At any time, but on a late summer Sunday morning it’s irresistible.
A soft summer light bathes the classic city cottages in a honey hue; cottages that draw their inspiration from the old Queenslanders and Victorians of earlier times – gaily painted wrought-iron balconies and ornate trim adding a festive air. The streets are ablaze with purple jacaranda, miniature front yards scented with frangipani and jasmine and framed by neat picket fences. The morning air, already warm at this early hour, hints at the day to come.
Being in Brisbane always takes me back; back to a long ago Christmas when dad loaded his three tiny kids into the back of an equally tiny Morris, tied a canvas water bag on the front bumper, crammed camping gear and luggage into a trailer in back for a 1000 mile trip from Melbourne to Brisbane to visit Granny Ford. This became a tradition that we repeated for almost 15 years.
Back then Brisbane was a tiny back-water: locals were disparagingly referred to as “banana benders” by the rest of the country. Today the city is laid back, intimate and friendly. The Greek Revival buildings of the 19 th century have been preserved to feature as prominently as the modern glass and steel skyscrapers that frame the skyline. Strolling the hills that surround the river leads to serendipitous discoveries; hidden art galleries, antique stores, book stores, cafes and pubs. It’s a city made for rambling – difficult to get lost with local landmarks always in sight
On this balmy Sunday in April, fortified by a classic English breakfast, we follow Wickham Terrace past the old sandstone windmill (built by convicts to grind grain for the colony, and known as the “tower of torture”; when the wind died the convicts manned the sails) – along Edward Street, passing the high-end stores of Louis Vuitton, Ralph Lauren, and Tiffany. Coffee shops and cafes bulge with locals enjoying a leisurely breakfast, the air is pungent with the aroma of the frothy cappuccinos that Aussies do so well
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The penal colony was founded in 1824 at Redcliffe, about 17 miles away at the coast, and was moved inland a year later when the Brisbane River was discovered. And what a river it is. Seen from above it’s a beautiful serpentine ribbon of water; from the ground you are rarely out of sight of this lazy muddy watercourse, ebbing twice a day with the tide, snaking its way through the city.
The Sunday market in the fashionably hip neighborhood of Riverside, an area of trendy restaurants and pricey apartments, is bustling with shoppers jostling for position at stalls of jewelry, artworks, candles, soaps and beach apparel. Its location on the promenade by the river lends a festive air and joining the crowd, we stroll west along the river bank amid joggers, bicyclists and roller skaters under the sheltering Moreton Bay fig trees and stately Bunya Pines that fringe the botanical gardens. The grey steel of the Story Bridge spans the river behind us across to the massive cliffs of Kangaroo Point, chiseled by years of quarrying tuff for the construction of the early public buildings. CityCats zig-zag their way across the river ferrying passengers along the inner-city reaches and further up to St.Lucia (home to the University of Queensland) and beyond – motor-sailers and small yachts bob on their wake.
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South Bank Parklands, created for World Expo 88, has been transformed into a popular public gathering place. A steel arbor covered with magenta bougainvillea meanders through grassy parks, all equipped with gas barbeques (a pastime the Aussies have elevated to high art), past cafes and restaurants, an outdoor theater, a swimming lagoon. The State Museum and Library along with the Queensland Art Gallery and Performing Arts Center are all centrally located here as well, creating a busy and exciting cultural hub. The Nepalese Pagoda, a gift to the city after Expo, is an exotic teak creation and a popular wedding venue. The view of the city across the river is a wonderful juxtaposition of old and new, the old sandstone 19 th century against towers of glass, with the freeway cantilevered out over the river, Buck Rogers style.
Brisbane has evolved from the sleepy backwater I knew. Vibrant, energetic and modern, it is endowed with almost perfect weather and miles of bike paths. It is the quintessential Australian city, relaxed, laid-back and lucky.
With over 17 miles of biking and walking paths throughout Brisbane and surrounds, (11km of walking paths in the city alone), it’s a welcoming, energetic and modern city that proudly incorporates its heritage. It’s easy to navigate, it’s friendly, relaxed and unassuming. But most of all it’s fun – and the gateway to Queensland’s tropical wonders.
Tropical Far North
Dreams of watermelon and mangos in the land of cane-fields.
