Disclaimer: Unless I am having too much fun, the sun is shining or I am simply too drunk to care.
The last time we spoke (sort of) we had been thoroughly enjoying the hippy-go-lucky paradise of Byron Bay and were reluctant to leave, but it was onwards and upwards for these Greyhound Gap Yah’ers as we made our way to the beautifully named Rainbow Beach. We arrived in Rainbow Beach late in the afternoon, delighted in the knowledge that our room for the night was “free” as it had been included when we booked our Fraser Island trip. We spent some time chatting to people in our room who had just returned from Fraser Island and got the lowdown on all the essentials such as how much food was included (not enough), did they think we would need snacks (yes) and how much Goon did we need (lots)? We treated ourselves that evening to a $10 meal at the hostel, and despite Forrest’s best efforts to get me drunk by plying me with pitchers of Strongbow, I flat out refused to get involved with the organised drinking games such as Musical Chairs and Flip Cup. It turned out to be a wise decision indeed as it meant that the next morning I felt just about fresh enough to go for a much needed run along the beach as the day was dawning. The budget-conscious stodgy Gap Yah bread and pasta we had been consuming since we had been in Australia had been wreaking its delicious havoc and as I heaved my carbohydrate-laden body along the beautiful beach I realised that the delicious fruits and vegetables available in South East Asia (and Bangkok Belly!) couldn’t come soon enough as far as my waistline was concerned! I lurched back up to the hostel to wake Forrest and dragged him down to the beach where we took the opportunity to relax on the beach, which was rudely interrupted by a briefing meeting for our trip to Fraser Island. I am convinced that ‘briefing meetings’ are designed to shock, scare and scar Gap Yah’ers in to behaving in an appropriate manner and therefore ensuring the companies’ insurance remains intact. We spent almost two hours watching cheesy DVDs about the dangers of drink-driving and especially drink-driving on sand as images of burnt-out jeeps in the crashing waves flashed before our eyes. The briefing also included information on how to be ‘Dingo Safe’, and the advice included not leaving any food out where they would be able to get at it, especially in your tents, including anything that they might confuse with food such as toothpaste. I could see Forrest panicking about not being able to have a midnight snack in his tent in case a dingo could smell it and tore through the canvas to get to the steak. Fortunately I learnt that I was unable to drive because although I was over 21 and had a valid license I had been driving for less than two years – huge sigh of relief. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts, which included an orchestrated mugging in Buenos Aires to wipe out his driving license, Forrest was told that the copy of his paper license was enough and he would be able to drive. It was too late to transfer to another more stable jeep, so instead we took a trip to the supermarket to purchase 4 litres of Goon so I would be able to get drunk enough to not notice that Forrest was driving us in to the sea.
We reconvened the next morning in our groups to allocate the food for each jeep and there began our disgust at the food on offer. Day One seemed innocuous enough with cheese, ham and salad wraps for lunch, Day Two’s offerings became a whole lot less appetising with SALAD WRAPS and Day Three was the extremely disappointing and meagre offering of LEFTOVERS. With Forrest in our group it was highly unlikely that we would be eating anything at all on the third day. Before I go off on too much of a tangent about the pitiful amount of food we had been allocated, I must first of all tell you a little about the trip and the island itself: Fraser Island is the largest sand island in the world, surrounded by dangerous riptides and tiger sharks, and home to wild dingoes, huge guanas and beautiful lakes and rainforest, and a very popular Gap Yah destination for all of these reasons and more. Our tour was described as a ‘tag-a-long self-drive’, which meant that there was a lead jeep with a guide, but the rest of the group was divided up in to three other jeeps which those who could took turns in driving around the stunning but tricky terrain. In the jeep with Forrest and I were: Emma the Copper from Gateshead, Wannabe Geordie Corina from Yorkshire, Very Nice English Marcus, Practical Roman and Eike from Switzerland and Germany respectively and Charlie Bit Me from Jersey (who may or may not be distantly related to Forrest’s extended family) – all in all a very mixed but very good group.
