The Deep Cold South: Gladstone, Fraser Island, Brisbane and Byron Bay

So, in the time that's passed since my last post, I've travelled roughly 1,150 miles of Australia's east coast. Let's put that into perspective: the distance from Lands End to John O'Groats is just 603 miles, and that's as far as you can drive in our modest country without plopping into the sea. Australia, on the other hand, is gargantuan; the true scale of its hugeness is only just beginning to dawn on me. I've barely begun to make a dent!

I write from Sydney, home of the iconic Opera House and Harbour Bridge. When most people think of Australia, I think it's safe to say that these impressive examples of architecture are what come to mind first (either them or kangaroos!). I must admit, at times I've found it hard to grasp that I'm actually in Australia; it may sound absurd considering I've been here for more than 3 weeks, but it's easy to forget just how far away from the UK I actually am. I blame this partly on the fact that the huge, earth-shattering culture shock that is commonly experienced when one finds oneself several thousand miles away from home doesn't really happen with Australia. Everybody speaks English, the public transport works the same and there are even Heinz Baked Beans on the supermarket shelves. In other words, it's a home away from home - just a much bigger, more exotic and far more expensive version of home. I can see why so many Brits choose to emigrate!

Anyway, since I only arrived here a couple of days ago and have plenty of other places to talk about first, I'll leave Sydney for the next post. Now to cast my mind back to our departure from Airlie Beach...

So, from Airlie Beach we took a somewhat pointless detour to a little place called Gladstone. Tom, who we were travelling with for a while, had a guidebook which dedicated at least two pages to the place and told enthusiastically of its lovely waterfalls, so we thought it must be worth a visit. We were wrong. I won't dedicate too many more inches to Gladstone, because - bless its heart - there's really not a lot to say. When we arrived, we were picked up by a kindly lady who owned the hostel we were staying at (the only hostel in Gladstone, I might add... alarm bells were already ringing). During the short drive back to the hostel, we asked her if there was much to do in Gladstone. "Not a lot," she replied almost instantly. On hearing our doubtful silence, she added cheerfully: "It's a good place to relax!" Fabulous. "Are there any waterfalls?" Becky tried, tentatively. "Waterfalls?" The woman, sounding confused. "No, no waterfalls. There used to be a waterfall down at the harbour but they turned it off years ago." Needless to say, that last comment baffles me to this day. How does one turn off waterfalls?, I wanted to ask. I can only assume she was talking about a fountain (not exactly something I'd make a special trip to see). Either way, it was painfully clear there were no waterfalls in Gladstone. Or anything else to do, for that matter.

To cut a not very long and rather boring story short, we stayed in Gladstone for 2 nights and did... well, nothing. It was indeed a good place to relax, and relax we did. We at least had the sunshine on our side, so we went wandering around the town. The harbour was pretty but everywhere else was like a ghost town. A pleasant, suburban ghost town where you could moor your yacht if you were so inclined, but nonetheless a ghost town. After two days of sleeping, reading, watching DVDs and painting our nails (Becky and me, that is - not Tom!) we were more than ready to see the back of Gladstone, and gratefully headed for Hervey Bay.

Now, I can't tell you much about Hervey Bay other than it has a cracking beach (as do most places on the East coast of Australia). This is not because it was void of activity like Gladstone, but because we only stayed there for one night. The reason we - and most people - went to Hervey Bay was because it is where you catch the ferry to Fraser Island from. And so we did.

Fraser Island is the world's largest sand island. If that doesn't mean much to you, then think of it this way: Fraser Island is an island twice the size of Hong Kong and three times the size of Singapore, and is entirely made of sand. There are no roads, so the only way to get around is in a 4 Wheel Drive. We booked a 2 day, 1 night tour of the island. We were picked up at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning and bundled onto a ferry (incidentally, Australians call ferries 'barges' - I think Becky was a bit disappointed when we didn't board the Rosie-and-Jim-style boat she'd had in mind) which took about 40 minutes to get to the island. Once there, we met our tour guide and, with the other 20 people in our group, piled onto the 4x4 bus we'd be navigating the island in.

