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.