RenDavevous at Crayfish Beach

I woke up early so that I could make a start on packing bags, as there was one to leave behind in storage before heading to the beach. I also needed to head back to Easy Cafe for  a bit more wifi usage and a bacon sarnie with their excellent coffee. Back at the campsite, I decamped and finished sorting my three rucksacks, tramping into reception with just a minute to spare in time for checkout. With my 10 dollar deposit safely re-acquired, I then went to the ATM and withdrew the last 40 dollars on my prepay card - in total I had 76 dollars to my name - all timed perfectly for meeting Dave who was bringing my new bank cards to me. I headed to the shops again - this time to buy sausages, eggs, cheese, bread and milk for the camping trip, leaving me with 55 dollars. Next stop, the bottle shop, to buy a bottle of bourbon as a belated birthday present to Dave and to give us something to warm our cockles on the camping trip. I now had 15 dollars and just needed to catch the bus to Shute Harbour where I was meeting Dave with a wallet-full of cash and my cards. 

I got soaked by the rain on the way to the bus stop but wasn't too bothered - far too excited to be seeing Dave again and looking forward to our tropical island experience.

Boat ramp at Shute Harbour

I arrived at Shute Harbour with just 11.50 in my pocket…and found Dave waiting with a big grin on his face. We still had an hour before checking in for our boat trip so we sat and had coffee and began the process of catching up on the minutiae of each others' lives. He had been working hard on a shift pattern and was much in need of a holiday, as well as a reset of his body clock (recent scientific research has shown that a few nights camping without artificial light is an excellent way to restore your body's natural circadian rhythm, which is continually eroded by our exposure to light and late nights). We were both glad to see each other and it brought back many amusing memories from our previous adventures together.

Eventually, we got around to money matters and Dave dug out my new card before explaining that, due to almost missing his flight, he hadn't actually been able to withdraw any money that morning. This might not have been a big deal, but Shute Harbour was basically a cafe and dock for boats - the nearest ATM facilities were back in Airlie Beach. However, we discovered that the cafe was happy to do cash-back so I tried my new card out to do just that. But it didn't work. I immediately got on the blower to my bank in the UK and found, to my annoyance, that they had issued a new PIN with the new card, despite the fact that I hadn't requested this. This new PIN had been sent into cyberspace and was not available to anyone, anywhere, anytime! The only thing they could do was re-issue the PIN to my parents' house, which would take 3-4 working days…leaving me still stranded without access to the plentiful funds in my account. I surfed the wave of disappointment and managed not to get dragged down and pounded into the shoreline - Dave was happy to sub me for the time being and we could sort something out when we came back from the island.

We headed down to the Scamper office to meet our boat and we picked up our supplies - camping chairs (a little flimsy looking for someone of my reputation), an esky (icebox), stove and mess kit and some snorkelling gear, including highly attractive and eminently fashionable all-in-one stinger suits to prevent any unfortunate encounters with the deadly irikandji box jellyfish (at only 2cm wide, these are impossible to spot before they've stung you with their deadly neuro-toxin).

We piled our kit and luggage up under the covered area at the back of the boat - a steel-hulled, flat-bottomed, shallow vessel, with a hydraulic ramp at the front for easy access to the sandy, shelving beaches of the Whitsunday Islands. The skipper asked me and a French lad if we could help him secure the ramp with locking pins after departure and release them on arrival at our next destination. Happy to oblige and aware of no reason why I shouldn't be positioned at the front for this duty, I grasped on to the bow rail and stood facing the gentle morning breeze with the sun on my back. We powered up as soon as we were safely away from the harbour and we were soon chopping our way out into the channel between the mainland and South Molle Island. In next to no time, the seas made their presence felt and we were soon skidding along on 3-4 metre swells, occasionally bellying flat onto the water with a resounding thud and, once or twice, pitching into the side of an oncomer, throwing spray over the bow to dampen our faces and Dave's hair. However, this was while Poseidon was playing nice. The skipper didn't back off any on the power and the swells, whipped up by an ever-stiffening breeze really began to roll. The next hour to Whitehaven Beach was a grim contest as the front end of the boat pitched and yawed through the growing walls of water. Each rise and fall necessitated a deep knee-bend to dissipate the shock of the flat bottom smacking the wave. All thoughts of enjoying the jade-green waters and azure skies were left far behind as I tried desperately to hold on to the bow and avoid being thrown into the water. Both Dave and I - and everyone else on the boat…and all our luggage - were pretty soaked by this point. I began to worry about my phone and camera, sitting in my drenched pocket but there was very little I could do, needing both hands to hold on to the boat and there being no room or opportunity to move back inside the relative shelter of the cover.

