That’s a wrap

 A very simple series of events got us back home with no stress. Up early, pack the bags, tidy the abode, give the bags to the bag girl who arrived as we were leaving, and buggied down to Bob’s as threatened for coffee and a couple of chicken wraps for the plane ride home.

Having a few minutes free, we ran the buggy over the hill one more time and conjured a mission to get a colourful snap a tree we’d noticed a couple of days earlier.

The wait at the airport was long enough to get hungry again and so we wrapped our choppers around the wraps before boarding and we thus satisfied enough on the 3 hour journey not to have to spend any dosh on their limited offerings.

Arriving in Melbourne to a colourless cloudy day was a bit of a letdown, We did learn though that taxis have special access to lanes on the freeway and thus the trip home was faster and cheaper than Uber. Being greeted at home by Offspring No.1 and the pooch was enough to lift anyone’s spirits.

In order wrap up the blog (not the chicken) – here are the answers to the intriguing items spuriously posed upon arrival to the island:

Why no cars?  - So someone can make a bucket load of money from the 900 carts on the island. They pay for themselves in 12 weeks. After that it’s simply a river of money flowing in.
Why is everyone so happy? - Balls
Why is the grass greener down south? – it’s the dry season here. The only really green grass is watered frequently.
How does that Cockatoo fly with so little feathers? – it’s his daytime begging suit. Puts on his bomber jacket to go out with his mates for the evening.
Currawongs auditioning for scary movies? - they are naturals for the part as they evil, sneaky, viscous and daring. It will not take too much to turn them into flocks of co-ordinated killers. Watch out when the revolution comes - they'll be leading the charge.
Are the wallabies really native? - not to island, however who would dare suggest they can't stay as they are sooo cute.
Why build a yacht club that can replicate scenes from the Titanic? - because money speaks louder than words and when you have unlimited at your disposal you can metaphorically yell really really loudly. 

So farewell HI and thank you HIE for running the place so well. We’ll be back (actually already booked we are that keen)

 

 

 

Cockatoos and Cocktails

Last full day of this particular chapter was exactly as one would hope it to be. Now that are we are long term residents of the island, we know exactly what to do, why we want to do it, when to do it, how to do it, who we need to manipulate to do it, who we have to pay to do it and who we need to politely ask in order to get it done (which pretty much covers all the previously stated criteria). Upon awakening to the abundant sensual overload which is the dawn bringing the day to the water bottomed, hill lined, fluffy cloud topped valley that is our bedroom view this blogger realised that the missing reading glasses from the previous nights adventures are probably lying on the ground when the buggy was parked before leaving for dinner. Leaping out of bed, into whatever clothes were within reach and opening the door to look down and see the aforementioned specs, lying on the driveway – exactly where the epiphany had said they would be. We are second story up, so a quick couple of loops down the concrete stairwells, just as a buggy went past. Timing is the art of comedy and so as the blogger was thinking, that buggy is gunna do a loop and come back, he steps out on the driveway and yells out “stop” whist throwing up his hands in the universally recognised road sign to do so. Driver swerves and stops…. Split seconds after the crunch sound.

“What”? asks the driver. “Never mind” is the forlorn reply “you may as well move forward”. And so she does. Second crunch sound as the rear wheel traverses the specs. As the tangled mess is lifted from the concrete all we hear is “sorry I didn’t see them”. Should’ve gone to SpecSavers. Ha bloody Ha – that’s where they came from in the first place. Anyway – it says something that this prose is being composed using the same goggles – maybe a bit skewwhiff yet still functional…Bloggable at least.

Making the most of our aforementioned knowhow we got coffees from the Koala folks and then bullied our way into getting a cat to do a spot of sailing, afterwards taking to the kayaks to do a spot of turtle spotting. No luck there – it must’ve moved on. Wildlife does seem to be fickle when it comes to wanting to spot it spontaneously. After the obligatory foot wash when existing the beach, it was back in the buggy and off to Bobs on Front Street for some well-earned vitals. We have decided that Bobs on the plane tomorrow will be the go, so beware Bob – we will be back to Bobs.

The afternoon was the inevitable wind down, siestas and a dip for one, another slow TV vid capture for the other as the minutes ticked by into whiled-away hours. We were very happy as were consuming our pre dinner aperitifs on the balcony that our friend from yesterday dropped in. Obviously the spa treatment we had recommended had done wonders for his overall health and wellbeing. Essential oils combined with rejuvenating sessions will do that, even for cockatoos apparently.

Our last night’s pre planned activity was a fine dining experience at the Yacht club, being early we found a slot on the same balcony that we precariously perched on when we first arrived, now that we are long term residents on the Island we knew exactly how to land a seat and celebrate a fabulous adventure with a couple of fancy shamancy cocktails before heading inside.

This building is an architecture and engineering marvel. The more you look, the more you uncover and thus appreciate. A specific highlight is the way they have entombed their local hero (Wild Oats XI) into the building. Its butt is exposed to all and sundry in the foyer and its nose extrudes outwards over the marina, forever a reminder for generations to come that not only was a great destiny created here, it was done with much sweat, toil, aplomb and most of all - shite load of buckazoids.

Inside the restaurant we were duly greeted and thus seated in a fab upper terrace seat and got watch watch the fading light of the western horizon shine off the balding heads off the front seat row below us. Our waiter was an experienced upper class snob dinner officiator who was very entertaining and had moves not seen ever in fine dining (like I have experience here ?!) however the blind turns as he pirouetted around the table whilst delivering water to the glasses holding the bottle from unconventional angles seemed to be practiced moves like something from the movie Cocktail. His wine buff skills or his delivery movement skills may get him a part. The moustache wont.

