Fraser Fiasco

Jon and I were supposed to go on a three day bush walking trip to Fraser Island just north of our house to knock off some miles on the Great Walk. The Great Walks are an initiative of Queensland Parks establishing six multi-day hikes in various places of "beauty" in the state. Fraser Island is a World Heritage Areas as it is the largest sand island in the world.

Now, I had never heard of World Heritage sites or UNESCO before I moved to Oz, so find out what World Heritage sites you have visited.

Anyway, back to turn of fate that made the weekend very interesting. Our plans were sidetracked when Jon was asked to handle a remote call over the weekend meaning he could venture outside a half an hour radius of the hospital.

So, I made the bold decision to go it alone. How bad could it be, I thought? The other times I was up on the Island there were heaps of people around and the Great Walks seem to be fairly popular, so I surely wouldn't be camping in the middle of no where by myself.

I couldn't have been more wrong. It was all downhill from there.

On Saturday morning, the weather looked a bit dodgy, but Jon and I rented a car for me to drive the 3 hours up to the barge landing, so I felt obligated to go. After checking the weather forecast and seeing that it called for 10% showers all weekend, I decided to drive up to Hervey Bay to the barge and see if the weather cleared. Blue skies greeted me at the barge landing, so I purchased my walk-on ticket and weaved my way through the numerous 4WDs to find a seat on the upper deck. I should have realised I was a fool when I was the only person walking onto the barge.

The trip over on the barge was beautiful. Dolphins were chasing the barge and playing in the wake, the sun was shining and the weather seemed to have turned for the better. As I walked off the barge with my big purple pack, all of the cars honked and gave me the big thumbs up and I flashed them a hang loose. Miraculously, as I was walking away from the barge my cell phone rang (I never expected service out here) and I was able to have a quick conversation with Jon wishing me luck on my walk.

As I followed the access road to the trail, my pack seemed to lighten and I covered the first 10km fairly quickly. Perhaps, I got a bit over ambitious and decided after a quick lunch at Central Station that I would push on the trail to the freshwater lakes walker's camp about another 10km further down the trail.

I started to get a little nervous as the trail descended further and further away from the road and deeper into the rain forest. The brush on the trail hadn't been disturbed in a good long while; I was climbing over fairly large fallen branches and the leaf bed hadn't been disturbed in weeks. About two hours into my hike off the beaten path, I faced a decision: I was far enough away from more populated Central Station to make turning around mean I would be hiking after dark and I still had high hopes that there would be other walkers in the camp and that made me feel safe. My biggest fear was I would be alone and in danger of something bad happening where no one would know.

Of course, my fears were exacerbated as I hiked onward. It started to rain. Not just rain, but pour. Sand and heaps of rain make walking tedious; it was like walking through wet cement - with 30lbs on your back. However, this wasn't a stroll on the beach in the rain, it was lovely rolling hills - rolling hills of wet freaking cement knowing that I might be walking further and further away from everyone on the island.

As I reached the banks of Lake Benarron walker's camp, wet and exhausted, I was lucky enough to have a break in the weather just long enough to set up my tent. There was absolutely no one else in the walker's camp, so I had prime pick of campsites and heaps of time for my fears to run wild. That they did - not shortly after my arrival, the excitement started when I had some four legged friends come out to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine with me. That's right, as I was just about to make dinner 6 wet, cranky dingoes emerged out of the woods. Now, they are only known to assault children, but they appearance of the pack made me *consider* thinking of sleeping within the safe wooden walls of the composting toilet that smelt like Jon's socks x 1 million.

I made the decision to sleep in the tent. So, here I am, alone, wet, tired and in the woods 10kms from the nearest person with 6 dingoes prowling for food. Since I really did not feel like sharing my noodles with a pack of wild dogs and for lack of a better idea, I took out the small Nalgene shampoo bottle I had filled with tequila, took the two shots that were in there along with the Benadryl capsules I packed for emergency allergic reactions and snuggled into my sleeping bag to read. It was the only way there would be any sleep tonight.

