Travel Biography - Week 84.

The first Attempt Ended in Failure - but it wasn't my fault.

Note: All photos, unless specified, are my own, taken in 1997.

I arrived At Arlie Beach around teatime the previous evening. After settling in an unoccupied dormitory, hence, a room for myself, I enquired about day trips to the Whitsunday Islands at the reception. Ben, the man at the desk whom I had already befriended, was accommodating to my requests and recommended Ocean Rafting, a speedboat that accommodated a small party around three islands of the archipelago - Hook Island, Whitsunday Island, and Border Island, where a fringe reef offered snorkelling opportunities.

Our speedboat to Whitsunday Islands.

Nara Inlet, Hook Island.

4,000-year-old cave paintings. Tennis Raquets?

Being one of a small group was better than being part of a large escorted group. As with the Low Isles, there were more family-like, closer interpersonal relations, including the boat's owner and his accomplice. However, since this was a small craft and there was no onboard cafe or shop selling single-use underwater cameras, this time there would be no underwater photography. Maybe just as well. By the time we reached Border Island for the snorkelling, there was a cloud cover, and the photos may not have come out too well.

For the independent traveller, whether alone, a couple, or a group of friends, there were boats for hire at the Marina. On board, I could have gone anywhere around the archipelago and spent as much of my time at the more scenic location. But I would never have ticked all the boxes. For a start, I would have needed a valid licence, then there was an insurance issue, and then the waiver fee added on top of the already extortionate rental fees, and a mountain of responsibilities. After all, if the boat sank, its owners wouldn't be happy!

It was far better for me to be part of a small party, leaving all responsibilities behind as I enjoyed the sights these islands offered. Furthermore, the tour offered an opportunity for some day hiking at Whitsunday Island, an opportunity that would have been too risky had I been in charge of a boat.

The following morning after my first night spent at Arlie Beach, the accomplice arrived to collect me from the resort entrance, and I followed him to where the speedboat was moored. The small group were all assembled and we boarded the boat. But as the owner attempted to start the motor, there was a splutter, followed by silence. Another attempt and the same happened. We were then ordered off the boat, and after the accomplice found the cause of the problem, the trip had to be cancelled. The craft needed some repairs. The owner offered us a choice. Either a refund or a day's postponement, that is, to set out the next day. Some in the group accepted a refund, as they were about to move on. I, and a few others, agreed to return the next day.

Ocean Rafting treated us as next-day priorities. That is, there was no further payment and our place would not be squeezed out by overbooking.

Instead, I spent the day exploring the area. This included the esplanade, lined with tropical vegetation as it backs the curve of Arlie Beach. At the tidal zone, some mangrove trees literally grew out of the sea. By the afternoon, I returned to the hostel and explained to Ben what happened that morning. He then reassured me that Ocean Rafting would keep its promise to collect me the following morning. Meanwhile, at his suggestion, I had a swim in the resort's open-air pool, as there were either no diving lessons that day or the morning session ended by lunchtime.

The pool was not rectangular as required for competitive swimming but rounded at both ends and waisted in the middle. Hence, it wasn't meant for real swimming, but for something to look at and to enhance the appearance of the yard it's in. Most holiday hotels have irregular-shaped pools purposely designed to discourage swimming and instead encourage sunbathing around them. And whilst sunbathing, a thirst develops, and it's off to the outdoor bar to buy drinks. And so, in many Mediterranean hotels, an early-morning contest between the English and the Germans on who will grab and reserve their sunbeds before breakfast has found its way into the Media, much to the delight of the hotel and the jingling of its tills. Such clever psychology lies in the pool design for the tourist to spend, spend, spend, hence an irregular-shaped pool is a deliberate moneyspinner!

Hence, my negative feelings towards package holidays in the days before I married in 1999. To me, package holidays on the Spanish costa aren't Travel, it's sun-seeking, to escape the miserable British summer for a week or two of Mediterranean sunshine. But Travel is something very different. And that difference was demonstrated between my last package trip to Spain in 1972 where I spent one night sleeping in a bathtub soaked in alcoholic vomit and backpacking Italy just a year later in 1973, which included hiking up to the crater of Mt Vesuvio and walking the streets of ancient Pompeii.

Our speedboat at Whitehaven Beach.

At Whitehaven Beach, Whitsunday Island.

A giant Lizard climbs a tree. 

The Second Attempt - A Success.

The following morning, after I made myself breakfast, I waited to be picked up by a member of Ocean Rafting. Presently, the same accomplice arrived and I followed him to the boat, where the owner was doing some final checks as the other passengers boarded.

