Wednesday, October 1 - Fitzroy Island
That would have been a respectable song reference until Coles
supermarkets in Australia ripped it off for an advertising campaign. What were you thinking Status Quo?
We are sitting in our beachside cabin pondering the fact that I
haven’t actually written one sentence for the blog since we’ve been away. It’s an interesting point because at no
stage have I given this any thought prior to Jayne raising the issue. Perhaps it’s because we are drinking a bottle
of Larmandier champagne that I smuggled on to the island. Yes, that is correct dear reader, this is a
licensed island, therefore no BYO. Oops. Too late now and it went down so well
in the afternoon after a full morning of walking followed by a failed attempt
at scuba diving. More on that later.
We dawdled down to breakfast around 8am. It was remarkably quiet compared to
yesterday. The price for cereal and
toast still rankles but we are a captive audience. After watching several illiterate people
ignore the sign that requests croissants not be put into the toaster (they were
English speaking, some Australian) and having our fill of Kellogg’s cereal and
toast, we headed home to ponder the day.
My plan was to walk to the lighthouse, a 1.5 hour round trip, take
some snaps and head home for a quick snorkel before diving in the
afternoon. There was some discussion
around which walk we would attempt. The
summit walk was out, 2.5 hour return.
Heard that loud and clear. Jayne
will walk forever (e.g. around Paris for 15 hours), but not up/down steep
gradients or bush tracks. The secret
garden walk was suggested, 45 minutes.
Too easy. That’s something to do
while waiting for the bar to open. So
the lighthouse walk it was.
 |
| Random shots form the walk |
It all began well. The track
was wide and even. Without warning it
began to climb the side of the mountain.
The good news was that we were walking on cement path. Not the smoothest, certainly rustic in parts,
but easier than a bush track. The
problem was the track just kept climbing and became steeper in sections. We exchanged words with some walkers heading
back down, their advice, “Save your breath, it gets steeper around the corner.”
and it did. Jayne stopped. “I can’t do this”, she gasped. We waited, things were discussed, including
the difference between ‘can’t’ and ‘won’t’, and how neither of us wanted to
stop the other enjoying their time away.
I know it’s not a competition, but I won. Well, at least Jayne was going to keep
walking even though she didn’t believe me when I said the top of the climb
wasn’t far away.
And it wasn’t, although the last of the climb was incredibly
steep. We rounded a bend and we were on
the other side of the island with clear views out to Green Island and back to
the mainland – and a breeze. This part
of the track undulated and lacked the gradient of the previous sections. When the lighthouse came into view I was
underwhelmed. I had expected the
traditional round white stone construction.
This one is square(ish) and the exterior is white porcelain tiles.
Before we could get there and have a closer look, we came to the
climb to the summit. Jayne sat down on a
nearby rock and said, “I’ll just wait here”.
I dropped the pack, grabbed the camera and set off. I completed the 1.5km round trip in around 45
minutes. Given the steep climb and
factoring time out for photos, I thought that was pretty good. There were some old gun placements on the way
to the top, left over from World War II – or a previous Queensland premier’s
paranoia about invasion from ‘southerners’.
The view from the top was pretty tidy and I ran into our nextdoor
neighbours (from the cabin) and their two young daughters. They are around 6 and 8, and they came
directly up the steeper summit track, good climbing girls.
Back down to the lighthouse track and then the final walk to the
lighthouse. Nice view. Have you ever been to a lighthouse that
doesn’t have the best view? Me either.
The walk home had its intense moments. The track was ridiculously steep and uneven. As is my usual practice, I walked in front of
Jayne so she could use me to balance.
Until my knees could no longer take the pressure, but by that time we
were almost back onto flat land anyway.
It was a reasonable walk, but as usual, it was the things we saw on
the way that made it memorable. The
Asian couple with mother-in-law (I assume) pushing a pram up the steepest of
gradients – all three working together. It
was a difficult walk, pushing a pram was ludicrous. The Japanese girl, dressed in cheerleader
uniform, fossicking through the backpack to find serviettes for her friend so
he could wipe the sweat from his brow and glasses. And the young Australian couple who failed
the literacy test. On my return from the
summit to the lighthouse track they enquired whether there was a tap up
there. Seriously? We are on an island, not in Cairns. Aside from their ignorance, they failed to
take heed of every map that I saw that stated, “water required for this
walk”. If the track had been longer it
could have one for the Darwin awards.
