Pink Barbie cars on Magnetic Island, sailing around the ridiculously photogenic Whitsundays, jumping out of planes in Mission Beach, diving the Great Barrier Reef and avoiding the locals in Cairns…Welcome to tropical North Queensland

Back at the Nomads hostel in Rainbow beach we have a few days to try out some of the activities on offer in this teeny tiny town. We attempt sand boarding on the huge sand dunes nearby, without much success, and wake up super early one morning to drive over to Tin Can Bay, a small spot where, every day without fail, wild dolphins swim into the shallows to be hand-fed by enthusiastic volunteers. It’s a cute place to visit, but word to the wise, don’t eat at the café…

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“Make it look like i’m going really fast’

After 2 days in Rainbow we seem to have exhausted all the possible activities on offer but our Australia map doesn’t show much between here and Airlie Beach, our next destination, nearly 1000 km away… (We are fast realising just how big Australia is. Here, ‘up the road’ means, at the very least, a 2 hour drive) We decide to drive up to the tiny sister townships of Agnes Water and Town of 1770 after a brief stop in Bundaberg, which may be the most depressing town on the east coast…(sorry Bundabergans).

1770, so-named for being the (second) landing place of Captain Cook, seems to consist solely of a hill with a beachside bar perched on top. Agnes Water is just as tiny and charming, with a handful of souvenir shops and a hidden gem of a beach where we have a 3 hour surfing lesson with the Reef 2 Beach surf school for just $17. I think it’s safe to say I’ll never be a pro surfer. By the end we are battered, bruised and exhausted, but manage to muster enough energy for a group photo.

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To save money, we pitch our tent in a super basic campsite for $6 a night. The campsite consists of one toilet full of insects, an outdoor shower in the middle of a patch of grass and a few sandy plots to pitch tents. This would have been fine if a huge storm hadn’t blown up during the night and we had nowhere to shelter except the tent which was trying to fly away, or the car which was full of crap and already soggy from wet towels and bikinis strewn everywhere. Not the most comfortable nights sleep. The campsite had a well kept secret though. A short walk through some overgrown bush (avoiding cobwebs housing enormous spiders stretched across the path) led to a tucked away little beach, where we spent a chilled day soaking up some sun with some cold ciders.

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Jungle huts in Airlie

After a few days in Agnes Water we leave for Airlie Beach and our Whitsundays tour which we’ve booked in advance. Things have been going pretty smoothly so far, apart from the car continuously leaking oil, but this is where our road trip hits a hitch and it seems our luck may have run out. The storm that hit us in Agnes Water has been building up off the coast of Airlie, slap bam in the middle of the Whitsunday islands. The weather reports are predicting it will turn into a full-blown cyclone. No boats are going out. Our tour is cancelled. We decide not to wait around and, grudgingly, leave Airlie behind us to drive up to Townsville where a ferry will take us across to Magnetic Island. Despite our disappointment about missing the trip, it’s hard to feel down on this small, beautiful island covered in lush tropical bush. The renowned BASE hostel we’re staying at feels more like a hotel than a hostel, right on the beach with views over to the mainland, a bar-side swimming pool and cute little bungalows serving as dorm rooms. (Also, possums. Cute, furry possums everywhere.)

There is a strange phenomenon on the island that is the Barbie ‘Topless’ car. For around $100 you can rent toy-like, open-top cars in various neon colours and speed around the windy island roads. However, with money starting to run a bit low, we opt for the budget version. So, while everyone else zooms past us in their fluorescent pink cars, music thumping, salty air in their hair, we penny-pinchers wait patiently at the bus stop.

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The infamous Barbie car

When the bus finally rolls up (everyone here is on island time), we visit the Koala Sanctuary where we get up close and personal with some Aussie critters, holding lizards, crocodiles and snakes, petting koalas and feeding talking parrots. On the way back, we battle the late day humidity and take a short hike up through the bush to a lookout point with a beautiful, almost panoramic, view of the island.

Just as we’re easing into island life, I get an unexpected call from Peter Pans travel agents back in Kings Cross, who’ve managed to do the impossible and squeeze us onto a Whitsundays boat the next day. So we say a fond farewell to Maggie, retrace our steps back to Airlie and finally board the Condor, our home for the next 3 days.

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Sailing, sunbathing and drinking, lovely

The Whitsundays trip is as amazing as expected. At first we are dubious about the overwhelming amount of loud, young German boys that board with us but they turn out to be great fun and become our drinking buddies for the next 3 days. We spend the days sailing blissfully between hundreds of tiny islands, stopping to snorkel and eat freshly barbecued lunch on the deck. The highlight of the trip is, of course, the famous Whitehaven beach, pure white swathes of sand and impossibly turquoise water stretching out for miles. In the evenings, we drink, (a lot, we run out of alcohol after the first night… note to self: you can never bring enough goon) and listen to music as dolphins swim laps around the boat. The nights are hot and sticky, the problem with living on a boat is that you’re never really dry and are constantly aware of how salty and damp you are. It’s impossible to sleep below deck in the cramped sleeping area, so most people drag their mattresses onto the deck and sleep beneath the stars. After 2 nights the trip is over and, though we’re reluctant to leave the party boat behind us, I’ve never been more grateful for a fresh water shower.

