In the Footsteps of Explorers

Last weekend we took a one-night, two-day tour of Fraser Island, also known as “The Great Sandy Island.” It’s the largest sandbar, or sand island, in the world, is an infamous dingo habitat, contains an official highway that is actually just a beach, requires four-wheel drive vehicles to navigate the sand roads, and is home to a large subtropical rainforest as well as over 100 freshwater lakes, if you can believe all of that. It definitely has an otherworldly feel to it, given its isolation (you can only reach it by ferry) and it’s uniqueness.

Inhabited by the Aboriginals around 14,000 years ago, later “discovered” by the Dutch, Portuguese, and of course our good friend Captain Cook, the island has a rich and often mythic history. In most recent years, the dingo population has been slowly waning due to government-supported efforts to eradicate it from Fraser Island. As more and more people visit the island for recreation and tourism, the dingoes are becoming bolder—mating with domestic dogs, and yes, eating babies. According to our tour guide, the dingo isn’t even endemic to Australia, but rather is an Asian wolf that was introduced to Australia around 3,000 years ago. Ironically, the only place it is found today is Australia.

With a slight sense of guilt and hypocrisy, we were led around in a large four-wheel-drive bus that took us through the rainforest on the first day, stopping at Lake Wobby for a nice swim. The weather up here is getting warmer as spring progresses, the temperature being in the 70s most days—so despite the rain shower we got while hiking over the sand dunes toward the lake, it was a most welcome swim.

There were 20 of us young folks on the bus, as our driver zipped along the beach highway, sometimes zigging and zagging to avoid encroaching waves and other vehicles. On the second day we visited a handful of other sites, including the crystal-clear Lake McKenzie, and the tallest point on the island, Indian Head, formed thousands of years ago by underwater volcanoes, and later named by the ubiquitous Captain Cook, who seemed to find savage “Indians” wherever he went.

From this point you can often see sharks and whales lurking about the depths below, though we were only able to spot some far-off trumpeting of whales. Due to the deadly stingers (box jellyfish) found in the coastal waters, and the presence of sharks, swimming is prohibited on all beaches surrounding Fraser Island. We admired the water from the safety of the sand dunes. (Photos to come.)

Yesterday we took the bus to Noosa Heads, a very popular beach town about halfway between Hervey Bay and Brisbane. We made the decision to come back south in order to meet up with my sister, Morgan, who will be in Sydney on Friday. We’re going to meet in Brisbane and then fly to Cairns, given that it was the same price as the bus without having to endure a 20+ hour ride on a Greyhound. The Australian Greyhound isn’t any more exciting as the American version, so you can see why we made the decision.

Unfortunately (though rather fortunately, as it turned out), when we arrived in Noosa we discovered that all of the hotels and hostels were full due to the school holiday. Usually when you arrive at a popular destination, the hostels all have courtesy vans lined up awaiting your business. This time, however, each of the vans were full (phone calls to the hostels confirmed that there was no room at the inn) and zipped out of the parking lot before we could blink—that is, all but one lone van for the Noosa North Shore Resort, where we both eagerly and reluctantly headed to.

We meandered through Noosa proper and eventually crossed a river on a small ferry, until we arrived at the North Shore. For very little money we get to stay in a “backpacker dorm,” which is actually a two-bedroom apartment, with bunks in each room, and two bathrooms. We have a stove, a living room, and even a swimming pool, but the best part is that we’re surrounded by the natural world. There are dozens of kangaroos hopping around, we saw a goanna on our way to the beach, Pete nearly stepped on a stingray while we were canoeing on a nearby lake, and there are more birds than you can shake a stick at. Not to mention that the canoe rental is free, and there aren’t many people here aside from us and the nice British girl who’s sharing our space.

It’s the next best thing to being on an actual farm. We’ve been trying for weeks to contact farms that offer work-exchange stays, but it’s starting to feel like pushing a kangaroo into a rabbit hole. Either the farms get back to us after we’ve already made plans and moved on, or they can’t take us now, “but maybe in a week or two…” With Morgan on the way it’s even trickier, so I think we’re going to hang out here until the last minute, and then swing down to Brisbane (although you can’t really “swing down” anywhere on a Greyhound, but you know what I mean) so that I can be reunited with my sister.

Next adventure: the Great Barrier Reef. Nine out of ten environmental scientists agree, “Get it while it still exists!”