Fraser Island - DKT Page 5

Climbed aboard McCafferty's Coach at 2020 last night and have been rolling down the Bruce Highway all night long; short stops at Rockhampton, Macay, and Bundaberg. It's a comfortable bus, but a bus nonetheless, and it rolls and lurches and we've not slept much.

Arrived at Hervey Bay at around 1030; spent rest of the day getting organized for Fraser Island.

A guy from Bay 4WD Center picked us up at Delfino's at 0830, and drove us to their depot, where before they handed over the keys to the Hilux we were given a very thorough briefing covering Fraser Island's unique driving conditions.

Drove 20 kms to River Heads ferry landing, which consisted of a dirt parking lot and a metal plate ramp leading down into the water. A full load of cars was waiting, mostly van-loads of young backpackers from every corner of the globe.

During the 45 minute ferry ride to we saw sea turtles and a dugong, the later of which is unusual enough to excite comment among captain and crew.

Landed on the western shore of Fraser Island and headed east across the island. We took a snack break at Central Station, where out of the forest wandered our very first dingo, looking for scraps. Just a pup, and pretty darn cute.

Then on to Eurong Beach, where we rented a room for the night above the general store.

Got up at 0600, cleaned, fed, packed and on the 'road' by 0700 . . . road in this case being the beach. Tentatively at first, but as we dragged out of the soft sand high on the beach, and onto the firm, packed sand near the water's edge, it was quickly obvious that this beach was made for driving. It is smooth and hard and long and soon we were flying down the beach at 100 kph. Every ten miles or so we came to a rocky headland that had to be bypassed inland, and at these spots the driving was most challenging; winding, hilly tracks with very soft sand and knee-deep potholes. With the tires of the Hilux halfway deflated, and crawling along with the transfer case in compound low, we successfully lurched and bumped through and around each obstacle. Though we were proceeding through these stretches at barely a walking pace, seatbelts were required to keep from banging heads on the roof as we bounced along.

Arrived at the Orchid Beach store shortly after 1000. It's an open-fronted building divided into thirds; one-third each given over to general store, mechanic's garage, and living quarters. It's run by Helen (initially taciturn, but quickly warming and dear) and Don (grizzled guy in typical old-man undershirt and short-shorts, grey hair flying everywhere and covered head-to-toe in grease from broken differentials and transfer cases that dumb drivers crack on the rocks). They seem tourist-weary, but it's an act, and everybody says that these two are the ones to depend on should you run into trouble in hereabouts.

We bought a block of frozen pilchards, and Helen gave us directions how to cover the final mile to The Moth, where we'd be living for the next eight days. The Moth is huge; three stories, seemingly endless bedrooms and baths, sleeps 22. The view from the surrounding verandas is breathtaking and built into the second and third floor verandas is a nine-hole putting course. We three have the place to ourselves for the next seven days; wish somebody were here to share with us.

Again we rose before the sun, and drove south toward Indian Head, a headland a few miles down the coast. We watched the tailor fishermen on the rocks for awhile and then climbed to the top of the cliff to see what we could see. Nobody at the clifftop but a big old gnarly bloke who looked for all the world like a yabbo, but spoke like a Thoreau; he took this picture of us.

Leaving Indian Head Dan finally got the Hilux stuck in the sand; of course this happened just about when he started feeling a little cocky about his 4WD prowess. Where the sand is loose you have to keep up momentum or you immediately come to a stop, so any shifting must be done very quickly. Approaching a hill, D. missed a downshift and right away we were up to the hubs in sand. We tried rocking out but only dug deeper, until both differentials were dug in and we were going nowhere. So we got out and started digging, and within minutes two other vehicles of laughing and joking Aussies stopped to help dig us out. After moving cubic yards of sand, much discussion of whether to pull out forward or back, and finally laying down branches behind the wheels and letting most of the air out of the tires, we backed it out of the hole and onto the firmer sand of the beach.

We had a picnic lunch on a hillside above Waddy Point. The surf was very heavy and crashing onto the rocks, but just back from the breaking waves Dan and Ty discovered crystal-clear tidepool that was deep enough to jump into off of the surrounding rocks.

In the evening we drove the five miles or so back to Waddy Point for our first try at catching tailor. Cliff Andreason left off a couple of huge surf-casting poles fitted with Alvey reels (very Australian and quite strange to us) at the house for us to use. Using whole pilchards for bait and casting off of wave-swept rocks in the fading light, we managed to hook several fish but they all got away. This is typical of our learning curve when trying a new fishery. We will make a few adjustments and do better tomorrow.

Ty and Dan got up early and fished south Waddy Point for tailor. No luck, nor did anyone else we saw have any.

At 1100 we all three drove 30 k's south of Indian Head to explore inland loop. Extremely rough road. Stopped at Allom Lake for lunch. Steamy, buggy place. Turtles, a goanna that wanted to share lunch, and a very large ant which bit K. on the back of her leg hard enough to draw blood. Not having much fun so we turned around and headed back north up the beach.

Crossed the dunes again to south Waddy Point to have a go at catching dinner. Very heavy surf and nobody on the rocks. Tyler caught our first tailor.

