When I'm 64 (Sal Salis, Cape Range National Park)

The night was calmer, although colder until the early morning when the wind whipped up again. No drama. The tent stayed anchored to the ground. We heard the sound of distant voices heading off to early morning adventures and dozed on. 

Those voices became the soundtrack to our week. We heard them on the plane up from Perth, on the shuttle to Sal Salis, in the morning as they went on their dawn walk, in the Lodge. I named them Tinnitus because they were always in my head.

Today is Jayne’s birthday (August 19 if you’re reading this out of sync) and the intention is to be as relaxed as possible and just go with whatever takes us. It is also responsible for today's title, When I'm 64 by the best band ever, The Beatles. 

Breakfast was the usual offerings, although this morning we tried the coffee machine. I know, dear reader, there are multitudes of people who believe the new-age machine does good coffee, but I am not among their number. What appeared in a cup this morning, masquerading as an espresso, did little to alter my perspective. I drank it and then opted for a cup of tea.

Stunning every morning.

Following breakfast, we were fitted out for our snorkelling gear, sans wetsuits. The water temperature is remarkably warm and we felt we wouldn’t require them. Back to the tent to change and then it was straight across the sand dune to the water. The reef is less than 10 metres away but the south-north current ensures you need to walk many metres down the beach to allow your snorkel to bring you home. Otherwise, it’s Mauritius or Madagascar, as I’ve heard the guides say.

We walked maybe 500 metres up the beach and then it was into the gutter between the shore and the coral. Mask adjusted, flippers on, into the current, over the coral and let the ocean do the rest. Visibility was still not as good as we’d hoped. The fringing coral was in various states of life or death; it wasn’t easy to tell the difference at times. It’s a spectrum I guess and the opposite ends share some similarities. The coral closest to the shore was covered in sediment which was unsurprising given the current and the nature of the reef.

There was a variety of coral but the abundance and diversity of fish life was astounding. Regardless of whether we were over sand or coral, there were fish. All shapes and sizes and colours. Large schooling fish I would have liked to have taken home for dinner. Trumpeter fish with their oversized beaks. Leather jacket, angel fish, Nemo (well, his relatives) and so many more I didn’t recognise. Magic.

Pretty and  slightly over-exposed.

Back on shore, we retired to our tent for showers and a spot of reading on the verandah. The sun and the breeze ensured our gear dried quickly. The only disturbance was the aircraft. Planes heading out to the reef whale spotting or just sight-seeing and the jets. I assume they were heading for Learmonth which is, after all, a Defence base. And Tinnitus droning away in their tent.

A Nankeen Kestrel falcon.

Sal Salis is one of those resorts where everything is included in the price. Unlike some cruises we’ve been on that profess the same, Sal Salis is the real deal, we paid for nothing after we arrived. An ordinary day offered breakfast, lunch, canapes and dinner with the alcohol cupboard being freely accessed whenever you like. It being Jayne’s birthday, we thought lunch might be nice. The choice was burrata and whatever or bugs and a capsicum (muhammara style) sauce.

Bugs. Wow. Two full bugs with the capsicum sauce and a baguette. I didn’t need to eat that much, but it would have been wasteful not to finish. Absolutely delicious. Even the two corellas that wanted to share my lunch could not distract me. Corellas and bugs despatched, we repaired to the Lodge interior to avoid the sun and consume some more Chardy.

He was uninvited.

Horror of horrors. I pulled the wine bottle from the fridge and commenced to pour. The pour was terminated abruptly with a gasp loud enough for Jayne to hear 15 metres away. Some philistine had returned a red wine bottle to the row of chardonnay and I had inadvertently poured red wine into Jayne’s glass. In my defence, the bottles were similar. And who expects to find a red in the fridge? Even up here.

Lunch done, it was back to the tent for a rest before our next meal. It’s a tough life. OK, maybe I spent time writing this blog and reading. What am I reading you enquire? Evie Wyld’s latest, The Echoes. I wanted to dislike it because I haven’t forgiven the Miles Franklin judges for awarding her the Miles over Flanagan’s Narrow Road to the Deep North. The latter did go on to win the Booker so my judgement was vindicated. Quite like the new book though. About half way through. We’ll see. The ending may disappoint, like that of Immaculate By Anna McGahan. Discuss.

A wine induced afternoon snooze followed (for me) before we raised ourselves and changed for dinner. Another excellent three courses: scallops for entrée, rib eye for main and a white chocolate mousse for dessert. As it was Jayne’s birthday, her mousse came resplendent with a ‘happy birthday’ chocolate disc. And a rousing version of ‘happy birthday’, kicked off by the staff and taken up by the guests.

A starry night.

Back at the tent I attempted some night photography. “Attempted” is the correct verb, dear reader. Over exposed. I blame the full moon and will try again tomorrow night. At least I know how to shoot the stars now, Dave. Sadly, they are not as impressive as the night sky on the Larapinta. There is potential, but not with a full moon.

Too much light from the moon.

Until tomorrow.

The Real (Eel) Thing (Moso Island, Vanuatu)

Well hello, dear reader, and welcome to the 350th posting of this blog! A momentous day because it's also my birthday. That's a lot of travel and there is still so much more to come. 2023 is set to be another big travel year, provided the 27th version of COVID doesn't spoil the party.