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Panoramic view of Whitehaven Beach
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The obligatory park sign photo
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White sand and warm, turquoise water for miles
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Sweaty, salty and very hungover at the end of the trip

Our next destination is Mission Beach, where, on an impulse, we’ve booked a skydive. We take an obligatory pitstop along the way to take photos of another giant piece of fruit, this time it’s (drumroll…) The Big Mango! The mango is a much nicer pitstop than the poor pineapple. It even has it’s own café, complete with coffee cups with little mango men on them. We have ice-cream (mango flavour, of course) and then continue driving until we reach ‘Cassowary Country’ and Mission Beach. Signs along the roadside instruct us to slow down and watch out for cassowaries, though I’m yet to meet anyone who’s ever actually spotted one of these elusive, dinosaur like birds in the wild.

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The Big Mango!

Mission Beach is all hilly, jungly tropicalness. We check into the secluded Jackaroo hostel, a 10 minute drive up a long, winding road from the beach. The hostel is nestled on a lush hillside, practically in the jungle, with amazing views out to sea. (Aussie hostels have really upped their game, European hostels, take note.) The small dorms, lounge area and kitchen are on the second floor, looking over the pool and sloping garden filled with hammocks and a canvas screen for open air movies. We relax, and I mentally prepare myself for the following day, half hoping there will be a freak thunderstorm and it will be cancelled..

 

Everyone says if you have done a bungee jump then a skydive will be a breeze. ‘You don’t even have to jump yourself, you’re attached to a professional, it’s totally safe yada yada yada.’ These people are lying. Doing a skydive is terrifying. And completely different to a bungee. Yes true, you don’t actually have to will yourself to step off into nothingness, but you do have to take a small, bumpy plane thousands of feet into the air (with the door open), and watch as other people hurtle over the edge strapped to another human, looks of sheer terror on their faces until its your turn. OK I’m making this sound like it was a horrible experience, which it wasn’t. It was brilliant because it was equally terrifying and exhilarating. And, like with a bungee, I’ve found that at the point where you’re about to fall your brain kind of stops worrying and switches off and pure adrenalin takes over. And after the initial over the edge, heart in mouth, ’oh my god what the fuck have I done?!’, moment passes, suddenly it’s the best experience of your life. Free falling through a clear blue sky, over a vast expanse of turquoise water, studded with islands (even if your goggles keep riding up over your head making it nearly impossible to see…) And when the parachute goes up you can take off the stupid goggles and really appreciate the indescribable feeling of being suspended in mid-air, taking in the view and the stillness, feeling like a bird. A few swoops and a gentle glide and we land on the beach. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Same goes for a bungee jump. The rush more than makes up for the fear. I think the only thing I wouldn’t do again is Zorbing, which I attempted at Rotorua in New Zealand. Getting tossed around and around in an inflatable ball filled with water with your friends feet in your face. Like being in a washing machine on spin cycle. Horrific.

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Jackaroo Hostel, Mission Beach

Just over a month after we left Sydney we arrive in Cairns, our final destination, amazingly with the car still in one piece despite it constantly leaking oil everywhere. Cairns is an odd place. The esplanade and lagoon are pretty, especially at night when everything is lit up and there are a few nice places to eat and drink along the esplanade. But the rest of the town seems a bit faded and shabby, built for tourists but somehow not quite right. There is a noticeable Aboriginal population here, and they tend to roam the streets at night, slurring drunkenly at passers by who ignore them. For the most part though, they seem harmless, and there is something sad about them and their resistance to modern life and integration. Cairns is definitely a town to pass through, do a couple of trips, get drunk at Gilligans and Woolshed and then leave again. (I realised this when I ended up stuck working here for 4 excruciating months a while later.) But we do make the most of some of the brilliant day trips that Cairns has to offer.

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Attempt number 72…success!

The first trip we do is a day in the Daintree Rainforest on Uncle’s Brian’s Fun, Falls and Forest tour. This trip actually turns out to be the highlight of our whole east coast trip. We make the mistake of drinking far too much the night before and rocking up to the bus very hungover, very early in the morning. We are welcomed onto the bus by Cousin Rob who is a ball of energy and tells us that today will be filled with lots of walking, swimming and singing. ‘Oh God. What are we doing?!’ is my first thought, but as we head off, Rob’s infectious energy rubs off on us and our hangovers miraculously subside as we sing karaoke and pass  ‘magic’ polos around the bus from person to person using only a toothpick between our teeth… yeah there’s no other way I can explain that. We spend the day chasing waterfalls, stopping off at Victoria falls which looks like a scene from Tarzan and has its own natural water slide and Milaa Milaa falls, the famous Herbal Essences waterfall, (yes, yes, YES) and set of Peter Andre’s ‘Mysterious Girl’ video where we attempt the ultimate hair flick.

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Chasing waterfalls with this fun bunch

We can’t leave Cairns without visiting its ultimate attraction, the Great Barrier Reef where I try diving for the first time (after waiting around for my diving buddy, a Chinese guy who apparently hadn’t realised that diving involved putting your head underwater and was having a slight panic attack. He ended up back on the boat by the free buffet where he seemed much happier.) As the boat speeds back from the reef after a blissful day of sun and snorkelling we realise our trip has come to an end and, with now very empty pockets, we have to decide what to do. We contemplate sticking around in Cairns and finding work for about 30 seconds before deciding there’s only one place we want to go. And so we sell the faithful rustwagon and scurry back ‘home’ to Sydney, penniless but with impressive tan lines and many a road trip tale to tell.

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Snorkellers or superheroes…?
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Farewell old friend!
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Fuck…
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The Jackaroo Travel Wall…. The most beautiful thing in the world is of course the world itself
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