Forrest was the first to drive and I spent the short journey from the hostel to the ferry gripping the seat in front of me in terror and being told off for being a backseat driver when I advised Forrest to drive carefully. Our first stop on Fraser Island was Lake McKenzie, a pristine turquoise fresh water lake in the middle of the island surrounded by white sandy beach. In between swimming, sunbathing and generally taking in the stunning surroundings we got to know our group a little better, and despite being somewhat overpowered by the group of eight LADS travelling together it was a promising start to what looked like three very fun days indeed. Our guide Murray then took us on a pretty rubbish rainforest walk, competing with the tour guide from the crypt in Lima for the title of ‘Worst Guide Ever’ as he mumbled something about the trees whilst walking ahead of the group smoking. Having learnt nothing at all, we piled back in to the jeeps and headed for camp. Tents were quickly allocated and set up and it wasn’t long before we were drinking Goon out of plastic cups watching the sunset from the beach. I somehow got roped in to helping with the cooking and I must say that my culinary abilities were not highlighted to their fullest, as we struggled to cook dinner for 28 people on 4 gas rings using frying pans intended for borrowers and frozen chicken. My patience wore pretty thin very quickly when we inundated with helpful comments from bystanders such as ‘you should have used a bigger pan’, normally a case of too many cooks spoil the broth however this meal was doomed from the word go and I ate my meagre portion of chicken stir fry with a side order of grumpy. The dinner debacle was quickly forgotten about with the consumption of huge amounts of Goon to compensate for the small portions of food, and unfortunately thanks to this the rest of the night is also forgotten. I’m pretty sure that we all had a fantastic night though, and luckily no one drank enough Goon to forget the horrors of the DVD warning us about swimming in the ocean and ending up in Bundaberg, although I think that New Yorker Julian might just have had enough to consider taking his chances.
We all woke with sore heads to the sound of Murray banging pots and pans, unfortunately not a sign of a full English being prepared but more punishment for being drunken louts. Realising that despite the fact we had all got along famously, it dawned on us that no one really knew any one’s names nor what had actually taken place the previous night, so the entire group was feeling rather sheepish as we tucked in to very dry toast and soggy cornflakes. The designated drivers smugly blew in to Murray’s breathalyser to show that they hadn’t overdone it the night before, unlike some people, while the rest of us tried to decide whether sick bags were going to be needed for the drive up to Indian Heads. The blustery drive up the length of the beach managed to shake off my Goonover, but poor Marcus was struggling and needed a little stop to regain his composure. Murray used the opportunity to get us all to dig for pippies to use for fishing bait later on, yes, the food situation was already that dire that we were having to use survival techniques. When satisfied that we had enough bait, and that no one was going to chunder everywah, we got back in to our jeeps for the last little part of the journey up to the tip of the island. The three jeeps in front of us set off, all eager to get there, but when Emma turned the key in our jeep nothing happened. Whilst flashing and beeping the car in front to get them to stop, we tried everything to get the jeep to start or at least make some kind of a noise to indicate that it wasn’t dead, but still nothing. And yes, for the last bloody time, she did have her foot on the brake! Murray proved to be as useless a mechanic as he was at the rainforest walk, and everyone waited around impatiently as he radioed back to the mainland for help. In true group fashion, everyone else got back in to their jeeps and left us stranded on the beach with a broken jeep and salad wraps, promising us that someone would come back to rescue us. We sat and waited as people zoomed past us honking their horns and laughing at our misfortune, whilst Roman and Eike argued about the cause of the malfunction – water damage or overheating? Luckily Murray did come back for us, along with one of the other cars, but before we abandoned our jeep optimistic Roman turned the key one last time and it miraculously started!