A damp mantle of hot air clings to me as I stride down the covered ramp, open on both sides, into the terminal at Cairns. It stirs memories of the Queensland holidays I took in the 50’s, simple and sweet, memories of freedom and adventure, playing barefoot in the afternoon rain, devouring large slices of watermelon and mangos. At the edge of the airstrip, banana trees hang heavy with great clusters of green fruit, sugarcane fields stretch to infinity, the sky darkens under lowering rain clouds. It seems a fitting welcome to tropical North Queensland.
Unprepared for the tourist crush of Cairns and its back-packer hotels and souvenir shops of cheap bushman’s hats and knockoff didgeridoos, we opt for Port Douglas, an hour north. Once a sleepy fishing village cum sugarcane port, it’s now a quietly trendy travel destination, in the eco-belt, midway between Cairns and Cape Tribulation.
Hugging the center line of the Captain Cook Highway intently to compensate for the natural drift to the verge on the left, a natural tendency when adjusting to the “wrong side” of the road, we pass neighborhood stores and shopping malls, past signs that point to the highland towns of Kuranda and Mareeba, into lush pasture. The roadside is carefully shorn of cane grass, the invasive species that grows everywhere in the north, lush but useless.
Gradually traffic thins and we drive around mountains that thrust steeply out of the ocean, mountains smothered in thick rainforest, beside wide stretches of pristine beaches, trackless sand slapped gently by impossibly blue water – so completely deserted.
The approach to Port Douglas is a vast swathe of green median strip and swaying palms, a jungle of tropical vegetation hiding the resorts that line Port Douglas Road. Low rise, low key and understated, this fuels my fantasies of a secluded getaway, lazy days of exploring the rainforest and reef, of walking barefoot along Four Mile beach, alone. The village has a feeling of reluctant evolution over time, a hotel here, a bottle shop there, and to my mind it has a Hemingway-esque feel to it, a sort of Key West of the antipodes.
Sheltered by tropical plants and palms, coffee shops and restaurants spill patrons out onto the sidewalk to linger over coffee, to see and be seen. Tasteful boutiques sell au courant resort-wear, stylishly casual and relaxed. Construction has been sporadic, a decadal sampling of design from the ubiquitous Queenslander cottage, (the Court House Pub “The Courty,” constructed in 1878 with its overhanging wrap-around veranda, is a classic) to the dreaded blonde brick veneer motel. The more recent airy and open design under sail-like roofs, looking more like a South Pacific raft is a pleasing if ubiquitous Australian touch. Accommodations range from motel rooms and holiday apartments to five-star resorts, and most are tastefully hidden by lush tropical foliage maintaining the fishing village ambience.
Restaurants are good, the food is fresh and plentiful with the focus on seafood and at 2 Fish Restaurant on Wharf Street the baby Barramundi is fried whole or filleted – devine morsels of sweet, buttery flesh.
Australia is quite possibly the most ecologically diverse country in the world, splendidly unspoiled, an area the size of the US with a population of 30 million and Queensland (the “ Sunshine State”) has its share of World Heritage Sites. Nowhere else in the world do two – Daintree Rainforest and the Great Barrier Reef – share such close proximity.
The largest rainforest in Australia, and the oldest in the world, Daintree Rainforest is home to species of birds and plants found nowhere else. The main public entrance to the forest is at Mossman Gorge just a half hour from Port Douglas, and its massive granite boulders orchestrate a sustained crescendo of rushing water. A short stroll through the National Park will yield an abundance of unique flora and fauna: turtles can be caught sunning themselves on the rocks while the elusive platypus can be found in the river below; honeyeaters, kingfishers and brush turkeys spread the seeds of the strangler figs; vines, palms and lichens provide shelter and food for the Boyd’s Forest Dragons – huge antediluvian lizards. Metallic blue wings of the Ulysses butterfly slice the air and flying foxes hang stoically from tree branches, asleep in the dim light of the under-story until evenin
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At the entrance to the park the Mossman Gorge Aboriginal Community offers an interpretive guided walk along ancient tracks for lessons in traditional plant use and bush tucker sources. These Dreamtime walks are well worth taking, they emphasize the vitality contained in these ancient forests and our obligation to maintain it. www.yalanji.com.au
Further north, where the pavement meets the dirt, is Cape Tribulation. This comma of land, jutting out into the Coral Sea, was named by Captain Cook; he had wrecked the Endeavour on a reef a few miles south and had to pull in for repairs. The leisurely drive to Cape “Trib” leads through the oldest rainforest in the world, through small villages, across the Daintree River by old cable ferry (watch the crocs), past such places as Shipwreck Bay and Struck Island. The small community at the Cape is pleasingly rustic, with a sprinkling of Farm Stay and B&B accommodations, a small café and not much else. Sea kayaking and horse back riding are available but mainly it’s the quiet, the simple, and wildly satisfying, pleasure of walking a sandy path to a rainforest creek or a deserted beach fringed with graceful palms – not a soul in sight.