A great finale to great adventure. This is the place to relax, take it easy and enjoy life., Tomorrow there may be a wrap up, but that’s about it for now. And a final pic just to show off what the view going to sleep is like: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peaking over the passage

The significant natural landscape feature of the island is known as Passage Peak. it defines the easterly views we have have consumed over the last week or so and so today was the day to conquer it - why? because it is there (and it looks like a mountain). When? Today - because we have massages booked afterwards which will alleviate the stresses and strains of our weary limbs. Well that was the plan anyway. 

The hike up was hot in the lee of the consistent sou-easterly created by the hills we traversed. The path has recently been remade which made the trek possible (looking at the old paths we cris-crossed it must have used to be a real mountaineering adventure). Well crafted and manufactured signs showed us the way - interesting typo on one of them (meters to go) makes one think their quality control is lacking a bit. The views on the path were quite often superior to the views off the path (which is saying something). Hundreds of newly minted steps led up up a switchback track that eventually got us to the top of the peak to expose the awesome 360 degree panorama of a significant section of the Whitsundays group. 

Loitering around the newly crafted platform whilst the fierce wind blew away the sweat and toil from the trek was an opportunity to take it all in. We even had an eagle drift on by through her circumference of the island. After taking plenty of snaps the trek down was undertaken. Given shonky knees and aching muscles the flippant advise of the jovial jogger who passed us early on the way up as he was bounding down "it's much easier going down that up" was quickly dismissed as an uneducated anecdote from someone who has a lot to learn in life.

Stumbling back to the flats - the buggy (ne: cart) was a godsend and well worth the exorbitant fees just for this trip alone - along the hotel adorned foreshore, over the tree lined hill and down to Bobs for our very delayed caffeine hit and accompanying snacks under the shade of coconut palm trees on the harbor lawn . Now we are long term residents of the island we are well versed in the behaviors of chip packet stealing Currawongs and needed to educate one lady who gave up trying to save the parcel (by eventually getting it off the thief and putting it in the bin) and the hapless new arrivals who had left it in their buggy for the taking in the first place. As we later drove past, it was good to see the bird was back in buggy eyeing off how to destroy the whole shopping bag in order to get to the next packet. heh heh - everyone learns a lesson.

Cat's Eye beach was too inviting it ignore, so buggy-ed back down there. Now that we are long term residents of the island we know how to create our own parking spots and we were promptly on the beach - washing away the stresses of the mornings adventures in the sand filled wash of the high tide. Cat's came and went, given the lack of skills of some of the crews it's surprising we didn't see a cat capsize.  Pity - spent all that time waiting to see them fail only to see them all eventually sort it out and off they went. Dry. No chance to point and laugh. Obviously this fascination the world seems to have with scornful laughter at other peoples misjudged misfortunes is just a wasted exercise. So one SUPped a bit the other kayaked a bit and said hello to a large Green Sea Turtle whilst doing so. 

Back up to the abode we whiled away a couple of hours soaking in the viewy ambiance and then headed back down through the palm defined canopy's for the planned activity for the day. The local spa was literally reeking in aromatic vibes as we were ushered into the soothing rooms of peaceful tranquility. Luckily the ride-on lawnmower outside quickly faded into the distance as we were rubbed and scrubbed in blissful tranquility. Only obtained if we did the mandatory three deep breaths as we started of course. The unstated challenge in these situations is to stay awake. Not much point paying hundreds of backazoids just to sleep through the whole thing - we do that every night without paying for it - so the first snifter of snore - wake up! even if the jerk startles the masseur , who then in turn knocks over a flask of incredibly expensive perfumed oils.. smashes on the ground and the tranquility is subsequently broken by the need to bandage bleeding bare feet. .. ahhhh one wishes that happened - just so it could be put in the blog. Alas.... it didn't. Blogger just stayed awake, Non-Blogger can't remember. The days previous activities (lets work out the legs and then get them massaged) was a plan that also didn't come to pass because legs were not on the booked agenda. Backs were and then it was flip over and lets have some intensive activity on the face shall we. Hot steam towels, wipe on oil (assuming essential), wipe off, tissue soaking, hot steam towel, wipe on oil etc etc. repeat umpteen times and there you have it. you've been rubbed. Well actually the rubbing happens when you pay in order to exit the joint. Can't complain though - considering yesterday was bookended by celestial events it's only appropriate that we spend dosh on the "celestial healing" properties of ground amethyst based face creams - may your face shine like the full moon (except when there's an eclipse - that color would be a tad awkward).

Afterwards the valley balcony vista was attempted to be captured by the blogger as a slow TV experiment. The ideas was to capture the flock of cockatoos which own the skies of these parts - performing their high-jinks, social interactions and crowd behaviors. Seems they are camera shy though as the few that did flit around (performing very impressive 720 degree dive rolls) did it outside the camera shot. In the end the dude who was fit and healthy week ago and decided to have a go at the moisturiser returned. Looking for more. We didn't give him any.

Afterwards, we headed back down to the Italian joint to experience their chiefs outputs once again and once again they were fantastic. To get a table overlooking the harbor and sunset and be offered the full menu - you need to book months in advance (which is why the astute people in the world have a travel agent as a partner). Now we are long term residents of the island we know all you need to do is rock up early and get a table out on the street and get the best that the chef has to offer anyway. Had a delightful meal (again) and would (again) classify the dish as one of the best ever consumed.

And so with the flocks of bats circling overhead in the deepening blue sky we quietly headed up the hill in the buggy wishing all and sundry a quiet night sleep. 

 

Celestial events bookending the day

Up at 4:30am to capture the dawn from One Tree Hill was a different way to start the day. It’s surprising how many people are out and about at this time. At least 3 of us silently watched the sun burst from a cloud bank on the distant horizon, framing Passage Peak and Cats Eye bay with a cacophony of colours.