We re-joined the group at Indian Heads, the northern tip of the island, and tried to see if we could see any sharks lurking below, before heading to the Champagne Pools which were as lovely as they sound and the perfect remedy for the stress of breaking down. Driving back down the beach we had a quick stop at the rusted carcass of a shipwreck, which I would love to tell you more about but unfortunately can’t as Murray failed to tell us anything about it, but it did provide an interesting background for a group photograph. After a pitiful lunch of salad and ketchup wraps and a slight argument over the allocation of food between groups (our group of eight was up in arms because we had the same amount of food as a group of four, one of whom was vegetarian so had her own food anyway!) we explored the beautiful creeks that lead through the rainforest and down to the ocean. Stupidly we assumed that the creek would be the same depth all the way down, so began wading down in our clothes only to find that it of course got too deep, which meant wet shorts and soggy bottoms – a rather uncomfortable end to our tour of the island. I stayed well clear of the cooking that evening despite desperately wanting to give my five cents worth as payback for the harassment the previous night, and instead enjoyed my Goon on the beach surrounded by dingoes as the boys unsuccessfully used the pippies to fish with. Murray proved to be a better fisher than tour guide and caught a huge fish that he cooked up for us later on, and also proved his worth as Goon-lympic co-ordinator, with classic games such as ‘Retard Relay’, ‘Spinning Around Drunk’ and everyone’s favourite ‘Flip Cup’! An enjoyable evening took a turn for the worse when Julian proved for the second night running that American’s can’t handle their Goon and decided to pour his Fruitylexia over Murray’s steak. Not a wise move. After what I will simply call the ‘incident’, everyone became a little sombre and it wasn’t long before we took to our tents to escape the awkward atmosphere that ensued after Murray got a little bit angry.
Mood in camp was subdued the next morning after the ‘incident’, and we all packed up pretty quickly desperate to get to our final destination and away from the tainted site of the night’s disaster zone. We drove for 30 minutes or so, and then had a 20 minute walk through the rainforest and over sand dunes before we arrived at Lake Wabby. Not as picturesque as Lake McKenzie but still not too shabby a way to while away a few hours before we had to leave Fraser Island and back to the bigger island. As there were no leftovers for our lunch it didn’t take much to persuade Murray that we would all starve if we didn’t stop for food in the ‘town’, and we raced to the bakery like a pack of hungry dingoes to fill up on delicious baked goods such as pies and sausage rolls. It was a short drive back to the ferry, and we queued patiently in our jeeps waiting for our turn to drive on, but of course our jeep decided that that was the perfect opportunity to break down again! We all watched as the ferry left without us as we waited for a rescue truck to come across and tow us back to Rainbow Beach. The breakdowns added to the adventure element of the trip, but at that point being so close to a shower and hot food it was quite frustrating to be stranded on a desert island. We eventually made it back to Rainbow Beach in one piece, and celebrated not being eaten by dingoes on Fraser Island with cider and the worst cover band in the world who murdered every song ever written. We had met some great people, and made plans to meet up with the ones going north like us in Airlie Beach, before sinking in to our bunk beds, which seemed like Prestige Bed’s finest after two nights camping!
The following day was spent on the Greyhound, taking us from Rainbow Beach up to Harvey Bay where we whiled away a few hours waiting for the next bus which would magically transport us overnight to Airlie Beach, the gateway for the Whitsunday Islands. We arrived in Airlie on the most important day of our Gap Yah thus far…MY 24TH BIRTHDAY! Despite being a little weary after 10 hours on an overnight bus, we were in high spirits after playing the ‘birthday card’ and persuading the hostel to let us check in before the official 2pm check in. This meant Forrest could get a few more hours sleep and I could catch up with my friends in Vampire Diaries, Grey’s Anatomy, Gossip Girl and Glee! The perfect start to a HBO addict’s birthday! After he woke, Forrest had to pop out for a while to do ‘something’ and I feared that he had completely forgotten about my birthday in the excitement of Fraser Island and was rushing around desperately trying to find a suitable card and present! I needn’t have worried though, for there was a lovely little birthday surprise waiting for me when I got out of the shower, with balloons, cake and presents! My birthday presents from Forrest included a scuba dive on the Whitsundays, a photographic book of Fraser Island by Peter Lik (who we had been told about by one of the Canadians on the Inca Trail), a packet of Sour Skittles, Easy Mac ‘N’ Cheese, a bar of white chocolate and an extra surprise being brought out by La Famille Cross in a couple of weeks! I will keep you posted on this as it develops! In addition to all the lovely facebook messages and emails, I was also delighted to receive the information that my Clitheronian Gurlz (Sarah, Sophie and Chloe) had organised for us to go and see the superstar that is Katy Perry in October, something to look forward to when going Gap Yah cold turkey! We have big plans to dress up in various Katy Perry costumes, so any suggestions as to which I would look most fabulous in greatly appreciated!