Great ribbons of coral stretch along the Queensland coast for 2000 kms making the Great Barrier Reef total about 1/5 th of the worlds’ coral. High-speed catamarans whisk you over miles of ocean to an activity platform on Agincourt Reef, to dive or snorkel. Any anxiety I felt about snorkeling in the middle of a choppy sea, less than a mile from the great abyss at the edge of the continental shelf, was lulled away with the gentle rocking of the ocean, entertained by this underwater garden of swaying coral, colorful clown fish, sea turtles, rays and giant clams.
Silky Oaks Lodge is the ultimate in quiet relaxation. Hidden beyond cane fields in the rainforest hinterland, this elegant spa retreat on the Mossman River, offers quiet solitude. The spacious rooms, all within sound of the burbling river, are elegantly minimalist with polished hardwood floors, oversized bath tubs, sparse furnishings and windows open to the forest. The Treehouse Restaurant, features fresh local produce artfully presented, activities are leisurely; spa treatments with native botanicals, a rainforest picnic, canoe or snorkel the river, or simply do nothing at all. www.silkyoakslodge.com.au
Tjapukai Aboriginal Cultural Park is a window onto the rainforest culture: 40,000 years of legend and dreaming. www.tjapukai.com.au
This area too has a gold-mining history and the Kuranda Scenic Railway will take you to the cool highlands of Kuranda, through the rainforest, along track that was carved out of the granite mountainside by hand. www.ksr.com.au
A sense of timelessness pervades Port Douglas. I feel an almost smug satisfaction at having discovered it and am faintly worried that any more development will either price me out of it or attract the mindless hordes. I can only hope that the distance, almost as far north as the paved road goes, just maybe, will allow it to retain its charm for years to come.
Ecological Island
One of the few remaining urban rainforests in Australia is just an hour north of Brisbane.
Standing on the edge of the rainforest, listening to the bird-song, a lush, sweet invocation to a long gone era, it’s hard to imagine that once the whole continent was saturated in rainforest.
Here in the hinterland of the Sunshine Coast, north of Brisbane, aboriginal clans ranged these hills, gathering their seasonal bounty of fruits and nuts, snakes, lizards and crayfish - celebrating the excellent bunya nut harvest, the result of a cooperative effort by many clans. It’s not difficult to imagine a pungent screen of wood-smoke from their cooking fires, mixing with the blue haze of the eucalyptus canopy, while the supernatural sounds of a celebratory corroboree blend with the raucous birds of the bush.
Today I am in the Blackall Ranges and one of the remaining islands of rainforest close to the city of Brisbane. I can just make out lines of breakers to the east at the Sunshine Coast, just beyond the fragments of eroded volcanic cores, nominated the Glass House Mountains, the iconic image of this hinterland. Thrusting up through a carpet of tea-tree, banksia and eucalyptus, the highest peak reaching 1824 ft., they are a chimerical sight against their rainforest background.
Today only a small portion of the continent is rainforest – about .3%, and unless one is prepared to travel 1000 miles north to the Daintree Rainforest, (the oldest in the world) an example of this natural wonder is only an hours drive from Brisbane, easily accomplished in a day trip. Finally awakening to its value, there is a rush to preserve the small remnant pockets of rainforest, and the Mary Cairncross Reserve is an exceptional illustration.
