Andrew Betts

Leaving Bargara, we continued to journey south. We were now entering 'big stuff' country. I give the area this name quite simply because the residents seem to like building enormous copies of fruits and vegetables for no apparent reason. This habit would continue for several hundred miles, but today we saw the first such construction, at the aptly named Big Pineapple Service Station. I'll leave it to your imagination to work out the details of this one.

We arrived in Noosa at about 6pm, and had about two hours of daylight left - we decided to hire some bikes and explore the town until it got dark. We had a map and found a lookout which we attempted to reach, but time was against us and dusk fell when we still had about a third of the distance still to cover. The lookout was at the top of a hill and I was getting very tired by this point anyway. When the street lighting ended John decided to wait while David and I continued up the hill to see if we were getting close. We weren't. David went on ahead, and pretty soon all I could see was his torchlight ahead, since I didn't have a torch of my own. We still didn't know exactly where we were, and so we descended to find John. Once back on the street lit roads, we continued to cycle around the perimeter of the town, not wanting to go back over the hill. We still hadn't had any dinner and so it was quite a stroke of luck when a Pizza Hut suddenly appeared ahead.

After dinner we cycled back into the town, and couldn't find the hostel. It wasn't simply a matter of narrowing it down either - we genuinely had no idea which part of town it was in relative to where we were. Even David's legendary navigational skills had failed us. Eventually I worked it out, and at the same time David declared he had too, but unfortunately each of our solutions involved going in different directions. When we finally found the hostel, I believe I was right, but we never quite agreed on that.

I didn't sleep. Dingo may still officially be in the tropics, but the ventilation in the dorms was a bit too good for my liking and no duvets were provided. Not having brought a sleeping bag, I froze in my bunk.

By the morning I was stiff and hungry - not a very good start to my birthday, but Dingo didn't disappoint as far as breakfast was concerned. Rumours were flying around thick and fast about who was going to be driving our bus now that Phil had been arrested for drug possession. Would the company let him carry on or would they have sent a replacement?

At 9am we discovered that the complaints to HQ had found their mark, and that Phil was no more. His replacement was a hippy type called Steve who clearly belonged in the sixties and couldn't understand why free love and flares had gone out of fashion. His bus decorations clearly showed his experience though - where Phil had made a somewhat simplistic, albeit patriotic, statement with a single australian flag, Steve's redecorating job had installed several hundred photos, a whip, flynet, lots of things that were basically furry dice with character, and an enormous CD/minidisc collection.

The trip to Bargara was largely uneventful, except for spotting a trailer parked on the side of the highway that was used for transporting extremely heavy objects like turbines around. This would have been pretty uninteresting except that the thing had over five HUNDRED wheels. Steve (the new bus driver) knew it was coming up and asked everybody to guess. I think the highest number was around 50. I thought it was a trick question and said zero. I imagined large amounts of freight being sledded across the outback. No, that was a bit silly, actually.

When we arrived at Bargara, Steve told us that we would be in the lap of luxury this evening - the hostel was one of the nicest in the country. He certainly wasn't exaggerating. The place was a sort of village, with a river running though the centre, and very modern accommodations that were spread out into lots of individual houses. Each one slept about 7, and had a lounge area with TV (sofas convert into beds) a double bedroom, a bathroom, small kitchen, and a loft area on a mezzanine floor with 4 single futons. David and I opted for futons while John decided to sleep in the lounge. We would be sharing with two other groups of two.

Having showered (plenty of hot water too), changed, and generally wallowed in the splendour of it all, we went to find the beach. It was getting dark, and a total lunar eclipse was promised for about 9:30pm. This area was much more suburban than Airlie Beach, so finding the shore was a little easier, and as it turned out, it was closer. The roads were still deserted, and as the time approached 9:30, we studiously ignored the sky so as to get the full impact of the eclipse when we got to the darkened beach. Walking on to the sand, I waited a few seconds for my night vision to improve, and then looked up at the sky. Any preconceptions I had about the effect of lunar eclipses were washed away in that instant as I gazed upwards and saw more stars than I thought could ever be seen at the same time. In London massive light pollution obscures the night sky and you would be lucky to pick out many of the brightest stars, but that couldn't have made more stark a contrast to the display now hanging above our heads. Not only was the sky filled with the bright light of millions of stars, but also the planets, several of which were clearly visible, and even areas of shading that I guess may have been galaxies, or part of our own.

My digital camera was quite capable of capturing this scene, but would have required a very long exposure, and I did not have a tripod. This oversight probably cost me one of the finest pictures of the trip, but I don't think I'll be forgetting it in a hurry.

We slept comfortably in our luxury suite/house, for the following day we would be leaving at 9:30am, quite a lie-in by recent standards.

