God's blueprints for heaven
Trip Start
Feb 14, 2007
1
26
68
Trip End
Ongoing
Airlie beach - Gateway to the Whitsundays (and several STD's if you are
a feral backpacker). We arrived in Airlie beach about ten minutes
before the English weather, and about 11 minutes before we were wet through
and fed up. Despite several suggestions that a boat trip in the
Whitsundays is not weather dependant, Jen and I resolutely refused to pay 400
bucks to cruise the tropical islands in weather more often seen off the
Isle of Wight. So wait we did. And wait. In total we sat, slumped,
window-shopped and procrastinated our way through 10 days in a town similar
in size to Surbiton whilst doing our level best to avoid wet T-shirt
competitions, jelly wrestling and foam parties. (if only I was 18 again).
It was during one of those long nights accompanied by relentless rain
that we discovered poor old priscilla had a leak. Not just a little one
either, it was a roof leak that soaked Jen, her sleeping bag, her
pillow and most of the bedsheet. This resulted in us both vying for the one
small square of dry mattress in the middle, as I had forgotten to close
the window in time before the sterods came into the van from my side
too.
On day 12 the weather turned and we booked a bargain discount trip
avoiding the ex-racing yachts (too small, no showers), the party boats (too
many drunken knobbers - we're posh don't you know) and the boat named
'spank me' (for obvious reasons). We settled instead for the Derwent
Hunter, a tall ship of class, history and, happily for us, only half the
normal number of passengers it usually carries. After settling into our
matchbox sized cabin and downing our sea-sickness pills, we shivered
our timbers onto the deck and tentatively introduced ourselves. When I
say we, I mean Jen. Engrossed in my new book I was quite happy to sit in
the corner and read away, but Jen was off like the Duracell bunny in a
field of cymbals, finding new victims for her personal brand of German
that has proved so popular in the past. Our particular ship of fools
was made up of a mad Scottish bird (i`ll bloo on may thasle wasle), a mad
Irish bird (ahar tiddly hee), a mad German (oh yaah), two not-so-mad
middle aged Aussies (streuth), a german couple who were a bit too
good-looking (damn them) and us. During our 3 days at sea we snorkelled lots
(wearing our oh-so fetching stinger suits) ate lots, sunbathed, watched
Jo (the mad Scottish bird) try and pour milk into a bowl of breakfast
cereal in a force 9 gale (very funny - flakes and airborne horizontal
milk all over the deck accompanyed with cries of "Och noooo, me
corrrnflakes!"). We learnt about star constellations, licked green ants` bottoms
(hmm rich in a zesty lemon flavour), saw Jupiter, discovered how to
find North from an ants nest (?!) and witnessed 4 people being dragged
into our dingy to avoid a circling 7ft Tiger shark. All this AND sailing
the beautiful Whitsunday Islands. Phew. Oh and did I mention the fact we
swam in the same waters and gazed at the same white sands as a
honeymooning david beckham and brad pitt (obviously they were with their wives
and not each other...what a celebrity scoop that would be). Based on
this fact Jen swore she would never wash again!
However, the highlight of our stay in Airlie beach was without doubt
our Helicopter Champagne picnic. Devoid of comical mishaps, dirty
backpackers and thankfully, rain, our chopper trip was just magic. Feeling
like movie stars (albeit unknown, talentless poor ones) we were whisked
up up and away in our own private helicopter over Airlie beach and out
over the Whitsunday Islands, pausing briefly at Hamilton Island to pick
up our Champagne lunch, and onto the white silica sands of Whitehaven
beach. We sipped bubbly (hic), ate cheese and cake (yum) played a bit of
frizzer (yes I bought it all the way from England) and generally
frolicked in the tranluscent 24 degree waters whilst our own personal pilot
strolled off down the beach to give us some privacy. The hour and a half
was up much too quickly but we still had the journey back to look
forward to.
The view of Whitehaven beach and the river inlet from the air is
beautiful and somewhat surreal, the tide recedes causing swirling patterns to
appear in the sands as the water washes over it. The heady mix of
bubbles, white sand, miles of empty beach and helicopter flights left us on
a natural high, and although our 3 day boat trip was fun, we were both
blown away with our 2 hour trip.
Add it to your list of things to do before you die.
