Heading north back past Brisbane I passed through either the best bits, or the worst bits, of Australia, depending on your point of view. The Gold Coast, with long stretches of beaches, bars and blocks of holiday apartments was soon followed by The Sunshine Coast, with long stretches of beaches, bars and blocks of holiday apartments. Surfing, sun bathing and wet t-shirt competitions seemed to be the preferred activities along this stretch so I duly stopped only for petrol, and for a peaceful night’s sleep down a dirt track by a river. Continuing north I reached surprisingly pleasant, riverside Rockhampton and passed through the Tropic of Capricorn. I was back in the tropics and life inside Gumdrop was beginning to get a little sticky. I made for Airlie Beach, a favoured stop on the backpacker route for its proximity to one of Australia’s great tourist attractions – The Whitsundays. The town itself didn’t consist of much more than some sociable bars and a collection of hostels, but some bright spark had thought up the grand idea of building a seafront lagoon with safe and secure bathing, important in these parts due to the burgeoning presence of lethal jellyfish lurking in the deceptively inviting coastal waters. After a couple of days enjoying the lagoon and the bars, and making friends with elderly American art teachers under a tree, I used up my dwindling supply of cash to book my place on the Waltzing Matilda yacht and got ready to enjoy one of Australia’s “must-do” activities – 3 days on a boat sailing around the Whitsunday Islands.
Our merry crew set off and I soon made my latest fine friend – Maz, who’s impressive credentials included not only being a Brummie, and having visited Africa, but also being friends with my most revered of Nepal volunteer colleagues, Kathmandu Marian. A small World it is and we set about regaling ourselves with very happy tales of Brum, Africa and Asia whilst cracking into our considerable stash of beer that we’d bought together on the mainland before leaving, and before even learning each others names. Priorities you see. Skipper Wayne and First Mate Paul set about explaining our intended route, and the surprisingly complex issues concerning marine toilets, whilst our small group of passengers nodded intently with regretful expressions of “perhaps I should have gone before we left”.
The Whitsundays, 74 islands perched around the Great Barrier Reef, provided us with 3 days of stunning views, secluded coves, pristine beaches and, at least some of the time, fair sailing winds. First Mate Paul had used his experience and had brought along his fine music collection which consisted of such essential classics as Banjo Paterson’s “Waltzing Matilda” and of course, Rod Stewart’s “We Are Sailing”. We set sail, or in the total absence of wind, set erm, motor and headed for open water. First stop was that icon of the islands, Whitehaven Beach, with glorious stretches of untouched white sand and crystal clear waters so we disembarked for a stroll. Now, I’ve read many a worrying story about Australia’s severe and prolonged periods of drought, and whilst I don’t wish to belittle the situation, in my personal experience, one thing is abundantly clear – in Australia, it always rains, everywhere… And so the Whitsundays proved no exception as our idyllic beach stroll was immediately hit by the latest torrential downpour. Finding amusement in the face of adversity is often the key to happiness I’ve long since decided, so whilst the rain poured down, we tried out our life preserving stinger suits and went for a dip. Manufactured sometime around 1985 I guessed, my little black and red number clearly stood out from the crowd and I duly exercised some of my rarely seen catwalk struts along the beach. Amused, we returned to the boat to enjoy a stunning and peaceful sunset, interrupted only by the piercing masts of neighbouring yachts, and the inviting sizzles of delicious steak on our night time barbeque.
The next 2 days we enjoyed more of the same, sailing around the islands, and stopping periodically to stroll on more pristine beaches or snorkel above the colourful reefs. A rather cowboy effort of a dive was a little disappointing but there could be nothing to complain about as we knocked back the Toohey’s up on deck with our Dutch, French, German and Canadian shipmates whilst waiting for another feast of a barbeque as the sun went down. Nattering away with Maz had got me thinking back to Nepal, and thinking ahead to Africa. The World was a happy place but suddenly a realisation hit me – with Maz’s plans to move on to New Zealand, I was now making friends who would be travelling on further after I had gone home. My meanderings had led me a long way from Nepal and I’d had a pretty good run, but suddenly I could sense the end just around the corner.
“Should I Stay or Should I Go” sang The Clash, and I couldn’t give them an answer. For now though, as The Waltzing Matilda pulled back into Airlie Beach harbour to the tune of Waltzing Matilda, I decided to stay, for one last night of carefree holidaying with my maritime mates. Then I would go… further north to Townsville.
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