Fraser Island Part 2

We woke early with the hot morning sun turning the fabric tent into a pressure cooker.  Worm was already up and was saying that we had to go soon as the tide was coming up quicker than he thought and we may not make it up the beach in time.  We were the first up with a slow stream of people leaving their beds as the heat in the tents increased.  Breakfast for us was a deliberately simple affair of cereal.  At 8:15 Worm stormed in the direction of the car saying we need to go soon and turned his car radio up full to wake the remaining tents.  The Irish lads were the last to emerge not looking their best.  They had planned a full cooked English breakfast but with only 15 minutes notice before we had to leave they settled on some slices of bread and shared a tin of cold beans.

We finally reloaded the 4x4’s (as it was recommended to take our personal items with us) leaving the tents and trailer in place and we started to move out.  As soon as the engines had started the Italian car revved its engine and raced for the lead position behind Worm just like yesterday, so not thinking anything of it we all lined up behind it and started our journey north.  In convoy we sped up the beach at 60km avoiding the salt water as this voided our insurance bond but as we travelled the tide came further in pushing us higher up the beach and into deeper sand.  We slowed as the 4x4 bucked and weaved up the beach.  We were in the middle of the convoy and could see the other 4x4 snaking and the occasional slide sideways to a full stop.  Occasionally they would also get stuck, meaning that everyone else would have to stop and then would also get stuck.  You would then have to rock the car backward and forward by putting it in to reverse and first to help the wheels to get traction and then off you would go again until the next time.

I drove about 45 minutes of this beach and it was the most intense driving experience ever, as you were constantly turning the wheel trying to catch the slide whilst racing to miss the rising tide.  We finally pulled into the car park at the Champagne Pools and I was absolutely spent!  The rest of the car gave a round of applause either grateful of my efforts or perhaps in relief that we had made it.  The people in our car had started to gel and we chatted easily and at times we shouted encouragement or should I say friendly abuse to the driver whenever things got a little hairy.  As we stepped out of the car you could feel that everything was not well in the other cars.  The two Italian guys who could drive had monopolised the driving not letting anyone else have a look in which was really annoying the Cornish girl.  The Irish family were having a fairly major row, as it seemed the parents were very nervous passengers and were not happy about the potentially dangerous driving we were having to do.  Oh happy days.

The Champagne Pools are a natural rock formations which get their name from the foaming water from the surf looking like champagne spilling over a glass.  We left the 4x4 at the top of a hill and made our way down the track to a nice spot for sunbathing.  Everyone had gone ahead leaving only myself and the Autistic lad to bring up the rear.  As we walked down the road Dmitri stopped in the middle of the road and started to take off his hat and glasses and put them neatly arranged in the middle of the road.  I stopped to look round and saw a large 4x4 making its way down the track just as Dmitri started to take off the rest of his attire.  I’m not sure if he thought this was the beach or he just felt it was a good spot to catch some sun.  I ran back up the hill to stop the 4x4 and then tried to get Dmitri to the side of the track, as his carer was nowhere to be seen.  Dmitri was not amused by my interference and not realising the danger he was in he started to articulate wildly with his hands and shout something I think was Italian.  I apologised to the 4x4 driver and ran to get his carer, using the immortal line “Your mate is having a fit on the road and is about to get run over.”  I know it isn’t Shakespeare but my Italian is a little rusty but he seemed to get my jist and ran back to help him.

After a great time splashing about in the sea and a bit of lunch we climbed to the top of Indian Head to watch sharks, turtles, dolphins, large fish and whales all swimming past the end of the island all to a chorus of ahhhhs and ooohs.  Worm gave a running commentary on what we were seeing and his estimation of the size of the creatures (see that turtle that’s 4m wide).  I know we were high up but not that high up and they were clearly nowhere as big as he was saying.

Once the tide had receded we made our way back down the beach at a much more relaxed pace as the harder sand closer to the surf was exposed to drive on.  It was mid afternoon and the weather had been incredible with clear blue skies and very hot.  Our first stop back down the beach was to an old ship wreck, beached in the 1930’s after a typhoon had run it a ground whilst it was being towed back to Japan for scrap.  As the tide was low it allowed us to walk around the rusting old wreck and take loads of amazing pictures.

Next we were offered the chance of a hot shower at a nearby ranger station.  With it only being one day since we had showered and having gone much longer in the campervan (for some reason after a while you don’t smell or maybe its just our noses switch off!) and also chance to do more swimming later on, we decided to decline the kind offer.  A few took up the chance while the rest of us scrubbers sat round and chatted.  Dmitri had decided that he wanted a shower so went off with the others, while his carer stayed with us.  A short while later one of the Irish lads came running out shouting that Dmitri was running around naked in the shower block covered in soap and they had only just stopped him from running outside, necessitating another rescue mission from his carer.

