized that the main falls was still further on. Similar to Minyon Falls, we found a spread o water landing in a pool of water, but this was much better. The pool was more pronounced. The falls, surrounding walls, trees, and an elevated rock pile at the trails end all created a round, nearly enclosed environment conveying a sense of physical isolation from the rest of the forest. Their were more than a handful of others there, and the skies opened again, but this didn't detract from these pretty falls. John and Rachel went ahead into the pool while I lagged behind atop the rocks for pictures. they were laughing and splashing when the sun came out, and a huge well defined rainbow came across the pool in front of the falls and I excitedly snapped away.

The drive back to Byron Bay was notable for the countryside scenery. At times we passed atop the rolling hills to catch distance views of undulating pasture and farmland filled with trees, which is unusual. Normally these types of fields are squared off and totally bare. the dispersed trees added greatly o the attractive rolling countryside. amongst these farm were numerous macadamia orchards.

Dinner was at a low cost Italian restaurant, then dessert in town at a bakery.

Mo 2/15/99 - Byron Bay to Hervey Bay

We left at 8:11am, the weather was gorgeous with blue sky and hot temperatures, but this made drive was long and hot and uncomfortable. The car was overheating so the heat was on full. We arrived into Hervey Bay confused by the time, not realizing that we had crossed a time zone. Queensland does not play daylight savings time along with the rest of country. It was 3pm Queensland time, our first stop was the public hospital for Rachel, to reassure her about the funny face reaction. The swelling fell from the forehead into her eyes, her eyes appeared swollen, and she was very anxious about it. I dropped them off and attempted to work towards a solution for the car.

I was guessing the problem a corroded waterpump, priced out replacing one at $A210, then went to the Radiator Man. He checked for a head leak with a carbon monoxide sensor, then without much reassurance, suggested that we open the radiator.

But now an hour went by and I retrieved John and Rachel. Again she received anti-histamines, but also a topical cream.

John and I discussed the car options, then went to find a 4x4 for Frazier Island. We settled on a yellow 1981 Nissan Patrol for $A75 per day. Bill at Ausbay Four Wheel Drive Rentals was really good. He took his time explaining the details and hazards of driving on the island, the routes he would take given the three days and two nights, and even gave into an unrelentless badgering for free camping equipment (gas stove, gas lantern, pan, pot ("billy"), water container). Bill then strongly suggested a different radiator shop and we decided to go in the morning.

Spent the night at the clean and manicured private caravan park, Australiana.

Tu 2/16/99 - Frazier Island

We woke early-ish and I was off to a second radiator man by 8am, while John and Rachel shopped for groceries. Paul had a much better professional demeanor, but guessed the problem was a head leak, and sent me around the corner. Here the car was tested again for a head leak, it was negative, and the head man sent Busy-G and I back to Paul. We left the car to have the radiator pulled and cleaned.

The ferry left at 10:15am for the short thirty minute journey. As we stood on the upper deck, moving toward Frazier Island in the sun, we all commented how this reminded us of Martha's Vineyard.

Why Frazier Island? I first heard of the island during a last minute travel briefing with Mike and Nicki. On one of my last tired nights in Newport they explained enthusiastically about the spots they enjoyed most in Australia and I jotted terse notes. It is difficult to get much further past a place name, one must experience a spot himself to get a feel, but I am glad to have the notes for a start. A couple of weeks ago I talked to a Robert in Melbourne, Frazier Island was on his list, and a couple of others also made the suggestion. Frazier Island is 140km by 20km, the largest sand island in the world. It is outlined by beach, the center is thick forest, and dunes or "sand blows" are found many places. The long eastern edge, which is on the Coral Sea, is called 75 mile beach. Camping is allowed on the beach and inland in designated camping areas. To camp on a beach is a real draw to me - I have never sleep directly on a beach, and have wanted to for years. There are also many fresh water lakes on the island, a real pleasure especially since the ocean is not recommended.