We arrived at Whitehaven looking like a pair of drowned rats and, although we'd laughed maniacally through some of the rougher soakings, we were both more than a little peeved that we'd been given no warning about the conditions. As soon as I'd completed my task of helping to lower the ramp, Dave and I took up positions at the back of the boat, right beneath the skippers wheelhouse, sitting comfortably on the padded bench…and watching smugly as newcomers were tossed around and soaked by the water. Admittedly, the seas were calmer now that we were heading in a northerly direction but we were more than glad to disembark with our soggy clothing and kit when we arrived at Crayfish Beach on Hook Island.

Desert Island Hideaway? Don't mind if I do...

The sun...if only we'd made the best of it when we had the chance...

Happy Campers!

Crow damage

Crayfish Bay, Hook Island

On arrival we were greeted by a couple who were leaving on our boat. They animatedly informed us that the snorkelling was 'the best in the whole bloody park, mate' before they and the Scamper roared off and disappeared round the bay. Dave and I looked at each other and, despite our near exhaustion (try doing squats for two hours and getting drenched in saltwater and see how you feel!), couldn't help but smile. We had a deserted, island beach all to ourselves for the next 24 hours! We explored quickly but then set-up camp so that we were prepared for the vagaries of the weather. In no time, our little one-man tents were pitched and we sat down to a simple lunch of cheese sandwiches and coffee. There were big picnic benches under the trees on the edge of the beach, so there had been no need for the camping chairs…but then, we reasoned, they would be perfect for sitting on the beach to do a spot of star-gazing later on.

After lunch, we packed most things away into the Esky, although I left the loaf of bread wrapped up on top - not wanting to get condensation inside the bag. We then went to take proper stock of our surroundings and we walked up and down the 200m length of the beach and inspected the rocks at either end, finding a cool little natural cave, facing directly towards the setting sun.

From the cave

After our torrid journey, we decided that, as it was getting cooler, we wouldn't bother snorkelling this evening, saving ourselves for the warmer weather that had been forecast for the following day. Instead, we set about the Wild Turkey and Coke that was our drinking supply for the evening (we did have 20 litres of fresh water too!) and continued where we'd left off on catching up on life. When I went to the esky to get the bottles, I found that our loaf of bread had been attacked by some thieving little critter…you'd have thought I'd learn my lesson after the first incident in Airlie Beach…but I hadn't figured on the opportunistic little buggers being EVERYWHERE. Judging by the utterly destroyed nature of the bread bag and the large quantity of bread taken (about 6 or 7 slices during just 15 minutes), we placed suspicion firmly on a large black crow that we'd seen (and heard) hanging around the campsite. We vowed to keep everything locked up for the duration of our trip and then set about getting pissed and enjoying our evening of splendid isolation.

Later on, we cooked up our risotto and found ourselves surrounded by small, furry, large-eyed little critters, who seemed intent on helping themselves to a portion. We later discovered that these were melamines, very common in tropical climes and determined little foragers for food of any kind. We left them disappointed and headed down to the beach to sit in our camping chairs and stare at the brightest starscape I have ever known in my life. The Milky Way was a great splash of cream across the inky blackness, studded by a million-and-one stars. Time and again over the next four hours (as we chatted and set the world to rights and re-affirmed the invisible bonds of friendship) we were treated to the sight of shooting stars, cutting across the heavens. We unpacked the macbook to listen to some trance as we whiled away a pleasant evening, toasting ourselves gently with the bourbon and enjoying each others' company. The only disruption to our entertainment was the sudden, unexpected collapse of my chair - a casualty of gravity. I simply threw myself down on the damp sand, reasoning that I could get a better view of more of the sky, without giving myself a crick in the neck. Dave soon followed suit and we laid cheerfully in the sand without a care in the world. Eventually, we both realised, begrudgingly, that it was time for us to hit the hay but were just waiting for a signal to get up and do it. At that moment, a fierce, blazing meteorite flashed across a huge arc in the sky, leaving an incandescent trail lasting for a good couple of seconds. Having both enjoyed the sight, we realised that this was the sign we'd been waiting for and we reluctantly peeled ourselves off the sand and headed off to our tents.