Suspect the place has performed far more spectacular morning shows in the past and will again in the future. We’ll take what we are served though and be happy for it. Buggying back down the steep hill and sliding back into bed made the whole expedition worthwhile, waking a couple of hours later to see the HobieCats sliding over the waters was inspiration enough to hop down there and give it a go ourselves. After grabbing the inevitable coffee on the way we thus spent a lazy hour or so plying the waves, tacking and jibing without dislodging any heads this time. Spending time out there with a Green Sea Turtle was also a little bit spesh.

Splashing around in the resort pool (swim up bar not open yet) with all the other people in the locale was a nice way to cool down after the sailing hijinks. Having a couple of hours to kill – we could’ve gone for a healthy walk but chose instead to lounge around the apartment in preparation for the next adventure. This involved another boat/ferry over to Dent Island for a salubrious lunch in the golf course clubhouse.

The only thing on this particular island is the golf course and is one of the reasons why so many people come to HI at all. It is a championship course, defined by the topography of a significant chunk of the Island. The ferry goes back and forth hourly, there are mini busses on the other side to get all and sundry up to the clubhouse where the golfers mount their carts to do their rounds, restaurant diners take in the fabulous views whilst consuming delicious grub and wedding guests sit around, eating, drinking and taking photos of themselves looking the best they’re ever going to get.

We had a glorious lunch (way over the top in both calories and costs – but what a great experience!) and then got a tour of the course – which involved zipping around in our own carts – all in a row led by the oncourse professional who must have arguably one of the best jobs in the world.

It would not be possible to walk this course playing the game as there are significant distances between holes and a narrow, winding, hilly one-way concrete road connecting them all. This was golf carting to extremes – seems a bit strange that they ply us with alcohol and then let us scoot around the treacherous tracks with great abandon. Pretty good fun and the views are simply stupendous. Will play golf here one day, however when questioning the Pro he said they have sold a million balls since the course opened. That’s a lot of balls. And not surprising – this blogger would lose at least a couple a hole as there is no forgiveness here – It’s either hit it straight or say goodbye to it. Putting that one on the bucket list we bussed back down to the ferry and enjoyed the 10 minute crossing back to the main island with a boat load of happy guests, all so because they had all seemed to achieve their various aims of going there in the first place, mostly to do with balls. Even the wedding party.

Back to the accommodation, the lunch consumption caught up with us and we crashed out for the afternoon siesta (again!) – had a dip in local pool to wake up and then sat on the balcony watching the full moon rise over the distant hills that define the other side of the passage and the bay. Buggying into town to collect Fish & Chips for dinner and returned to balcony to watch the eclipse and the blood reddying of the moon. A very spectacular end to the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

an Amazing day

The days activities were less frantic than previous ones. This is partially due to having done it all already as well as recognising that being on holidays doesn’t necessarily mean being on the go all the time. Unless of course one is in (say) Europe where the opportunities to experience unique and interesting things is boundless and can only be curtailed by one’s ability and energy to do so. Here on H.I. one finds oneself realising that one can actually sleep-in for hours and no one will notice or indeed care. Ahh... to drift awake in the wee small hours to the sweat sounds of the distance waves, wind through the palm trees, to slowly open the eye’s to suss out the view to if see if the dawn is worth getting up for, decide it isn’t and to roll over back into blissful slumber…..and then to later realise the sounds of tearing aluminium foil is the result of a thieving Currawong trying to steal the scraps from last nights BBQ, from under the grill. Well may you try to sleep in, but the wildlife never does.

There are of course different wildlife in different circumstances, those that are caged and on show for the early morning coffee consumers at our now local cafe’ haunt were this morning very much under the influence of intoxicating slumber. So whilst Non Blogger got an extra shot in lieu of an extra hot late’ the dude crashed out in the tree could have done with one himself. This is showing how to sleep-in regardless of the noises around you. A very impressive lesson in slumberness.

We decided that as we are now skilled yatchers in the craft of yatchmanship (see – we even know the lingo!) we mounted the buggy (ne: cart) and went down the beach to jump back on a cat for some water fun. Alas … the staff on the sand told us that it was too windy to sail. Really? This was an old advertising joke by the Bundy Bear and here these paid workers are reliving the ad without actually realising the poignancy of the situation. It worked, they didn’t even need to get up from the sand they were sitting on. We thought about a swim, didn’t, and instead went for a drive to suss out next years accommodation. Took a while to find it, discovering a few new vistas along the way.

Found a very picturesque church on the hill (which is probably where all the aforementioned weddings take place) which is open to "all" faiths (Worship is on 7:00pm Sundays - "all" welcome ).. Isn’t that nice. Suspect the intent has never been fully tested…after all...it's still standing.

Concurring that we needed exercise in lieu of icecreams we stretched our aerobic outputs by walking along Front Street and back again – collecting lunch from Bob’s on the way. And thus the calorie count increases regardless. Back up the hill to the abode via Buggy (ne. cart) – we splashed around in the pool for a bit before the inevitable afternoon siesta. It was then back down to the harbor for the pre-planned, pre-paid event for the day (it is somewhat handy having your own travel guide as a companion). This was a great idea and well delivered.

The boat had 54 paying guests, 4 staff, 2 big pontoons, a really tall mast, 2 sails stretching up to the heavens, lots of luxurious spaces for the guests to be wined and dined in. It was interesting seeing the crowd at the beginning – all quiet and demure compared to at the end - all talk and laughter. Suspect it had something to do with the ambiance, the nibbles, the spectacular scenery, the setting sun, calm waters with the warm breezes blowing through people’s hair and thus their social inhibitions away. Or it was the booze? Whatever – it worked. We actually had actual conversations with other people for the first time in a week. Pre-Covid the easy convo opener was “What’s your next holiday?”, now it’s “what did you do during lockdown?” – everyone has a story to tell on that subject.

Didn’t want to broach the subject of buggies (ne: carts) as whilst they appear to be a common object on the island we do still see some unfortunate souls walking or (even more demeaning) caching the green or blue bus. Hmmm Buggies… do we go there for a spiel or finish of the day first ? tough choice for a blogger in a conundrum and so we’ll do the day to finale first....