Our tour guide, Graham, was one of the most interesting people I've ever met and full of information about the island. The first place he took us was a beautiful green lake called Lake Basin. It was a perched lake, which meant we actually had to climb to get to it, and, like all the lakes on Fraser Island, it was freshwater. They are essentially formed by a build-up of rainwater, and somehow (now this is the scientific bit, so don't expect me to be able to explain) the the water, rather than sinking straight through the sand, sits on top to make a lake. Unfortuanately, we weren't allowed to swim in this one as - according to Graham - years of people putting on sun cream straight before going into the water and even, unbelievably, doing their laundry in there had taken their toll on the water and killed off almost all of the wildlife in the lake.

After a lovely walk through the rainforest, in which we encountered our first snake (a carpet python - thankfully harmless) and a stop for lunch, we headed for Lake Mackenzie, the most scenic of all the lakes on the island. It's known as the Blue Lake because when the sun shines on it you can clearly see three shades of blue. It was beautiful, especially as the sand surrounding it was pure white. Graham told us sand like this was in its final stage of development (that man knew an awful lot about sand, believe me) and the reason it was white was that all the colour that you see in younger, golden sand had been leeched out of the grains by years of weathering. What's left after this process is called silicon sand, and it's gorgeous stuff: on Graham's advice, I exfoliated my entire body with it and cleaned my jewellery in it too! Soft skin and shinier silver - double whammy!

The next day of the tour was even better. After the uneven sand tracks, over which we'd bumped and jolted for much of the day before, it was a treat to find ourselves whizzing along literally miles and miles of untouched, pristine beaches with beautifully smooth sand. Our first stop was Eli Creek, an idyllic little freshwater river down which I waded - unfortunately I misjudged its depth and thought rolling up my trousers would suffice, but unsurprisingly I was wrong and ended up with rather wet clothes - in which we spotted a water eel. I also took a scenic flight in a dinky little plane (which looked too small to hold more than a couple of people, but actually held about seven) over the island. From the sky, the lakes looked like mirrors in among masses of broccoli-like rainforest, and I got an excellent view of the sand blows and coastline too.

On our way to the next stop, we spotted two dingoes on the beach. Graham stopped the bus and we all got out to take photos and stare at the creatures, who didn't seem in the least bit fazed by the attention, despite being wild animals. They are deceptively cute and cuddly-looking things; they reminded me of a cross between a domestic dog and a fox, with big innocent eyes and a calm demeanour about them. In fact, if I didn't happen to know about their penchant for eating small children, I might have been inclined to try to stroke one. Instead, I kept my distance and hastily backed away as soon as one starting ambling in my direction!

Next, we stopped at the enticingly-named Champagne Pools, which are the only place on the island where you can safely swim in salt water. You see, although Fraser Island is surrounded by lovely blue ocean for as far as the eye can see, you would have to be a raving lunatic to venture in there for a swim. A combination of very deep water and plenty of juicy fish make the waters surrounding Fraser Island very popular with sharks. It's infested with them: about 13 species, to be precise, each one deadly and just waiting for some human flesh to sup on. Graham also kindly informed us that the majority of shark attacks happen in waist deep water, so you'd be pushing your luck even if you went in for a casual paddle. In fact, if you did have a death wish, the sea around Fraser would be a perfect place to go; if, by some mercy, you weren't mauled by sharks, you could count on being swept away by a violent rip and swallowed up limb for limb by the water itself.

But I digress. The Champagne Pools are natural pools created by a barrier of rocks on the beach, onto which the waves crash and the water seeps over onto the other side, dribbling into the pools on the other side and creating a champagne-like effect by fizzing and bubbling in the water below. I went swimming in them and can vouch that they were delightful - just make sure you don't stray over the other side of the rocks into open water... you have been warned!

After lunch, we climbed Indian Head, a big rocky outcrop and the only place on Fraser Island where there is grass (that might not sound very exciting, but that anything can grow on an island made entirely of sand is an achievement, I feel). We'd been told that from the top we could look down into the water below and spot dolphins and turtles, but the water was too murky. We did, however, see several whale spouts which was undeniably thrilling, even if they were so far away you could hardly make them out.

Our final stop on Fraser Island was to see the Maheno shipwreck, a huge, rusty shipwrecked boat that has sat on the beach since 1935.From the sky, during my scenic flight, it had looked positively miniscule, but down at ground level it was really quite impressive. Against the natural backdrop of the empty beach, crashing waves and blue sky, it looked almost contrived, like a work of art.