As the convoy was ready to move on, we would start up and no matter what position the cars were in the Italians would race to the front and push in like it was somehow important to be behind the leader.  This often resulted in jeers and hand articulation from the other cars and either Worm was oblivious to this dangerous driving or did not care. Our final stop for the day was at a freshwater creek that you could lay in and be carried down stream by the current to the sea.  Myself and Emma jumped in and used the opportunity for a quick wash as well.  It was great fun but a little bit cold. 

We then returned to the campsite for our final night.  During the day we had decided with our car mates to pool the rest of our food to help with the cooking.  I volunteered to cook and with some clever distraction provided by the Irish lads our car claimed first rights to the BBQ.  Dinner that night was a packet of Doritos, 64 sausages and 3 bits of steak all wrapped up in loads of bread.  Once we had finished cooking a cordon was erected around the cooking area and the Irish family was moved into prime position.  The Italians would just have to wait!

Once the washing up was done, the party got fully underway.  After finishing our wine the night before the Irish lads had kindly offered us a box of white wine which after tasting it would have been better for putting on fish and chips, but they had stipulated that we were in it for the long haul.  We chatted to our fellow 4x4ers and shared stories of our day and other travel stories.  The 3 non Italian girls in the Italian car complained that the driving was being hogged by the two guys.  The Irish family were complaining about having to drive fast and that being at the back of the convoy all the time was making it more difficult.  The Irish lads had no complaints except they just wanted to get hammered (pronounced hommered), a phrase that has kept Emma amused for days.  After a while we realised that we either needed to get very drunk quickly which was going to be a challenge with the vinegar or disappear without a fuss to bed.  Due to the threat of being attacked by dingos it had been recommended that you go to the open air toilet in pairs, so using it as a good excuse I accompanied Emma to a sand dune and then using the cover of darkness we snuck off to bed. 

We awoke the next morning to more glorious weather and what looked like a scene from Frat Party.  The campsite was strewn with empty bottles, cans and coolers which had been dragged around by the dingos trying to open them during the night.  Worm was up again starting to pack away the campsite and as people started to emerge from the tents the stories of last nights drinking began to be told, most unrepeatable here.  Not surprisingly, the final tent to make an appearance was the Irish lads, and as they emerged they were not able to walk in a straight line with the bright light making sight a problem.  They stumbled towards the dinning area, picked up a box of wine and asked if anyone had anything they could pour this into!  You know what they say about hair of the dog.  The Irish lads were about to test this old wives tale.

We packed up the gear and made our way inland to Lake Boomanjin.  The lake was tinged brown with all the dead leaves from the tea trees around the edge looking like a massive cup of cold tea.

The tracks to get here were much narrower then the ones we had crossed the island on and with some very steep climbs much more technical.  Every so often the Irish lads would shout to stop the car so they could fill up their empty cider bottles with more wine.  Also we had hatched a plan with the Irish family to block the Italians from claiming first place in the convoy, a game that received much cheers and jeers from our car.

Lunch was at another lake, Lake Birabeen, this time with clear freshwater and the sister lake to the famous Lake McKenzie which was unfortunately closed due to redevelopment work.  This time the group all sat closely to each other chatting and laughing at the Irish lads escapades from last night and now at their attempts to get a kit flying which they had bought in the island shop the day before.

The time soon came for us to return to the dock for our barge back to the mainland.  As we sat waiting for the barge to appear Worm came over and asked if anyone wanted to go out tonight as he had a deal with a local pub which meant cheap food.  So not wanting the party to end we all arranged to meet up.

After a much needed shower and some clean clothes we made our way down to the pub which was only a short walk from our campsite.  We chatted and laughed with our fellow adventurers mainly laughing at the stories from the Irish lads.  Most of the stories would lose their humour in translation but I have to say we have not laughed that hard for some time.  After a while the group started to dwindle and Worm came to join our end of the table and we asked the question everyone had been dying to ask….how did you lose your leg?

Remember our story about Australia’s highest waterfall a few blogs ago, well he had base jumped off the gorge there and shattered his leg on landing.  He spent the night in the bottom of the ravine until the rescue service could reach him.  After 35 operations the doctors had no option but to amputate and that was only 6 months and in this short time he has taught himself to walk again and is still working.  If it was not for the fact he wears shorts and you can see his prosthetic leg you would not know from his walk, quite amazing - still does not excuse the bandana though.  To hammer the point home as we left Hervey Bay there was a big poster up advertising the chance to skydive and who was the skydiver - Worm wearing the very same Bandana.

I, as many of you have also done, deride and even mock the 4x4 crowd for being sad (Vince) but after our little adventure I can now see the merits of their past time and will be considering yet another hobby when I get back.  (Editors comment: I have booked an intervention for Bill when we get back to the UK.  The plan is to beat him with rubber hoses in a cellar until he denounces the merits of 4x4 and caravanning).

All in all, a great trip!