Walking off the salubrious sunset cruise cat we went straight across the road and upstairs to the Mexican cantina. This was amazing in so many ways. The amount of people that they pass through, the views of the harbor, the drinks, the food, the staff, the way they have customers prop in the middle bar area whilst waiting for a table to become available, all with no stress, well organized chaos that (like everything here) would be extremely profitable to those raking it in. I believe they are called HIE (a thread for future investigation). Being told that our menu choice was “amazing” by our friendly waiter was very comforting. Given the limited options on the menu, one suspects that the use of the term could use some refinement – however who are we (as up and becoming elders) dare impose our interpretation the nuances of the greatest language in the history of the race upon the next generation.

It was a very enjoyable follow-up to a very enjoyable jaunt on the water, which was a wonderful follow-up to a very relaxing day hanging around the locale. The wrap up for the evening was spent preparing for the few days shoots. Who’d a thunckd the camera has a night capture capability. Woo hoo!.

 

 

 

 

Choppy seas and chopper skies

 Another early morning trek to the harbor. This time the boat was leaving at 9:00am which gave us time to source our civilised caffeine hit from the local Koala dispensary (where the locals go) instead of the milling tourist hordes over the hill. What a difference a few hundred meters and local know how makes.

If yesterdays swell adventures kicked a few stomachs into overdrive then today's high seas chop was always going to stretch those of lesser constitution. Our journey to the outer reef started off as a pleasant journey past Dent, Whitsunday, Hook and a myriad of others, all looking resplendent in their pristine tree covered rocky outcrops rising above the glistening waters as the gentle breeze trickled through their water lined valleys. Then we hit the open water and the craft we were on had seemed unperturbed by the elements all of a sudden became a struggling beast forcing its way through mountainous swells of which roller coasters around the world had fashioned their design on. Not really – but the poor folk who forgot to look at the horizon or at least stand up would have thought so. More bags handed out by crew wearing gloves, some on them looking a bit green themselves in the process.

Once we got into the calmness created by the reef though it all settled down and a great time was had by all and sundry. We splurged 300 buckazoids on a 10 minute chopper ride which was possibly the best value for dosh in a long time. It also took up a significant chunk of the hours we had to spend on the platform - so it all worked out extremely well. The helicopter looked and sounded like a flying tadpole from the distance. Up close she was a sleek machine with extraordinary vision when sitting in the front passenger seat. Thus positioned was your blogger (capturing the whole event on video) and was thus pretty damn happy about the coincidence of being the tallest of the 4 passengers and thus scoring that prime seat. A great way to view the reef from above whilst staying dry.

A simple and very tasty buffet lunch was appreciated by both. Blogger for the meaty spicy carbs – Non Blogger for the chance to settle the gastric turmoil after all the chopping sensations experienced up to that point in the day. We then did the tour of the reef under the water in the semi-submersible they have there – that was a great way to view the reef close-up whilst staying dry.

We then donned the Teletubby outfits again and jumped in with goggles, snorkel and flippers and viewed the reef close-up whilst getting wet (literally – not due to excitement – enough of that already in one day thank you). By the time we went snorkeling the water level had dropped, the sun came out and reef came alive with colours and the inhabitants put on a really nice show for us. Needles to say the whole set up is really well set up. They have a mesh of rope courses for divers to follow that delve into the depths far beyond this skin divers’ capabilities. The pontoon has a village of double swags for overnighters to stay in, and they even help out stranded fishing trawlers who’s engines break down due to shonky fuel. Somewhat concerned about their racially profiling of fish.

So we were on it, above it, below it, in it, tasted it, saw it, smelled it, heard it, felt it, read about it, heard about it. Pretty much the whole gamut. It was all truly amazing and rewarding - the colours and variety of life is mind-boggling: the waters are rich and deep and trying to fathom how we can be blatantly destroying it all through our bottomless insatiability for consumerism in incomprehensible.   

The trip home was bumpier and seemingly longer than the trip out but could've be a perception thing. Once the calmness of the islands was breached the whole area just oozes with beauty and charm. Every angle, every vista is breathtaking and envious in the fact that you can’t just stop and prop on that beach for a while. Or that one, or that one. Or be on that boat, or that yacht, or that one in that position overnight. We just kept thundering past, envisioning an existence in these locales where you aren’t constantly gagging on the diesel exhaust fumes of the outside balconies of the tour boats. (you have 3 choices: 1. Inside: cold aircon with people throwing up. 2. Up on the sundeck exposed to hurricane winds, bright sunshine and people throwing up, 3 on the rear balconies, under cover, warm air, no sun and people throwing up.).

 Still – no one died and we had a great day out. It was once again a joy to walk off the boat and straight to our buggy (ne: cart) and shot over to the IGA for the evenings supplies. Back up to the abode (3 minutes’ drive) and witnessed the setting sun over the valley whilst watching the SUPpers surfing the waves at our local beach, putting on a show for us as we joined the aerobatic cockatoos in toasting the end of the day - and a glorious one at that. A follow-up BBQ saw the rest of the seafood platter downed (better cooked this time).

Basking on the beach

 The days activities were very much morning focused. Up early and down to the harbor (2 minutes in the buggy) was thrown into total confusion by a shower of rain! I mean what the heck? Perfect the next day sure… but where to go from there? Can’t it please stay that way Laura? Does this mean we have to start from crappy and work our way up again?

Luckily enough we were mindful of the early morning coffee queues and thus had adequate time to get our beverages and join the queue for the Cat out to Whitehaven beach. It was a rough trip for some and thoroughly enjoyable for those of us with the fortitude to love riding the high seas. The well trained crew were perfectly poised with bags for anyone who needed them. In hindsight it must be a game for them, play it right and all is good – play it wrong and they have to clean up the mess. Really feel sorry for the poor kid who’s dad though the best way to handle his sea sickness is to keep his face buried in the vomit bag. Maybe breath of fresh air and a view of the horizon occasionally would have helped. Whatever, the kid lived and seamed no worse off later when on the pristine sand with bucket and spade in hand.