But just boarding the speedboat wasn't quite enough. Rather, I wanted to chat with the owner and find out what the cause of the previous day's problem was. Perhaps impressed with my interest, he explained that the belt connecting the pulley driven by the motor to the propellor shaft had broken, and the boat spent the rest of the day in its hanger while a new drive belt was on order, and was also properly serviced. With a new belt fitted, we were all raring to go. Passengers who booked for today replaced those from the previous day who couldn't make it. Although the party was small, the boat was at full capacity.

The boat exited the marina, with me sitting in the aft of the speedboat for maximum views. With the speedboat moving fast towards Hook Island, its wake was thrown up into the air, giving me an occasional splash when the boat hit a wave. I had to make efforts to protect the camera.

As seen on a map, Hook Island, the first of the three stops, had a resemblance to an animal's claw, especially in the southern half, when the three "claws" or "toes" were separated by two long, narrow inlets, the Nara Inlet and the Macona Inlet. The boat pulled into Nara Inlet and we all climbed the hill of the middle toe. From an overlook, the Nara Inlet looked very much like the Amazon River passing through the Brazillian jungle, only that the inlet was a lot narrower, and the water had a shade of turquoise.

We then moved on to a cave which within were 4,000-year-old paintings of two ovals, each with straight lines crossing at 90-degree angles within the curve, forming a net, but our guide admitted that he wasn't able to identify what those images represented.

"Why, they're tennis racquets!" I exclaimed, and the whole group broke into peals of laughter, including our guide.

A Trail leads into the forest, Whitehaven Beach.

The Trail passes through tropical forest...

...until I get this view with Pentecost Island on the right.

After all that, we reboarded the boat for sailing to Whitehaven Beach, on Whitsunday Island itself. This beach has fine-grain sand of pure silicon, and it's said that this coastline was the result of a massive underwater volcanic explosion that occurred thousands of years ago. When I walked along this beach, there was a characteristic squeak with each footstep, making this beach not only a World Heritage Site but also one of the most beautiful beaches in Australia, if not the world.

On Whitsunday Island, we were not led on a guided tour like at Hook Island. Rather, we were given a couple of hours for us to wander off by ourselves. After spending some time on the beach, I saw what looked like a trailhead leading inland into the forest. Indeed it was, and I was alone as I began the mini-hike.

Like on Hook Island, the trail ascended a hill, but before I went any further, someone nearby pointed to a tree. On its trunk, a giant lizard, resembling a small crocodile, was climbing the trunk as it headed upward towards the branches. It looked as if it was fleeing from our presence, and indeed, I felt no danger as I looked up, watching it disappear into the upper foliage.

Alone, I pressed on with the hike. How far I went, I couldn't be sure, but the walk was relatively short compared to that of Magnetic Island. Soon, a wonderful panorama was revealed as I reached the summit. Looking south, what stood out was the dramatic Pentecost Island of the neighbouring Lindeman Group, south of the Whitsundays. Pentecost Island is the nearest of that group, around 10 km, or six miles from where I was standing. Since I was alone, I have wondered whether anyone else caught a glimpse of this fascinating scene.

I kept close watch of the time. As the two hours were drawing to a close, I made my way back to Whitehaven Beach. Just a little way into the sea, our speedboat was perched, waiting for all to board. One or two passengers were boarding whilst I was approaching, the sand beneath my feet squeaking at each footstep as I got nearer the craft. Although I was the last to board, other than the accomplice, I didn't delay their schedule.

The boat then sped towards Border Island, named that perhaps, as this was the last island before the open sea and the Great Barrier Reef. The island has a shape resembling a distorted Y and boasts a fringe reef on its north side, between the two rocky arms of the Y. It was here we were heading.

During this leg of the sailing, we were all handed snorkels. But this time, since there was no direct sunshine, as it was behind a cloud covering, I went into the water topless, having stripped off my shirt at Whitehaven Beach, and left it behind in the boat. And so, after the boat had moored at a safe distance from the beachless coast, we all slid in the seawater with our snorkels in place.

The corals were rich and diverse, even more so than at Low Isles. Since this is a continental island and not a cay, it plunges deeper into the ocean, hence with deeper water covering the shelf beneath, the coral here was indeed more vibrant and lush. There was one species of coral I knew about (having studied at the hostel) and that was the Brain Coral, so named for obvious reasons. I felt excitement as I drew close to it for a good look. It was then that I regretted not having a submersible camera. I think a snapshot of this particular coral would have developed well.

Arriving at Border Island.

An example of Brain Coral. Stock photo.