I had packed two books with me: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and Bill Bryson's Walk in the Woods. I was reading the Bryson book and just as I hear the bristle of fur brush against my sheath of green nylon, I was reading about Bryson's first encounter with a bear on the AT.

Eventually, the anti-histamines and tequila took over. A little bit of sleep came, until I shot awoke turning on the head lamp to try and scare them off. Over and over, what a long night. I would drift in and out of sleeping waking to -



Sniff, Sniff. Shuffle, Shuffle,


Shriek (some small animal.)


Snap. (Bones of said small animal)


Chomp. Chomp. Chomp.


Repeat.

I would fall in and out of sleep to these sound wondering if whatever was outside would try to make it into my tent. Even though dingoes aren't that big, it was incredibly unnerving and incredibly scary. I have had bears come into camp and been less frightened because I had someone with me. Here I was knowing that no one could hear me if I screamed and no one was expecting me back for two days. My heart actually burned with fear.

The coming of morning was never so welcome. Silence reigned over the woods, still I was afraid to leave the safety of my tent. After an hour of tossing and turning and reading, I mustered up the courage to venture outside. Other than paw prints in the sand, there was no evidence of anyone else being there that night.

I quickly packed up the tent and after having a short battle with the Huntsman that was living with my food in the dingo proof container, I decided to cut my trip short and head back the way I came in hopes of catching the 4pm ferry.

I was thankful that the hike was uneventful back to Central Station. Upon arrival, I had a good laugh at the backpackers that crawled into the dingo-proof food locker and were locked in by there travelling companions. They came back 20 minutes later after the boys had tried every way out of the enclosure, only to prove their comedic intelligence by pretending to poop pine cones.

Knowing rain was in the forest, I set back out on the boring part of the hike - the access road. I hiked along the road that was well worn path. It was boring a tedious hiking. By the time I reached the last 2 km point, I had a feeling there was no way I would make the 2pm barge because the backpacker vehicles were whipping past me. I trudged on.

As I passed the 1 km mile marker, I began to curse everyone and everything in existence. Out of no where a pink 4WD vehicle from Fraser Roving (the same hostel I drove out of a year before) stopped and gave me the high sign to pop in the back.

I was so incredibly thankful to hop in the back that I felt ashamed when they were so excited that I had cigarettes and lollies.

They smoked my last few cigarettes, gorged themselves on my leftover food and I donated my leftover noodles to their trips onward to Sydney and Airlie Beach. I gained insight into traffic laws in Sweden, Korea, Germany, France, and the Netherlands.

I had never been so thankful to see a rented car and get behind the wheel. I was only gone 24 hours, but it felt so good to call Jon again. That night taught me that I can be strong and survive on my own, but the whole experience is more pleasurable if there is someone by my side.

There are no pictures from this trip because of the pouring rain that nearly destroyed the camera =)

Fraser Island Finale

By Monday morning, I was never so happy to be headed home! I missed Jon terribly and I was baffled at how some of the guys from the UK managed to stay drunk straight through our trip. Silence on the car drive home would be a welcome sound; the Scottish blokes hadn't stopped with the banter in three days and through their thick accents you could really only understand the obscenities, which was more than likely 3/4 of what they were saying. Fookin' Nobs they were.

(While I was on Fraser, The Easter Bibly brought Jon lots of chocolates!)


We were all excited to be visiting another freshwater lake on the island since Lake Wobby was so beautiful. It was really hot and we were advised not to swim in the ocean by the tour operator, so the lake was looking good. The downside was today would be another day of inland track driving which is so bumpy & uncomfortable for the passengers and stressful for the driver. We had all been on the grog the night before, so it was a wonder that no one tossed their cookies in all of the jostling!

We left nice and early from our campsite to beat the traffic (yes, we are on an island with no roads and there is still heaps of traffic) and take much sought naps on the shores of Lake MacKenzie. It was quite lovely, but cold & quite frankly at that point all anyone wanted was to not have sand on every square inch of their body, their belongings, the truck. We really just wanted to get off this effin' sand dune & have a shower.