I could've happily stayed on Fraser Island for several more days, but with time constraints that wouldn't have been practical, so instead we found ourselves on an overnight bus to Brisbane on  Sunday. We arrived in a sleep-deprived daze at 6.30am, fantasising about sleeping for several hours in an actual bed - as opposed to contorted into a ridiculously uncomfortable position on an upright seat in a moving vehicle - only to be told that we couldn't have our beds until 2pm. Grumpily, we trudged upstairs and found the cinema room - which was mercifully warm and dark, as well as having relatively comfortable seats to sprawl across - and duly crashed out for 5 hours.

When we'd rested and showered ourselves back into a state that almost resembled human beings, we went wandering around the city. I can't say we did much of note while we were in Brisbane, but despite that I really, really liked it. With its shiny sky-scrapers, upmarket river front and scores of trendy bars, restaurants and coffee shops, it was the sort of place that made me want to while away the days sitting outside a cafe sipping hot chocolate and people-watching. In fact, it reminded me a lot of London (only with a tad more sunshine), which I suppose was part of the reason why I grew such a fondness for it. Becky and I spent a gloriously warm, sunny day lying on the grass in the pretty botanic gardens which run alongside the yacht-studded river, dozing and reading. Australia may be expensive - and believe me, it is expensive - but sometimes it's the free things you can't beat.

We also got along really well with our roommates at the hostel, who consisted of a Dutchman, an American, three other Brits and ourselves. The only problem was, the dorm was like an infirmary, with a constant rhythmic cacophony of coughs, sneezes and sniffles filling the air. Everyone, but everyone, was ill, and as soon as I walked into the room I knew we'd be leaving spluttering too. I caught a cold almost immediately (amazing what a few evil little germs can do when they've got a confined space to operate in and a load of backpackers to target), as did Becky, but that didn't stop us from joining the others in going to the Irish pub up the road and dancing like maniacs. I may have been off the booze and downing pints of tap water like nobody's business, but it was still a great night.

The next morning, we departed for Byron Bay, which is a small seaside town popular with surfers. The town itself is fairly nondescript, with lots of shops selling things like postcards, flip-flops (or 'thongs', if you're Australian), and overpriced nick-nacks. The main attraction is the beach itself: miles of flawless white sand, bright blue sea and the kind of waves that surfer dudes get excited about. Speaking of surfer dudes, the place was heaving with them, easily identifiable by their long, slightly matted, golden hair, tanned skin and armfuls of friendship bracelets (don't ask me why, but if you see a man with several different coloured threads around his wrist, chances are he's a surfer). Although I've never found surfers particularly attractive, I must admit I got somewhat swept up in the apparent 'coolness' of it all, and even briefly toyed with the idea of giving surfing a shot myself. I quickly abandoned that thought, however, when I found out how much I'd have to pay just for one lesson, and my mind was flooded with images of my disappointed self after having spent a week's budget on repeatedly falling off a board and doing belly flops into the sea.

I did, however, take advantage of the hostel's free body boards, and hit the waves that way. It's so much easier than surfing and, I can almost guarantee, lots more fun. Or that's certainly how I felt when I came skimming effortlessly into the beach on huge waves over and over again, anyway.

The other highlight of my time in Byron Bay was sea kayaking. I've always enjoyed kayaking, but only ever done it in lakes and rivers, so I decided to give it a go. Luckily, there were only four of us in the group so we had an instructor to ourselves. I was sharing my kayak with a Japanese girl, and there were two other girls in another kayak. The sun was beating down from a cloudless blue sky, the sea was sparkling blue and blissfully calm (a blessing for novice sea kayakers) and I thoroughly enjoyed the whole experience. Especially when we spotted two dolphins only about 10 feet away from our boats and nearly wet ourselves with excitement. Amazing!

And that takes me up to Sydney, which I've said I'll leave for another post because this one has already taken me over a week to write. What with restricitons on how long I can use the internet in most hostels (either that or extortionate rates to use it for a long time) I've been writing bits and pieces whenever I can. In fact, it's taken me so long to write that I'm not even in Sydney anymore; I'm in Melbourne, our last official stop in Australia. On Wednesday, we'll be making our way back to Sydney to spend (probably) sleepless and very uncomfortable night on the airport floor, before jetting off to New Zealand on Thursday morning. It's hard to believe I'm almost halfway through my trip already...