Eventually, after probably 30-45 minutes, we were all called back to the speedboat for a fast ride back to Arlie Beach. Once on board, I put on my shirt. I shouldn't have bothered. A wave was hit and I was soaked, much to the amusement of all the others on board. Oh well, what the heck? 

As I made my way to the kitchen, I knew that I had a splendid day.

Travel Biography - Week 83

An Incredible Coincidence? A Miracle of Some Kind?

Note: All pics posted here are my own, taken in 1997.

On the route from Cairns to Sydney, the second stop was at Townsville to spend a day on Magnetic Island. I spent three days and nights in Queensland's second-largest city after Brisbane. On the morning of the fourth day, I boarded the Greyhound Bus for my next chosen destination, Arlie Beach. This resort is 274 km or 170 miles further south along the Queensland Coast. Unlike most interstate bus journeys which were usually done overnight, this leg of the Indo-Pacific coast of Australia was a daytime journey.

The journey commenced around mid-morning to arrive at Arlie Beach by teatime before pressing on to Brisbane. However, barely into the journey, I was then surprised when the bus suddenly turned off the main A1 route onto an unclassified road. The road ended at a car park serving what was a newly opened wildlife enclosure, the family-owned Billabong Wildlife Sanctuary, a few miles south of Townsville.

Koala Bear, Billabong Sanctuary.

A Wallaby, Billabong Sanctuary.

Wallabies are related to the Kangaroo.

The driver gave us thirty minutes, the timeslot pattern common to all escorted tours. Whether all in the bus alighted or just a few of us, there weren't many of us at the sanctuary. A sanctuary is different from a zoo. Where in the zoo, all the animals are caged as living exhibits and kept separate from the viewing public. In this sanctuary, it's hands-on. This includes the Koala Bear, a native of Australia. I was allowed to approach it as it clung to a branch and stroke its back. Others at different times were even more fortunate. For example, after arriving at YHA Brisbane, a Chinese backpacker showed me a photo he had taken by a sanctuary staff member with probably the same bear clinging to his chest and looking into the camera.

Nearby was an open yard which accommodated several Wallabies. These marsupials are related to the better-known indigenous mammal, the Kangaroo, or Roo for short. Although the Wallabies resemble the Roos, they are generally smaller in size, otherwise exhibit very much the same features. I stood in the yard with a couple of them without any barrier between us. I was wondering how they would have reacted had I got too close. However, they remained senile as I enjoyed being in their company, that is until our bus driver called us back to resume the journey south.

As with all interstate journeys, there was an hour's service stop roughly halfway along the route. During these stops, we all sat at the station cafeteria. We refreshed ourselves with food that was forbidden on these scrupulously clean coaches whilst the vehicle itself was serviced and refuelled. There was nothing out of the ordinary about the stop. I sat alone at a table, as I had always preferred to sit at a table for one. However, whilst our bus was serviced, another bus pulled in. It was travelling in the opposite direction, that is, from Arlie Beach to Townsville. Like with us, all its passengers made their way to the station cafeteria.

Then, a short time later, I heard my name called.

"Frank!"

Here am I, on the other side of the world, and furthermore, the most faraway location from home I could ever be, and I hear my name called. Nobody was supposed to know me! I thought I got away from everyone familiar.

I looked up and saw another backpacker standing over me as I remained seated. I didn't recognise him, and so, I saw him as another stranger. But he certainly knew who I was. As I looked up, puzzled, he was urging.

"Don't you remember me? Back at the hostel in St Louis two years ago? I called you a crazy Englishman, and I gave you my map of the States whilst we were in the hostel kitchen!"*

"The Huckleberry Finn Hostel in St Louis, Missouri?" I asked.

"Yes, that's right! You remember me!"

Then I realised that this was James, the backpacker I met at the Missouri hostel. Apparently, he had the same idea to backpack Australia as I did. Although we talked further, I still wonder when, where, and how he got his idea to visit Australia (he was from Germany.) With me, it was from sharing a hostel room with an Australian builder in San Diego, who encouraged me to see for myself. 

At the Oceania Backpacker's Hostel, Arlie Beach.

Mangroves at Arlie Beach.

A Mangrove at Arlie Beach.

Eventually, we made our way to our buses ready to depart. That was the last I saw of James (the name I referred him to, as I never asked what his real name was.) He headed north, and I headed south.

Arrival at Arlie Beach.

By evening, the bus pulled into the bus station. Outside was a field with a row of booths lined up. Each booth represented a hostel in the town. I could have chosen the YHA representative, but instead, another booth looked more appealing. This was for the Oceania Backpacker's Resort, and I befriended its rep, who I found out was Ben. He took me, along with a couple of others from our bus, to his lovely setting.