Whitehaven beach is famous for being really white and a real haven for people to…taken haven in (I guess). Apparently the sand is 98% silica – the other 2% reminding everyone that nothing in nature is ever 100% perfect – not even in one of the most beautiful and pristine places on the planet. We had a few hours to frolic on the sand and in the water of which we did. Because it’s stinger season (so we were led to believe) we had to don stinger suits which effectively made the water look like it was being invaded by Teletubbies. Suspect the tour guides made us put these on just so they could laugh at us – however we didn’t care because we are tourists, paying to do what we are told, and do it when we are told and besides … no one would ever take photos of such a demeaning situation.

Cynicism (and pride) aside – the suits were actually quite comfortable, let the water through and were like a second skin – someone has done their fibrous technology homework well there. However, there is more to these parts than simply blue skies, turquoise waters, pine and palm trees lining the island slopes – there are also the bountiful beautiful bare bottoms basking on the bright beach brilliantly breaking the boredom of bemoaned bachelorhood.

Excessive wordsmithing aside it was a great interlude, we wandered up the beach, wandered back, went for a swim, paddled an SUP for a bit (we are now Suppers) and whiled away the time fighting off the inevitable camp stealing crows, spotting goannas and general people watching.

This place would truly be a haven if these pesky tourist boats full of Teletubbies stopped dominating the place.

The trip home was less eventful on people’s stomachs and it was great to see the island (and our abode) from another perspective (sea level). Hoping off the boat we hopped into the buggy and hopped over to Bob’s (the Baker) on Front Street and feasted on his fares – which is fast becoming a daily pattern here – his pies are really good.

Buggying back up the hill to the abode (must take all of 3 minutes) we spent the afternoon winding down and resetting before heading off to the IGA (now a daily event) to collect our expensive seafood BBQ platter. Really good intentions – unfortunately the execution (bloggers cooking skills on an unfamiliar BBQ) let us down a bit. Not much – just a bit. Still – with the million-dollar views, another rain shower setting off every bird in the valley as the setting sun lit up the cumulus clouds drifting over the pristine waterways defined by spectacular tree covered hills – who could argue about the daily touristy classification?

Catamarans and Cockatoos

 No sleep in for these yachting enthusiasts who were under extraordinary pressure to get the beach by 10 to 8 in order to understand the intricacies of the craft. We made it just on time to pay 25 bucks for a dude to run through jibes, tacks, ropes, tackle, wind direction, limits of travel and probably most importantly that if it all goes wrong they have a rescue craft to rescue those that got the craft wrong. It was very funny when he flipped the whole thing over whilst on the sand – it was a very salient point proven.

We got the craft right though - whilst non-blogger almost got her head knocked off on the first poorly communicated jibe, we were quick to show the rest of the fleet how this is done properly. Buried memory skills resurfaced as we skimmed backwards and forwards across the course, sometimes needing to pump the sail to get going and other times performing the lean out over the rushing surface in order to keep the rig tight and the Hobycat continuing to effortlessly slice through the turquoise waters. Now we’ve had our lessons we can use these anytime we like – just so long as the tide is in. When it’s out - the course is a shallow puddle where the only possible activity is wandering a sodden landscape appreciating the fact that in 12 hours, you’d be a meter below the surface (big tides here).

Giving ourselves a pat on the back, we navigated precisely back in to shore and then full of confidence grabbed one of the kayaks and paddled back out into the waters, got turned around by the border patrol (same guy as before, now in a motor boat telling us we had to stay away from the expensive mansions on the shore line) and thus we headed back in, realising on the way that it may take a bit of preparation to enter an Iron-man event. Back on shore we considered heading off to the gym (which is apparently very well fitted out) and then running a half marathon around the Island before lunch. Instead, we mounted the jalopy, went back to abode, and performed wellness exercises for a couple of hours (aka sleep).

Interestingly we found on the balcony a chewed tube of moisturiser obviously the attention of one the cockatoos who spend their time loitering on the railings. There are two outcomes here (picture options in previous posts) suspect the handsome dude with nice shining soft feathers will not be the answer.

Having an activity free afternoon we did our own loitering – this place seems to insist that it happens. Blogger rigged contraptions to capture a buggy view of the island whilst the other half kept the currawongs and cockatoos from loitering on the balcony by loitering on the balcony. The view is simply awesome and loitering in its presence is time well spent.

We headed back to the sailing club terrace for pre’s  - the place had come alive in the 3 days since last visited. Now full of beautiful people, sun streaming in, fish swarming below and sea eagles above (not that BP’s notice that stuff) it was all very salubrious. Thanks to the canny skills of Non Blogger we got into our restaurant earlier than booked and thus timely watched the sunset over the harbor whilst consuming and experiencing one of the most delightful meals ever had.

9:05pm – Booming waves of sound from across the valley from the wedding below (they seem to have a lot of these here) “we have 24 minutes of partying left folks – let’s get up on the dance floor and BOOGIE” – unsaid and not contemplated by those in the throng but understood by the the poor old folks throughout the echo chamber of the valley that are suffering through yet another repeat of Nutbush are thinking “Now we can all get some sleep”.... Good one Jack.

Epilogue – Of course the music stayed loud for hours – after all - this is Australia (maaate!)

Perfect the Next

 One could almost surmise that the day was perfect. Go figure.. yesterday it was beautiful and now this. Not sure where the advertisers go from here . Yes Laura here we are ... why keep nagging?