Took the fish home to The Moth, filleted it and fried it up for dinner. Mild, delicate taste much like good trout.

Dingoes in the garbage last night; stuff strewn all over the yard. Radical weather shift to the southeast. Very strong winds (maybe 30-40 knots). Can't go onto the beach, or get sandblasted.

Stan Schultz stopped by. He lives in a cabin behind The Moth and looks after the place. He's a big, gentle, happy guy who loves everybody and is loved right back. He spent most of his life farming and has the biggest hands we've ever seen.

Drove across to Eastern Shore, area of Wathumba. Low tide and hundreds of acres of white silica sandflats. Many birds; Ty checked off several new species in his book. Too many sandflies.

Dan heard Stan hollering and making a ruckus behind the generator shed this afternoon, and arrived just in time to see him deliver the coup de gras to a 5 foot long eastern brown snake, one of Australia's most deadly.

We finally met Cliff Andreasen in person this evening. We've been anticipating doing so since we first started corresponding with him re. Fraser Is. and The Moth almost a year ago. Big, burly guy, with twinkly eyes buried in bushels of grey beard; very happy fellow. Acts very casual and laidback, but according to others is a savvy and successful businessman involved in real estate and development concerns up and down the Queensland Coast. Kaaren brought him a souvenir Mercer Is. T-shirt from home, size XXL (obviously three sizes too small).

Cliff has been coming to Fraser for 35 years and owns the only freehold land at Indian Head. This is within the Great Sandy World Heritage Site and the government is perpetually suing him to condemn property and tear down the cabins he built there decades ago. Cliff and friend Graham stayed until late drinking Fourex and telling us island lore.

In spite of windy weather, we all got up early to try tailor fishing south of Indian Head. Surf was too high when we got there.

Ty and Dan playing Aerobie on the beach, but wind blew it out into the water. It was only knee-deep but as Dan waded out to recover the ring, we observed that it was sufficiently deep to float a large shark that was feeding in the shallows. We followed him up and down the beach for 30 minutes. All we could see was the fish's back with huge dorsal fin and tail so we couldn't positively identify the shark. It was glossy silver in color and the shape of the tail makes us think hammerhead, about 10-12 feet. Now and again we'd see our favorite toy in the waves, and sorely wanted it back but ended up leaving it to the shark.

Cliff and Graham showed up as they were driving south to Noosa. Cliff gave us a lesson in the fine art of catching sandworms. We'd observed a bunch of Yabbos trying this the day before, but they didn't seem to be having any luck.

These worms are fascinating and we need to find somebody who knows their ecology. They are polychaete annelids about the thickness of a pencil and up to 1.5 meters long. Swimming through the sand at the surfline, they now and then poke just the tips of their sensory palps out of the sand, probing for any bits of carrion washing seaward in a receding wave.

They are extremely wary and quick and very hard to capture. Though plentiful, they can only be caught by luring them to the surface with a piece of rotting fish or clam and when they poke their little heads up, quickly pinching it and pulling, and pulling, and pulling them out of the sand. It sounds easy, but they're unbelievably fast, and very few people acquire the knack. They are so precious as whiting bait, and so hard to acquire that EACH worm sells for $3.

Cliff is an expert and over a period of half an hour caught a half dozen. We caught zero.

Stan Schultz joined us for drive across island to Wathumba, with intent to fish. Arrived at high tide and no way to get to fishing spot except by swimming. Stan doesn't swim. Bad planning.

Went after worms in the afternoon. Ty has got it figured out and has developed into the most skilled wormer on the island. He caught over 40 worms in two hours.

Dan caught one worm in three days and many hours of trying.

Observed amazing phenomenon while we were spotting for worms. While the tide is ebbing, after an especially large wave washes up the beach, the smooth, white sandy bottom strangely takes on a rumpled and bumpy texture. Suddenly pippi's (surf clams) by the hundreds simultaneously erupt out of the sand and go tumbling out into the surfline where they quickly disappear as they again dig themselves into the bottom. As the tide further recedes, again that section of beach erupts with clams riding a wave seaward. This way they keep themselves in the active surf, probably to enhance feeding. Presumably on the incoming tide they catch waves to carry themselves higher up the littoral zone, though we didn't see that happen. What's especially intriguing is that they do it simultaneously, thereby reducing the chance of predation by gulls and oystercatchers. How do they all decide to catch the same wave?

Went on a long walk and tour of the old Orchid Beach Resort with Stan Schultz.

Said goodbye to Stan and The Moth, and started driving south. Stopped at Indian Head for last climb and overlook. Saw tuna, rays, shark, kingfish, turtles.

Drove from Hervey Bay to Noosa Heads where we spent the night at Cliff and Pam Andreasen's house. They've carved a beautiful homestead out of a eucalyptus forest right at the edge of the sea, and their several acres of cleared grounds are teeming with Australian fauna. We had a wonderful dinner of prawns and steak from Cliff's cattle ranch.

In the morning Cliff presented each of us with Indian Head T-shirts. We bade adieu to this kind and charming couple. Almost a year had gone by since we first contacted Cliff via the internet for help in setting up our Fraser Island adventure.

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