The first stop was for general information at Central Station, I had guessed at village of sorts, but only a ranger station and an unmanned information area exist. I quickly learned that there are many creations of nature to be wary of, the most "interesting" being fire weed and mermaid hair algae. Both are found in the sea, both cause blistering and extreme discomfort, and require immediate evacuation. The fire weed turns the surf red, the algae can not be seen and burns mostly in the groin and under breasts where it can be caught in crevices. If they don't get you, the tiger sharks, blue bottles, stingrays, and rip tides will have a go. These aren't just seldom occurrences, they are real dangers. No, swimming isn't recommended.

beware of ...

fireweed

mermaid hair algae

rip tides

tiger sharks

stingrays

blue bottles

dingoes

brown snakes

death adder

black acidic pools

sandflys

mossies

horse flies**

spiders

Many tracks were closed because of washouts during the recent heavy rains, so we had to carefully choose our routes. A series of large lakes run from Central Station south, although we were told that the northern access was closed, but open from the south through Dilly Village. John drove over fun rough tracks through forest across the island and onto the beach. The forest driving was good fun, but the first beach access was really exciting. The wide and open pristine beach, the crashing surf, great expanse of blue sky, all this was a real treat and we readily saw the draw to the island. We followed our island map and cruised south and then inland again for Lake Boomanjin through Dilli, but soon ran into a "Track Closed" sign strung across the road. Damn. We wanted relief from the heat with a fresh water swim. It wasn't supposed to be closed. We doubled back, stopped at the Eurong ranger station, and asked for an explanation. After ten minutes, we figured our map was missing a secondary road that allowed a back way in. So, back we went, down the beach, inland, then making our way north, bouncing and banging along in four wheel drive. We finally arrived at Lake Boomanjin, John was most excited about a fresh water swim. "At 190 hectacres in area it is the largest perched dune lake in the world. It is stained red with tannin from the nearby tea tree swamps."

"Perched" means that leaves line a dip in the dunes allowing water to collect. Also of note, the Australian film, "Eliza Frazier", was done here.

We camped on the beach at the trailhead to Lake Wabby, near a boisterous group of young backpackers. Cooking steak with the gas stove was a great convenience, the lantern was also good, and I lit a fire for effect. Later on we shut down the lantern and laid near the fire staring at the stars and listening to the crashing sea.

We 2/17/99 - Frazier Island

We stopped last night near the trailhead for Lake Wabby, the deepest lake on the island. A procession of mostly kids were on the trail to Wabby, doing as we were, spending time at a great spot while waiting to drive the beach closer to low tide. The walk was simple, only thirty minutes, and the first view of Wabby was amazing. We approached from the eastern edge, a large bright sand dune ranging in height from 40 to 60 feet was encroaching the lake on our right, the long straight northern edge of the lake. (The lake is filling at 1-2 meters per year.) It really was spectacular, eyes brighten and mouths opened with awe. The rest of the lake edge was round, forested to the edge, the water lined with reeds. We trooped along a path just under the water's surface then bee-lined up the dune for shade under a cluster of bushy trees.

This was really cool, the sandy dunes ran straight down at a sharp angle directly into the lake, and continued running to the lake floor, so the water depth increased quickly. With the soft sand falling abruptly into the water, a giddy inclination welled up to ran up and tumbled down. From our shade spot I walked up to the dune tops for pics. I circled around to a high sharp edge of the dune as it buried the forest, and then back to our shade, dumped my pack and shirt, then rolled head over feet toward the lake and somehow had it timed so that I dove off the edge into the water. This was heaven - fresh water after a hot and greasy day and night. The water was warm, not cool and immediately refreshing like in New Zealand, but a temperature people could lounge in indefinitely. Ahhh, vacation! What did we do to deserve this?

Driving the beach two to three hours each side of low tide was the recommendation, so we walked out of Wabby about noon.

Heading north along the hard beach, our next stop was Eli Creek, the largest creek on the island. This was touted a great, cool swimming place of clear water, and I conjured an imagine of a river through rocks. I was wrong but far from disappointed. Eli is a slow moving stream through sand with a wooden walkway bordering both sides and crossing over a couple times The boardwalk saves the environment and only allows access about fifty meters up the river. You can walk the circle or from the top end swim down the creek. Vegetation abounds in the area, but through the vegetation the stream snakes through in a neat trough six feet wide and glistens in the sun from the bright sanding bottom and crystal clear water. We were lucky, we scored a bench at the top for lunch, sat and watched people entering Eli to swim downstream. I did this three times. The water was cool and refreshing and a fine temp with me although many people shuddered when first entering. The depth varied from three feet to less than a foot, so I made a game of pushing myself along head first and trying to allow only my hands to touch the bottom. After a while we noticed a two foot long eel riding the stream along the grass near our bench and John fed her for a pic. She pretty much freaked most people.