Otherwise known as "the day Phil got arrested". Leaving Airlie Beach behind, we continued our journey south, next stop Dingo. Dingo was to be our first real taste of the outback - a cattle ranch considerably inland from the coast road we had been using up to now. The plan (as conceived by OzExperience) was to arrive by about 4 or 5 pm, and have a tour before the evening entertainments began.

We didn't quite get that far. About two hours out of Airle Beach, our bus was stopped at what seemed to be a police checkpoint. Phil got out, walked across the road to the police car, and to the general amusement of everyone on the bus, blew into a breathalyser held by the policeman. He then re-boarded the bus and announced cheerily:

Ah, guys - looks like we're gonna have to go back to Airlie Beach" [everyone groans] "so, err, sorry 'bout that, bit of a bummer ay?"

Then one of the police officers drove us back the way we had come. Phil, having clearly got himself into a hole, decided that the best thing to do was to keep digging. He continued with his charm offensive, offering the police officer the mic, saying "I've heard the Queensland police are the best in the world". The police officer predictably declined and suggested to Phil that it was probably not a good idea to use a hand held microphone while driving.

The bus stopped in the town of Prosperpine, about a half hour back towards Airlie Beach, where apparently the police had the necessary 'facilities' to deal with Phil. As it turned out, Phil had been in possession of Cannabis, which is illegal in Queensland. Since this is a fairly minor offence compared to being high on the stuff while driving a ten ton bus filled with tourists, the police wanted to check his blood. While they were doing all this, we had a look around Prosperpine.

Prosperpine had virtually nothing of interest to the regular tourist, and several members of the tour group were bored very quickly. One American girl even started asking everyone whether they would like to join her in complaining to Oz Experience's HQ in Sydney by phone. Quite frankly I thought that Phil had performed his role brilliantly - this was after all an adventure holiday, and he was turning a routine bus trip into a real adventure. So I declined. Actually, despite initial slightly dull appearances, Prosperpine is an excellent example of an agricultural centre in Queensland. There was a big sugar cane mill churning out steam nearby, and an enormous railway station where the sugar cane and sugar would be loaded for transport. The town existed for the sugar industry, and the sugar industry is a very important part of the economy of northern Queensland. This was clearly lost on many members of the tour group, who felt much more at home once we got to Dingo.

Getting to Dingo, our destination for the evening, could have been much more complicated had the police not released Phil without charge an hour later. We were back on the road, and Phil was as upbeat as ever. As we moved further inland, and passed the point where we had been turned back earlier in the day, the endless fields of green sugar cane was replaced by endless plains of pretty much nothing at all (see picture). Arriving in Dingo three hours late, the evening was dedicated to party games, drinking round the campfire and line dancing, all to a pre-programmed schedule. The food was good though.

Otherwise known as the day Phil couldn't count. Lots of stops today, one significant one where the bus would pick up or drop off passengers: Townsville. On arrival, we got off to have our one-hour break in the town, and arriving back found the bus was a scene of chaos. There were about 50 seats on the bus, and about 70 people wanting to take them. Musical chairs was out of the question, and Phil was trying to decide what to do. He decided to board people one at a time after checking their reservation slips. The problem with this was that almost everyone had a valid reservation slip. After weeding out the three or four that didn't, Phil re-boarded the bus triumphantly to find that about fifteen people were standing in the aisle.

Two hours later we were still in Townsville. Calls to HQ had finally resolved the situation and those that were willing to take the next day's bus were re-booked. We moved on, and the second incident of the day happened a couple of hours later when Phil stalled the bus. On the upward slope of a hill. With no air pressure for the brakes. Fortunately, the people who make busses had thought of this and the bus did not roll back down the hill. It would not go forward either so we spent another 15 minutes stationery as Phil revved the engine until the air pressure was back to normal.

The hostel in Airlie beach was in darkness when we arrived. We decided to check out the beach itself (despite the darkness), and left our room to explore. The lighting ended at the entrance to a wooded passage which supposedly led to the beach, and certainly looked well trodden (the first bit did, we couldn't see the rest very well). Advancing into the trees, armed with maglites, we followed the path as best we could. Shadows cast by the tress in the torchlight made for a very creepy setting and the going was getting rough. Torches had to be focused on the ground ahead as the tree roots surged to the surface, creating nature's own tripwires.

Emerging on the other side of the path, the ground opened up and grass appeared underfoot. A few trees and a telephone/power line were silhouetted in the distance, but there was no immediate sign of the beach. We continued to walk straight ahead, crossing the grassy area in a few minutes, and soon noticed the ground was becoming softer - sand was making an appearance. A little farther on a deserted road with a single street lamp and a row of houses - but now the waves could be heard, and we were close. It appeared that to get to the beach itself we would have to slip through the gap between two houses, and so we did so as quietly as possible. Finally the trees, soil and tarmac gave way to a deserted stretch of beach lit up by the moonlight and two distant fires perhaps half a mile along the shore. The sight of moonlight being reflected from the surface of the water combined with the gentle lapping of the waves is a relaxing contrast to daily life aboard the Oz-bus.