On the drive back, we had heaps of time to kill so we stopped at Central Station, which is an information center that is one of the first places you pass coming onto the island from the ferry. More notably, it is the only place you can fill your water jugs from a spigot with drinkable water according to our tour operator =)





We had the traditional "end of camping trip" smorgsboard when you eat everything that is left over. It yielded some pretty nasty results. It has always made me laugh that when you buy cheap store brand cheese, it is just labelled "Australian Tasty Cheese." It doesn't pretend to be imitation cheddar, swiss or any other type of cheese. It is what it is, generic cheese, but it's not tasty. It's pretty damn gross. Paired with the remainder of the "backpacker's meat" package we tried to make spaghetti with bolognese sauce. I still don't think the "backpacker's meat" package had any real meat in it other than roadkill. Shudder. While we were lunching, a hungry goana emerged into our little picnic grove. It was crawling into our packs and pots looking for food. It clearly had lost all fear of humans and simply saw us as a meal ticket. Hysterical.


(Can you believe that outlook is made of compacted sand?!?)


We spent a few quick minutes reading the information kiosks and left knowing more about logging and sand mining than I think any of us ever cared to know! We wanted to get in line for the ferry to be sure that we would be able to get on the 2:00 one and be back on time. We got in line and waited and waited. It was touch a go there for a bit, but good old Rollie, was the last truck to fit on the barge. We waved goodbye to the heap of sand and set off for home sweet hostel.


We did a quick gear unload & I was off like a shot. I couldn't wait to get home and shower with soap in my own shower and see Jonathan. I rang him from the road and he told me he was finishing heaps of cleaning and you could hear in his voice he was obviously rushing around and flustered. I was so excited and thought it was such a sweet gesture considering he worked such long hours over the weekend, and I get home to find him flustered, but the apartment still in the state I left it in on Friday. When I asked Jon what he meant, he just gave a big smile and sheepishly said he had to do heaps of cleaning to tidy up the big mess he made to bring the unit back to status quo. I don't think I've laughed that hard in a long time!

You can see all of the photos on webshots:



Fraser Island Trip

Comedy of Errors

We set off early in the morning in our bright pink 4x4 that was ominously named, "Rollie" for the Fraser Island Ferry. Our first stop was Woolworth's were the 9 of us each pitched in to buy food & grog for the weekend. Possibly the most painful grocery shopping experience of my life & the occurrence of our first big mistake. We sent 3 guys from the UK to go to the bottle shop to get alcohol for the weekend. As we emerge from the parking lot, we see them victoriously standing over 20 boxes of goon. It's like boxed wine, except on further inspection, it does not claim anywhere on the box to be wine; it simply said "chablis." It's cheap, it's gross, it's nasty and apparently made from fermented fish bones. But, it does the trick if you are looking to get silly on the cheap. It tastes about as good as it sounds. Ick.

Armed with heaps of goon and the Aussie equivalent to Raman Noodles, we set off for the ferry launch. We only stalled the car 7 times in 10 kms! =-)



We set off for the barge, completely unaware of what lie ahead. None of us had any real 4WD drive experience, most people couldn't drive a stick shift on the road, never the less in sand. It was all very unnerving. At least on the ferry ride over, we could relax and enjoy the weather ~ for at least part of the way. It started to pour down rain halfway through the ferry ride and didn't stop until late that afternoon.

The first day of driving was to take us on inland tracks to Lake Wobby, one of the fresh water lakes on the island. The inland tracks are tricky to drive on because it's all soft sand and unrelenting hills. Plus, obviously it's not a two lane highway, so if you are driving along and someone is coming the opposite direction, it gets a little tricky. Downright scary when these monster vehicles (think massive four wheel drive tour busses) from the Kingfisher Resort on the Island come whizzing by with no patience for weekend warriors. The island was packed because of the long weekend and the "traffic jams" we got in were pretty amazing.



