A Fool Overseas - Part II

Arrival in Hervey Bay by Greyhound revealed a quite large and sprawling town with a plenty of traffic and a busy Centro shopping facility.

The Woolpackers Hostel is a really chilled place with very nice recently created dorms, rooms and communal area, as well as a partially manned reception. Megan, owner, mum and onsite general is a delightful host with the big aussie gusto for life.

My day one acclimatisation consisted of dumping my gear in the dorm, a walk down to the beach for a really smooth coffee at Lillianas and a stroll out along the short local pier to chat to yet another frustrated angler (who passed on his unused frozen squid bait on to me as he tramped home empty handed). A short walk further along the front delivered me to the road bridge where bats (actually flying foxes) are to be observed heading out for their daily nocturnal forage for food at dusk. Expecting to see small, fragile european sized bats I was amazed by the sheer size of these buggers, effectively the B52 bomber version of flying mammal. Indeed, observing them hanging upside down en mass in the trees immediately transported me to the 1980's vampire b-movie sets and when they flew overhead the instinct to duck down was strong!!

Lush latte . . . . mmmm!

Vampire movie set

The B-52 bomber bat heads out

Following a visit to Woolies to buy anything but more instant noodles I trundled into reception to ask a few tour questions and secure a last minute berth to watch whales the next day. Given that the ever popular "Blue Dolphin" trip was sold out for the next 3 days I plumped for a 3/4 day trip on Shayla, a similar sized 10.5 metre catamaran.
They picked us (my giant Korean dorm mate "Wilkinson" and I) up from the hostel and by 8 am we were chugging out of the marina and heading towards the massive bay alongside Fraser in the Coral Sea. Some 2.5 hours later we were well alongside the flank of Fraser Island and intercepting radio chatter about the various whale sightings so far that morning, the hot news filtering through was that a mother and her calf were somewhere in our vicinity. With most of us straining our eyes on the horizon looking for telltale spouts or humps it was indeed the Fool who spotted our first whale, some 3-400 metres straight ahead, although I did bottle the traditional "thar she blows" cry as I wasnt entirely convinced. From then on we played hide and seek with the hump backed whales, initially a mother and calf, who were understandably keeping a safe distance from our boat, and then with the playful pod of 4 that dived, divided, rejoined and even snuck up from behind to provide us with fleeting photo opportunities. Whilst we were not treated to any spectacular moves involving partial or full bodies leaping clear of the ocean we did get a few tail splashes and a flipper wave. To a person we all whooped and hollered at every sighting (apparently they often get attracted to noise and motion on the surface and come in to investigate).

Mum with calf!

Flipper, flipper give us a wave

After a pause for onboard lunch we set a course heading in towards Fraser Island's shore but saw no further whales as we set the sails and were blown homeward. The consensus from all of the passengers was that we were all very happy with every aspect of the trip so if you find yourself in the area dont just settle for the popular Blue Dolphin boat trip, ask about Shayla and book with Robert and his team.

Checking out of Woolpackers the following morning was a slightly bizarre affair as I literally crossed the road to Palace Hostel to stay a few extra days for free by doing some housekeeping in exchange for a bed.
Days 1 & 2 went by smoothly enough with just Jane, the housekeeping manager, and I servicing the various units however on day 3 there were 4 helpers so we whizzed through the lot in double quick time enabling me to get  showered and off to Centro for wifi, latte and much needed roll on deodorant. Later it was back to the hostel to try and upload photos (fail) and off for some night fishing with John and Denise, a recently married, middle aged, nomadic english couple who were on what seemed to be a never ending travelling honeymoon. That evening I finally christened my rod with my first catch, a turdy toadfish - but at least it was the biggest one of the night.

the ugliest catch

See, I told you it was this big!

Farewell sunset

Footnote on Palace Hostel: Be warned if you intend to make this your base for a few days - all of the 3-day Fraser Island 4-wheel drive tours run by Palace Adventures start at the hostel so be prepared for the excitable participants to be partying fairly late the night before and rising at around 5am to make to 06:00 start. Similarly when they get back they party long and hard to consume the alcohol that returned from Fraser.