At the entrance to Eli, mangy dingo sniffed around, and we watched with curiosity. The dingoes can be aggressive, especially those one to two years old. Attacks happen most often to women, and women walking alone, especially with their period, is not recommended. People, and certainly kids, forget they are wild and find that playing with them results in injury.

We passed the Pinnacles, a multi-colored bluff, and a old iron wreck, the Mahino. The Mahino was quite an attraction. Dozens of people were walking about her skeleton, and a handful of small off road vehicles, a group of buses, and three planes were parked nearby.

The furthest point north that we reached was Champagne Pools, just north of an outcropping of land called Indian Head. The pools sit within lava rocks, are washed out each high tide, and provide a different slant of enjoyment. When sitting in them, they are chest deep, and the water temperature wasn't too cool. There were a group of guys relaxing, laughing and sipping beers.

We found a recommended camping spot just south of Rainbow Gorge on top of dunes in grass. I was driving and had a bit of trouble crossing a series of lower dunes and then turning onto a seldom used track in sand paralleling the beach that accessed another path up into knoll. Before crossing the lower dunes I ran up on foot to discover this spot, ran excitedly back to the car and announced, "You should see where we are saying the night!". Then I blasted the Nissan over the lower dune, turned onto the small road, and sunk heavily into the heaps of soft sand. I had to reverse and forward many times before gaining enough momentum t negotiate the turn. Then the small hill into burden for the night was not a problem. We had a great spot, not a sole within hundreds of meters the ocean close enough to easily hear, and a flat enclosed area for a perfect camp spot. We were thrilled. I collected firewood in the woods, wary of spiders and snakes, which we then lit we the aid of Rachel's hairspray. John prepared a new flavored cheesecake - Reese's peanut butter cup. Dinner was pasta with sauce and bits of hard salami. After dinner and dessert, we again laid and watched stars, noting satellites and shooting stars and talking generally about the heavens. I noted that there are Aboriginal painting 20,000 years ago, yet the last ice age ended only 5,000 years ago. Staring at stars always makes people wonder.

Th 2/18/99 - Frazier Island

The best thing about the horseflies is that they sleep at night, the worse thing is they wake up.

restless sleep

walked beach at 6am, thought of swimming thwarted by number of bluebottles on shore.

tried to type notes, but the horseflies were having their way with me. I shooed them off for ten minutes during very unproductive typing, then I seeked revenge. They are more often faster than I am and I had stinging palms and legs before one laid dead before me. I looked at this lifeless annoying creature with satisfaction and thought that a little crucifixion cross with the dead greenhead tied upside down would serve as a goo reminder to his fellow ranks. No I couldn't be bothered, instead , with a handful at in the sand by my hand, I started to prepare a picture of dead horseflies on my handheld, but then the tide touched my feet in total surprise. I 'eeked', jumped up and retreated to the dune. Eventually, I had my picture of those evil flies.

Against general recommendations, we headed along the beach at high tide and without problem drove a few kilometers to the northern access road for Lake Garawongera. I had thought through the camping location and morning activity with a ranger, and we both were appreciated.

, alone most of time

Wallaby

Lake Birrabeen,

helped push two large Mitsubishi buses

clearest lake I have ever seen. rain fed only, no streams entering or exiting lake

Fr 2/19/99 - Drive from Hervey Bay to Arlie Bay

nine hour drive north, seeing ocean for less than a minute, along lonely highway with an occasional small village through sugar cane fields then rolling fields dotted with trees.

Sa 2/20/99 - Arlie Bay to Great Barrier Reef

We spent the night at Airlie Cove Caravan Park and in a rare instance, I slept well, while the John and Rachel woke cranky and complaining about aphids hopping on their faces through the night.