An extremely early start was in order to capture the incredibly impressive view as dawn crept over it. Luckily one could set and forget only to be woken by the sounds of an insecure tripod toppling in the breeze. Considering the amount of feathered friends who hangout on the railing it would've been easy to blame them for the topple. But no, it was only the wind and a blind ignorance that it'll be ok. No damage just a bucket load of editing as a result.
Onto the days interesting activities.... there was some serious buggy exploration of the towns streets awaiting the opening of the local coffee (ne: Koala showcase) shop in order to deliver non-blogger the affore mentioned beverage in bed before we packed,  hopped in the jalopy and  drove to the ends of the civilized world (about 900 meters) to start our hike.
Legging it is the only way to find a quiet beach on the island. We chose to go to the nearest and due to blatantly ignoring some signs advising that we should not head there.. we did. And what a find. Thanks to the aforementioned signs we found ourselves on a secluded little idealistic spot that had many characteristics. E.g.
No one else but us.
Tide fully in - picture perfect.
Tide less than full - rocks appear.
Tide low - somewhere in the distance there is water.
The crows are clever enough to open zips on back backs.
The rocks have sharp oyster shell toppings which slice through city dwellers feet as if they were made of butter.
Being nicely sheltered from the gentle wind it was very relaxing swimming, then sitting, then flapping around like stranded fish as the water levels rapidly diminished.
With images of blatant nudity slowly fading from ones memory we relaxed under the false shade of the tree as the water line receded and the crows continued their persistent commando attacks.

After sussing out some seriously weird bush exercising equipment and a bush turkey nest up the beach we wandered back to civilization along the now exposed flats. Much shorter that way. So there are pros and cons to the tides here. When they're up - looks good and you can swim. When they're down you can shortcut home.
Me thinks up is better.
All of that summarised a fairly busy morning. The rest of the day was spent in the pool by one and feet bandaging and mid arvo snooze by the other.
Heading up to One Tree Hill (poorly named - must be at least three up there) for pre's along with seemingly half of the islands population we managed (thanks to non-bloggers skills ) got seats and enjoyed the ambiance which included views, drinks, dudes, dudettes, wedding parties, laughter, happiness, sunsets, islands, waterways, boats plying through turquoise waters, pine trees, palm trees, pristine beaches... yadda yadda. You get the idea. And so we left the queuing throng as we had our fill of perfection for the day , jumped into our perfectly parked buggy (the drinks queue was wrapped around us.... oh, we are so superior not only do we have a buggy but because it beeps when in reverse you have to get out of our way! ).

With a quick stop at the IGA on the way home we finally experienced the delights of sunset BBQing from our abode. Forget these fancy pancy restaurants. This was (is) fabulous.
Subsumed by the vista of the light fading over the valley, the squawking cockatoos gave way to the clouds of fruit bats, whilst on the distant hill the headlights of the buggies defined the otherwise imperceptible roads that we are coming so familiar with.

Now in total darkness the strange morbid cries of some loneful creature pierces the stillness of the night. Suspect it's not a gecko. Almost certainly not Keith Williams....then again...

Beautiful today

 

Our one-night stay in the salubrious bungalow without a view seems now a distant memory as we are now perched higher up the hill, have a view of the Whitsundays which is truly magnificent and have transport that puts us in the upper echelon of society that befits our status. Sure, our buggy is obviously not privately owned (no mag wheels and the same white colour as the 900 other rentals on the island) but it does move at exactly the same top speed as any other – regardless of their owners’ obvious wealth. The buggies probably deserve their own post, so in the meantime the days story must be told…

A stroll around the corner to the local café that serves good coffee to people, gum leaves to the captive baby koala and good riddance to squealing tots resulted in a very pleasant beverage in the bungalow before we sorted the logistics of moving from one abode to the other. Everything on the island is controlled and coordinated with timely aplomb. All we needed to do was get back to the reception, meet our bags there, lockup our valuables, wait for lift, drive to the airport, register for the new place, receive the keys to the buggy and we were off!. Released from the shackles of legging it (or the potential ignominy of catching a bus!) we now have freedom to go where ever we like, whenever we like. – just so long as it’s at exactly the same speed as every other vehicle on the roads.

The Bakery for a late late’ breakfast – eaten with the fun of fending off the aggressive Currawongs on the edge of the harbour was a pleasant interlude before heading over the hill to collect our lockered stuff and check out the new abode.

Whoo Hoo – this place is awesome. Catering for two couples in luxury – the one is literally swimming in space. Thus we did by unpacking and then hopping back in the buggy, and shot down (at pace!?) to the main beach had a swim and a snorkel with the tide out. Needless to say, the beaches here look inviting and practical when the tide is in. When it’s out, it’s a long trek to get to a depth where it’s useful. However, the water is warm, refreshing and lots of colourful fish abound close to shore. Not so bad for a first splash.

Went for a drive around the island and realised that the distance one can travel is extremely limited. It’s either stay close to town folks or leg it to other parts of the place. So plans set in place for future adventures. Back to the abode for a relax by the pool for one and on the couch for the other before heading to the harbourside for pre’s and then over the hill for a very picturesque dinner beach-side before speeding (!) back up to the abode in the dark to settle in for the evening.

The weather was bright and sunny today … possibly the whole scenario was (dare I say it?)…beautiful.. one does wonder what tomorrow will bring?...

Hamilton Island Intrigue

Launching out of a cold blustery spring Melbourne morning to arrive in a hot blustery blast as we exited the plane door was unexpected and lucky not to loose our hats in the process.

Jetstar delivered us and our bags with little stress despite the 30 minute delay at Tulla as bearded dudes in high vis wandered aimlessly around pipe ensrouded vehicles seamlessly throwing fuel into the wings. We had seats prior to the engines so got to witness the reason for the delays and once airborne the noise was less and we made good time.
Being here for over a week gives us the opportunity to discover what is actually going on. There are many things to uncover, poke around under the coconut palms and daquiri's whilst using observation and unwarranted supposition to answer so many questions that obviously need attention.
Why no cars?. Why does everyone seem so happy? How does that cockatoo fly with hardly any feathers? Are the wallabies really native? What's with the Currawongs auditioning for an Alfred Hitchcock flick? Why is the grass in Victoria greener than here in the tropics? Why build a yatch club that can replicate scenes from the Titanic?