The Reserve is an ecological island: it is not contiguous to any other rainforest and it has no rainforest pathways or links to other habitats. Although small – about 128 acres - the reserve is ecologically diverse. Massive red cedars, almost 200 ft. high and prized for their red timber, were once favored for furniture making and ship building. These giants are rare now, and in the rainforest they are sanctuaries for orchids, mosses and stag-horn ferns. Giant blue quandongs, some growing as high as 130 ft., develop their buttress trunks for support and host insidious strangler figs. Piccabeen palms and native ginger can be found by the creek and a healthy under-storey, endowed with the poisonous cunjevoi (its huge heart shaped leaves similar to the taro or elephant-ear plant) the endangered red fruited lilly-pilly and the roseleaf raspberry, make a sheltering thicket for small marsupials and baby brush turkeys.
Australia is renowned for its unique and distinctive birds, among them the emu, cassowary and the parrot family, and this rainforest is no exception. Dominating the chatter of the forest is the eastern whip-bird who, despite his small size and dull charcoal plumage, is thesoundof the Australian bush. Endemic to Australia and the rainforests of the region, the regent bowerbird provides a brilliant flash of color with his yellow head and wings, and builds ingenious bowers, a part of his mating ritual. Wampoo fruit doves and emerald doves hide out in the canopy along with the green catbird. Scrub wrens are commonly seen along the trail and with a little perseverance you’ll catch a pademelon (a small rainforest wallaby) nosing through the forest litter.
The walking track of decomposed granite, leads through the forest, past clearly marked points of interest, wheelchair friendly and highlighted with viewing platforms and elevated boardwalks.
An educational and creative diorama in the visitor center displays the rainforest through time, from the early cretaceous period, about 144 million years ago. Although the dinosaurs are long gone, many plants, including the southern beech, pepperbush and macadamia live on. A separate section of the diorama shows the drying out period, with the unavoidable changes to the landscape brought on by climate shifts.
www.mary-cairncross.com.au
Up until the mid 1800s, the gently rolling hills of the ranges were once lush rainforest, and played an important part in Queensland’s early history. The relentless land clearing by settlers in the 1860s; the ease of cutting and the value of red cedar made huge fortunes for a few and paved the way for a thoroughfare to the goldfields at Gympie 60 miles to the north. Dairy farming flourished in the lush meadows of fertile, volcanic land in the early 20th century and continues to this day.
Maleny is the quintessential country town, experiencing a resurgence in popularity, almost a bedroom community of Brisbane. Once home to a disparate collection of settlers, squeezing a living from the land, it’s now a destination getaway, a weekend retreat, a breather from the heat and humidity of the Brisbane summer, the place to go. The residents are an appealing mix of writers, artisans, farmers and retirees, unpretentious and friendly. The buildings on Maple Street (the main street) were mostly built in the 1920s and 30s and have been transformed into co-ops, cafes, a bakery, book-stores and restaurants. Stockman’s Warehouse still sells the necessities of a working farm town, and the old Maleny Hotel, built in 1907, across Obi Obi Creek on Bunya Street, still stands – the classic Aussie pub.
Motels, cabins, resorts and retreats spread out across the range, and bed and breakfast inns are plentiful. The Maleny Lodge offers a chance to savor the essence of rural Queensland life. Built in 1894 as a private residence it was operated as a guest house for 60 years. Now a bed and breakfast, the house is built in the classic Queenslander style: high ceilings, center hall and large windows, raised on stumps, allowing the cooling summer breezes through. It is original, although carefully restored and with a few new modifications, (en-suite bathrooms come to mind). Gables feature decorative battens while the surrounding verandas are enhanced with lattice and wrought iron, the roof is simple corrugated metal that lasts a lifetime. Located in the heart of the village, it’s an easy walk to restaurants and stores. Breakfast is wholesome, delicious and abundant, proudly showcasing local farm produce.
Side Trips.
Kondalilla Falls : An easy 1.5 mile hike down through a eucalyptus forest which is dotted in the wetter areas with subtropical rainforest species. Cascading year round, the falls fill a deep clear pool lined with huge basalt boulders, a magnet for local youngsters. Skene Creek then drops about 300 ft. into a rainforest valley. It’s a wonderfully cool respite in the summer, so take your swimsuit. Located two miles north of Montville, on the Montville/Mapleton Road.
