Fraser Island News

DOWN UNDER SPECIAL Paradise found

Last Update: 08 April 2006

(Daily Post (Liverpool) Via Thomson Dialog NewsEdge)GIVE us a look at that bite," said Phil, leaning down to inspect Tracy's arm. "Ah yes. I see it. It's a nasty one alright. But don't worry. The good news is you'll live just long enough to make it down to the jeep, so at least we won't have to carry you."

Our personal ranger for the day smiled just in time to put my wife at ease, explaining how the jaws that inflicted this nasty little red lump thankfully belonged to one of Fraser Island's more benign residents.

Such humour seems indicative of those born and bred in a country where so many creatures have a chilling capacity to inflict death on anything and anyone. But joking or not, it was indeed good news that we didn't have to carry her, standing as we were high on Indian Head, one of only two rock formations on what is the world's largest sand island.

From this stunning vantage point we'd watched a distant pod of whales breaching and blowing their jets of spray into the clear air, while closer to land were huge sea turtles and manta rays. But now it was time to continue our journey along 75-mile beach, a breathtaking stretch of sand which doubles up as the island's main road along it's eastern edge - being there in late July it was pretty quiet, but come the Australian summer and it gets as busy as any highway of a more conventional nature.

On our way we'd paused for tea and cake at Eli Creek, regarded as the nicest swimming spot on the island' gazed in amazement at the shipwrecked Maheno, left stranded on the sand in 1935 en route to Japan and now a skeleton almost consumed by the elements' and gazed up at the coloured cliffs known as the Cathedrals.

Continuing north, Phil expertly negotiated the tricky passage of soft sand leading to the final 9km or so to Champagne Pools, a cluster of shallow water holes above the surf line. Again the Australian's under-stated humour came into play as he regaled us with tales of tourists getting stuck in their 4x4s and the tide chasing them onto higher ground, their vehicles left to face the consequences.

Whether intended or not, his words reassured us we'd done the right thing in not hiring a car of our own, instead leaving it to the experts to drive us around this beautiful landscape. The sumptuous lunch he miraculously produced from the boot of his jeep and which we enjoyed beneath the afternoon sun on our return journey south was, as they say, the icing on the cake.

Next day it was Dave's turn to be our guide, with the jeep replaced by a bus as we joined 15 or so fellow explorers on a tour of Fraser's interior. He looked and sounded so much like Steve Irwin we expected to see him wrestle a croc at any minute. But being too far south of the tropics for such a beast to survive, he had to be content with the no less arduous task of wrestling this huge vehicle along narrow, sandy tracks better suited for the feet of a camel than the wheels of a bus.

Not always a fan of being herded around in big groups of tourists, the very nature of Fraser Island made every second a sheer thrill as the bus rocked and swayed its way from one dazzling spot to another. And with his immense depth of knowledge and entertaining style of delivery, Dave provided the perfect, if sometimes alarming, commentary.

Standing in the middle of the only rainforest on earth to grow from sand, surrounded by trees and bushes that any number of predators could be hiding up or in or behind, is no time or place to talk about snakes. But Dave, wearing trademark Irwin shorts and manic smile, did just that, informing us almost apologetically that Fraser Island wasn't home to the world's most poisonous, the Taipan. With our sighs of relief still audible beneath this most mesmerising of canopies, he quickly and gleefully added how the next five in the world's top 10 venom chart were quite probably watching us that very second.

Another potential danger is the Fraser Island dingo, considered to be Australia's purest strain thanks to the absence of any domestic dogs to breed with. We saw plenty of paw prints - most notably during early morning strolls on the beach at our base camp, the plush Kingfisher Bay Resort on the west coast - but the dingoes, like so much of the wildlife community, seemed determined to afford us plenty of privacy on what was, after all, our honeymoon.

Privacy is not something you'll often get at Lake McKenzie, though. Understandably one of the most popular tourist spots, visitors gather in vast numbers to relax on its white sandy shore or to plunge into its crystal clear water.

Lake Wabby is equally stunning, but being a little off the beaten track it does provide a more tranquil setting to enjoy a swim - something you won't be able to do for too much longer as the sand of what is known as the Hammerstone Blow slowly but surely engulfs it.

Entire swathes of the island are completely covered in vast dunes swept inland from the eastern coast. Walking the three kilometres or so over the Hammerstone Blow back to the ocean's edge gives an eerie insight into nature in action, knowing that under your feet lie the remains of a huge submerged forest once teeming with life.

The old logging depot of Central Station gives an eerie insight of a very different kind, being as it was the hub of a once lucrative industry which threatened to change the very fabric of this idyllic paradise forever.

Logging bans may have limited the damage and preserved its habitat, but Fraser Island's native habitants weren't so lucky. The Kabi Aborigines who'd lived here for thousands of years were joined throughout the late 1800s by tribal survivors from mainland Queensland, forcibly sent by the Europeans who'd been lured in huge numbers to Gympie's gold fields. Devastated by disease, the last few survivors were eventually relocated to other parts of Queensland at the start of the 20th century so that Fraser Island could be opened up for recreation.

To its great credit, Kingfisher Bay Resort is respectful to the Kabi's past and the island's future in that it offers a green, sustainable form of tourism, providing a serene environment where you can't help but feel at one with nature.

Such serenity is at its greatest out on the water, where we took a canoe ride about a kilometre up the coast before plunging deep into the mangroves that are a prominent feature along the island's greener western side. With the added bonus of having the tour guide actually rowing our canoe - she opted for our company after I nervously informed her I was to swimming what Australian prime minister John Howard would be to a personality contest - Tracy and I sat back and enjoyed the view as others less fortunate splashed frantically as the tide pushed and pulled them in every direction other than the one they wanted to go.

We made it back to the boat jetty just in time to marvel at one last sunset, and when it rose again next day our stay on Fraser Island was all but over.

A final stroll along the beach was spent watching the morning catamaran from the mainland spilling its cargo of smiling tourists ashore, where no doubt Phil and Dave were waiting to tell them how they had just 10 minutes to live or that they were being eyed by some of the most poisonous creatures to grace this earth.

travel details

Brian Howes stayed at the Kingfisher Bay Resort on Fraser Island's west coast. Catamaran transfer is about 45 minutes from Hervey Bay.
Hervey Bay can be reached by rail/bus transfer from Maryborough West, which is four hours north of Brisbane, and is also on the main bus routes running up and down the Queensland coast