We weren't able t make the booking agent before their 7:30p closing time last night, so went by in the morning. I asked too many questions and the girl's replies included that we would have 30 meters visibility diving, that the sea was calm with one and a half meter swells, and that the boat crew was really good.

The boat, Flying Dutchman, is perhaps the cheapest deal in Airlie Bay, $A299 for three days, two nights, eight dives including everything but swimshorts and toothbrush. I found the agent and an ad for the boat in TNT, a free magazine found through Australia tailored to backpackers.

Once at the marina and boat dock, we excitedly searched out our boat, the Flying Dutchman. The 60 foot, Adams steel hulled, cutter ketch sat dockside open and waiting for crew and passengers. At seeing the shape of the ship, I shook my head side to side and wowed, "We're going to sink". Well, I may not have exactly said that, but it sounded good as I was typing. But still, the condition was questionable. The steel deck, masts, and booms seeped rust,. The deck was loaded with hardware and various other items and was far from shipshape. I peaked into the cabin and spied a large busted up ships console. Ok, here I did mumble a complaint, then criticisms stepped back. Dulcinea looks more respectable but the maintenance is a nightmare and I reasoned that this boat may be the same age and has a owner / captain constantly chasing down problems. I had to be more patient with my observations, and thinking and missing Dulcinea made me even become a little passionate and appreciative of this old boat. It is in fact only 23 years old, eight years Dulcinea's junior, and is 40 tons, four times heavier than Dulcinea. Flying Dutchman is a big boat, sturdy boat, probably with a lot of personality for being finicky, but a boat people enjoy and labor over.

With twelve passengers, Dan the captain / owner, Pete the dive master, and Abbey the cook, we set sail east Northeast through the northern Whitsunday islands toward the Great Barrier Reef. The passengers included four guys in their mid-twenties (two from near Seattle, one from Denmark, and one Kiwi), an English couple, a lone Frenchman who refused not to be seasick, and an English girl also named Rachel.

The sail was really good. The skies were mixed, some heavy looking clouds and patches of blue sky and most importantly about twenty five knots of wind. We sailed through the pretty Whitsunday Islands, between Hayman and Hook island. The islands have a couple hundred meters of rounded interior, tall green trees reaching down to the water, beaches seen occasionally. After passing the Whitsunday's, we sailed east toward the Great Barrier Reef. The sail to the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park took six hours and three people's stomachs, including John's Rachel, and John was also hugging the rail by the time we arrived. I asked Pete what the record was for the number of seasick, and he replied that this was it, he didn't understand why so many were sick in these light seas. Once we neared our destination, the Reef provided protection from the seas and the water calmed. We beamed at one another, "We're on the GREAT BARRIER REEF!!". After years of hearing about the Great Barrier Reef, we were here. Psyched!

We picked up a mooring ball that read "Two hour limit" for the night at the reef named Bait Reef. The diving orientation was as boring as the boat orientation, but granted, important.

We readied for our first dive around 5pm, the sun was low and the sky cloudy, two things that do not help good visibility which Pete estimated at 10 meters. I grabbed a full tank of air (200 bar), attached it to the BCD, then donned the 6mm short style wetsuit and a weight belt with four 1.3kg weights. When we neared water entry the fins went on, then lastly mask and snorkel, and with a large step off the port side through the rail gate, we were wet and bobbing and blowing bubbles trough the second stage regulator.

This first dive location is called The Trench, and what else, but an "orientation dive". We simply followed the mooring line to the bottom at 12 meters and poked around without leadership for forty minutes. The coral was nothing amazing, the little there was covered with silt. Fish were also lacking. All around the dived sucked, but it was our first of eight and Pete had made no promises.

After a great, hearty dinner of satay chicken, salad, and rice, we had a night dive under the boat, same place, same scenery - silt. Night diving is of a completely different taste and exciting in just the fact that is it dark. There is an ermines there, the flashlight you hold is your only light, you make a distinctive tunnel of light, and everything else is black. Although others also have flashlights, you often do not see them especially in low visibility. We did also have ghostly green glow sticks tied to the back of our BCD's (buoyancy vest) to help mark a diver but they are seldom seen. The main idea of a night dive is to see all the life that comes out in the dark. Some corals glow brightly at night under flashlight, but the best feature of the night was a two foot round silver fish that continuously cruised between us, suddenly coming out of darkness to pass close in front, sending a shudder of nervousness down the spine from the fright.