I was the last in our small group to be served, and it looked to have been on purpose. Whilst the other backpackers were assigned beds in already-packed dormitories, instead, Ben offered me a choice. For a small increase in the fees, I could have a room for myself. I jumped at the opportunity.

Actually, what I was assigned was an empty dormitory with two or three other beds, all vacant. And Ben had kept his word with the fee increase. Throughout my four-night stay, nobody else entered to use any of the other beds. I had the whole room to myself throughout the stay. I also made use of the outdoor swimming pool. Then again, only at certain times. The pool was also the venue for a diving school to train novice divers and first graders.

Arlie Beach with its companion town of Cannonvale was far more touristy than Townsville. The beach itself consists of a 200-metre-long crescent of sand set between two promontaries. The one to the west of the beach is the base for the Coral Sea Marina, where boats for the Whitsunday Islands leave and arrive, along with boats for hire. The eastern headland houses the Boat Haven harbour, and the presence of what looks like an artificial beach (Boathaven Beach) facing north, and a building located on the "forehead" forming the "eye" gives the whole layout a resemblance to the open mouth of a ferocious beast when seen from the air or on Google Maps. 

Although Woody Island of the Low Isles was covered with mangrove trees, it was at Arlie Beach where I came face-to-face with a mangrove. This includes one of the beaches where mangrove trees grew out of the sea at the tidal zone. When the tide is out, the tree appears to be standing on its legs. When the tide is in, only the trunk appears above water, and on a king tide, some of the lower branches may also be submerged. 

Mangrove trees were, to me, the most fascinating variety of tropical vegetation I have ever seen. There were several species of mangrove. Further south, the River Brisbane had mangroves growing on its edge, but they looked different from those at Arlie Beach, as they were more stunted. Australia was the only country in the world where I saw mangroves. Along with the mangroves, Arlie Beach also boasted a bathing enclosure to keep swimmers safe from the stingers (Box Jellyfish). As with the one at Townsville, this one looked equally unconvincing.

Back at the hostel, I made dinner at the member's kitchen, then ate in the dining room. But it was afterwards when others gathered in the lounge and lively games room, where "I got unstuck."

Ben appeared, his hair still damp from a recent shower. Nearby was a vacant table tennis unit complete with ping pong and two bats. Ben was curious to give table tennis a shot, as he had not played the game before. I have and I offered him a game.

It was a challenging game for both of us, and we were neck-and-neck with the score. Ben looked delighted, as this was his first time (so he says) holding a tennis bat. However, I was pipped at the line, and it was he who won the game after nudging ahead. Like any good sportsman, I smiled and wished him well. But after that, I sauntered to my lonely bed, made a cup of tea, and sulked.

Arlie Beach Esplanade.

Stinger Protection Barrier, Arlie Beach.

I stand by a Mangrove Tree to give the scale.

I looked back at my sporting life. In school, I have always been a failure at sports, especially in games involving a ball. Squash may be the exception, as I have won a couple of games although lost on a majority of them. If there was any brightness in competitive sports, then it was in the form of cycling in the 1991 Swanage Triathlon, as recorded in Week 46 of this Biography.

But bad memories of school football and rugby returned as I sat on the bed. Memories of ostracisation by the team, and suffering bullying played on my mind. Years later, I still couldn't even beat a novice at table tennis. Here I was, on an independent Round-the-World journey, a person with incredibly good fortune in the realm of Travel, and going places where many would only dream about - sulking over losing a game to a novice. But that's not the end of it. Wait until I arrive at Coffs Harbour in New South Wales. I was close to tears after I was thrashed at the pool table. But why the emotion? More on that later. 

Perhaps you may think that winning or losing a casual game has little or no effect on the ego. I beg to differ. Maybe, had I won many contests and lost only a few, such reasoning might have some validity. But if, as with me, it's the other way round, then to lose a game, especially to a novice, is a bit like handling a scorpion. It has a sting in its tail. Fortunately, I was able to recover quickly. This is a great place to stay and I have the whole dorm to myself. But one of the main reasons why I chose Arlie Beach as a stop-on route to Sydney was to visit the Whitsunday Islands, an archipelago of continental Islands off the mainland coast. And I have already inquired about day trips out to these islands. One cruise offered snorkelling over the fringe reefs of one of the islands. Making a booking wasn't difficult.

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*For a read of my 1995 original encounter with James, click here

Next Week: A visit to Whitsunday Islands.

Travel Biography - Week 82.

Green Island and Holiday Tariff Comparison - 1997 and 2024.

Note: All pics posted here are my own, taken in 1997.