Australia Zoo : Steve Irwin’s legacy at Beerwah; this dynamic park, spread over 72 acres, is filled with superb examples of Australian flora and fauna. Particularly impressive is an interactive kangaroo enclosure with resting areas for tired ‘roos, up close and personal habitats of Tasmanian devils, dingoes and wombats, and the brilliantly conceived, cheeky, Crocoseum.
Located at Beerwah on the Glass House Mountains Tourist Road/Steve Irwin Drive
www.crocodilehunter.com
Monteville: First settled in 1887, timber-getting cleared the land for pineapples, citrus, macadamia nuts, avocadoes and dairying. This captivating country town now centers around tourism and weekend retreats. The main street is lined with restaurants, gift shops, cafes and art galleries. Accommodations run the gamut from cozy cottages to bed and breakfasts, from motels to rainforest retreats. Stretched out over the ridge there are magnificent ocean and rainforest views, scenic walks and national parks.
Settlers Rise Vineyard: Over the cattle grid, and down a gravel driveway that winds through the vineyards, you’ll find yourself at the tasting room of this award winning boutique winery. The selection is small and individual with some unique blends created by winemaker Peter Scudamore-Smith. Relax on the veranda with a wine and cheese platter and take in the views over the Obi Obi Valley to the ocean beyond.
249 Western Avenue, Montville www.settlersrise.com.au
World Heritage at Your Fingertips
Exploring the Natural Wonders of Platypus Bay
There he was, long, lean and muscular, eyes fixed in my direction. We were trapped, marooned on a wide expanse of blindingly white virgin sand, wedged between a dense tangle of grey-green wallum heath and the glassy turquoise of Platypus Bay. He kept coming steadily, leonine – strutting his stuff; no chance of ever mistaking this dingo for a domestic dog.
OK, that’s way too much dramatic license, but on this visit to Fraser Island I was anxious to get away from mass tourism (such as it is,) so I joined the Tasman Venture for a “remote” Fraser Island tour with a small group of…what else – tourists.
Australia has the most natural wonders of any country on UNESCOS’s World Heritage list. This should hardly be news when you consider that the continent was settled by Europeans less than 250 years ago, scarcely enough time for us to “muck it up.” Fraser Island is a stone’s throw from Brisbane, the capital city of Queensland (only 40 minutes by commuter jet,) and is the largest sand island in the world. It’s bounty of natural phenomena is largely untouched, fiercely protected and seen nowhere else in the world. Over many visits I’ve seen the beauty spots: I’ve dipped my toes into Lake McKenzie’s aquamarine shimmer; ambled along the sandy tracks of the rainforest interior through the giant santinay forests and towering piccabeen palms of Pile Valley; I’ve marveled at the whimsical red squiggles on the scribbly gums and waded beneath giant tree ferns growing by the transparent waters of Wangoolba Creek. Now I have a more aquatic adventure in mind.
Enter the Tasman Venture: 60’ of gleaming white purpose-built catamaran, designed specifically for whale watching in the waters of the Great Sandy Strait. Underwater windows and a state of the art viewing stand that lowers to whale level were craftily added to enhance the whale watching experience. In spring, Platypus Bay, at the north end of Fraser Island, is home to scores of humpback whales; a nursery for females and their calves and a playground for energetic juveniles before starting their mammoth journey to summer feeding grounds in the Antarctic. According to one crew member the whales are so playful and curious, coming within feet of the vessel, that it’s almost as if they seek to be entertained by us. But now it’s summer, and adaptability being the key to survival in any tourist destination, the Tasman Venture has switched gears, offering guided charters to the remote northern reaches of Fraser Island.
Leaving Hervey Bay the skipper carefully weaves his way through a constantly changing waterway; sand bars, ever shifting with the two way tide, move so often that the bay has to be mapped every two years or so. The day couldn’t be finer; bright sunlight shines on waves of shimmering diamonds as the catamaran smoothly skims the surface. Not even the lowering rain clouds ahead mar the stunning views of the Fraser Island coast.