****

Day Two on Crayfish dawned promisingly, with several patches of blue sky and a good wind flinging the clouds across in a way that suggested we'd soon have the expected wall-to-wall blue skies. I hadn't checked the time but it was early enough for Dave to still be asleep and I took a wander down the beach to sit on the rocks and bask a little in the sporadic patches of sunshine. This little venture didn't last long as I began to be plagued by bitey little buggers - mainly mosquitoes but also something that looked awfully like a midge (the bane of any traveller to Scotland's West Coast). I finally stood up and took a look around me and realised that I was sitting on the very edge of the tropical jungle that obviously covered the rest of the island. The minute I walked a few steps away from the trees, into the slight breeze, the little gits had nowhere to ambush me from and I decided to head back down to the tents and see what time it was. I had a little sit and a read whilst waiting for Dave to roll out of his little tunnel.

Sunrise

Very funny! Where's my breakfast?

Fetching - I pray to God Dave didn't get any of me...I don't think the world is ready for that!

Snorkelling weather, for sure!

Eventually, the light stirred him (and me tripping over the guy rope on the way to answer a call of nature) so we fired up the stove for breakfast: pork sausages (fried these first, then cut them into chunks) mixed with a tin of Heinz Baked Beans (brought to a simmer then left with the lid on while I cooked the) and scrambled eggs, all knocked back with a cup of coffee. 

After this breakfast of champions, we were ready to get in the water, wearing our very attractive stinger suits. These sexy one-piece creations made us both look and feel like Olympic athletes and it was only the awkward nature of wearing fins (flippers) that stopped us from sprinting heroically into the surf. We found that the best way to move was to shuffle backwards and, once we reached the water's edge. we realised that the tide was actually quite a long way out. When we were about 30metres from the beach and about to dive in, I realised that I'd left my glasses on and had to return clumsily to shore to place them on my destroyed chair. Back in the knee-deep water, we flopped onto our bellies and threw ourselves under the surface. The first few moments were pretty disconcerting but our bodies soon warmed up the thin layer of water held in the stinger-suit material and began to get used to the cold. The sun was still shining strongly (although making ever longer forays into the cloud cover that was beginning to swallow up the blue skies) and this was helping us to fight off the chill, although my greater subcutaneous insulation (there is a reason why whales have blubber!) meant that I was better equipped to deal with this than Dave. 

It didn't take us long to reach the coral and it was only then that we could really appreciate just how far out the tide had gone. As we floated on the surface, we were no more than 30 cm's above the hard corals that could be damaged by the slightest touch or graze from our fins. We manoeuvred gingerly between deeper patches and did our best to make sure that we weren't going to cause any harm. One enormous advantage of our proximity to the coral was that we were able to see a huge number of Christmas Tree Worms. Normally, these little fellas are hard to spot - from a distance they look like a colourful spot on the coral, closely resembling a new coral polyp or something else of a slightly less significant nature. When you're diving, you often swim up to take a closer look at suspected worms and, nine times out of ten, you find that they're not what you thought. From our privileged position, we were floating right above hundreds of the little beggars with their beautiful, highly-decorative spiral feeding parts. I grabbed hold of Dave and made him wait over a couple until they emerged fully from their hidey-holes, then waved a hand near them to trigger their defensive response, sucking themselves instantaneously - almost magically - out of sight.

