Apr 2008

A 6:30am start on the greyhound bus will get me to Hervey Bay at about 10:30am. It's a stop off point to get to Fraser Island. So many people have said, Fraser Island is a 'must see.'

I have something to complain about (don't remember the last time I had cause to complain about anything) my hostel room is unclean. I'm at 'The 'Palace' hostel. "Sorry sir, we haven't got around to cleaning it yet," says the Receptionist. Okay. I leave the hostel to check out my surroundings. Later in the day I return to find clean sheets on my bed but the floor isn't clean. I go down to complain. A new Receptionist asks, did I not notice it was unclean when I booked in ? After expaining that I had, she gives me a key to another room. This time the room has had it's floor cleaned, but the surfaces are dirty and the shower doesn't look too good. I go back to the first room.

The beach at Hervey bay is stunning. There aren't many people along this beach and it's easy just to stare at the sea and watch the waves and day dream. A thought crosses my mind: what were they thinking 200 years ago ? The politicians transported convicts to a place where there is plenty of land, natural resources, outstanding natural beauty, a round thing in the sky called the sun and much more. And everyone else stayed on a small island where the sun is hardly seen. Maybe the convicts should have been left in the U.K. and everyone else moved to Australia ? Who's laughing now ?

Inland from the beach there is a narrow strip of woodland and shrubs, etc, a pavement, a road, another pavement on the otherside and a line of shops, cafes and bars in spurts. It puzzles me why people are running along the pavement when there is a really nice beach to run along. Maybe the sun has gone to their heads.

I'm pretty chilled out here, it's easy just to lie down and relax because it's so warm, quiet and peaceful here. I decide to take the shuttle into town, do some laundry, have some lunch at a cafe and visit the beach - tough life, hey.

Maybe I can save some money by throwing in all my clothes into one wash instead of one for coloured clothes and one for whites. Maybe that was a mistake because now I have pink socks. Oh well, it's a source of amusement for others as I later discover.

I wonder around the shops a little and come across a noticeboard where locals can put up little cards, posters and adverts. As I'm reading it a lady with a piece of paper in her hand comes up to me and says, "you'll want to buy this one love, just let me put it up on the noticeboard." She struggles with something in her hand and then blurts out, "If can get this blasted durex off !"
Pardon ???
'Durex' is the name the Australians use for what we call sellotape in Engalnd. They also call flip-flops 'thongs' but I'm sure you would notice the difference if you tried to buy these items.

I'm at a hostel called Southerncross, 1770 (this number is the actual name of the town (something to do with the year 1770 and Captain Cook) near Agnes waters. I've been told it's probably one of the best hostels in Australia. As I walk in and approach the reception desk I'm greeted by one of the residents, a Swedish guy named Martin. I'm sure he's heard it a million times before, but he looks like the pictures you see of Jesus. He's not wearing white robes, but his bearded face nad hair matches the image. Ironically, he recently graduated with a degree in Islamic studies. Unfortunately, we don't get a chance to socialise very much in the two days I am at southern cross.

It's always (well nearly always) good to make friends and I'm glad Martin went to the trouble of introducing himself and giving me a run down of what it's like here. There are about 30 residents, and most of them are in their little cliques it seems. They call this place a retreat and there are little chill out areas and more space than other hostels. Generally, it's quite a nice place to be and people tend to stay here for a while.

The nearest place with shops is 4 km away and a regular free shuttle takes you there. Five minutes walking distance from the shops is a beach. There are a number of locals who visit the the beach, some with their children and surf boads. It is a huge, brown, clean, sandy beach like most I've seen in Australia. It must be great to have it on your doorstep. There are only about twenty small shops, cafes, etc around here and not much else.

I make friends with a couple of guys back at the hostel who show me photos of their trip here in Australia on their laptop. I'm not going to the outback and some other places they have been to and it's interesting to hear their views of Australia.

'Camira' is written on my itinerary. I realise this morning that this is the name of the Catamaran that is taking us to the Whitsunday Islands. It rained quite a bit last night, I wonder if the trip will be cancelled. I leave the hostel at 7:00am to catch the bus and get to the harbour.

It's an impressive looking boat. It was previously know as Tsunami but had its name changed in respect to the events of 2004. I read it cost $2million Australian dollars and can carry about eighty passengers. There's only about thirty of us and and I'm glad there aren't more because the seating would have been a bit tight. As we start our journey the weather is getting worse. At one point the rain is lashing down and one of the crew members is wearing divers face mask; I guess he's doing it as a joke. The journey to our first destination will take quite a while which gives us time to get to know each other. Not for the first time, the friendliest people I talk to are Germans. You would think the British might be more approachable once they see you have an English accent, in which case, at least for me sometimes, this is not the case.

An older retired gentleman tells me about his work for NATO. I've never met anybody who's worked for NATO. He could have told me anything I suppose, but his life story is an interesting one. I'm not going to be repeating it here.

At times the rain stops and a few of us venture outside; except for one crazy/eccentric Canadian who has been outside most of the time even during the worst rain. After a few hours we finally reach Whitehaven beach. Amazingly, the weather has turned and it's nice and sunny now.

We're taken by a small motorised boat to the beach while lunch is being prepared for us on board the catamaran. For an hour or so we play beach cricket or just sunbathe. I could get use to this - I wish. On board we have a big a la carte lunch. I venture to try the seafood too as I'm sure it's all fresh.

Next we're off to another site where we can do some snorkeling if we wish. As the snorkelers are getting off the catamaran and on to their boat, we notice a school of dolphins. Slowly we try and get as close as we can on the catamaran. The dolphins make sure they keep their distance, but at least we get to see them. Seeing them jump out of the water is a bit too much to ask for. We head back to the harbour.

In the evening I meet up with three of the German guys, Kaleb, Anna and Elona, I met on the catamaran. We go for a drink in a bar/pub, order food and drink to the background of a live band. They all get embarrassingly drunk and are thrown out of the bar (only joking) they said they might read my blog. Actually, it was a pleasant evening and we say goodbye.

I have to catch a greyhound bus at 11:55 in the evening. This isn't ideal as I didn't want to be traveling at night but that's how it's turned out.

Greyhound bus is to be a major mode of transport for a while. The journey starts at 7:30 am and finishes at 6:30pm at Airlie beach. It's just enough time to have a look around in the evening.

The hostel, called Magnums, is packed with a few hundred backpackers and has a very small kitchen. I'm glad I won't be here too long, just the one night.

I'm looking forward to the boat trip tomorrow.