Back at the cabin we rested and rehydrated in preparation for our
dive. We were told to be there at
12:45. I was sceptical and suggested to
Jayne that when we arrived we would be told that a few other people were
joining us and they would need to have their practice session in the pool. I couldn’t have scripted it better, much to
Jayne’s amusement, so back to the cabin to return to the dive centre at 1:30.
There were 6 of us. We were
the only ones who had done the pool dive so we were going to go through the
basics again – no problems there, and we were diving straight off the
beach. One couple was selected to wait
and go on our return. The dive master (American)
was informed that they needed to be gone by 3, sure, no problems, that works
perfectly he replied. Jayne and I
exchanged glances. That won’t be
happening.
So, the four of us struggled across the gravel road and made our way
down the crushed coral embankment onto the tiny strip of sand. I have been trying to think of a fitting
description for how we moved; tentatively doesn’t do it; awkwardly starts to
provide the picture. We were struggling
with the weight and as a result our balance was affected, this was also
impacted on by the sharpness of the coral and the uneven surface
underfoot. We staggered like tenderfoot
drunks to the relative safety of the beach.
Only to engage in another stumbling dance attempting to put our fins
on. New-born calves skittering on their
legs for the first time had nothing on us.
Once fully attired the plan was to practice clearing our goggles of
water, the same for the regulator. First
we had to our vests deflated so we could all kneel on the bottom in a kum bay
ya style circle. And that’s where the
real trouble began. My vest wouldn’t
deflate and even when the instructor released the air I couldn’t sink deep
enough and I wasn’t the only one. He
went back to the dive shop for more weights while we practiced breathing
underwater. Unlike yesterday, I was not
comfortable and was very relieved when Jayne announced the same. It didn’t matter what I did I just didn’t
feel OK. Even though I was breathing
normally under the water I had this irresistible urge to return to the
surface. Visibility was maybe 2 metres,
although it would be clearer at the drop off.
Jayne and I decided to bail and recommenced the drunken walk of shame
back to the dive shop where the other couple was still waiting … and another
British ex-pat took charge of our gear.
Once unfettered we went back to the cabin grabbed our towels and
went snorkelling. Well that was the
plan. I made it into the water but the
clip on Jayne’s snorkel snapped. After a
few cursory laps of the area I came back in went back to the dive and scored a
free clip to fix Jayne’s gear.
About this time housekeeping arrived and Jayne dashed from beach to
cabin, all of 15 metres, to discuss a few issues with them. More on that later.
The wind was getting up and it was after 3pm so we opted for the
champagne. This was followed by a walk
to Foxy’s Bar for pre-dinner drinks and dinner.
The sun sets, the stars come out, the sound of waves on the shore lull
us to sleep. Another perfect day in
paradise is complete.
Just one more footnote – the English couple who didn’t get to go
scuba diving … while we were gearing up ready to not go scuba diving, this
English couple arrived in the kit area, complete with baby in pram. David, the U.S. diving instructor, was
informed they would be doing an introductory session but needed to be done
before 3pm. Immediate question floating
in our minds (apart from what are the odds against you getting to do the
separate dive class by 3 pm given we are going out first at 1:30pm?)… What are
you going to do with the baby while you dive?
The couple inquired of the young girl employed at the dive shop if she
was happy to look after the baby during the class. Now I don’t consider us to have ever been helicopter
parents; in fact we were pretty down to earth but seriously? Leave your still
bottle fed baby with a girl you have never met before while you go diving for
an hour or more?
As it turned out, they didn’t get to go anyway because, as with all
dive shop excursions, booking times are a mere suggestion of possibility, all
things being equal and weather permitting.
The only things this resort sticks to rigidly are observing the times
when you cannot get food (between 3 and 6 pm) and the general store hours
(9:30am-4:30pm).
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