Before I detail my arrival at Townsville, I want to express my curiosity about a typical snorkelling trip from Cairns to Green Island, as well as the price comparison of the Australian leg of the RTW trip. This included the currency exchange rate as it stands now, that one Australian Dollar (AUD) is approximately equal to £0.52, or £1.00 is AUD 1.97 (Source, the Internet currency exchange website.)

Throughout this week, in an attempt to refresh memories of the 1997 experience for accurate blogging, I also noted some of the prices, especially of the Big Cat day tour to Green Island from Cairns, still operating at present. According to the Tripadvisor website, a day trip on the Big Cat today would set me back at least £64. That would be just over AUD 126. That compares with the AUD 20, give or take, I paid for the same catamaran trip in 1997, which would have been somewhere between £10 and £12. 

Whether the rise in price over the last 26 years was due purely to currency inflation, or whether the tour operator had deliberately and subtly pushed up their price as the demand for tourism rose, or a combination of both, I find this 600% rise over that period quite astonishing! Coming to think of it, a 600% inflation rate over 26 years is around 23% for each year, a phenomenal rise. I'm far more convinced that the operators pushed up the fare tariff under the growth of tourism. And here, I'm talking about the fare an individual would pay. How would an average family with teenagers fare?

In my day, the trip from Cairns-Port Douglas-Low Isles wouldn't have been much different. If I recall, somewhere in the region of 25-30 AUD covered the whole journey from Cairns to the Cay. According to Tripadvisor, the price at present just from Port Douglas is in the region of £80, or AUD 154.

And here is the advantage of staying at a backpacker's hostel over a hotel. The presence of a member's kitchen and the need to shop for groceries had a positive impact on the budget, especially for someone like me who was "living on a shoestring". The lack of privacy I might have felt while sleeping in a shared dormitory was a price worth paying. However, in 1997, the average night's stay at a hostel, whether it was YHA-affiliated or privately unaffiliated, would be in the region of AUD 18, or £9.36. Today, the Cairns YHA would set me back £63 a night, or AUD 124. In all, if I were to backpack just the Indo-Pacific Highway between Cairns and Sydney for forty days and nights at current prices, including hostel accommodation, food, and the two trips to the coral cays, the overall tariff wouldn't be far short of, £3,000. And that's without the cost of all the flights, food and accommodation in Singapore and California. In 1997, the entire RTW trip, including flights, cost me around £1,700.

The twin peaks of Castle Hill over Townsville.

Fountain at Townsville Esplanade.

Arrival at Townsville.

After I arrived in Townsville and found accommodation at a privately unaffiliated hostel, I explored the city. It's Queensland's second largest city after Brisbane. It had a less touristy and more industrial feel. Flinders Street, where the hostel was, had its usual supply of shops, banks and general commercialism. After Cairns and Port Douglas, whose economy was centred on the Great Barrier Reef tourism and a plethora of diving schools, I found Townsville a bit of an anticlimax, at least where wet activity goes. However, the city is backed by the 286-metre-high twin monoliths of Castle Hill. Thoughts about hiking up that hill, if such a trail existed, crossed my mind, yet without a proper reason, I never made it to the summit. One possibility was from where I was, near the esplanade, the hill looked far away.

The beach was a gently curving strip of sand that sloped with equal gentleness into the Coral Sea of the Pacific Ocean. However, every few metres, signs were warning us of the Box Jellyfish, apparently abundant in this part of the world. However, there was a thoroughly unconvincing bathing enclosure meant to protect swimmers from the stingers. By checking the beach on Google Maps, this enclosure had apparently since disappeared and the beach was modified to make it more attractive to tourists.

Therefore, I didn't bathe in the sea at all, and Townsville was the first of "the dry stops" where I didn't get wet except in the hostel shower. And that includes visiting the world's largest reef aquarium located at the east end of the esplanade, near the harbour.

The exterior of the aquarium featured a squat cylindrical tower, all with a modern, recently built look.  One afternoon, I paid for entry, and looking at the carefully managed coral reefs, the same species as found on the Reef itself, along with various species of coral-dwelling fish, made for a spectacular sight. In addition, a notice was posted and I read that Box Jellyfish thrived in the coral tank until around April, and then they died without any apparent reason. Scientists at the aquarium weren't able to give a reasonable cause for the stinger's mysterious death. Also included was a shark aquarium and other accommodations for different species of marine life. Furthermore, I must have visited during off-peak, as there weren't many people at the aquarium. 

Flinders Street, near my hostel.

Great Barrier Reef Aquarium, Townsville.

