Airlie Beach and the Whitsunday Islands

One of the cutest little abandoned houses I've ever seen.  It actually took me back to my summers in North Carolina.  

I’m not the kind of person that nearly ever feels really ‘down.’  You know, like in the pits, that a cloud is constantly over head, that the sadness held in the heart is so great that it feels like it has it’s own gravitational power and will cause the chest to collapse in on itself.  The realization that every breath is slow and deliberate to maintain the damming of tears.  That you’re the saddest, most unlucky person in the world and all you want is to be like all of the smiling happy faces around you.  That your double scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream just fell onto the sizzling asphalt. That feeling.

I prefer to focus on all of the beautiful moments in a day so I rarely feel this feeling, but when I do, I can’t always explain why.  I felt this way upon our arrival into Airlie Beach, a beautiful town adjacent the famous Whitsunday Islands, and I was in Australia!  What did I have to complain about?  At seven in the morning, with nothing but horrible weather on the forecast, no proper boat plans into the Whitsundays because our previous boat ran into a reef, after enduring the opposite of a warm welcome into our hostel and becoming more and more irritated with Connor because of his inability to meet my high standards (honestly, I bring this shit on myself), I was near to lying down right where I stood, curling up into a ball, and willing death to find me.  All of the above mentioned problems weren’t even what were bothering me.  They were just triggers, like the last few flakes of snow on an aspen over burdened and bending beneath the weight of a huge snowstorm that finally snaps and falls silently into the powder below. 

Honestly, I think I was just completely and utterly exhausted.  Exhaustion is a dangerous thing and it does funny things to people.  Usually I go slaphappy or irritable, my mind gets foggy, I can’t think straight, and my sense of humor and quick thinking completely disappear. I guess this time I just started thinking about money (never a good idea), the weather, and the fact that, out of the Connor-Jenny duo, I was the only one putting a great deal of time into saving us money, meeting people, and figuring out our general every day-to-day survival.  Despite everything I was doing, the money still seemed to go too quickly and the weather, no matter how much I pleaded with it to be nice, wouldn’t stop its pattern of massive clouds, torrential rains, and no sun when it mattered most. 

Because I can’t keep my damned mouth shut about almost anything ever, I was of course verbalizing my entire train of thought to Connor.  When I had gotten to the part about money I had verbalized my frustration with him at not having familiarized himself with our coupon book and saving us upwards of sometimes $30! like I had asked him to.  Honestly, I don’t think I give him very hard things to figure out for our travels and it drives me crazy when his inability to do things properly costs me in time or money.  I’m the kind of person who would do it all myself but I’m learning to be nicer to myself, let other people help, and have some extra time for me to have fun.  However, this is when I reach my all time lows.  I try to relax, to enjoy things, to share the responsibility, but when it’s not done properly I get angry at the other person and then feel bad for getting angry at them because they are obviously too incompetant and I should have just done it myself and then I feel very disappointed with myself.  I feel disappointed for not having done it but also for failing at relaxing and just enjoying.  I wouldn’t call it hypocritical, but this process is definitely backwards in so many ways, I know. 

Things got better.  Connor knows me well and obviously felt bad so he offered to take me to breakfast.  The food was way overpriced and wasn’t even close to being as good as our own cooking, but his gesture was the right one to make and filling my stomach took away an edge in my demeanor.  Honestly, I advise you to never be in a room with a hungry McCarty.  We turn into a creature not dissimilar to a Tasmanian devil.  Eating also gave me time to sit with my thoughts, regroup in my head and my heart, put on a more pleasant front to figure out what we wanted to do with our day.  The next day we were going sailing and the day after we were going ocean rafting, but we had this day free.  So I signed for my first rental car ever and we left civilization behind for some highly recommended spots off the tourist track.

We headed for Cedar Falls for a beautiful atmosphere and nice swimming.  It amazes me how much my soul is nourished by nature.  By the time we were done, I was feeling much better.  It also felt good to be driving again.  I don’t know what it is about winding dirt roads that is so relaxing.  Maybe it reminded me of being in the mountains.  I don’t know.  We continued on south to Shute Point and Lyon’s Lookout where we had about a twenty-minute bushwalk through beautiful forest and out onto a beach completely made of coral and seashells.  I’d never seen a beach like it and we found seashells that I’ve never seen before either.  I love moments where I find myself a nine-year-old girl again, squatting by the ocean’s edge, and meticulously inspecting everything and anything I can lay my hands on.  Further up the beach was another trail that led to the top of the point and boasted a beautiful 180-degree view of the ocean and some islands.  On our way back to the car, Connor and I were stopped dead in our tracks by what we think was a green tree snake speeding down the path.  It was moving so fast to be sure, but I think that’s number five or six for large Australian snakes in only a four month time frame.  Many locals we’ve talked to haven’t seen that many in their lifetimes!  It’s all about where you like to spend your time. 