We paddled on, floating closely over the many species of hard and soft coral to be found in the bay. Flashes of sunlight lit the scene up magnificently and we were able to see a scarcely-believable array of colours and shapes - in all my time diving, I doubt that I have ever seen such a variety of corals in such a small area - they really were astounding. In terms of fish, this was a nursery area, sheltered and protected by the natural formations of the bay and corals. Most of the fish were juveniles: small, but still beautifully coloured. There were a few larger parrot fish but nothing to make your eyes pop out…this place was all about the coral.

At this point, the sun decided to make like a Christmas Tree Worm…and completely disappeared. Immediately, we felt the cold as our bodies reminded us that we were in 23C water and that stinger suits are nowhere near as good as wetsuits at keeping you warm. The thing to do would have been to swim vigorously up and down until warm…but this was a problem also, due to the remarkably low tide. I actually began to worry about whether we'd get cut off from the beach by the coral and, talking hurriedly to Dave about it, we quickly decided to cut our losses and head back in to wait for the return of the sun and the tide for our next snorkel.

Jungle Island

Bit bloody cold, mate!

Back on dry land, it was a chilly business peeling off the stinger suits, drying off and getting dressed but we were soon warm again and looking for something to do. We decided to explore the land while the sea wasn't open to us and set off into the bush behind the campsite, in search of something to hold our interest. We picked our way carefully, wary of unpleasant surprises such as snakes and spiders and our caution was soon rewarded when we spotted a large web stretched across an inviting gap in the trees. On closer inspection, we found a very unusual looking little chap sitting in the centre of the web. He was only a centimetre or two wide but he had an ornately-armoured carapace and a zebra-striped underbelly. We didn't have a clue what he was but were both agreed that we wouldn't like to have him crawling around our faces if we'd blundered into his web.
We skirted around our little friend and found a welcoming rock face - not vertical, plenty of handholds and of the nice, rough, grippy variety. We powered up it and in less than 2 minutes reached a rock-shelf, which gave us commanding views of 'our' bay and the rest of 'our' island. Although the sun couldn't be seen, the dark rock beneath us assured us that  it had been around already, radiating warmth at us as we sat and surveyed our territory. The island, with the exception of the beach and a few rocky outcrops, was covered in dense vegetation - thick with creepers, foliage and trees of all shapes and sizes. It is the nature of jungle to compete for every square centimetre of the sun's precious radiance - every gap filled with chlorophyll battery-packs, waiting for their chance to charge up at the right time of day. From the outside, it looked impenetrable but, as we'd just discovered, there were ways to pass through if you took your time. It still had a mysterious air, a hint of danger - perhaps that was just our imaginations running wild: the thought of venomous animals returning to worry our naive, northern-European softness. However, we both agreed we'd have to be pretty desperate to want to walk too far into it.

Interlopers! Man the guns!

Looking out to sea, we were aggravated, incensed even, to sea an uninvited vessel in our territorial waters. A small pleasure-craft had slipped into the bay and had stopped in the deeper water past the reef. We couldn't see what they were doing except for looking over the side and back of the boat but we wondered whether or not to charge, screaming down to the beach and chuck a few indignant rocks at them for daring to disturb our peace. We soon realised that the boat would have no chance of getting over the coral that we had barely floated over previously, so we deemed that they were no longer a threat and relaxed to DefCon 2 (which basically means 'Ignore'). Eventually they went away and we had the place to ourselves again.

We wandered back down to the campsite and ummed and aaahed about what to do. The cloud was showing no signs of dissipating, it was still a bit chilly and we were hungry…so I cooked up a tuna-melt mix (softened, finely-chopped onions, tin of tuna, 200g of finely-diced (we didn't have a grater) cheese and we slapped this between slices of breead (using what was left of the bread by the ruddy crow!). This tasty concoction was both warming and filling and, with full bellies, we then started to pack up our stuff. We were due to be picked up at about 3.30-4pm so we figured we'd getting everything done that needed to be done by when, hopefully, the clouds would have broken and we could enjoy a lovely, warm afternoon snorkel. Dave removed the fly-sheet of his tent and was surprised to find a 5cm ragged hole in the mesh of his inner lining. On inspection, he also found holes in one of his jumpers and the front of his first-aid kit! The only identifiable offenders had to be our little melamine friends from the night before. Little buggers! Whatever food they thought they'd discovered obviously wasn't where they expected it…and in the meantime, they'd knackered three separate items of Dave's kit. We had to laugh though…what else could you do?