Where to begin today? How about the title? Way back in 2012, Jayne came up with a pun title after our visit to the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, The Moher I See You. It's only 10 years in the past, dear reader, but she hasn't let it go yet. So when I suggested we call today's post Eel Meet Again she sneered with disdain.  Hours later she came up The Eel Thing and has been sniggering away at her own genius ever since. Anyway, The Real Thing by Australia's own Russell Morris in 1969 is still a classic rock song and has well and truly stood the test of time. In due course, you will understand the reference.

The day began with the usual soporific sounds of waves lapping the beach. The view out the doors presented blue sky with some cloud and in no way threatened our plans. 

Tough view to start the day

Breakfast was more pleasant because of the change in weather and the coffee machine was cooperating. Back to the villa to apply sunscreen (yuck) and pull on our reef shoes to walk along the beach down to the south-west point. The term 'beach' here is a generous term. At high tide there is, in fact, no beach because the water comes right to the edge of land. The beach is a strip of sand and smashed coral that exists only when the tide is less than high. So 'beach' walks must be taken when they can. Climate change and rising sea levels are serious and not the stuff of pathetic Peter Dutton jokes.

A friend on the way to the beach.

The tide wasn't quite low enough to make the point because there are tree overhangs and narrower strips where we would have been forced into the water to progress further. Turning back, we went to prepare for our secluded beach picnic.

The esky, chilly bin or cooler, as they are called here, was packed with our lunch, dessert and a bottle of rosé. We had been sunscreened to the hilt and carried our towels and snorkel gear. Jayne carried her fear of getting into a boat and so it came pass, as she was trying to maintain her poise and balance and step into the dinghy, it moved away just as Jayne attempted to test the water between the jetty and the dinghy. Sigh. It was ever thus. Finally safely on board, we travelled across the harbour to a 'secluded' beach on Moso Island.

Our secluded picnic spot.

The beach on this side of Moso is like the beach here at the resort, subject to change due to tide. It is a narrow strip of sand that is fringed by tropical vegetation and disappears completely at high tide. As for secluded, well, anyone thinking they might be enjoying a romantic interlude in the sun and warm, shallow water for their birthday would be sadly disappointed. Our section of beach was secluded. The couple sheltering beyond the next overhang of vegetation also enjoyed 'seclusion'. As did the couple in the other direction. Still it was certainly not crowded.

OK, don't quote me, but, Ambae Island volcano (I think).

Lunch could wait -snorkelling first while the sun was still shining. While the coral was less frequent than on Efate, the fish life was far more diverse. Pockets of coral contained all manner of life. If you're still searching for Nemo, stop - we found him and his extended family. There were clams of all sizes and colours. I don't have the colour palette to describe them or the colourful fish or starfish. And then, floating over one massive coral head, out comes a moray eel (and that is the obvious link to the title). It was huge. It put its head out about 30 cm and just floated there, half in half out, daring me to come closer. No thank you. After I made sure Jayne had seen it, I was off to check out more harmless fish. Not long later, we came across an enormous white-spotted puffer fish. He was undeterred and stayed in place just eyeing us from the sea floor.

Moso Island.

At some stage during our drift up and down the beach, a dinghy appeared with yet another couple in search of a secluded beach. The crew circled us a couple of times while we were snorkelling, dragging a fishing line. While our boat was a drop-off service, their boat and crew stayed with them and went snorkelling themselves. Nice work if you can get it. 

After almost an hour in the water it was time to move back onto land to enjoy our picnic lunch. A prawn salad wrap, beef banh mi, fruit salad and berry muffin. And the rosé of course. The boat was scheduled to pick us up at 2pm. While trying to board this time, the devious boat shifted toward Jayne, trapped her foot and tried to drag herself underneath. She ended up back in the water. Finally we were seated on board and headed back to the resort to snorkel the point off the restaurant beach where a turtle had been spotted yesterday. No luck today. Time for the plunge pool and to wash off the sunscreen.

Dinner was the usual excellent offering. Rather than me providing a woefully inadequate truncated version of what was on offer I remembered to photograph the menu. Tonight the wine was Moët of course, although it almost didn't make the table. There is a very small height adjustment between where we were seated and the next part of the restaurant. After parading the bottle to Jayne, Marco stepped back and slipped and the ice bucket went flying. Fortunately the Moët and Marco were fine.

Apologies for the poor camera work.

Toward the end of dinner, as Winnie was pouring the last of the bubbles, I was clearing some birthday messages and said the 'b' word out loud. Winnie's ears pricked up, "Is it your birthday?" Ssshhhh, Winnie, it's a secret. "But, we have to sing to you." No, Winnie, ssshhh. She left the table clearly conflicted. I was uncertain she could keep the secret. It was time to go, lest I be subjected to the staff being forced to sing happy birthday.

Post dinner it was plunge pool time. Although the clouds and rain haven't exactly been welcome they have certainly reined in the temperature. So today, sunny and cloudless, was as hot and humid as it has been since we arrived.

Until next time.