Cruising steadily north we pass great red and gold ribbons of iron oxides that arc along the Arch Cliffs, wonder about the odd juxtaposition of an isolated stand of palms surrounded by a forest of eucalypts and envy the remote camping sites splendidly isolated on virgin sands. The only sign of human activity is a lone jeep maneuvering along the beach. The skipper pauses occasionally for us to watch pods of hunting dolphins while giant eagle rays splash on the surface. Osprey and egrets wheel overhead. I’m a million miles from me.
Our first stop is Wathumba Creek. Millions of gallons of fresh water spill into the ocean hourly, filtered slowly through this great sand mass, the water so pure that this must surely be one of the last places on earth where you are encouraged to “drink the water.” The wide estuary at the head of the creek is a favorite of fishermen in the know for its fertile spawning grounds, and the mangroves that line the banks are a hotbed of activity for fish and turtles, their roots an essential nursery for young fry and crabs. Plagued by mosquitoes, untypically prolific after the recent rains, we stayed just long enough to briefly snorkel the clear shallows. Paddling kayaks up a tea colored fork of the estuary does nothing to relieve the torment, and navigating through a weird maze of dead mangroves and dodging overhanging branches is a bit like paddling up the creek of the dead, so the cat’s amphibious dinghy deposited us on a secluded ribbon of sand at the edge of the crystalline bay for a soothing swim. Emerging from the water, that’s when I saw him.
He moved leisurely forward dodging cautiously behind the spinifex grass, reappearing 100 yards further down the beach to stand gazing out to sea like a pasha – lord of all he surveyed. Minutes later his female companion ambled by me, within feet, to pause just yards away watching me, unblinking, with yellow wolf eyes. At the risk of sounding melodramatic I will say that for some seconds I froze, my blood chilled as my mind raced. “What were those damned dingo-safe instructions.” No sooner thought than she lifted her head, curiously testing the air around me and without a backward glance, trotted off to join her mate.
Back on board, we feasted on barbequed chops and sausages accompanied by salads and tropical fruits and giant prawns that tasted of the sea. We continued our leisurely progress up the coast to the very north of the island and the appropriately named giant sand blow that is Sandy Cape.
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The lighthouse was built in 1870 on the highest point of the dunes, about 500’ above sea level. Lying just north of the cape is the Breaksea Spit, a treacherous 22 mile long underwater extension of sand bars and coral shoals, the scene of many groundings and wrecks. In this rugged and remote environment a small community of lighthouse keepers and their families became a self sufficient group, with their own school house, teacher, vegetable garden with fruits trees, and a cemetery. These rugged pioneers, men and women, typify the Aussie spirit of can do. They had their share of tragedy and created their share of myths (perhaps brought on by long hours of staring at the sea,) which are now condensed in colored illustration on a poster board at the base of the lighthouse.
Today the small settlement is home to a ranger and volunteers who spend weeks prowling the beaches in the early morning hours of the nesting season, collecting the eggs of the endangered Loggerhead turtle. They are then carefully moved to a protected rookery behind the sand dunes and buried in nests that are dated and numbered. Two months later tiny hatchlings flood the beach under the watchful eyes of their devoted volunteers, their built-in GPS imprinting this place as home, to which they will return some 30 years later. Co-incidentally, the Sandy Cape rookery is 42 miles due east of Mon Repos on the mainland; the largest rookery in Australia.
This is an area of splendid isolation. The only access to Sandy Cape is from Platypus Bay by boat, or from the wild and wooly east coast by timely skirting Ngkala Rocks in a 4WD over treacherous sands. We hike the half mile track to the lighthouse to gaze across the Breaksea Spit and beyond into the pale haze of the Coral Sea.
The hour back to Hervey Bay is spent leisurely, reclining in the main salon, a chilled Chardonnay in hand, watching a video of humpback whales breaching and rolling and tail-slapping. That’s when I start planning my next trip.
Kingfisher Resort Shines
“I’m working in my screen saver.”
That’s how Roger, the skipper of the Fraser Explorer barge, explained his days plying the straits between the mainland and the island; across a waterway that glows under a bright sky, teeming with dolphins and stingrays, white sands in the distance; a seascape that never loses its luster, even during the summer monsoons.
