[Days 48-51] Whitsundays

***While in OZ, we picked up quite a few sayings and incorpoated them into our daily lives and we figured we would share them with you guys:

G'd on ya...Good for you; Straight away...Right away/Right after; How's you going?...How are you doing?; Heaps...A lot; Get Pissed/get on the piss/pissed up...Get Drunk; Whattaya after?...What would you like?; Bloke...Aussie Male; Chunder from Downunder...Throw up; Youre a Knob!...You are an idiot!

Stephen Marley "The Traffic Jam"

{Today is Dec 8th, our 3rd day in Bali. We're staying in the booming town of Kuta. Our 3 week itinerary is likely to include: countless surfspots and temples, art and yoga in the mountains, hikes in the monkey forest, $7 massages twice a day from spunky little Emale, tour of the Gili islands, sailing surf safari, and a volcano hike at sunrise. Today I put my life on the line and rented a scooter. Good gawd was it gnarly. Write about that soon enough. First things first... More tales from Oz. Here's what happened up until November 19}

Whitsundays is a chain of 74 islands on the North-Eastern coast. We spent 3 days on an 80ft sailboat exploring the region. Everyday we snorkeled, and everynight we lounged under the tropical full moon sky.


It is the first evening. Silent light from outer-space funnels through the deckhatch; beams of clairvoyant blue enter through two rectangular windows; those juxtaposed rays penetrate the darkness of the cabin, manifesting angelic magic and revealing the following situation:

I lie awake with her tucked in my arms. Her body warm, her skin silk. This bunk is a sauna. A bead of sweat perspires from my brow, but I decide to continue our embrace rather than cool down. When sunbathing, she wears a g-string bikini— she sleeps in bottoms tonight. The other 26 passengers are trying to sleep through the snores of Paddy, the hilarious Scottsman. He's in the back cabin, but I can hear him all the way out here in the common area; a draped beach towell gives my bunk privacy. I stare at the bed above me and reflect on the day:

“We set sail at 9am. It only took 30 minutes to reach this place. Man! Bradon, me, and 4 other people cranked up the sails and my arms are still sore. On the way out the wind blew so hard. The boat sailed on it's side most of the way! I crawled to the railing on the lower side and used my feet to paint pictures in the rushing water.



“Our first snorkel spot was Hook Bay. Greg the deckhand hopped in the blue zodiac and drove groups to the reef, which was alongside a mountain of serenity— those eroded boulders really took my breath away! When we arrived at the dive spot, I splashed back into the water just like a navy seal. Then, I sorted out my mask and what not and started breathing as slowwwly as possible, really trying to calm my energy 'n' all that shit. I just let the current put me where it wanted. And there I was, really IN IT, floating around in the ocean, staying mellow to not spook all the fish. I just let 'em all swim around and check me out. Then I'd dive down between the rocks and see what's underneath it all, see what kinds of little tikes were hanging out on the sea floor, ask 'em if they wanted to come out and play— no one wanted to until Greg started tossing biscuits into the water.

“And boy did those fish like that! Whole schools would rush over! 3 times a lemon-yellow one swam straight into my mask. One even nibbled Julie's toe. That coral was something else. Skipper (a.k.a. Big Belly to the French girls Aurro & Maribel) said that sporing begins on the first full moon in November. Damn are we lucky!



"The slice on my foot is burning like a son-of-a-bitch, but swimming down through that cave was worth it! Fuck if I only didn't kick the reef on my way out; it was so deep and I needed air so bad. But man, looking into that deep hole was spiritual. Three angel fish the size of my torso!

“We drank bag wine tonight, but not as much as everyone else. It's funny how that's the token backpacker beverage. Everyone calls it goon. 'Oooh so much goooon last night.' they always say, or, 'Hey mate! Getting on the piss with the goon?' Back in Rhotorua, Lee told us that when you drink an entire 4L bag, you can blow air into it and use it as a pillow. Woah dude.

“The boat crew is obsessed with reggae. They were so stoked when I threw on Traffic Jam. Greg did a rubix cube without looking. He was all 'Hey Garrett! Wanna see somethin crazy?' Do I ever! 'Mix this up and I'll fix it with out looking.' Shut the hell up bro, give it to me. And that's what he did and I spent 7 minutes mixing it up as tricky as possible. 'Check this out' he said and he stared me right in the eyes as he sorted the thing back out— took him just 4 minutes!

"Her and I gently sway with the boat; I hear tender swells splash against the hull; the striped lighting down here really is a dream: the bright bright moon, the enchanting twilight. This is it. Damn! This is really it!”

Moonrise


The next morning we rose with the sun. The crew immediately prepared an extravagant breakfast and we lathered up in sunblock. Not a cloud in the sky. Big Belly recited the day's agenda and we sailed over to world famous Whithaven beach.

Whithaven is the most beautiful beach in the Whitsundays, and I say that because every postcard of the islands is of this beach. It's massive. To start off the tour, Greg drove everyone over in the zodiac. We were lead to a lookout point and got absolutely stunned by the view. Scottie, another deckhand, was our tourguide and he was ridiculous. As we hiked up, he yelled out things most people couldn't understand because of the language barrier. Things like, “If anyone spots a fanged purple bear yell and I'll trap him in my sack" , "The Aboriginals built these stairs 2 million years ago, they also invented stainless steel, nails, and the sandwich" , "Hey! The sand on the beach would LOVE to fuck your camera!” and “Take pictures of the beach, or just my face, it's much more beautiful.”

After 20 minutes we trotted down to that incredible beach. The sand is white silica and literally softer than chalk. It's prettier than most places in Sport's Illustrated SE, so everyone had their own gay little photo shoot. We explored volcanic rocks, checked out tide pools, talked to some random Norwegians, one of which got stung on the neck by a deadly box jelly fish and nearly died.


Volcanic rocks bordering bliss...when I took this photo my feet were beside tidepools

The rest of the trip was full of awe. Sail boat vacations are all that and then some.