I enjoyed this town, both hostels are very comfortable albeit quite different, the resort is built on adrenalin and sand filled adventures on Fraser Island (so I am told) and for whalewatching of course!

Travel day tuesday and a reunion with the Marina awaits.

Trailing into Agnes on the greyhound 5 of us were met by Kev and the hostel courtesy bus. Having loaded bags and people aboard we all settled back to enjoy the transfer in the warm sunshine. Some 90 seconds later we had arrived and found ourselves unloading our bags and checking in!!!
The rest of the day consisted of general lazy acclimatisation - lunch, unpacking, a 2 minute walk to the beach and a stroll along the length of the almost deserted shore and around the rocks at the end of the bay.

The busy beach at Agnes Water!!

Kids just hanging around

Returning to the hostel via the shops (a small parade including a couple of the more compact supermarkets, coffee shops, bakery, butcher, thai restaurant, newsagent and an estate agent) the free wifi was heavily utilised to procure an sd card reader for the tablet (to be picked up when I get to Neat's place in Brissie) and to look up flights, rideshare possibilities and hostels for the onwards journey.

Trying to be frugal for a spell, day 2 saw the adventurous Fool procure a bicycle from the bowels of the hostel for a trip to the 1770 beach and lookout point. The bike comes supplied with a padlock and chain which seemed a little overzealous as my ride turned out to be somewhat lacking in many traditional attributes of a standard bike - the brakes don't, some of the gears do work, the chain likes to come off at regular intervals and the off road tyres were worn smooth in the middle of the tread. Obviously this machine was ideally suited my rusty cycling skills!!

The road to 1770 is pretty flat so the going is relatively easy but dont be fooled - to get to the end of Captain Cook drive there are a few short climbs which remind the legs and lungs that they are some way short of being in racing trim. The lookout point is picturesque, being positioned relatively high up on the bay's headland but the view is generally away from the bays affording an uninterrupted view out to sea and believe me, there is an awful lot of sea to see. Sadly there were no boats, ships, passing tankers or drowning swimmers and kayakers to spoil the blue view! On the way back as I pedalled leisurely along the beachside track in one of the more commercial areas I was attacked from behind by one of the local magpies which swooped in sneakily from the rear to peck by bonce (fortunately I had the slouch hat on) after which he perched in a tree just up ahead and eyeballed me, daring me to pass under him again. After taking his mugshot I warily passed by and continued homeward - damn you Alfred Hitchcock for sowing the seed of bird fear in me!!

Fabulous 1770 beach

Fishing, 1770 style

The magpie that attacked the Fool

Returning to home base I dined out on cheap pork sausages and instant noodles whilst enduring drivel "wannabe a star" style tv before tackling the tinterweb in a vain attempt to contact my increasingly workaholic son back in blighty.

An early night beckoned as my two german dorm mates Karina and Ilke were guaranteed to waken me at 5.45 in the am the next morning as they departed to their next sunkissed trip on the early Greyhound. Following breakfast it was back in the van with Kev for the 90 second ride to Greyhound central to wait for my ride.

An interesting postscript to Agnes Water/1770 is that it appears that pretty much all of the hostel staff doing bus pickups and the guys promoting the Scooteroo tours, surfing lessons and the forthcoming friday night drinkathon were chaps from far flung corners of England, enjoying their working visas in this beautiful setting.

Summary: A very nice place to chill out and possibly learn to surf but look out for the predatory birdlife.

Having seen Pierre off for his return flight to Sydney I decided to stay a couple of days longer in Airlie Beach where I purchased a telescopic fishing rod set to catch future meals and booked my Greyhound bus ticket for the journey down the rest of the East coast.

Once I had decided to march onwards I jumped the next bus heading south and, given that I had a decent amount of time before I had to head to Darwin, I decided to drop in on the mining town that is Mackay.