                           Cedar Falls.                                                                                                    A puppy :)

 Our first overhead view of the islands.

If anyone knows the biological answer for what this spider is doing I would be keen on knowing what it is.

The coral beach.

1/20/11

The next day we departed for our sailing trip.  We were aboard the SV Domino, one of only a few boats with a permit to land at Black Island, also known as Bali Hai, and is owned by a wonderful couple originally from New Zealand.  Reg made for a great captain and overall guide.  He was smart, funny, not too ‘helpful’ like some guides can be, but still gave good advice for the rest of our travels, and he was awe inspiring.  He had sailed the world for six years and, at 65+ years of age, was about to sell his home, pack up his wife, and do it again!  It was nice to have just Reg, Connor and I and a German couple on board.  The boat usually takes eight passengers but we got lucky and only had half that.  It was so relaxing jus the five of us and I don’t know how we would’ve gotten four other people on there comfortably anyways. 

It was my first time sailing (one more thing to check off the bucket list) and I loved it.  I was still exhausted from the town jumping Connor and I had been doing so, when I wasn’t helping the captain pull ropes, I spent much of the time five starring the bow completely passed out.  Connor found it his responsibility to document my beautiful pose but i’ll do you guys a favor and refrain from posting them.  That day we had the little island all to ourselves.  The beach areas were nice enough but it was in the water where I lost my breath.  The coral was unlike any coral I had seen, even in the Caribbean.  They were massive and all different colors!  They were beautiful.  The german couple was out of the water after ten minutes or so but, like always, connor and I were out there until we were forced back into the boat. And as we neared the stern we met a massive fish.  Reg came up and handed us bread pieces that this fish then took from our fingers in a flurry of “flthkp, flthkp, flthkp” sounds.  Even on board I couldn’t get enough of the fish feeding and continued to do it until we departed. So cool! 

That night we joined the infamous Airlie Beach nightlife.  It was definitely as crazy as everyone made it out to be, as I’m sure that my night was more eventful than most.  Connor and I made a challenge between the two of us to go out with nothing but our ID’s (aka NO MONEY) and see who could get more free drinks.  Let’s just say that it worked and maybe a little too well for Connor.  He disappeared with a bartender off work at some point and I got to know Airlie a little better with a young British man in tow.  ;)

1/21/12

Our third day in Airlie Beach was just as fabulous.  After only two hours of sleep, I roused Connor for a day of Ocean Rafting.  I was on cloud nine after our night out and was hopping around the pier making friends with everyone.  An Irish couple was set on rescheduling their trip for the next day thinking there may be better weather but I convinced them they should go today.  Good thing too because our day was full of beautiful sunshine and the next day full of rain.  I’ll have to remember to use this weather-predicting example the next time I argue with my little brother about how I’m always right.  It’s also a testament as to why you should never let the weatherman determine your plans, as the forecast had predicted thick clouds and bucketing rain.  Just do what you want to do and hope for the best.

Ocean Rafting was a great choice, especially as a supplement to the much slower and relaxing sailing we had done the day before.  The high-speed intensity (up to 65km/hr) was fun and exciting and the people were wonderful.  I abandoned the very hung over and ultimately boring Connor for a very fun and friendly pair of French girls.  Throughout the day I also seemed to acquire all of the extra attention our Maori (and much too old for me) guide had when he wasn’t completing his work duties.  I had to turn down his very nice offers for an evening of wonderful cooking and maybe a night out on the town because Connor and I were leaving for Cairns.  I swear these guides must ask girls out on a regular basis because I’ve had dinner offers everywhere we go.  I’ve also regularly been asked to change our travel plans and stay another night, which I’ve never done.  Connor asked me the other day, “Why do all of these guys seem to think we’re going to change our plans for them?”  I responded with something along the lines of “You tell me.  You’re a part of their egocentric selfish gender.”  No, they’re not bad.  Every one of them that we’ve met has been extremely intelligent, well traveled, fun-loving, addicted to the outdoors and has a good sense of humor, or at least is willing to tolerate my sarcasm.  I think I’m just a good fit for the type of guy that works those kinds of jobs.  Despite the compliment of the affections they bestow upon me, I have also greatly enjoyed all of there company and have learned so much from them about the nature, history, and natives of Australia, New Zealand, and other places they’ve visited around the world. 