And so we landed amongst milling inwards and outwards throngs at the airstrip. No stress and no hurry was the vibe and so eventually we bussed and checked in. Loaded stuff into a locker, ditched our winter garb, tried to stop sweating and whiled away a few hours on the beach, lunch in a bar beside the beach, a dip in the pool before being courierd (via buggy) to our one night stay in a bungalow.
We don't have a buggy yet. So we are therefore second (maybe third because we scorned the free shuttle bus) class citezens and walked over the hill and down into the heart of the town.
Ever so slighly different if you were to (say) walk down into a village on the Mediterranean sea.

Here the stark difference is they have an IGA and they blocked the main thoroughfare to celebrate a thoroughbred event. Horses were the excuse, a big screen, loud broadcast, alcohol and that happiness mentioned earlier meant the catwalk event was thoroughly entertaining. Both for us smirking observers as well as the enthusiastic participants.

Pre dinner drinks on the sinking ship inspired club balcony was a prequel to a second stop at the IGA for in home consumption and back to the bungalow for delivered pizza.
As the tropical rain pelts down from the dark skies the juxposition of open doors vs mosquitos vs aircon vs ceiling fans weighs heavily on one's mind.
Welcome to the north Grasshopper, you have much to learn.

Completing the loop

Waking to the continuing sounds of the distant breakers whilst the early sun filtered through the windows was delightful, even more so when sitting up the view if the Bass Straight is there to behold.

The fishing boats were out there all night performing their assigned tasks to perfection  and around 10 am (after breaky and packing up) we stopped by to collect our Couldn'tbefresher prawns, packed them in the trusty cooler bag and trotted off home, whiling away the kilometers whilst being absorbed in the never ending chapters of the audio book. So self focused on the weeks adventure we both had a strange epiphany when stopping at a large roadhouse close to home, folks from all walks of life going about their normal Sunday arvo lives, the radio worked again, wow - the world we left a week ago is still here, totally unaware of our adventure, somehow we need to do a mind switch and get back into it.

And so a warm sunny Sunday arvo wrapped around us as we arrived home from the other direction to which we had left. The pooch was ecstatic to see us.

A nest of wasps somewhere nearby was also really keen on all the collected bugs whilst they were washed off and picked out of the grill on the jalopy. 

Offspring no.1+1 were very grateful for the fresh prawns and we had a wonderful evening consuming them on the back patio as the sun faded away through the bamboo - as will the euphoria of the weeks journey over the next while.

Lower still

 This blogger was flummoxed the evening prior - how come after crossing a huge mountain range the river in the town was flowing north, whereas surely all flows should now be heading southwards? This geographical pondering was sorted the next day through the realisation that Omeo is somehow still north of the ranges, so high up that there is still a significant way to get down as low as you can go.

The morning sky was a grey fog which had hardend the jalopy's yesterdays rear  windows collected dust into something that resembled cardboard. That was washed off with lots of (cold) kettle water. We then popped upwards to purchase
coffee and breaky vittals prior to taking a quiet stroll through town.

Omeo on a Saturday morning is as vibrant and electrifying as Sea Lake on a Tuesday morning. Aussie country towns in their raw state. It's wonderful. The art gallery girl said it can change in an instant when (as an example) a group of bike riders (motor not lycra) arrive. Considering she appeared to be the the artists muse adorning the walls its not surprising that things would get interesting in that case, however the only real excitement was when a ute carrying two kelpies went past barking a hello to the kelpie in the Op shop who subsequently ran out (kelpie style) to say hello back. Its only because we have a kelpie that we picked this interaction up as a highlight, calmed the Stay At Home down and to tell to him stay and not follow us. Stay..good word that. Any good Kelpie knows what it means.
Heading off towards the coast was the epiphany of the geographical location of Omeo. Up a bit and then down, down and more down though indescribably beautiful valleys with rivers showing the engineers where to build their roads. Didn't stop to get pics as the audio book drama was building and we were on a roll.
And so as the clouds/fog lifted we followed the Tambo, rolled through Schitts Creek (!) turned left at Bruthen and cruised through Nowa Nowa on the way to Lakes Entrance. This was a fabulous drive through beautiful countryside.

Our last abode for this adventure sits high up overlooking Bass straight with green foliage leading down to the golf course at the eastern end of the towns estuary in between. Can't complain about the view, the facilities, the generosity of the host, or indeed the whole ambiance of the localle.
I'm penning this on the balcony of our room with the sounds of the surf rolling in,  their waves carried by the soft easterly breeze with the Milky Way in all it's splendor above, the Southern Cross is showing exactly where mariners over the centuries have focused on and out to sea the lights of our tomorrow nights diner harvesters are illuminating the depths below.
Prior to now, we parked said jalopy at one end of the inland arm, unloaded the foldups and treddled our way along the the paths upon which the locals had specifically built for this purpose. Build it and they will come they said. And so they did. And then we did. And thus the cycle is complete. Via the bicycle. Wheels go around, so does life, and thus we have metaphors.
Whilst we were thoroughly enjoying our leisurely cruise along the waterfront, philosophy was not top of mind. The sun was shining, the sky was a totally pristine blue and everyone and everything seemed to be basking in a warm glow of happiness. Even the people on the path who needed to be "dinged" three times eventually turned and eyeballed with a smile on their face. Managed to word up a dude in a fishing boat to head out that night and catch some fare for us to take home fresh tomorrow so we can consume it in the leafy surrounds of Surrey Hills.Jolly good of him to agree to this contract however this is his livelihood so one must do as one must.
Commuting by foldups is a really good way to go. We stopped at the bakery for lunch (they sell award winning pies, just like Beechworth, Mansfield and Loch do as well...hmm maybe a ponder for another post) and then popped over the footbridge to snap a 90 mile beach pic. It was good to see the SLC have everything set up.