I had a great night of sleep, in a bed not on the ground in a tent, and I loved it. I had picked a bunk before realizing they would be assigned, and was able to keep the choice. The top was directly below a large hatch that could be lifted and removed. When not under sail, the forward edge of the hatch was raised for ventilation, and at night I stared through the crack at the stars and relished the breeze falling on me. I thought of how a boat at anchor always points into the wind and the breeze will always slide into the cabin. Then I finally thought that the same would happened with rain. If it came down, the wind would blow it right onto me, no one else. Hmmmm.

Su 2/21/99 - Great Barrier Reef, Whitsunday Islands

We were woken early by Dan at six o'clock for tea and a dive. I peaked through the hatch to the sky, saw blue, and was thankful it didn't rain last night.

We were transported six at a time aboard the yellow painted steel dinghy to Cluster of Four. The dive was much better than those of yesterday. It followed a series of four coral heads, full of color not silt. The most noticeable aspect of the area is Stag Coral. It appears as a huge pile or bush of deer antlers often brown, sometime blue. To a non-professional diver the fish, coral, and colors appear similar to the Caribbean, which in another term is great. I appreciate mostly a sea scene of vast colors of coral and large schools of fish, a scene that spreads out in front of you in glorious colors and variety, shocking beauty. This visibility was a max of fifteen meters, no excellent but good. The best scene were actually on top of coral heads in a couple meters of water where the sun brightens colors to the max.

The second dive was at Hawaii and the Deep Sisters with more appreciated sun. I was assigned the English girl named Rachel as dive buddy. She had recently become certified and had only four dive under her (big) belt. Five minutes into the forty minute dive, at twelve meters deep, she simply surfaced without any signal. I also surfaced and asked her if there was a problem. She said that no one had direction so she was going back to the boat. I was a bit flabbergasted, and told her I was watching and that we needed to follow John since he was the only one with a watch in our small group. Down we went again, floating along coral heads except for Rachel, she was off the coral kicking around, not able to see much from the distance. We eventually bumped into the previous group, then floated to a different direction, except Rachel. She moved off with the "more experienced" divers until I again retrieved her. I hand signaled that there were four of us and that John had the watch. After thirty minutes of the forty minute dive she signaled she was down to fifty bar of air and was surfacing. I told gave her the "ok" signal and went to tell John we were going up. That was my mistake, leaving her. I couldn't find her at the surface, she had already been picked up by dinghy and was on board Flying Dutchman She then went on to complain to others about my abandoning her. What a shithead.

The third dive of the day was at the maze, a section of coral heads that lay in a continuation of Hawaii and the Deep Sisters, and similar to that dive.

Afterward we started our journey back towards the mainland, stopping in the Whitsunday Islands at Hayman Island. We arrived with the sun low and casting warm light across the pretty islands and blue sea. We snuggled u near sandstone shore on a park mooring, near another dive / sailing boat.

Dan prepared a meal of peppered lamb and steamed potatoes, carrots, and broccoli. The choice of lamb always agrees with John and I, and seconds and thirds were necessary.

We prepared our dive gear in the dusk, Pete explained the dive geography an dive profile (15 meters deep maximum and forty minutes maximum), and we were off in two groups swimming to the reef between shore and the boat. This location was filled with silt and again the only redeeming quality was in the eerieness of the darkness, not in seeing a lot of color or interesting fish.

Most of us stayed up late in the boat stern, around the cockpit socializing.. Earlier in the day Dan lent a book entitled "The Hostile Shore", a historical paperback of Australia. I had agreed with Dan that picking through the chapters would be fulfilling, but I found myself reading straight through from the start. It talked of Cook's voyages near Australia and how the British used Australia as a penal colony after the loss of the States to independence, closing that penal colony, and due to the overburdening jails. The beginning also quoted early notes from Cook, Joseph Banks and others, and explained Aboriginal life and how it was perceived by Europeans. I read in the salon until sleepy, then retired to my bunk, staring at the stars and again hoping for a dry night.