I ate breakfast at a local cafe; as I walked in I couldn’t help but notice the small but special art on the wall. Some lovely watercolours and acrylics were usurped by a woven piece that caught my eye. I questioned the owner, who was Swedish, as to their origin and he told me he’d gotten the unusual piece 40 years ago while in Poland, en route to NZ and then Australia. His cheerful manner had obviously attracted many clients and it was good to hear a happy story from a happy man.

After my second rest day in a row, if you don’t count the walk along the beach, shopping and replacing my gas bottle, I finally decided to book a two-day trip to Fraser Island. Splurge of the run; see if it is as good as everyone makes out. Apparently there are about 12 companies doing tours but this year there’ll be another two, one of whom is run by the people similar to Greenpeace who rock up every year and used to survey on various tours. This year they have their own boat and the rumour is that they’re going to charge half the price if you want to come with them while they’re surveying.

What I didn’t know was that, by booking in to any tour through the caravan park, I got to leave my motorhome there for free. It’s subsidised by some local body, called a council. She also indicated that, once she left at 7.30pm, no-one would notice if I turned up the night before and plugged in the power.

Wow, a proper shower, electricity – I could even turn on the microwave! I’m inspired to change my clothes even; I’ll be a new man. Imagine an unlimited shower; it’s wondrous how the small things in life can bring such joy.

What she didn’t mention but I learnt from some park residents is that there are lorikeets… lots of lorikeets. Lorikeets may be the most beautifully coloured bird but, where they nest at night is not a good place to park. People hereabouts have had to put tarpaulins over their rigs so stop the crap dirtying their units as the birds flock in their thousands at sunset.

They’ve all settled down now, as shall I, I’ll be thinking of you all as I take an endless shower. If you don’t hear from me again, you’ll know I’ve drowned in the motorhome. ‘Let the journey begin,’ I thought, somewhere in my sleep deprived mind was a positive thought; elsewhere all I wanted to do was lapse into a coma so I could feel good again; but the bus was coming. Indeed, it was coming 10 minutes earlier than I anticipated so I raced around the motorhome and grabbed things here and there and rushed them out to the bus stop where a German couple were also waiting. Our bus driver arrived and off we went. About half way there he worked out that he and the other bus that was picking people up had the same list.

How clever is this?

Good to see that other organisations stuff things up as well.

We had to wait about half an hour for the ferry and I worked frantically on new ways to stay awake but soon enough we were thankfully away and the stretch of water was covered in around half an hour. I boarded the two-day bus, as distinct from the two one-day buses that were nearby parked. I say distinct because we had the sum total of six people; a Spanish couple on their honeymoon, an Irish grandma and her niece and an adolescent Italian from Napoli, Armando, who was in Australia to learn English, while the other two were almost full.

The Irish grandma baulked twice at getting up the five steps into the bus and complained how difficult they were. I figured she probably wasn’t going to take much part in the walking element of the tour, and so it transpired. The first two walks she just sat in the bus and, when we left our accommodation after lunch, she remained behind. She said she’d done the tour before but her obesity and subsequent crook knees told another story.

We first stopped in the middle of the island to walk a small valley called Pile. Bryan the driver said many had tried to take pictures of the creek but you can’t see the water. Bryan was right, water as clear as this exists in few locations on planet  Earth. Had you not heard the trickle or glimpsed the occasional shadow from a ripple you could well have been excused for thinking there was no water at all.

Almost getting wet at Lake McKenzie

Bryan also pointed out aptly-named King Ferns that exist only in this one spot on the whole island of 184,000 hectares.

Bryan then left and headed back to the bus to drive on and pick us up at the opposite end of the Pile Walk. The others moved ahead and within 10 minutes were long gone, Ian tarrying where fungi appeared and 1000-year-old-plus satinay trees rose from the sand. They are just some of few remnants of the intense logging that took place on the island. In fact, where we started the walk was the site of a timber mill and town where initially kauri pines were taken then all sorts of other  timbers. There was a school and much more but the impact on the aborigines was devastating; 600-700 hundred used to live here, today only 10 of their descendants remain, mostly working for NPWS.

