Getting to the Whitsundays

60^th AUS Trip Blog 6

 



On Saturday, 29 October, five of us set out from Sydney headed for northern Queensland and the Great Barrier Reef. The crew of this Modern Day Gilligan’s Island troupe included Dave and Kank Alexander, Andrew and Margaret Winn-Dix and yours truly.

Specifically, our destination was a group of islands off the coast discovered on Whitsunday 1770 bythe great British Explorer, Captain James Cook.                 

The Whitsundays are actually drowned mountain ranges which were once part of the Australian mainland until the seas rose eons ago. Fringed by coral reefs, they offer great snorkeling, exciting sailing due to the steady trade winds, and interesting bush walking when on land.

 

Most of the Whitsunday Islands are now National Parks, so there is a pleasant sense that you are with Captain Cook on a voyage of discovery as you sail along uninhabited islands. That is if you ignore the hundreds of other sailboats doing the same thing.

 What is not uninhabited bush is five star resort living. Hayman Island for example, boasts guests such as Nicole Kidman and Russell Crowe. Apparently the staff gets about  the resort by using tunnels, so the guests may enjoy total privacy until they actually require service. As we sailed by this resort the other day, a seaplane landed at the resort’s sparkling marina. We speculated on what movie star was in that plane.

Our point of embarkation for our much more low brow cruise was Hamilton Island, another resort Island which has had an airport runway hacked out of the coral reef.

 They used to say that getting there is half then fun. That was in the days before airport screenings, baggage limits and seating which assumes you are a circus midget.

With Dave and Kank, getting there is half the adventure, as I discovered. I was totally relying on their local knowledge and familiarity with domestic flying. Well, we did get there, eventually, but how, I am not sure. I was a nervous wreck through most of it.

 OK, I admit that I get a bit obsessive about not missing planes, so I leave heaps of time to spare. Dave and Kank are MUCH more laid back. Dave announced that we would be leaving at “ten-ish” for an 11:50 flight. Given that I estimated it would take at least 45 minutes to get across Sydney Harbor in Sydney traffic, I thought that was awfully tight. But they are the experts. Then Dave went to work and Kank went to row. I got ready. Kank got back in plenty of time, but as “around 10 ish” Dave was still not back, Kank  decided to walk over to her mother’s flat to have a chat until Dave arrived. This did nothing to ease my rising panic. Dave arrived in due course, and decided he needed a shower. Finally, we got into the car and couldn’t locate Kank by phone. By now it was nearing 10:30.

It did not, in fact, take 45 minutes to get to the airport, but we were lucky. There was a brief bit of bumper to bumper as we emerged from the Harbour Tunnel, and even Kank was worried. But we got there a bit before 11 and Dave dropped us off.

When I say it did not take us 45 minutes, I speak for Kank and myself. To save money, Dave decided to drive to Mascot Station and take the train back. He arrived back close to 11:30.  Luckily the plane was delayed for an hour so it was a moot point. Let the record show that Kank commented, while waiting for Dave, that she doubted he would have made the plane if it had been on time.

 When the plane landed in the Whitsundays, I naively assumed that Andrew and Margaret would meet us. Sensibly, they had traveled up much earlier on their own. When we got off the plane mass confusion reigned as we realized we needed to take a ferry to a place called Airlie Beach and meet them there. Problem was, the ferry went to Shute Harbour. No problem, Dave said.  Shute Harbour is the name of Airlie Beach’s Harbour. He was wrong.

 Peter relaxes on "the Ferry"

Meanwhile, Dave had rung Andrew to tell him we were on “the Ferry”. Assuming we meant the Airlie Beach Ferry, Andrew arranged to meet us there.  Imagine the  surprise all round when we departed at Shute Harbor, rang Andrew again to tell him we had arrived, to which he said he was there waiting for us. For people as well educated as our lot is, it is amazing how long, and how many phone calls, it took for us to realize that we were at different ferry landings and we were not at Airlie Beach at all. A shuttle bus eventually deposited us at the right ferry landing and we met up with a flustered Andrew.

 Andrew and Margaret

From then on the night went smoothly. We provisioned the boat, had a late dinner of roast chook, and retired early for the real adventure of the next day.

 

Blue Pearl Bay,  Hayman Island