Leaving on the evening Greyhound I shared with the trip with the 4 german girls from the Base dorm as well as Jocky Sarah from my Maggie Island adventure. Some 2 hours later I disembarked alone in Mackay and headed to the only hostel in town, the Geckos Rest where I was greeted by the raucous and slightly inebriated group of residents who offered me a taste of the worlds hottest chillies - nothing else, just crushed chillies!. Having politely declined this extraordinary cullinary offering I booked in for just the one night in their overpriced dorm due to no availability the following night (Mackay is a town kept alive by its mining industry and it appears that overseas workers stay long term in the hostel, hence the low bed availability).

Mackay honours its mining roots with this inventive sculpture

Next morning I caught up with world events and Facebook via the tinterweb, booked my hostel and bus to Agnes Water (departing at 1:50 in the am) before enjoying a stroll down the boardwalk along the river to the Caneland Mall to wile away some hours and to find and catch up with Mira Lo from the Stray bus tour in NZ.

Cute pavement decoration on the river boardwalk

After a MaccieDees coffee I embarked on an extensive walk around the oversized mall to locate the Massage Paradise store in which she was working (one of three such massage emporia in the Mall). Having finally found her place we had a good catch up - she is bored down here and looking forward to returning to Cairns. After giving her a status report on Airlie Beach (a place she really wants to visit) and reviewing my photos from the road trip it was back to the hostel to wile away the very many hours until my bus heading south.

Dont have a clue what these represent!

Finally located Mira in the massive mall

Luckily the hostel owner took pity on me and she allowed me exclusive use of her guest tv room to watch several dvds until departure time. I have to say that walking through such a large town with absolutely no traffic at 1:30 in the morning to get to the bus stop was a surreal experience and it pretty much summed Mackay up!

In summary: Mackay has pretty much nothing to recommend it - stay on the bus unless you are there to work. The End!

The trip to Airlie Beach was uneventful until we tried to hand back the Wicked camper. The returns guy was late back from "lunch" and a right arse as he pretty much treated like the mugs we were, having been stitched up by the Wicked agent guy in Alice. Eventually we returned the van, in as pristine a condition as its millions of travelled kilometres allowed then checked into the Base hostel up the road. The hostel was a pleasant surprise as the dorms were almost self contained flats. Settled in, we went to the tour agency office to check in for the following mornings sailing trip, cooked another chilli for supper and turned in.

Next morning it was down to the harbour for a wake up coffee and to meet our fellow sailors, 5 french (making Pierre very happy), 4 german, an austrian, Pierre de la Belgique and a strange and solitary aussie (sadly this guy, an online jewellery retailer and vegan, didn't join us for meals, photos, conversation or indeed anything - made us all wonder why he came on a group trip). Soon enough our crew turned up, Justin the deckhand (complete with last nights hangover and drunken forfeit - a crazy new hairstyle), Tina, our hostess from Germany and, on board, Mark the suave and well travelled captain from the States.

Justins new hairstyle (he was unaware until that morning)

This was to be a two day, one night, trip aboard a former two-time Sydney to Hobart race winning yacht, the Siska, with actual open water sailing as part of the itinerary. At 80 feet long and with a single mast measuring 106 ft she is a beauty!! Once we had chugged out into deeper water and the wind was right our captain enlisted help from the landlubbers to raise some sail, no mean feat as these things are pretty large and made of heavy duty canvass. Fortunately among the first recruits were some of the french girls so we had a bit of a chuckle at their efforts on the winder while we lay on deck soaking up the views and the sun.

Raise the mainsail ye curs!