By the time I had opened my presents, been made cry by Louis’ heartfelt birthday message (“I’m playing at Turf Moor tonight”) and performed my version of Katy Perry’s Californian Gurlz for Forrest (the lyrical genius that is ‘Clitheronian Gurlz’ which includes such gems as “Clitheronian Gurlz are unforgettable/ Harem pants and muffin top/ Pasty grey skin so cold we look like icicles/ Woahoaoh”) it was time for lunch so we headed out in to Airlie Beach in search of a meal fitting for a 24 year old. I got a sandwich and chips. Forrest, having been 24 for some time, was more adventurous and got a steak ‘Hot Rock’, which does exactly what it says on the tin… a very hot rock that cooks your steak in front of your very eyes to your liking. After a lovely lunch, we explored Airlie Beach which took the grand total of just under half an hour, and then went back to the hostel for a three-way skype with my family who proceeded to shout over each other, talk nonsense and generally create virtual chaos, just a normal birthday conversation in the Cross house then! We managed to skype with Jenny Dixon and Semily Watcrock and Godbean, which was the perfect way to spend a few birthday hours, before heading out for more food in town. I utilised the ‘birthday card’ one final time, persuading Forrest to watch a chick flick with me before bed, but the excitement of the day hit us almost immediately so I never did get to find out what was so Easy about A.
A lazy morning ensued as we organised our stuff for our 2 day sailing trip around the Whitsunday Islands, an archipelago of 74 islands on the Great Barrier Reef. Our boat, the Condor, had a crew of three; Skipper Dave and Deckhands Taylor and Rachael, and about 28 passengers, so there was little room to manoeuvre around either onboard or down below deck. Forrest and I scored a cabin, which we shared with a Swedish girl, rather than sleeping in the communal room with everyone else. We slowly motored out of port before Dave organised for the sails to be put up (please forgive my lack of nautical terms here) by anyone willing to help and proceeded to show us why Condor was such an award winning sailing boat. We zoomed through the turquoise waters at lots and lots of knots per hour, clinging on to the sides for dear life as we got to know our fellow sailors. Despite there being a lot of Frenchies on board with us, there were some nice people who seemed like they were up for a larf like us, and I was having a thoroughly good time already. As is often the case though when you’re having a nice time, the weather decides to spoil it, and it wasn’t long before we had been forced to don sexy yellow fisherman’s cagoules and were sat shivering as Dave sailed us to where we would anchor for the night. The conditions improved slightly and the rain stopped once we had stopped, but the choppy waters meant that the ship was rolling in the waves in such an aggressive and uncontrollable manner that there was little else to do other than sit still, stare at the horizon and attempt conversation while we waited for dinner. A few of us bravely endeavoured to have a drink, but as I slowly sipped my can of cider it quickly became clear that there would be no Goon-lympics that evening as simply standing was challenging enough. Dinner, although delicious, was a fiasco with bread and lettuce blowing everywhere and people struggling to hold their plates at the same time as maintaining enough balance as not to fall overboard (whilst sitting down). Suffice to say we all retired to our bunks pretty early in the hope that the following day would bring calmer waters.