Special thanks to www.dosomethingdifferent.com who also offer some
other really amazing experiences, ideal for buying as a gift for someone's
birthday.....Ahem......June 13th.....
a feral backpacker). We arrived in Airlie beach about ten minutes
before the English weather, and about 11 minutes before we were wet through
and fed up. Despite several suggestions that a boat trip in the
Whitsundays is not weather dependant, Jen and I resolutely refused to pay 400
bucks to cruise the tropical islands in weather more often seen off the
Isle of Wight. So wait we did. And wait. In total we sat, slumped,
window-shopped and procrastinated our way through 10 days in a town similar
in size to Surbiton whilst doing our level best to avoid wet T-shirt
competitions, jelly wrestling and foam parties. (if only I was 18 again).
It was during one of those long nights accompanied by relentless rain
that we discovered poor old priscilla had a leak. Not just a little one
either, it was a roof leak that soaked Jen, her sleeping bag, her
pillow and most of the bedsheet. This resulted in us both vying for the one
small square of dry mattress in the middle, as I had forgotten to close
the window in time before the sterods came into the van from my side
too.
On day 12 the weather turned and we booked a bargain discount trip
avoiding the ex-racing yachts (too small, no showers), the party boats (too
many drunken knobbers - we're posh don't you know) and the boat named
'spank me' (for obvious reasons). We settled instead for the Derwent
Hunter, a tall ship of class, history and, happily for us, only half the
normal number of passengers it usually carries. After settling into our
matchbox sized cabin and downing our sea-sickness pills, we shivered
our timbers onto the deck and tentatively introduced ourselves. When I
say we, I mean Jen. Engrossed in my new book I was quite happy to sit in
the corner and read away, but Jen was off like the Duracell bunny in a
field of cymbals, finding new victims for her personal brand of German
that has proved so popular in the past. Our particular ship of fools
was made up of a mad Scottish bird (i`ll bloo on may thasle wasle), a mad
Irish bird (ahar tiddly hee), a mad German (oh yaah), two not-so-mad
middle aged Aussies (streuth), a german couple who were a bit too
good-looking (damn them) and us. During our 3 days at sea we snorkelled lots
(wearing our oh-so fetching stinger suits) ate lots, sunbathed, watched
Jo (the mad Scottish bird) try and pour milk into a bowl of breakfast
cereal in a force 9 gale (very funny - flakes and airborne horizontal
milk all over the deck accompanyed with cries of "Och noooo, me
corrrnflakes!"). We learnt about star constellations, licked green ants` bottoms
(hmm rich in a zesty lemon flavour), saw Jupiter, discovered how to
find North from an ants nest (?!) and witnessed 4 people being dragged
into our dingy to avoid a circling 7ft Tiger shark. All this AND sailing
the beautiful Whitsunday Islands. Phew. Oh and did I mention the fact we
swam in the same waters and gazed at the same white sands as a
honeymooning david beckham and brad pitt (obviously they were with their wives
and not each other...what a celebrity scoop that would be). Based on
this fact Jen swore she would never wash again!
However, the highlight of our stay in Airlie beach was without doubt
our Helicopter Champagne picnic. Devoid of comical mishaps, dirty
backpackers and thankfully, rain, our chopper trip was just magic. Feeling
like movie stars (albeit unknown, talentless poor ones) we were whisked
up up and away in our own private helicopter over Airlie beach and out
over the Whitsunday Islands, pausing briefly at Hamilton Island to pick
up our Champagne lunch, and onto the white silica sands of Whitehaven
beach. We sipped bubbly (hic), ate cheese and cake (yum) played a bit of
frizzer (yes I bought it all the way from England) and generally
frolicked in the tranluscent 24 degree waters whilst our own personal pilot
strolled off down the beach to give us some privacy. The hour and a half
was up much too quickly but we still had the journey back to look
forward to.
The view of Whitehaven beach and the river inlet from the air is
beautiful and somewhat surreal, the tide recedes causing swirling patterns to
appear in the sands as the water washes over it. The heady mix of
bubbles, white sand, miles of empty beach and helicopter flights left us on
a natural high, and although our 3 day boat trip was fun, we were both
blown away with our 2 hour trip.
Add it to your list of things to do before you die.
Special thanks to www.dosomethingdifferent.com who also offer some
other really amazing experiences, ideal for buying as a gift for someone's
birthday.....Ahem......June 13th.....