Again, by researching Google Maps and also Google Earth Pro, I saw that the original building was recently demolished, and a new aquarium was built next door to the original. This modern version, now known as the Reef Headquarters Aquarium, looked less imposing than its predecessor but probably houses more astonishing marine life. On the other side of the empty site, the Queensland Museum Tropics now stands where nothing of the kind existed in 1997.

I stayed three days in Townsville. Activities include a visit to the Great Barrier Reef Aquarium, and checking out the city. And poorly done too, as flowing past the back of the aquarium building, the River Ross flows constantly until it empties east of the city centre - a river I had failed to see. I suppose that is one of the downsides of independent travel. Unless there is someone to tell me, I could miss several interesting sites and not find out about them until a long time later. On the contrary, there were many interesting places worth visiting that I made an effort to visit by word of mouth. For example, Sea World, the Old Town, Little Italy, and Mission Beach, all in San Diego California. I became acquainted with those venues by socialising and making friends while I was staying at the HI AYH hostel two years earlier in 1995.

Magnetic Island.

I believe that visitors to Townsville arrive to use it as a base to explore Magnetic Island, so named in 1770 by Captain James Cook after the compass on his ship went awry as he sailed past. Despite the lack of any scientific evidence that the island has any unusual magnetic properties, the name stuck.

Ferries sail daily across 8km or five miles of water to Nelly Bay, on the southeast coast of the island. On the second morning at Townsville, I made my way to the harbour to board a ferry to the island's port, Nelly Bay, the terminus for both foot passenger boats, on which I was on board, and a car ferry. 

Magnetic Island is a continental island, a one-time area of high ground jutting out from the mainland when the sea level was lower. When the sea level rose to cover the coastal shelf, the land bridge was submerged. Yet, as with many continental islands fringing the eastern coast of Australia, coral reefs grow around these islands, and these corals are appropriately named Fringe Reefs. Had I known Magnetic Island better than I did on the day I set foot, chances were I might have snorkelled over one of the fringe reefs, especially those near Nelly Bay. Instead, a hiking trail led northward to a dramatic section of the coast, Radical Bay, along with the neighbouring sweeping curve of Horseshoe Bay. Looking inland across a wide valley, Mt Cook, the island's highest elevation, towering at 497 metres above sea level.

Hiking trail at Magnetic Island.

Remains of World War II Fort, Magnetic Island.

Radical Bay as seen from the Fort.

However, to enjoy such panoramic views, the trail led me up a hill, on which the remains of a World War II fort are approached. The fort was originally built as a lookout for any threats of a Japanese invasion.

From the fort, I carried on walking until I arrived at Radical Bay. After arrival, I saw broken coral scattered along the beach. It would have been easy, and tempting to pick up one or two of the coral skeletons to take home to grace the shelf. After all, I was alone at the beach with no one else around. However, I was aware that collecting such items was illegal, and I could end up in trouble if I was caught leaving the country carrying these pieces. Broken coral washed up and lying on the beach is government property. And so, I left them be.

It took a day for me to hike approximately five miles or 8km to Radical Bay from Port Nelly and then back to the harbour. The trail back took a different route, hence, I did not climb the hill to where the fort stood. Instead, I just followed the trail until it joined the road that would lead me safely to the harbour where a ferry awaits.

My experience on Magnetic Island was perhaps the loneliest hike I had ever completed. Throughout the day I had hardly met another soul. It was as if I was the only person on the island, a modern Robinson Crusoe for the day. How would I have compared Magnetic Island with the yardstick hike down into the Grand Canyon - the Hike of all hikes? Well, the Magnetic Island hiking trail was one-fourth the length of the Canyon's Bright Angel Trail, and far less strenuous. At Bright Angel, I couldn't help but pass one hiker after another on the first three miles leading to the start of Tonto Plateau, where the 3-mile rest stop makes a popular turnaround point. But along the Tonto Plateau itself, and into the Devil's Corkscrew, I had the trail to myself, right to the point of arrival at Phantom Ranch.

Horseshoe Bay, Magnetic Island.

Mt Cook, Magnetic Island.

By contrast, although the Magnetic Island hike was much shorter and easier to navigate, I didn't meet anyone. I would not be exaggerating if I were to say that as evening was beginning to draw near, I began to feel a little queasy until the ferry terminal came into view. 

Cooking a meal in the hostel's kitchen to round up the day was a pleasure. And then an evening stroll along the esplanade, at times looking up at the Milky Way streaking across the sky and dominated by the Southern Cross Constellation.

The next day was the final day before leaving Townsville for Arlie Beach with the nearby town of Cannonvale, and the gateway to the Whitsunday Islands.