If you have ever slept on a boat in rough waters, you will understand what I mean when I say that I cannot imagine that a baby in a crib enjoys being rocked to sleep. It is the most unnerving experience indeed, and I spent the majority of the night holding on to the side of the bunk for fear that I would end up on the floor, listening to a seasick Israeli girl sobbing, watching the moon appear and disappear through the window as the boat rolled and praying for morning to arrive, which of course it eventually did. Breakfast was no easier than dinner the previous night, and by this point I had given in to the fact that I was feeling terrible so was delighted to take the little motor boat over to Whitehaven Island despite the looming clouds above. Our picture perfect Whitehaven Beach moment was somewhat spoiled by the ridiculously heavy rain which decided to join us, but there was no point sulking about it so whilst others cowered under trees we bravely stepped in to our stinger suits and on to the beach, where we waded in the shallows beside little lemon sharks and stingrays. Our optimistic attitude paid off and we were rewarded with a spot of sunshine where we were able to see just what is so special about Whitehaven, with its 99% silica white sands, turquoise waters and rainforest backdrop. It wasn’t long however before the skies turned angry and we watched in horror as the rains descended over us and we made our way back to Condor. Happily we set sail again and Condor’s magnificence glided us to more serene waters for lunch and snorkelling. It was now time for our scuba dive and we were picked up from Condor by the Skipper of our dive boat, Keith, who took us to meet Michelle who would take us on our introductory dive. After signing our lives away with a health and safety liability form, we went through the safety briefing and hand signals before being kitted out with scuba gear. Forrest and I were the second group going and while we were waiting for the first group to get ready, Keith threw some bread in to the water to show us some huge beautiful Bat Fish go crazy for it, which got us excited about the marine life we would encounter on our dive. We waited patiently on the beach playing Spice Coral (a fun game invented by yours truly where we found pieces of dead coral resembling the Spice Girls) until Michelle came back for us. We practised clearing our masks, removing our breathing apparatus and going over the hand signals in the shallow water off the beach before we set off on what was an incredible thirty minutes under water. The visibility wasn’t amazing, but to be under water and surrounded by fish is truly an ‘out of this world’ experience and definitely one of the highlights of the trip so far. We saw all sorts of different fish and beautiful coral and Michelle even saw a reef shark but by the time she had gone through the hand signals for shark (hand over head to signal shark fin) it had shyly darted away, terrified of Forrest in his stinger suit! As we were climbing back on to the dive boat, exhilarated from the experience, I saw a fin glide out of the water and proclaimed that I had seen a shark. Keith rubbished my claims, saying that it would have just been a big Bat Fish on the surface of the water, but then it surfaced again and was in fact a dolphin! An amazing end to a breathtaking experience.
That night we moored in completely still waters, so everyone was in much higher spirits and even the seasick Israeli managed to crack a smile. We caught up with any drinking missed the night before, listened to music and played games until the late hour of 11pm. A few people chose to sleep on deck under the stars, but I didn’t trust the weather to hold out as it had proved to be nothing but untrustworthy and mean until that point so happily retired to our cabin and took pleasure in sleeping through the night this time. A refreshing early morning snorkel combined with jumping off the boat was an excellent start to the day before we experienced the Condor’s sailing prowess one last time. It was easy to see why she is named Condor as we soared through the waves with as much speed and elegance as the great birds we had seen in Colca Canyon. Confident that I was now an experienced sailor after my time on board Condor, I volunteered to help bring her in to port. My role was simple; throw the rope to a man on the jetty. It didn’t matter if he didn’t catch it, just as long as it didn’t land in the water. Easy. I assertively waited at the back of the boat as we glided up to the jetty and was given my instructions to throw the rope. I used all my strength to throw the rope (it was pretty heavy) the meter to the guy waiting with open arms, and confidently watched as the rope flew through the air towards the man, before it landed with a splash in the water about a centimetre away from where I stood on the boat. Embarrassing. I couldn’t get away from the jeering quick enough and practically sprinted away from Condor and straight in to a sandwich shop to drown my embarrassment in carbohydrates. We snuck (sneaked?) back in to our hostel for showers while we waited for yet another night bus (I’m sorry, I know you must be just as tired reading those words as I am writing them) which would take us to TRINITY BEACH!