Otherwise known as the day we met Phil the bus driver. We had to get up very early to meet the Oz Experience bus at the Esplanade, and it didn't seem like a very good sign when it turned up over half an hour late. Phil (who was a new Oz Experience driver - this was his first trip) had, it seems, broken down covering the mile or so from the place where he'd picked up the bus to the Esplanade where we were waiting. This guy was about to drive us over 2000 miles.

Oz Experience is a hop-on, hop-off bus service covering routes throughout Australia. The route we had chosen, which would take us from Cairns to Sydney, had a minimum of 8 overnight stops, but the bus would also stop in several places every day where people would be able to get off, spend time in the area, and then board another "Oz-Bus" when they wanted to continue their journey. We didn't have much time, so we were planning to only take advantage of one of these, stopping overnight in Brisbane (normally just a lunch stop), and otherwise only stopping overnight when the bus did.

Once we had stowed our backpacks and settled in, Phil explained that this was his first trip as an Oz-driver. As the day progressed, it became obvious that the explanation had not been necessary - he took every opportunity to demonstrate his lack of experience. First stop for the day: Kuranda, home of the scenic railway and rainforest skyrail. I had been looking forward particulary to that, since we had seen the rainforest from the ground and I imagined the view from above was spectacular. However, enterprising bus driver saw opportunity to catch up on lost time:

ah, guays - it seys ere in me book that we stop at Kuranda for the Skyrail thing. Does anyone actually want to see that?

Nobody wanted to be the only one to say they wanted to see it.

Sweet

And with that the Kuranda stop was swiftly erased from the itinerary.

The second 'stop' of the day was at Innisfail crocodile farm, where Phil did actually stop the bus. A tour of the farm had been organised, and was quite informative, although being phobic of reptiles I did not find any of them very appealing. Much more fun were the tame kangaroos and wallabies which roamed the farm. Unlike the crocs, these creatures were not penned in and several were hopping around the tour group as we walked across the farm. Bread rolls were distributed at the end of the tour so we could feed the roos, and this was definitely the highlight of the day (see pictures). The Kangaroo would take the bread with it's front paw and hold it while breaking bits off to eat one piece at a time, showing remarkably humanlike behaviour which always raised a smile. One roo even posed with John and David for a group photo, which has since become infamous as the "Andrew kidnapped and replaced by roo" shot.

After Innisfail, the bus drove non-stop to our first overnight stop, Mission Beach. Problem was, Phil couldn't find it. It took several members of the group to collectively point at the relevant road sign to persuade him that he'd already driven past it twice.

After the activities of the last couple of days, my body and wallet needed a break, so I spent today reading, doing laundry, and catching up on E-Mail.

You can't leave Cairns without a visit to the Great Barrier Reef, and we had no intention of missing out. We got up early and arrived at the pier by 8 am (virtually all the day tours start this early) to meet our boat. The crew were of the fun-and-lively tour guide variety similar to the guy we had had the previous day, but there were a great deal more people on the boat, so we pretty much had to entertain ourselves for the one-and-a-half hour trip to Hastings Reef. On the way, everyone was issued with the appropriate equipment - a mask, snorkel and flippers at the least, and also a wetsuit if so desired.

Once we arrived at the reef, the well-oiled system of activities sprang into life. Snorkelling could be done at any time from the left (sorry, port) side of the boat. The glass bottomed boat did twenty-minute trips every twenty minutes from the starboard side, the certified divers were left to go about their business from the front of the boat, and the non-certified divers were taken down in groups of four from the back. Due to this exceptional organisation, I was able to snorkel, then scuba dive, and finally have a glass-bottom boat tour.

I will concentrate on the SCUBA diving here because that was most definitely the highlight. I was kitted up on a platform at the back on the boat, along with David and two others, and we were first allowed to get used to the idea of being able to breathe underwater (It's actually more difficult to accept than you might think). Gradually we moved down the rungs of the ladder, down into the water, did some simple skills, and finally let go to follow the instructor away from the boat. I was trying to breathe, swim, and clear my ears at the same time, which I was gradually becoming better at, when an absolutely enormous fish swam across right in front of me. Absolutely enormous is a relative term here, since most reef fish are fairly small in the grand scheme of things - I'm not talking whale proportions, that's all. That said, it was the biggest fish I had ever seen in the flesh, and it was currently swimming in slow lazy circles around me and the rest of the group, and I'm sure it had no worries at all about clearing its ears or remembering to breathe.