Our trip took us out into the ocean, skirting some of the islands and passing through Hook Passage where opposing tidal flows met head on. During the longer, less interactive periods under sail Tina plied us with snacks of fruit, nachos etc and we played a card game called Yaniv - no mean feat in the fresh breeze up on deck. We stopped off for our first snorkel opportunity and, whilst not as prolific as the reef trip, it was great to be back in the water looking at the myriad of exotic underwater fin flappers. Afterwards, whilst we lounged on deck Mon Capitaine safely negotiated us to Tongue Bay where we were ferried ashore to trek across Whitsunday Island to the fabulous Whitehaven beach. Here we spent a few hours taking snaps, swimming near the stringrays basking in the shallows and generally being blinded by the brilliant white, 98% pure silica beach (sand so pure that apparently you can polish your teeth and jewellery with it - yeah right. Also it is against the law to take any sand with you when you leave). For some reason the silica does not retain the suns heat like normal sand so it is comfortable to walk on barefoot! Unfortunately for us the tide was high so we didnt get the best view of the Hill Inlet, the spectacular picture postcard shot.

Our crew at Whitehaven Beach

Simply stunning

Back on the yacht we then sailed to our overnight mooring off of Hook Island ready for our next mornings departure, catching a great sunset on the way. After another fine feed courtesy of Tina's impressive galley skills we turned in on board, the berths being surprisingly adequate given that we were on board a sleek racing vessel.
Day 2 comprised a return to the Airlie Beach marina via another snorkelling spot. Sadly for all of us some passing whales deigned to swim past our boat when we were all some distance away in the dinghy!!

Making our way home using both wind and diesel power was a thrill as, at times, Siska caught the swift breeze and canted over at a decent enough angle for us to need to sit on the top side to balance the boat - just like proper yachtsmen (minus any skills or knowledge). The only slight mishap was the Fool demonstrating his lack of sea legs and stubbing the old big toe - thats a lost nail right there so follow the blog to see how long it takes for a new on to grow!!

The Fool navigates a safe passage

Upon docking we all went our separate ways on the basis that we would meet again later, with Justin, at the Base Bar where we would get cheap booze and food. Having given our trusty german colleague, Max, all of our email addresses for him to circulate it was hugely disappointing that he failed to carry out this task later meaning that photos and experiences could not be shared - german efficiency my arse!!! The night out was good fun and a great way to bid farewell to those making immediate onward tracks.

Next day I accompanied Pierre and Xavier to the ferry to catch their flight to Sydney and so ended my road trip with my redoubtable Belgian co-driver from the Red Centre.

The following couple of days were a bit of R&R for the Fool following such a hectic schedule since leaving Melbourne. In addition to buying a telescopic fishing rod complete with reel and tackle for future relaxation along the east coast, I was also reunited with Anne, Sarah and Holly (as well as a brief chat on my last afternoon with Kathleen, the german doctor), all from Maggie Island.

Airlie Beach proved quite an important milestone in my travels. It marked the end of my epic Wicked roadtrip and association with Pierre, culminating in that great 2 day yachting experience. All in all, I think that the "Odd Couple" did a great job in squeezing so much into just 9 days!!!

Airlie Beach leaving night

The new road trip commences, courtesy of Greyhound

All too soon it was time to move on, catching the Greyhound night bus to Mackay and a possible reunion with Mira Lo from the New Zealand Stray bus tour!!

Having rescued Mieke and Janice from their self-locking car at the Cairns campsite Pierre and I hopped aboard the trusty Wicked camper van and ate up some more miles as we hurtled south towards Townsville and the much vaunted Magnetic Island.

Mieke and Janice break into their own car!!

Arriving in the late afternoon dusk (something we seem to do every day when driving between the widely spaced places of interest in Oz) we parked up in another camping site and walked in towards the town for a bit of a gander. Passing through an area called Belgian Gardens Pierre perked up but personally I failed to see the link between this small suburban area and his homeland! The seafront near our campsite was nicely developed for pedestrians and even had a large seawater filled swimming and paddling pool although at that hour there were no brave bathers. A few eateries and some interesting birdlife were complemented by an unusual and bright moonscape but, after a few minutes we decided to head back and cook up some late supper.

Pierre celebrates our arrival in Belgian Gardens, Townsville!!