In typical disorganised fashion we had failed to let any of our friends know that we were even on our way to see them, let alone pulling in to Cairns at the very unsociable hour of 6am. Luckily, through the ever reliable medium of Facebook we managed to get hold of Karen, who in turn got in touch with Gordy, who eventually rang us on one of our two sim cards, neither of which had credit to call out. Between us we hashed together a sort of plan which relied on my memory and ability to get us from Cairns town centre to Karen’s in Trinity Beach, where we would be staying. Despite living there for 5 months there was a little bit of a tense moment when we got off the bus and I had a complete memory blank. I had absolutely no idea what Karen’s street was called or where it was located, but with just a little bit of wandering (always a laugh after no sleep and carrying heavy bags) I eventually got us to the right place, where Karen was delighted to be woken so early by her long lost UK buddy. After a quick catch up on the five years that had passed since we had last seen each other, we wandered back down towards the beach to L’Unico to meet Gordy for coffee. Gordy was as wonderfully chaotic as ever, wearing one black flipflop and one brown flipflop, insisting on cooking us a roast lamb pizza for breakfast (delicious!) and telling us all about the wonders of fatherhood (“brutal, just brutal”). Gordy then went to pick up his youngest daughter, 3 year old Lena Poppy, who was very cute and very shy, and took us all to Smithfield for food shopping, and then round to his to see Natalie, Elliott and Nadia. It was a delight to see Nadia again, who is now five, and she seems to have fully recovered from Dad throwing her in the fish pond in LA when she was a baby. Both Lena and Nadia are ridiculously cute with very blonde hair – it is pretty difficult to see that they are Gordy’s children, thank goodness for Natalie! Gord then plonked us back at Karen’s where we proceeded to lap up the luxury of having our own living space, and cooked a beautiful seafood risotto and then read our books in silence until Karen came home from work and pronounced us a boring married couple.
The next day was the day that Forrest had been dreading since November last year – BUNGEE JUMP DAY! Gordy and the girls picked us up from Karen’s and took us up to AJ Hackett Bungee, where Forrest was going to be throwing himself off a 50m tower. There was some slight procrastination on his part as he conveniently stubbed his toe walking up from the car park, and then had to drink at least two beers to work up the courage to climb the stairs of the tower. As Forrest mentally prepared himself, I watched with amusement at Gordy’s parental prowess as he danced with the girls in the middle of the bar whilst singing Wiggles songs, paraded up and down doing ‘Australia’s Next Top Model’ and played a judge on ‘Got To Dance’. By this point Nadia was thoroughly embarrassed at her daddy’s antics in public and looked as though she was ready to follow Forrest up the tower to jump. I warned her that this would be the case for the rest of her life if he had taken any form of parenting tips from my dad! Forrest was eventually ready for the ascent up to the top of the tower, and we prepared ourselves for another long wait as he joined the queue at the top. Luckily for us, but no so luckily for Forrest, his turn came almost immediately and we waited with anticipation as he shuffled nervously towards the edge. The dutch courage paid off and he didn’t hesitate when jumping (unlike my previous experiences where I took almost 20 minutes to jump) however his bungee style left little to be desired. Less soaring eagle, more toddler jumping in to a swimming pool, he got a little confused and jumped feet first rather than a head first dive. Despite this, the freefalling effect was still the same and I was very proud that he had conquered his fear. Overall, a great birthday present from yours truly. The five of us then went to Cairns Tropical Zoo where Lena and Nadia showed us how to feed the kangaroos and we witnessed the world’s worst crocodile show when the star of the show had a bit of a tussle with a rope designed to entice it out of the water before refusing to even lift his head out, whilst the stupid incompetent keeper answered such informative questions from the crowd such as “is it true that you should never smile at a crocodile?”! Steve Irwin he was not, and we left the zoo feeling pretty disheartened with Australia’s wildlife. The kangaroos chilling in the field next to Gordy’s house had been much more exciting! Nevertheless, great to spend the day with Gord and his girls however exhausting, and we happily settled back on the sofa with our books – for anyone who is interested we have been reading Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy and as you can tell thoroughly enjoying them!