The fish was called Wally, a Giant Wrasse just over a metre long. The cruise company fed him, and so he kept coming back to them every day. The reef itself is much more colourful from under the surface and the visibility was excellent - the clearest water I've ever seen. There is no mud on the bottom - just pure coral sand that shimmers in the sunlight which makes swirling patterns all over it.

The boat moves to another reef before heading home. On the way back, there is something called 'boom netting', which involves throwing a big cargo net out the back of the boat, and having people hang on to it for dear life while they are dragged through the water, or in some cases, under it. This seemed like a very risky thing to do, and I opted out for this reason. Strangely enough, David headed straight for it for exactly the same reason.

It took another hour and a half to get back to Cairns, and the water became rough enough that the crew issued 'complementary sea sickness bags' to everyone, although in one case this came a bit too late. Before we arrived back in Cairns, we took in a magnificent sunset over the sea - a fitting end to a very enjoyable day.

Today was to be our first organised tour. We had to be ready for 8 am, and in our ignorance decided to have breakfast in the hostel restaurant, not knowing that took over 40 minutes to get served a cooked breakfast. We got it about 30-40 seconds before the bus turned up.

The tour, however, was excellent - one of the best I was to take while in Australia. Our tour guide had a good sense of humour and an absolutely enormous ego, so even the long periods of driving between pockets of interesting stuff were not boring.

C'mon guys! Hug some treeees

We visited four sites, where we admired spectacular waterfalls, learned the history of the rainforest and its ecosystem, and had the opportunity to swim in the plunge pools at the base of the waterfalls. Bit cold - I wimped out and took photos instead. Our tour also included a great deal of information about the current status of the area as a World Heritage site and the changing focus of the North Queensland industries from logging to tourism, although one of the primary industries, sugar cane farming, has remained vitally important.

Our accommodation is a 'holiday village' which translates roughly as a motel/hostel. The facilities are very good - we have a triple share apartment with en-suite bathroom, TV, fridge, kettle, and of course air conditioning. Everything you could need, really. I got 11 hours sleep and was pretty much over my jet-lag.

We hadn't booked anything yet, so we decided to rent some bikes and go explore the area. The bike hire place was very close to the city library. First we headed back to the Esplanade, and cycled along the coast, heading north towards the botanic gardens. After a while, the coast road ran out and we pressed on along the Captain Cook Highway.

We were stopped in our tracks by the sight of a hang-glider being prepared on the side of a hill, on a platform next to a wire, which I assumed to be a chairlift of some kind. To my amazement, hand-glider and pilot were attached to the wire and shot off down the it like a zip line. It seems that it was some kind of hang-glider training facility. Intrigued, we followed the path at the base of the hill, and found it to be a really fantastic riverside route with ample shade and superb scenery. This path eventually led to a large lawned area, where we were directed by various signs to a saltwater lake, a freshwater lake or a rainforest boardwalk. We opted for the boardwalk, and set off once again. The boardwalk was a wooden walkway over wet, marshy ground dense with vegetation.

Eventually we arrived at the botanic gardens proper, and with no bikes allowed, I gladly locked mine up, for I was becoming very sore anyway. The gardens were quite good, although nothing special compared with the boardwalk, which was excellent, but the café there was a very good choice for lunch.

On our way back we briefly visited the freshwater lake, and on arriving back at the town centre realised that none of us could remember where we had hired the bikes from. We split up to try and find it, and typically I managed to be the furthest from the place when David found it.

Our first day in Australia does not start well. All my own fault, of course - I just can't sleep on planes. 3am finds us in Darwin - the right country at least - waiting to board new passengers before continuing to our final destination, and starting point: Cairns. In order to do this, everyone is required to leave the plane. This seems faintly ridiculous, but I'm far beyond any ability to complain, and so obligingly trudge off the plane, only to trudge back on again 30 minutes later. I suddenly realise that this is day 3, and we're not actually there yet.

Once again I'd told where the door is - entirely unnecessary as I've now walked through it three times, and we take off once again for Cairns. Finally at 8am we arrive unceremoniously, and once again disembark, this time with the enthusiasm that accompanies the knowledge that we will not have to re-board again. It was shortly after this that I discovered that my baggage, which had accompanied me for most of my journey, had decided to pip me at the post and go to Brisbane. In Australian terms, that's probably described as 'close'. I received an apology and was told that it would arrive by 11am, and would thereafter be delivered to my accommodation. Which was great, except that the accommodation we had booked in the UK had not received our booking and was now full. We were taken to an alternative place, which was nice enough, and phoned the airline to let them know where to send my bag.

Finally, we managed to get into town, and wandered down the Esplanade. I was surprised to find that Cairns had no beach - only mud flats. I'm told this is down to the Great Barrier Reef catching all the fine silt and sand. By 6pm I'd been awake and in the same clothes for 37 hours, so when we got back to the hostel it was quite a relief to discover that my bag had arrived. For the first time, I felt, so had I.