Adventures by Human Power
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Townsville to Airlie Beach – On the Tourist Trail (forReal!)
Palms and wide open balmy Australian streets welcome us to the East Coast. It's hard to believe that from here we have no more than thirty cycling days to reach Sydney our long awaited destination. With money running short, our relationships strained well beyond the bounds of normal sensible limts, and having lived through some nine months in swealtering tropical humidity, and a further six before that, it's a horizon that we really are by now looking forward toreaching.
The East Coast of Australia is a stark contrast to most of the areas that our journey has taken us through. Usually we have found ourselves in places that are variously described by the guidebooks as 'not much reason for the traveller to stop here' or 'xxxx is an uninspiring shambolic little town with little to recommend it, don't bother!'. And so finding ourselves in a succession of places that draw globe trotting tourists by the million from every corner of the globe in mighty booming jumbo jets, whilst fascinating and a wonder to behold, means that this silver lining to our venture also has something of a cloud hanging above.
World weary is maybe an oft misused expression. Our journey has been a fantastic voyage of adventure; but certainly for Andrew and I, it's time that we are thinking of something else other than how to sort out our next visa, or when we shall next need to clean our chains, or even whether our cycling shoes will go the distance. We have a little time to check out the sights, but we also are well aware that the journey'send awaits us.
In Townsville, although we don't have the chance to get out to the Great Barrier Reef proper, we do take time to get in to the 'Reef HQ' exhibition. A stunning view of the colourful tropical and intensely exotic life beneath the waves leaves us all somewhat breathless. We walk through the submarine tunnel amongst Batfish, Trevalley, Sharks, Rays, and Gropers who each eye us and swim gracefully past us. We wonder at the tiny and the huge, the plain and the colourful. We begin to realise that the East Coast has so much tointrigue the traveller.
Southbound and we run into a Koala and Australian wildlife Sanctuary. Following our conversations on the road about having seen Kookaburra, Emus, Kangaroos, and Dingos, but not yet a Koala, we can't very well pass this chance by. Inside the gates of 'The Billabong' we find ourselves caught in a stupendous interactive wildlife experience. Within a couple of minutes we're grappling with a baby Saltwater Croc. Then we have snakes wrapped around our necks. Freshwater turtles race each other down to the lake, we feed purring Cassowaries, leaping bloodthirsty four metre crocs (well the park keeper does) and then for the finale we have Cockatoos and Koalas perching on our shoulders. All this excitement and we have barely left Townsville. Suffice to say the day's ride which winds onwards for another hundred kilometres in the continuing hot weather, is a struggle, especiallyafter a few rest days.
We pass through the towns of Ayr and then Bowen. Although its noticeable that intermediate settlements are growing bigger, the distances between places has not grown smaller. We still find ourselves out in the back of beyond with nothing but trees, and just a few extra cars for up to fifty k's at a time. We've entered sugar cane country here, and the crop forms a tight wall of greenery at the roadside. Complex systems marshal the precious freshwater around the fields and direct it to the correct irrigation channels. In the evening sunshine the water that pours up from a bore hole and over the top of a wide aqueduct, catches the sunshine in a sparkling golden flash. The intermittent polished tracks that criss-cross the road, shine brightly too, as we headfor another evening stop.
Somewhat annoyingly the wind direction has veered contrarily from its previous Easterly course, now continuing to meet us head on as we proceed southwards. When the wind whistles at its strongest, even a gentle eighty kilometre day can become a tiresome ordeal. And so it is as we make grinding progress towards Airlie Beach. We find ourselves pushing hard on the pedals, and my legs begin to hurt as we draw deliberately towards the seaside.
Finally the outskirts of Airlie are upon us, and we are pedalling amongst garages and shops. Minutes from town a sign screams out at us – ‘Roast Dinner $4.95’. A quick glance behind from Tim, and the four of us screech across the road in unison. A cheap meal can’t be overlooked, ever! The bar doubles up as bottle shop, advertising hot and cold slabs from a very reasonable thirty dollars, as a drinking den and restaurant, and also as a gambling haven. Australia’s habit for betting is a wonder to behold. Directions in towns are given with reference to Casino’s; you find one in every town. Cafes are full of Pokies (fruit machines to us Pommies). Adverts for ambitious venues in a town are also known to boast of thirty or forty machines on their premises. And then of course there are the TAB video walls found scattered liberally in pubs at every turn, where it seems to be possible to place a bet on any, yes, really any, sporting event around the globe. Odds are offered on Premiership Football, South American Horse Racing, Yachting in Denmark, and Rugby in New Zealand. I narrowly avoid placing a bet on Agassi to win the Australian Open.