I met up with a good friend Ra the following morning for coffee, and was introduced to her little bundle of gorgeousness Claire! Forrest and I then spent the majority of Sunday just chilling on the beautiful Trinity Beach (reading!) before we were treated to dinner at L’Unico by the extremely generous Gordon. Delicious pizza and pasta as ever! We then headed back to play a quick game of Trivial Pursuit with Karen and Lauren before Forrest abandoned Girl Time in favour of football with the LADS round at Aldo’s until the wee hours of the morning. Despite his late night, I somehow managed to drag Forrest out of bed and into the car on loan to us by Gordy and we set off north along the Captain Cook Highway towards Cape Tribulation, where the rainforest meets the reef. The fact that they drive on the left side of the road in Australia did nothing to improve my confidence in driving, but I slowly and surely got us there in one piece. There was a slight awkward moment when I attempted a speed bump in 4th gear thinking I was in 2nd, but other than that I think I did a splendid job. The cars driving behind may think differently but better safe than sorry is my motto, especially as I wasn’t entirely sure that I had the correct license or was insured to be driving in the first place. We stopped off at Mossman Gorge along the way, which was a little disappointing, before stopping for lunch in the Daintree where we ate our meal next to some tiny crocodiles and parrots (normal size). We then headed to a beautiful abandoned beach where we read (obviously) and napped with one eye open for fear of salties sneaking up on us and stealing our books. It was a long drive back to Cairns, in the dark, along very windy roads, and I encountered more than one angry beeping car overtaking me, but I remained cool and collected even when some Australian marsupial thingy decided to play chicken in the road. Sort of. No reading on the sofa that night as it was straight to bed for our early start the next morning…
Our much anticipated trip out to the Great Barrier Reef took place the next day, and at 7am we were on the bus with plenty of time to get to Cairns’ Reef Fleet Terminal for the boat leaving at 8:30. We hadn’t quite anticipated that the bus would stop at every stop to pick up high-schoolers, and that there would be a bit of a walk to the pier, but still we were surprised to be told, with some astonishment at our stupidity, that the boat had left at 8am. We had literally missed the boat. Luckily they allowed us to rearrange so all was not lost, and we did some Gap Yah chores and present buying in Cairns Central before heading back to Trinity Beach. Desperately trying to fight of the stigma that we had somehow received of being boring just wanting to read all the time and go to bed early, we went down to L’Unico where we were treated to countless margaritas a la Stu, who was drunk enough to be generous, followed by a drunken midnight feast of bangers and mash with Karen. Wednesday was Karen’s day off, so I ignored the tequila-induced pounding in my head and dragged myself down to the beach with her (hardly a chore!) for a few hours before I went for my birthday present from Gordy – a very much needed haircut! There was a slightly embarrassing situation in the hairdressers when it took him quite a long time to brush through the matted dreadlocks at the back of my hair, but I eventually emerged with sleek and shiny new hair in perfect timing for an exquisite meal at Blue Moon with Karen. After a delicious meal we three headed over to Aldo’s to join him, Tom and Gordon to watch some stupid violent State of Origin rugby league match, and somehow although we were absolutely exhausted got our second wind and stayed up late chatting with Aldo and Tom over a pitiful selection of nibbles supplied by Aldo’s kitchen which consisted of condiments and liquid refreshment. A lovely lovely evening overall.
I somehow got roped in to babysitting Lena Poppy on Thursday morning, whilst her daddy chilled at L’Unico with a coffee. I was an excellent Nanny McBea, playing with her on the playground, building sandcastles and collecting shells. The rest of Thursday was much of a nothingness so I wont take up your time with details of our reading, catching up with the world wide web and blogging, needless to say it wouldn’t be very entertaining for you but we do enjoy a day of nothing cozied in between days of Gap Yahing. Determined to make the boat this time, we had arranged for Gordy to take us in to Cairns the next morning so that we didn’t have to mess about with the bus, and were ready and waiting for him when he surprised us by showing up early! We were going out to the Reef with Passions Of Paradise, with a name like that I was sure that we wouldn’t be disappointed. We managed to sneak on to the hanging trampoline things at the front of the boat for the ride out to Michelman Cay, where we kept one eye on our books and one eye on the ocean in the hopes that we would see a migrating whale, but we did not. Michelman Cay loomed out of nowhere, a tiny sandy island in the Big Blue covered in birds and consequently bird poo, and we were dropped off there with instructions to snorkel back to the boat at a leisurely pace. The visibility was astounding and the coral and the marine life were simply stunning and almost too clear to be real life rather than a nature documentary, like Louis said when he was a baby snorkelling at the Reef; “how do they make the fish look so real”! Back on the boat we headed further out to the Outer Reef where we had lunch and did some more snorkelling, which was even more incredible due to the depth of the water. We didn’t find Nemo, but we did see plenty of Dory’s and Gill’s knocking about at the Drop Off, probably trying to find Nemo too!