Not unsurprising that no one was in the drink considering the awesome floatable play structure some genius had constructed on the inland arm.
Sure the water is a bit tepid, but if you don't swallow it, look at all the fun you can have. Could've.. Would've...
So we peddled back to the car, packed em in and went home to prepare to go out again.
Our host at the B&B is tireless in her  to the job and happily drove us into town on time for pre`s in the elevated RSL function room ( because it had a view and commandering things is to the heart of the RSL ) it seemed ok to us that we'd crash their empty function room enjoying the view whilst we whiled away the time awaiting for our dinner booking to appear on the timepieces.
Got away with it we did. The dinner on the floatable consuming a quality chefs interpretation of what the area can deliver was amazing. Surrounding the gastronomical experience was the light of the disappearing westward sun which (whilst it was missing clouds to play colouring highlights) with was subdued and thus masterful in its ability to cast a continual changing broad based washed pallet of intermixed hues, reflected off the water and into the consumers senses.

It was a fantastic end to an awesome week. Tomorrow we head home through the significantly boring Latrobe Valley. There may be a bookstop pic of a kelpie to round it off. 

Highs to lows

Our view through the open blinds overnight showed dim outlines of the vista sullenly lit by the late half moon on the far side of the cloud cover that was threatening to derail the next days activities. "Despair not" said the sun as it whipped over the horizon and slowly but surely blew all vestiges of visible vapor away.

Over breakfast on the upper level we got to witness this interaction whilst chowing down on our included continental breakfast before heading into town in order to set up the first of the days poor planning experiences. Had thorough prep been done we would've known that the journey to the top could've been done whilst we hung around for the dress shop to open, never mind though, being on holidays means not caring too much about stuff. In the meantime a stroll down to the lake revealed that even the lower sites of the caravan park were flooded. As mentioned previously this appears to be a failure somehow...the lake has an uncontrolled spillway. If the water reaches a certain level - over it goes, cascading into the Snowy river and if there's enough of the stuff will end up stuffing up the surrounds of Orbost. Seems really strange people would put caravan sites, pathways and playground equipment where the hight of the tide is actually well known. So much for leaving ponderings in the capital..

Leaving this conundrum behind we headed up the smooth winding roads to the upper reaches of the continent passing a smidgen of lycra clad wheelies on the way. Tomorrow they close down all the roads in the area and let these strange creatures have a free-for-all all day long as they swarm over the hills like sugar ants following trails, all in hurry, passing each other one way, almost colliding with oncomings yet always dodging each other at the last instance. Admittedly ants don't have support structures like refreshment tents, portable rest rooms and ambulances... then again maybe they do.
Our main joy about all if this is that we were not affected by the whole affair and managed to get a view of Kosciusko in the distance and appreciate the true beauty of the high plains with a clear blue sky reflecting the pristine clear waters of the creeks which eventually turn into majestic rivers.

That peak over there is now on the bucket list.
Back into town to attend the now open shop we then set off along the Alpine way in order to get to Omeo via Corryong. Lots of winding roads, spectacular scenery, from high mountain tops down to clear rivers carving forest lined steep valleys, this is one spectacular drive.
After a brief pit stop at a riverside camp and a picture view of one of the many hydro stations that opened all this area up we eventually hit some flat earth, green pastures and some straight stretches where we crossed a very different (preferable) Murray River and back into the police state (the signs infer this).
Everything was going swimmingly, smooth roads, beautiful scenery, no traffic and then up the end of the valley a sign said "Gravel road - next 62 km". And it all turned to shite.
This was not like the straight smooth dirt roads we'd experienced in the flat outback plains of NSW that one could hurtle along with careless abandon. These were covered in sharp tyre slashing rocks that needed to be carefully navigated (unless of course you are a large truck or truck tyre bearing type of 4WD).
These parts had been decimated in last years catastrophic fires and are now showing signs of rejuvenation, however the hills still have an unhealthy smear of grey from the distance which up close is all the dead trunks showing through the new foliage.

High up, on the top of the ridges snapshots of the classic blue hills and valleys overlapping each other in different shades of the colour were glimpsed at, however we didn't stop to pause and take it in as the road was too demanding, the dust all consuming and the threat of a hurtling monster using the same track was too daunting.
Suspect the road had been recently redone after the fires and needs some time to settle in. We rejoiced when when the gravel turned back to bitumen and then cursed when it changed back again around the next corner. This kept happening, over and over again as if the engineers who look after the strip were just having fun with us.
"Hey I know Bob - what say we just seal this bend and then more around that corner - just to get their hopes up - and then we go back to sharp rocks again - just to bring em down again" ?
"Ah Bill, love your thinkin' - I'll go get the grader. High five mate" Laughs all round.
Through all this malicious emotional road making manipulation we stayed sane by listening to an audio book. After all, we have an Outback and are beyond such couth behaviors. Eventually though the bitumen persisted, we landed on the valley floor, passing trees turned to grass and the speed went up to cruising mode.
Covered in dust, physically spent we limped into Omeo, unable to read clearly written signs and yet eventually found the room into which we unloaded.

A quick recon on the foldup revealed a disturbing sculpture just around the corner. Is there no escape from this?
Omeo seems strangley quiet for a Friday night in country town, a delicious meal in the pub across the road was punctuated by a nice old dude who passed on his unwanted (much appreciated by us) garlic bread and the farewell by one of the locals to the barmaid "Thanks Jess.. I'll be thinking of of you as I watch my movies tonight" Laughs all round.
You had to be there. We were.