1000 year old satinay tree

Satinay was a timber logged for its water resistant qualities after piers made from it were shown to have longevity beyond other timbers, yet there remained two trees of great age, one at 1000 years and another at 1500 years.

As I walked out to the bus the ‘road’ was starting to get busy; it was school holidays after all. Bryan said the road was really good because they’d graded it a few days earlier. As he threw it into first to negotiate a nasty bump and then slewed a little going around a corner I thought it was scary – just how bad it must be when it’s not alright.

Our next stop was the famous Lake McKenzie, a gem of a body of water where many go to bathe; there’s something about the water apparently that makes you feel refreshed. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been thinking ‘swim’ when I got on the bus and had no bathers so had to content myself with rolling up my trousers and splashing water over my head; sort of a self baptism and I had to agree, the water did seem different.

Fishing can be good on Fraser Island

McKenzie is a perched lake, formed when vegetation from ancient times has solidified into peat and that, coupled with fresh vegetation layers and sand, holds water that very slowly filters to layers beneath.

Next we had lunch at the Eurong Resort where the only memorable thing was that the free coffee machine broke down. Actually, I also remember that if your choice was hot chocolate you had to go to the bar and pay $4, something I refused to do on principle.

Rainbow bee eaters are one of 354 recorded bird species on the island

DINGO

Post lunch we hit the beach, that notorious 120-mile stretch of sand that happens to be a designated highway in Queensland. What happens without lines and such you may well ask. Well, 114 people couldn’t answer you because that’s how many died in the five years to the end of 2009; prompting a blitz. Of the 50 hire vehicles inspected, 17 were refused because of faulty brakes, tyres and seat belts, nine vehicles were overloaded, while a further nine were ruled out completely because they were “defective”. Overseas drivers, most of whom have never driven a 4WD before, were the main culprit.

They brought in new regulations that said all luggage was to be inside and not on the roof, that a new speed limit of 80km/h was to be imposed, that tag-along tours were fine but not individuals carrying 11 passengers on their own in TroopCarriers as they used to. The maximum was culled to eight and it seems to work. Apparently they used to pile up a vehicle, charge along the sand and hit a soft section and roll it; invariably Asians so I was told.

Fraser Island rainbow

 Our goal was Lake Wabby, achieved by walking along a 2.3km soft sandy trail through some colourful vegetation, whose orange colours haven’t been retouched in any way on the computer. The lake itself is a barrage lake, formed when a windblown sand dune blocks a water course. This lake was full of catfish and was tannin stained from the melaleucas, such a contrast to McKenzie. A lone brahminy kite sat watchfully on an exposed branch on the opposite bank as we sat on the side of a large dune.

I went back early from Lake Wabby and kept up my unsuccessful attempts at getting a decent bird shot on the trail.

Dingo; this word kept cropping up; it’s a Fraser Island thing, especially since there have been over 400 documented attacks on humans including a tragically famous fatality of a nine-year-old boy over a decade ago. These days they have become more emboldened and lost their fear of man.

Pile Valley

Though they are believed to number less than 200 they are often sighted around humans, even congregating at Waddy Point each year when there’s a famous fishing competition. Imagine our surprise when a guy from a 4WD alighted and went and sat in the sand not far from one so that it would get close and his partner could take his picture, something I obviously also did, but shaking my head at the stupidity of it at the same time.

Despite the bouncy ride in the bus I almost fell asleep, so tired was I but I got back to our digs still awake, sort of, then had a shower and went to dinner before collapsing around 7.15 for 2½ hours, just in time to watch Le Tour again while Armando snored his way into oblivion.

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Written: Mon 01 Aug 2016
Printed: August, 2016
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