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Next Week: As I travel to Arlie Beach, something astonishing happens!

Travel Biography - Week 81.

All the photos posted here are my own, taken in 1997.

I continue with my newly-found fascination with the Great Barrier Reef as indeed the highlight of the 1997 Round-the-World backpacking experience. After arriving in Singapore for a five-day rest stop, I then landed at Cairns Airport and found a suitable hostel, the YHA Cairns Esplanade. From there, I visited Green Island, a coral cay suitable for first-time visitors to the Reef.

After that, I took a Quicksilver catamaran to Port Douglas, a tropical resort further north along the coast. On that occasion, I remained on shore, exploring the town centre, swimming in the sea, and enjoying a free concert held at a green backing the palm-tree-lined esplanade.

Approaching Low Isle Coral Cay from Port Douglas.

Neighbouring Woody Island of the Low Isles.

The sailing to the Low Isles.

The next day, I boarded the same catamaran at Cairns Harbour for Port Douglas. After arriving there, it was easy to change boats at its harbour. I boarded a smaller catamaran for Low Isles, another cay, or key, on the northern Reef.

Unlike with the Big Cat to Green Island from Cairns, there was no prep-talk. But, like on the Big Cat, there was a kiosk where snorkels were hired out. Also, single-use underwater cameras were on sale, like the one I used at Green Island. Back at the table, I examined the camera I had just bought and noticed a scratch mark on the waterproof outer cover directly in front of the lens. Immediately, I returned the faulty item to the kiosk. The assistant looked embarrassed as if I rumbled his attempt to rid his stock of a substandard product. He quickly took it off me and gave me a replacement with no further ado.

After a thirty-minute sailing from Port Douglas, the boat moored just off the beach at Low Isle. The whole group alighted and waded across the short way to the beach. When we arrived, the tide was partially out, as by scrutinising the beach, I saw that during a high king tide, almost the entire beach was covered, the waves of the sea gently lapping at the tropical vegetation covering the island. It was on this beach where I swapped the black singlet I wore for the journey to a button-up shirt to protect my back from the sunshine.

I changed from the black singlet to a button-up.

Wearing the snorkel, I took to the water straight away. There was no initial hesitation like I felt at Green Island. Rather, I saw that the sea surrounding Low Isle was deeper than at Green Island. Thus, the corals grew taller, more densely populated, and generally a richer environment, making it more ideal for scuba diving. Furthermore, this particular region seemed unaffected by the Crown-of-Thorns starfish which devastated the areas around Green Island. As it was, there wasn't a square centimetre of bare rock seen anywhere!

The most common coral species I saw is known as the Acropora, a hard coral that plays a major role in reef-building. Acropora is a general name that applies to several subspecies. Such variants add variety to the reef that I find mind-blowing! Also, Stylophora and Seriatopora were spotted, as well as other species.

Whether I was unlucky or not, I saw very few free-swimming fish among the reefs. That was something disappointing, but I didn't allow any negative thinking to spoil such a rare, wonderful experience.

How long I remained partially submerged, taking photos of the spectacular seabed, I couldn't say, but it was long enough for a fellow snorkeller to approach me to remind me that for the last half-hour or so, lunch was served at the catamaran. So I joined him as we made our way to the boat, where on deck, what was left of the spread still remained. The buffet was free for the taking, as it was included in the price of the ticket.

There was enough food left over to adequately fill a plate. I then sat with the rest of the group on deck. I rested a little further to digest the meal before heading back into the water with some of the others. The fascination I had for the corals veiled any desire to explore the island. Low Isle is smaller in size than Green Island, and it has just one building, the lighthouse. Unlike at Green Island, there was no hotel or swimming pool, but the lushness of the vegetation covering the mound would have given a boardwalk, if there was one, an exceptional experience. However, instead, after lunch I returned to exploring the corals, this time the seafloor being further down from the surface, as the tide was rising.

By late afternoon, we were all summoned back to the catamaran for the sailing back to Port Douglas. With a single-use underwater full of undeveloped images, I felt elated. Once the boat had set on course, one of the staff members appeared on deck with a guitar. Sitting near the bow, he began to play and sing to a delighted and rested audience.

Example of Acropora Coral.

Another species of Acropora Coral. 

At Port Douglas, the Quicksilver catamaran was waiting for us to board to take us back to Cairns. After arriving safely back in Cairns, I went to the same photography shop I had called before to have the film in the waterproof camera developed. With the laid-back culture of Australia, chatting about where I went and what I did that day came easy. She seemed impressed with my adventures and happily agreed to have the film processed by the end of the hour. The result snapshots of Low Isle Reef are posted here. In the meantime, I returned to the hostel to cook dinner.