I packed everything of mine away apart from my tent - just on the off chance that it started to hammer down and we needed somewhere to shelter. The weather hadn't improved much - if anything, it had turned worse - and I was starting to lose interest in the idea of snorkelling when I knew how much more I could see in a comfortable wetsuit when I went diving the following day. Dave, having travelled up from the wintry conditions of Melbourne, was determined to take the chance to snorkel while he could - the morning session had been his first time snorkelling and he was still getting to grips with techniques like clearing his mask and snorkel and was also keen to get used to just chilling in the water and breathing slowly and regularly…both important skills to prepare for his first ever scuba dive the next day.

Despite the chill he squirmed into his damp, clammy stinger suit, masked up and went in. I promised to bring him a towel and a jumper when he came out. It started to drizzle a bit while he was out so I made myself useful by stacking our things up under a tree, out of the rain. I did ponder the idea of going in the water, thinking that I should be making the most of our island time…but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it. After about 10 minutes, I could see Dave making his way back to shore and assumed that he had just got too cold and decided to give it up. I jogged down to the shore with his hoodie and a towel so he could warm up quick and, as he removed his mask, it really started to throw it down with the rain. However, far from giving up, he was trying to persuade me to join him, explaining that it was warmer in the water than out. After a second's thought, I realised the wisdom of his suggestion and ran off to put his clothes and my own inside the tent before they got too wet. With Dave safely back in the water, I then sprinted bollock-naked across to the washing line and grabbed my stinger suit, which although soggy and cold, soon felt warmer next to my skin than the thrashing rain and the wind. Duly suited up, I grabbed mask, snorkel and fins and rushed down to the shoreline, waddled awkwardly into about 2 feet of water and then realised that I'd left my glasses on…AGAIN! For the second time, I clambered back out, put them on the chair and raced to get back under the water, out of the rain.

Dave and I were soon floating over the reef, a good couple of feet higher than we had been in the morning and we were delighted to find far more variety in the fish life, since they obviously had more room for manoeuvre. The best spot was a 2 foot long box fish, its friendly face and big brown eyes, inquisitively following us as we drifted by. The variety and wonderful colours of the corals was once again very pleasing on the eye and we managed a good half-hour before the cold started to make its presence felt and we had to start thinking about getting ready to be picked up. The conditions were far from ideal - perhaps proper wetsuits would have allowed us to enjoy it more, without the cold - but it was still  a fantastic spot and I couldn't thank Dave enough for persuading me to get back in.

We were soon dried, changed and packed up and we had all our kit piled up ready to load into the boat by 4pm. The weather actually began to improve and we got a few minutes of sunshine and some warmer temperatures, while we sat waiting for our ride. Unfortunately, this proved to be a longer wait than we'd expected. By the time 5pm rolled round, we were starting to plan our survival. We only had a chunk of cheese, milk, tea, coffee and coca-cola plus about 2.5 litres of water. We began to confabulate all kinds of reasons for the no-show: boat crash, car accident, illness, breakdown. We speculated on who else might know we were there…and how many other people might know we were there in case something had happened to the Scamper team. We decided that we'd be better off staying the night, finishing our rations and sleeping in our tents and then either hiking out or at least up to a high point where we could set a signal fire. Just as these conversations were starting to get semi-serious, we heard the roar of the Scamper engines and we knew we'd be sleeping on the mainland that night.

It turned out that the boat had been delayed leaving Shute Harbour - most likely by the family of four who were invading our vacated island. They had every piece of kit imaginable, including kayaks and a full camping set-up from Scamper. It must have taken forever to load it all onto the boat and secure it all so we figured it was probably down to them that we were waiting for so long. We tried to warn them about the critters and the crow but they didn't seem to be particularly interested - like us the previous day, they were just filled with the wonder of having their own desert island to themselves.