You also have to realize that we were driving an old beat-up Toyota Land Cruiser manual transmission that had the seats ripped out of the back and benches down the sides like a paddywagon with three people up front & 7 people in the back plus all of our gear in the main part of the truck because roof storage units made the vehicle top heavy and more prone to tip over. We were doing a pretty good job of almost tipping quite often; the added weight up top would have just put us over the edge! It was close quarters to say the least!

It started to rain harder and harder and good ol' Rollie started to leak. It was hot & humid and now we were wet. Screams of "Get me off the effin' sand dune!" quickly began. I truly think the guy who was driving the truck was on a verge of a nervous breakdown between the conditions and having 9 back seat drivers is enough to make anyone moody.



Finally, we arrived exhausted & hungry @ Lake Wobby. After a 40 minute walk down this long trail, we came to this massive canyon of sand with a small lake in the middle of it. Families were taking sleds and sliding down the sand dune which was almost a kilometer long and a straight 45 degree angle like it was snow! It really was an impressive sight! The lake was emerald green in color and against the yellow-orange tones of the coloured sands made for a lovely sight. We all got down the the bottom, inspected for crocodiles (which don't even live on the island, but still, you can never be to cautious) and went for a swim. The catfish kept nipping at our toes, but other than that it was lovely. The sun finally came out and we all sat in the shallows of the lake, had a beer and for the first time really starting having fun. That is, until we realized, getting down the the lake was the easy part! Now we have to trek back up to the top of this sand dune and back along a trail that was completely uphill. We would sleep well tonight!



When we got back to the truck, we decided we should go to one of the established campgrounds to get water & use the barbeque and facilities their for dinner and washing up. So, we set off further north passing the Maheno shipwreck which has been a landmark on Fraser Island since the 1930s if I remember correctly. We stopped to take some quick pictures, get some use out of our tentinus shots playing on the rusty ship & hurried up the beach to get to the campground before dark & the tide came in. Once the tide comes in, there is virtually no beach to drive on and you're in basically stranded where you are =)



Since we had such little time, we broke into two groups, the girls made dinner while the boys went down to pitch the tent on the beach. We did not have the permits to stay in the campground because the hostel figures that a bunch of backpackers will never obey the 10pm quiet hours and they are probably right. All was going well until darkness fell and we found out that they only provided us with a torch that had to be hooked up to the car. Sh!t. After digging in my pack for a bit, I found my headlamp, thank goodness. But cooking by the light of one headlamp was not fun. But, goon makes everything a little bit better.

Then we ran into our second problem of the night. We went to go fill our big water jug and the spigot has a big sign on it saying "Not Potable Water." Apparently, for potable water you have to drive back down to Central Station (a good hour or so away on those inland tracks) to get drinking water. We were screwed. We had no water. Luckily, I had my filter bottle, but it was slow going. We stocked up on the ground water to use the bottle for the night and figure the rest out tomorrow.



As we are freaking out about that, the boys come back, defeated with tents and poles strewn all over the back of the 4WD. It's too windy to pitch the tents down on the beach; it just can't be done. What to do? If we illegally camp in this permit, we face a hefty fine from the rangers and the hostel and will get kicked out way after the tide is up and will be forced to drive through salt water, which means we have an additional fine from the hostel. We scarf down our nasty "backpacker's special" sausage and steak (using those terms loosely) and head down the beach, with the tide encroaching and everyone kind of freaking out of the prospect of having to sleep in the truck parked in the dunes.

We eventually found a sheltered area where we can pitch the tent if we use the van as a windshield and all 10 of us pitch each tent 1 at a time. It was that windy and ridiculously difficult, but we did it thank goodness. We all gathered around our one headlamp and drank goon and ate "Home Brand" (store brand) cookies that were disgusting, but we were so hungry it didn't matter.

The stars above were absolutely amazing. We kept seeing shooting stars and the sky was unlike anything you've ever seen before. It was like being at the planetarium, but in real life!
After some silly uni drinking games, we all went to bed knowing that we had limited windows due to the tides to get where we needed to go. Early to bed, up at 6am to beat the tides. We all went to bed happy to know that tomorrow had to get better and worried that the dingoes would kill us in our sleep!