Later that evening, I was delighted with the underwater pics, and together with those of Green Island, I carefully packed them away in the rucksack pocket where they would be safe.

Preparing for the onward journey.

When I initially planned this holiday, I was wondering whether I could pattern Australian travel to that of the USA. Indeed, there were schemes laid out for the travelling backpacker, and while the air ticket was booked, I also bought the Australian version of the Ameripass (although it wasn't called Austrapass, or anything equivalent.) On sale were several bus passes. The full pass, covering the whole of Australia was quite expensive for a month's use. But a pass valid for a week or two weeks was available. However, a week, two-week or a month pass could be purchased that covered only the Indo-Pacific Highway along the east coast from Cairns to Sydney, perhaps as far as Melbourne. A month's bus pass for that particular highway was considerably cheaper, and I made sure my budget covered a full month.

A mix of Coral Species, Low Isle.

Stylophora Coral at the centre.

The beautiful white Acropore

It was the right choice I made. The strip on the east side of the Great Divide was the most interesting and the most attractive part of the whole landmass, except Ayers Rock, on the Outback which is bang in the middle of the island continent. If I had never met and married Alex, visiting Ayers Rock, locally known as Urulu, would have been on the cards during the proposed second Round-the-World trip for the year 2000.

Like in the States, Greyhound Australia is an Interstate bus service on which my travel pass was valid. I chose Townsville as my next stop. It's 347 km or 216 miles further south along the Queensland coast, and it's the gateway to Magnetic Island, called after the 18th Century Captain Cook's ship compass went awry while sailing past the island in 1770. A 6.5-hour bus journey provided the ideal overnight travel.

If the bus pass I held was valid for a month, how was it that I managed to stay in Australia for nearly six weeks? That wasn't difficult to work out. After arriving in Australia, I stayed in Cairns for five days and four nights. On the fifth day, after checking out of the hostel, I had my pass validated. However, I spent eleven days in Sydney (including a night spent in Katoomba) hence, after arriving in Sydney, I still had a couple of days' validity on my bus pass before leaving Australia for Los Angeles.

In Cairns, I only spent two full days in the city, the first day of arrival and the last day before leaving for Townsville. After checking out of the hostel, I made my way with the rucksack over my shoulders, to the Cairns Bus Station in the city. Sometime between one and two in the morning, the bus pulled out as I saw Cairns for the last time. And like with Singapore, my heart felt heavy. Looking back, For me, Cairns was the best stop I stayed at, not only in Australia but in the whole Round-the-World venture. The reason for that was simple. Cairns was not only the base city for the Great Barrier Reef, but it was one of the closest settlements to the Reef.

A boat crew member sings on his guitar.

In 1997, the entire Greyhound Bus fleet in Australia had all spanking new vehicles, and each bus was kept scrupulously clean. Therefore, unlike in the USA, eating food on board was strictly forbidden, regardless of the length of the journey. But like in the States, there were on-route service breaks where the bus stopped for maintenance, including the need to refuel, while we passengers were allowed to refresh ourselves in the station cafeteria. However, on the takeaway shelves, there were no appetising or tempting snacks to take back on board, but row after row of Polo mints, boiled sweets, and any other confection that doesn't melt in your hand. These were the only type of food allowed on the Australian Greyhound Bus.

Daylight broke as the bus neared Townsville. As always, the sky was clear from clouds as the sun rose from the horizon. Presently, Townsville came into view, and the city was made prominent by the presence of the twin granite monoliths of Castle Hill, rising 286 metres above sea level and giving a backing to the city skyline.

By the time I refreshed myself at the bus station, the nearby YHA hostel had woken up. However, much to my surprise, all the beds were already taken for the following night. I was left to look elsewhere. This wasn't the first time either, as I was told by the receptionist at Cairns that the YHA in Port Douglas was fully booked up. Indeed, I must have been fortunate to find a bed so easily after landing at Cairns. And so, the good old bed hunting method was underway as I searched for accommodation in Townsville. Furthermore, this wasn't the last time I was turned away from a YHA hostel in Australia.

Laden with the rucksack, I walked through the streets of Townsville. It was larger than Cairns and not as focused on the Reef as Cairns and Port Douglas were. Eventually, I came across what looked like a backpacker's hostel that was privately owned and not affiliated with YHA Australia or any other association.

I entered and approached the reception. Yes, there was a bed available. I accepted and made my way to the assigned dormitory. Removing the rucksack from my shoulders next to an unoccupied bed was a great relief.

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Next Week: The Townsville stop and a Ferry to Magnetic Island.