The day is sunny, the breeze diffuses any humidity and we’re heading to Kingfisher Bay Resort on Fraser Island. Although not a terribly lofty goal, it’s real and attainable and one I’ve had for many years – since I’ve started coming back “home” – just to spend a few days, reading, swimming, hiking, maybe a spa treatment or two, a real vacation.
Fraser Island is the largest sand island in the world. This large spit of land is 73 miles long and is separated from the mainland by a vast waterway called the Great Sandy Strait, just off the Queensland coast. This, and the wide bay to the north, has been designated a marine park and is a sanctuary for dugong, whales and loggerhead turtles. In a country that has the most natural wonders of any on UNESCO’s World Heritage list (15 to be exact), this ecological masterpiece on Australia’s east coast is easily accessible, just a short barge ride from Hervey Bay and largely unknown by foreign tourists.
The island has a somewhat checkered past: It was dangerous – ships wrecked on the unchartered coral shoals at this southern end of the Great Barrier Reef; it was the subject of falsehood and fancy – Eliza Fraser, shipwreck and island survivor exaggerated her adventures in a tome that she hawked in London in the 1890s; greed ran rampant – the demand for timber and the wealth of mineral deposits swiftly disposed the indigenous Butchulla people to the mainland to dream of their “paradise lost.” It’s the stuff of legend and novels.
But it’s the seeming impossibilities that make this island worthy of World Heritage fame. There are perched lakes; there are Godwanian rainforests; there are giant trees – to rival the California redwoods (well almost); there are crystal clear freshwater creeks that say “drink me” – all on sand. Dingoes, the distant descendants of Asian wolves, roam the island in small packs and because of their isolation they are considered the purest strain on the continent. They may look like a harmless domestic dog – long, lean and tawny – but be assured if you come across one on some isolated beach, those slanted and liquid-gold eyes belong to a cunning opportunist, never to be underestimated.
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Kingfisher Bay Resort opened in 1992. The architects “sought to touch the ground lightly.” They used trusses, cantilevers, exposed joists and wire rigging to create a functional and spectacular design, a building that seems to float above its sandy foundation. A sophisticated simplicity suffuses the structure: local timber was used wherever possible – hardwood floors are polished to a high shine under hoop pine ceilings; the open foyer/great hall is naturally cooled by soft breezes that flow through louvered windows and vents; a grand piano graces the mezzanine and intimate conversation groupings are placed throughout. Committed to living up to its many eco-awards the resort has successfully reduced its lighting consumption to 15% of conventional lighting, recycling all solid waste and composting sewerage, kitchen scraps and waste paper in their on-site worm farm.
After a short meet and greet and clutching the “What’s On” Guide, we wander down to the beach, in time for the ranger’s guided beach walk. Before us, legions of dime-sized blue soldier crabs scuttle away, quickly vanishing into the sand. We too sink into the soft viscous silicate as we dodge stingray craters; at high tide these saucers of stealth shimmy into the sandy bottom to ambush small crabs and fish, leaving a perfect replica in the sand at low tide. Starbursts of sandy pearls, the detritus of tiny bubbler crabs, decorate the beach in designs reminiscent of Aboriginal dot paintings. These diminutive crustaceans sift the sand for nutrients then spit out the leftovers in a tiny ball.
Wading against the outward flow of Dundonga Creek – one of many freshwater creeks that percolate millions of liters of pure sand-filtered water daily – we weave through red and grey mangroves. Their many roots buttress the mangrove against the vigorous ebb and flow of the tide and provide nutrients and protection for small crabs and fry. We hike back inland to the resort along a sandy track with the ever present bay winking through a curtain of red gums and melaluca.
Far from being the rustic retreat that the prefix “eco” implies, the rooms are comfortable and air-conditioned and provide a refrigerator, coffee maker and a generous bathroom. Each has its own private veranda overlooking a tea colored lagoon and after an afternoon of hiking and swimming I’m more than ready to sink into a comfortable chair and watch the rising breeze push the silhouettes of slender eucalypts to a dusky dance. The symphony of night sounds begins: the give and take of acid frogs; the rustle of flying foxes and sugar gliders.