Next day we headed through the town towards the ferry area, stopping at the very impressive lookout where we got our first glimpse of Magnetic Island, our destination for the next 2-3 days. We were also fortunate enough to see a large field-trip class of very bored American geology students who, with extensive prompting from their leader, invaded the rocky outcrop in such numbers that they resembled the barbary apes marauding over Gibraltar.

The Barbary Apes invade the Townsville Rock

Magnetic Island from the Townsville Lookout - our destination

Having eventually negotiated the "where to park our van" conumdrum we walked to the port, boarded our ferry and shortly afterwards disembarked on Magnetic Island where, having missed the super prompt local bus, we walked to the Base Hostel at the bottom end of the town. People had mentioned the great beachside dorm huts at various stops along our journey and we were not disappointed - good sized huts, decent beds and a fabulous balcony sea view. Not bad for a 2 night inclusive package deal!!

The view from our dorm balcony

Deciding not to waste our time lounging about at the hostel, which was very relaxed and comfortable, we caught a local bus to the start of the Fort walk where we were joined by another recent arrival, Kat, a german doctor no less! The walk up to the old fort was relatively easy in the hot sunshine and we were rewarded with a couple of magnificent views of the coastline and a regatta yacht race arpund the island on the way up. At the summit the oldest part of the fort was out of bounds but the more recent building afforded further great views of this little beauty of an island. We were told that koalas could been seen in the area and, once again, our luck was in as we saw a mother and recently born baby resting in the trees right by the fort.

The Fort Walk objective

Yachts race around the island.....

... while the tankers jockey for the lead in their race

Mum and baby relax in the trees

Back to the hostel for a free barbeque lunch (a couple of hot dogs actually, but the price made them taste so much better) and a chill out before the Fool ventured to the bar and joined in with their weekly bar games night to win some free booze. Our team comprised Anne Thunderella (one of our dorm mates, another german architecture student doing the PADI open water course at the resort), Sarah (a gregarious Sweaty* also learning the underwater ropes), Holly Zoe Ashton from Essex (nuff said) and Jason Siegel, a Septic photographer.
The bar games consisted of things like limbo dancing, singing a well known song from your home country (difficult for us given our cultural diversity and complete lack of singing talent) and musical chairs. Somehow the competition boiled down to us versus a team of french girls for the title and drinks prize and the last game was the musical chairs with a twist - to stay in the game the loser in each round could carry on if they removed an item of clothing. Zoe represented us and, rather cunningly if not very sportingly, she donned extra layers of clothes from the rest of us. So, off we go, many drunken fools traipsing around some plastic chairs with our representative a cross between a vicious red headed elf and the goodtear blimp. There were plenty of funny moments in this game, the two highlights being 1) a useless drunken english fella who lost all of his clothes and dignity and still didnt make the final 3 and 2) the sight of Holly literally trying to wrestle the final chair from the grip of a lovely but drunk french girl almost twice her size. Holly proved that it is not the size of the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog that matters. Needless to say that, with her tenacity and extra layers of clothing, Holly finally triumphed over the somewhat astonished and shell shocked larger opponent and the rest of our team gladly helped to drink the prize, even at the prospect of a thick head in the morning.

The final reckoning for the last man standing!!

Holly literally wrestles the chair (and the title) from the french opposition!

Team Victory (minus the Fool)

Given Pierres very limited timescale and that we had booked our Airlie Beach based yacht tour of the Whitsundays our final day on Magnetic Island consisted of an early start to complete the reverse of our journey inwards where, on arrival in Townsville, we were very pleased to find our van again, intact and ready for the continued trek southwards.

One of the locals bids us farewell!!

Townsville is a place with a nice, comfortable vibe and Magnetic Island an absolutely charming little gem hosting what is probably the Base Hostel chain's finest property.

• For those not familiar with rhyming slang the following translation is provided:

Septic as in septic tank = Yank = an American
Sweaty as in sweaty sock = Jock = a Scottish person