But enough about men; back to the Whitsundays.  Like I said, the weather was beautiful.  As much as I love rain, I welcomed the sun with all my heart.  It makes for more vibrant colors in the water, much better pictures, and more time walking and enjoying the beach without whining from fellow passengers.  We hit up two bay inlets for snorkeling before heading to the famous Whitehaven Beach.  Our first bay was predominantly for viewing the coral, which was beautiful and like none I’d seen on our side of the world.  The second spot was for the fish.  Before our boat was even anchored in we were swarmed by fish of all different colors and sizes.  Fish bigger than myself and boasting charcoal black scales or every hue of green and blue of a lagoon circled our craft, racing one another to the pieces of bread William (our Maori guide) tossed over the side.  When he told us we could get in I was off the side of that boat faster than a bride’s dress on her wedding night.  It took the rest of the passengers much more time to be coaxed in among the chaos and so I was able to enjoy not being able to see my own feet because of the high concentration of fish all to myself.  William would even throw bread pieces right in front of my face, causing fish as large as Saint Bernard’s to speed by within centimeters of my nose!  I’ve never seen anything like it and it definitely got my heart pumping faster.  By the time everyone else was in the water I had already had my fair share of fish and went cruising farther towards shore to see the coral and its smaller inhabitants.  We weren’t given any fins because Ocean Rafting is an ecofriendly tour and fins, when used by idiots, damage the reefs.  However, William must have really liked me because he let me borrow his very own fins for free diving.  Maybe next time I should try to borrow his job.  Lordy, am I jealous of these guys. 

I’ve found that there are more perks to flirting with guides besides what they have to teach you.  (Ha!  I say this like most girls find fun facts the greatest perk.  I’m perfectly content being a dork, in case you were wondering.)  Guides let you borrow their fins, let you swim a little longer than everyone else, give you free food, let you break some of the rules of the boat and love to show off any little extra bits that they can.  When we arrived at Whitehaven Beach, William enticed two massive eagles to swoop down and nab pieces of chicken in the midst of a flock of seagulls right in front of us.  He also took greater care to make sure Connor and I saw stingrays and sharks and enjoyed the solitude of the beach while we were there. 

Whitehaven Beach is famous for its spectacular sand and thus infamous for its high concentration of tourists.  However, we were farther north and had the place all to ourselves.  The beach is spectacularly white but the individual grains are nearly clear, so clear in fact that they reflect all heat and remain cool to the touch no matter the ambient temperature.  The sand also has renowned silica properties, makes a good exfoliant and jewelry polisher, and is used to make some of the most high tech lenses used in space exploration.  Though the sun was out and beautiful while we were on Whitehaven, there were also storm clouds brewing off in the distance and made for some very dramatic shots that I just love.  I think, for photographic purposes, I actually prefer storms than sun.  Yes, sun makes for breathtaking colors but storms are so powerful and remind me how insignificant I am.

Later that night we departed the Whitsunday Islands and Airlie Beach on a night bus headed to Cairns.  Despite all of the challenges we faced on arriving into Airlie, in hindsight, I now know that our Whitsunday adventure was what it was supposed to be.  Everything happens for a reason.  Had we been on the dive boat we would’ve spent more money than we should have, not had the opportunity to really enjoy the local night life, experience two different types of island tours, nor meet so many wonderful people.  Even though I’m not a huge fan of the regular touristy spots, it should be mandatory for anyone traveling the east coast of Australia to stop here and experience the beauty of this place.    

Don't worry Chelsea.  I could never replace you.  But doesn't Connor look absolutely exquisite pondering in the background?

Sharks and stingrays skirting the beach below.

The north end of Whitehaven Beach.  The island in the background apparently has the highest density of adders (a very poisonous snake) in the world.

A couple cool caterpillars I spotted.  They'll probably turn into very large silk moths.

Connor was so hungover.

The sand was pretty spectacular.

I was so bummed that I didn't get a better shot of the eagle, but he is the one with wings much larger and shaped quite different from the rest  flying away into the distance.  He's low on the horizon and second from the left.

A lovely leaf morphed by the ripples of the sea.

Yes, the colors are real.  No, I am not orange in real life.

Whitehaven Beach and our speed boat.