Airlie Beach is the gateway to Australia’s most spectacular tropical islands; the Whitsundays. Tanned, tattooed and pierced backpackers wander the streets aimlessly looking for a direction ("What am I going to do all day?, the perennial backpacking dilemma"). The local lifesaving club are out on manoeuvres as we sit looking out to sea relaxing at the end of another hard day. It’s still thirty degrees and the coach shouts out to them to keep moving. The young lycra clad Baywatchers leapfrog over each other, run laps around the park, before diving to the ground to belt out a rapid fifty press-ups. It all looks a bit frenetic, and it also looks very Australian. I can’t really see many Brits playing leap frog with each other in thepark of an evening.
We're generously put up for a night here by one of Andrew's friends from home. James is successfully leading an alternative lifestyle to the one that seemed to be laid out for him back in the UK. From the same school as Tim, Andrew and myself, he chose to set sail for a different kind of career. Now he makes his way around the world teaching diving, skiing, and whatever else he can learn, and enjoys. Far from home, old friends and family I wonder whether here in Airlie, he misses Taunton. "Well I get to go diving in clear warm water every day - and very soon I'm going to get paid for it too - would you miss home?". Good luck James - and thanks for putting us up (or is that putting up with us?)
At night the bright lights bring out the travellers in search of excitement. The bars throng with Germans, Dutch, French, Americans, and of course Pommies by the score. Fresh from trips out to the islands and formed with newfound groups of friends, raucous evenings in wide open airy beer halls begin. Stories about the size of this fish, that shark, the amazing coral, and what beautiful beaches have been discovered, fill the air. The young people are happy, healthy and excited. They are out and about discovering what the world has to offer. Oh, and they’re also getting drunk and singing.
Airlie Beach has lifestyle by the bucket load, and is full of great cafes, good food and plenty of activities and adventures out into the Whitsundays. We head first out to Hayman Island. Aboard ‘On the Edge’, Wendy our guide talks us through the safety and rules on board. The thirty or so energetic travellers are almost rolling in the aisles as he does his favourite routine gags. Posing as an airline hostess he illustrates the emergency exits around the open yacht “Here, here, here and here…..in fact anywhere……. in fact if you can’t find the emergency exits on board this catermaran you probably deserve to drown!”. He also explains carefully that we should not try and make jokes about his name “It’s a perfectly normal name for a guy………..and besides I’ve heard them all before………..every single one of them!”.
Andrew and I take our first foray into the world of the sub-aqua, dropping beneath the waves for a half hour dive at Blue Pearl Bay. In an amazing turquoise blue world under the water we swim with shoals of tropical fish and over swaying fields of anemones. Huge undamaged trees of coral hide the brightly coloured Parrotfish, Clownfish, and Angelfish. As they emerge they barely notice us as we glide by. Face to face with a huge Batfish I follow alongside him and his friend for a few metres. With a wingspan from top to bottom of almost a metre and with bright yellow and black cresting, he cuts quite a dash beneath the waves. Almost losing the other three I sprint back to find them before we turn back to the shore. The sun beats down upon us on the beach, and then on the rope trampoline on our way back to mainland. We have enjoyed a great day out amongst the beautiful islands.
Tim, Andrew and Rich also have the chance to paddle out for one day’s sea kayaking with Salty Dog Sea Kayaking (www.saltydog.com.au) around Mid Molle, South Molle Island, and Daydream Island. The area is simply perfect for paddling with short distances of crystal clear water between the islands, where white sand and coral beaches greet the adventurer.
Finally we are accommodated for two days by Club Croc who run a resort on Long Island. Palmfringed views from our windows, and skies full with bright, squawking parrots make a tropical getaway from our bicycles that help us to relax for the next stage ofour journey.
