This way to the beach

Week 2:

Ailrie Beach to Townsville


Sunday, when I was jealously waiting for Chris and Carrie (out sailing and diving, if you remember), I opted to strike out on my own. With a National Park at the city's border, I assumed hiking would be bountiful. You know what they say about assumptions... Not a single person I had asked knew anything about hikes in the area, or really anything that didn't involve a package tour and a commission.

A vague idea of direction and a pocket full of change, I struck out for bus heading to Conway NP. If you want to know the lowdown on any area, just hop on the local bus and talk to the driver assuming he's not offended by Seppos. Seppos, for the record, is a term for us Americans, though its a bit abstract- Americans are commonly called Yankees (which we all know is a gross generalization, though most of the best Americans do come from New England- Johnny Appleseed, JFK, Whitey Bulger), Yankees is shortened to Yanks, Yanks rhymes with tanks, as in septic tanks, then shortened to Seppos. I don't think I need to inform anyone on contents of a septic tank, which is what they think we are full of. If I was more creative I'd attempt to return the favor, anyone have any good suggestions?

Fast forward a few hours, and I was meandering a quiet beach after a 6 km overlook hike. One of the few signs of life was a green tree frog; a pint sized-Superman, reputably able to leap from second story buildings to the ground in a single bound. On the beach I bumped into a few young French ladies who were debating a quick dip in the picturesque sheltered bay. I too had considered it, but with Box jelly fish season fast approaching and graphic beach signs depicting the whip-like burns on a corpse, I chose life.

You may think I'm exaggerating like a typical Seppo, but an excerpt here ought to clue you in.

http://animaldiversity.ummz.umich.edu/site/accounts/information/Chiropsalmus_quadrigatus.html

A considerable number of people are killed each year by these transparent, grapefruit-sized predators. Laboratory experiments have shown that the sea wasp's venom is 700 times more powerful than that of the better known Portuguese Man-of-War. Victims usually experience shock, muscular cramps, numbness, nausea, vomiting, severe backache, frothing at the mouth, constriction of the throat, loss of speech, difficulty in breathing, paralysis, delirium, convulsion, and ultimately, death. Once the venom from the sea wasp enters the human bloodstream, it can paralyze the heart in 30 seconds. The pain caused by the venom has been described as the most excruciating in the world.

With the astounding cornucopia of pain, I'm willing to bet the "loss of speech" is mostly a side effect of the incessant screaming. And yet Aussies discuss the imminent doom with the same even keel as they would the weather. And so sunshine, maiming, death, and hiking were the topics of choice in my short conversation with a local Aussie couple recently arrived to the beach.

Just as the conversation with them was waning, an older (65?) gentleman slowly walked up, shoes resembling Swiss cheese and a rucksack with patches and mends spanning decades of use. He was more soft spoken than the typical Aussie, and I had to take a step closer just to hear him at all. For 26 years he's been sailing the East Coast of Australia, only mooring up in the summers. Having spent years exploring coastline from both the ocean and the shore, he had quite a bit of knowledge to share. So we traded stories of brown bears and bandicoots, and he and I started walking and talking back toward the trailhead, though not without a twinge of regret on my part. Do you have any idea of how hard it is to leave a secluded beach with three young French ladies renowned for scantly (read topless) clad sunbathing?

With a short trip back to the main drag, I bumped into Chris and Carrie on their way for a dip in the lagoon, and of course I joined them. I was lucky enough to catch the last of the sunbathers, a few foreigners in thongs. Surely a few hairy gut busting men is a great way to enjoy the sunset at the lagoon.

Anyway, a few promised pics here. I'll try and catch up a bit more later.



A quick pic from the epic bus ride from Brisbane.


Note the bus station sign. My roommate, wanting to give his Australian Shepard puppy an authentic name, went with Matilda. And as you can see, he has named his dog after a gas station.



Chris and Carrie taking the "Spin and Hurl" for twirl.