Never one to let the threat of rain dampen any day here (and it’s actually more of a warm drizzle,) on day two we take canoes out in search of dugong. The Great Sandy Strait is a sanctuary for these rotund oddities that graze on the abundant sea grass and while unsuccessful at spotting these shy creatures, there is no shortage of rays – shovel-nose and spotted – that skitter away from us through the shallow water. A pair of eagle rays frolic on the surface a few feet away as an Indo-pacific dolphin flashes pink nearby – as if on cue. Later we join a ranger-guided bush tucker walk and identify lemon myrtle, paper-bark and a lacy monitor lizard. Yummy…dinner in another time and place. We were able to put the lemon myrtle (key ingredient citral) to work the next day when we ran out of insect repellant.
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In true Aussie style, we took it easy, in the interests of “slow travel.” We lounged by one of the three pools, ordering food and drink from the poolside service; we lolled in quiet contemplation of our navels; we swam in the turquoise bay; we read books and indulged in a massage at the spa.
Next day we upped the tempo, renting a small Suzuki four wheel drive, and hit the bush. Scrambling up a trail spread with rubber mats and tree slash to give traction, we cross the dingo grid and leave the resort. Driving on sand turns out to be a challenge. We bounce between ruts, bottom out in huge washouts, and zig-zag along the deeply-grooved tracks. On we hurtle through dense forests of scribbly gums and banksia, past stubby grass trees hundreds of years old, marveling at a bush-land that thrives on such skimpy nutrients.
The indigo glassiness of Lake McKenzie flashes through the trees. Grabbing towels we hurry down a bush path that opens to blinding white sand surrounding this iconic lake, edged in turquoise. That Fraser’s many lakes are enormous and perched impossibly on sand doesn’t seem unusual, just surreal.
We push on to Central Station in the heart of the rainforest – another seeming impossibility. This clearing in the forest was once the heart and soul of the logging industry on Fraser Island, large enough to support a school. But today, instead of the ringing of axes, it’s the buzzing of mosquitoes and the loud crack of the whipbird – a comely little fellow with a big voice – that rings in my ears. This bird, though seldom seen, is the definitive sound of the Australian bush. We stroll the timber walkway above Wangoolba Creek, above water so clear it’s invisible, the illusion only broken when a leaf drops and floats downstream. A relict group of giant king ferns, the genus of which has survived for 300 million years, line the creek bed.
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As the day wears on the shadows lengthen, and the giant satinays, brush-box and piccabeens at Pile Valley become impenetrable walls. Known as Fraser Island turpentine the satinay trees grow ramrod straight about 100’ high and are resistant to marine borers. They were harvested and used for pier pilings (hence the name) and were used in the construction of the Suez Canal. These three natural wonders, crammed together in the space of three short miles, are just another reminder of what makes this special place World Heritage worthy.
With only an hour to spare before our 6pm deadline we head back. We shimmy along the sandy trails like a retarded bumper car but this time it’s seat-of-your-pants blind, mate ( oh yes, now’s the time to ditch the map), up and down one blind trail after another until, miraculously, we burst out of the bush and over the dingo grid again. All roads lead to Kingfisher.
The Seabelle is Kingfisher Resorts signature restaurant. Innovative chefs marry Aussie “bush tucker” with classic dishes and sauces. Everything is sourced locally and herbs are plucked from the resort’s gardens. We settle on appetizers of traditional garlic prawns finished with a light sauce of bush tomato, white wine and feta, along with a sampler of grilled crocodile, kangaroo, and emu which is accompanied by a bunya nut pesto with rosella and chili plum jam. The barramundi topped with macadamia nuts and baked in paper-bark lives up to its lofty reputation of juicy sweetness, and the Gympie beef is full bodied and tender.
The Maheno Restaurant by the pool serves breakfast and dinner buffets, with poolside service of light lunches and drinks, all wonderfully fresh. The Sandbar is just the thing for a casual pizza, nachos (Aussie style) or fish and chips. We celebrate the end of the day at the jetty with a bottle of wine and a cheese platter and watch the sky cast its spectacular colors into the ocean.
Two months later I’m still savoring this adventure. “It’s one of those perfect trips,” I tell my husband,” “a trifecta of the things I love; warm ocean, exploring back roads and nature’s wonders.” Oh, and drinking fine wine. I can’t wait to go again.