Our last evening in Australia (and some might say civilisation) was spent at L’Unico with Gordy, Natalie, Nadia and Lena, followed by a drink with Aldo when he finished work. We had a lovely meal and Forrest got to try oysters for the first time, but the highlight was repaying some of the kindness shown to us by Gordy as we doled out gifts. For Gord and Nat we got seasons one and two of the brilliant comedy ‘Outnumbered’, mainly to show them that there are other crazy chaotic families out there too and a framed photograph of Nadia and Lena; for Nadia Roma, Enid Blyton’s ‘Magic Faraway Tree’ and for Lena Poppy ‘The Tales of Beatrix Potter’. And because books are rubbish presents for little girls, we also got them the more exciting ‘British Sweet Shop’, filled with classic Bassetts sweets, although Nadia declared the milk bottles to be ‘super yuk’ so not quite as successful as we’d hoped! Obviously a few presents can’t repay the kindness and generosity shown to us by the Keans and Karen, so we also made them promise to come and visit us in London so we can return their hospitality. After a quick drink with Aldo we headed back to Karen’s for an earlyish night, followed by a delicious breakfast at Blue Moon before Gord drove us to the airport. I was sad to leave, not knowing the next time we would see everyone, but also ridiculously excited for the Asian leg of our Gap Yah adventure, same same but different.
Forrest’s Final Thought…
The general advice given to eco-conscious Gap Yah’ers whilst embarking on lengthy world tours is to “take only photographs, and leave only footprints.” And whilst myself and the little one have endeavoured to stay true to this advice throughout our travels, it’s becoming ever-more apparent that leaving footprints is ironically the biggest problem of all. Now whilst I know all of you must now be thinking of my big clumsy feet wreaking havoc on delicate eco-systems worldwide, it’s not my footprints I’m talking about, nor Bea’s, nor anyone else’s for that matter; the footprints I talk of are carbon ones.
The continent of South America is huge, just to give you an idea, Brazil is 65 times larger than England! And Australia isn’t exactly small either, coming in at 60 times larger than England. As many of you keen GYC readers will already know, we have covered a huge amount of distance on this trip, and it could be argued in a relatively short amount of time. However, although these vast distances will inevitably use air miles, it does not really excuse the amount of flights and subsequent air miles we’ve racked up thus far. I’m embarrassed to say, being a bit of eco-warrior myself, albeit a hugely hypocritical one (friends at university will remember me berating them for not turning off lights on the way to take a three and half hour shower) that thus far we have managed to embark upon 13 flights thus far on out Gap Yah adventure! THIRTEEN!
My fellow eco-warriors will be shocked, shocked and aghast I tell you! And therefore I have already made the decision that upon our return to the UK we will atone! A few carbon calculations show us that our combined carbon footprint just for the flights we’ve taken on this trip thus far is 18.78 tonnes of CO2. The worldwide target to combat climate change, including household emissions, flights, cars, motorbikes, buses and trains (and let’s not forget secondary emissions!) is 2 tonnes per year.
In the words of Homer Simpson “UH-OH SPAGHETTIO!”
In order to atone for our CO2 sins I have worked out, with a little help from carbonfootprint.com, that if we plant 380 maple trees, assuming that they all manage to grow to full size, it will take a mere 50 years to absorb the amount of carbon we have released into the atmosphere... Santa, this year for Christmas I would like a bucket and spade, and 20 acres of arable land.
No comments:
Post a Comment