Back on Scamper, we found the skipper making running repairs to a broken beam (the weld had sheered under the extreme forces of crashing across the waves) using duct tape. With this reassuring sight to welcome us aboard, Dave and I agreed that we would be sitting on the comfy bench at the back of the boat and letting the other passengers fight the pitch and roll of the seas. It was starting to get dark and our boat didn't seem to be blessed with lots of lights so I was hoping we'd get back sooner rather than later. More importantly, we needed to get back to the travel agent at the backpackers to ensure that our boat-trip (which I hadn't been able to pay for previously, due to the bank card situation) wasn't cancelled, leaving us with nothing to do the following day. We had a few more drop-offs and pick-ups to make but it shouldn't take us more than an hour to get back. All seemed to be going to plan until the skipper suddenly cut power when we were nowhere near any camping beaches. We looked around to see a small boat, stranded on a sandbank with three people waving us down. It turned out that they had broken down and we were the first boat to go past. The age-old laws of the high seas were applicable and our skipper was obliged to help them, even though we were running almost two hours late. He hitched them up with a tow-rope and, at painfully slow speed, towed them round a couple of headlands to a beach where they could camp and wait for a pick-up the following morning. Fortunately, we picked up mobile signal during this relatively calm, quiet part of the journey and we were able to phone the travel agent and give her some card details, thus ensuring that our trip wasn't forgotten about.

We eventually arrived back at Shute Harbour at 6:20pm, dumped everything, apologised for the broken chair (in the circumstances, they were happy to let us off) and sprinted to catch the last bus back to Airlie Beach.

Rescued.

We got ourselves checked in at the campsite again and then had a relatively quiet evening with dinner of barramundi and chips and a couple of schooners of beer. I spent about 45 minutes on the phone to my bank, trying to sort out the PIN number / lack of money issues and eventually bullied them into sending a free Western Union money transfer to me. There were a couple of places I'd be able to pick it up from within the area so I figured I'd do that after all my day trips were sorted out. Until then, I'd be living on the Bank of Dave - not ideal, but it meant we could keep on doing stuff and make the most of our time. Tomorrow we were heading out on the Mantaray to do a spot of diving, snorkelling and to see the incredible Whitehaven Beach.

Rainy Day at Easy Cafe

I awoke to discover, rather annoyingly, that some little critter had discovered my porridge oats overnight and had been helping themselves to them, along with my chicken stock cubes! The ragged hole in the plastic bag housing the oats didn't give too many clues to the culprits, and there were plenty to choose from, including rodents, marsupials and a range of birds including two scrub turkeys who were jousting for territory on my front doorstep. I threw the rest of the oats away, just to be on the safe side and resolved to find something more substantial for breakfast in recompense.

After a hot, powerful shower (= the two most important aspects of any shower experience), I put my electrics in a rucksack, added a raincoat and wandered back down the hill into town. This time I found the town beach and some promising patches of blue sky, although these were mostly being mobbed in an intimidatory manner by sizeable, threatening columns of cumulonimbi. I made a point of hunting down the bus-stop so that I knew where I'd be heading to get to Shute Harbour the following morning. This, however, proved to be harder than first expected, as most of the town's streets were in the process of being dug up for prettification. The main street was partly one-way, partly governed by the Stop-Go lady (what a shite job that must be…especially on a blustery, rainy day such as it was. I eventually found the bus-stop, which was cunningly disguised as a non-bus-stop - i.e. there was not the usual yellow sign to indicate it's purpose. The giveaway was the other sign that said 'No Parking - Bus Stop', which you literally had to be standing in front of to see.

Rain, rain, go away...

Airlie Beach

Having toured all of the little back-alleys and shopping centres, I plumped for the Easy Cafe and Deli to enjoy breakfast - it looked pretty relaxed, had free wi-fi and access to power points to charge batteries and laptops. I ordered a long black and pancakes with crispy bacon and maple syrup before sitting down at the window and watching the heavens open outside. Coffee arrived first and was the best I'd had so far in Australia - rich, smooth and bloody strong. This was the beginning of a beautiful relationship and I continued to be impressed with arrival of my pancakes: fluffy, chewy confections with just the right amount of crisp around the edges, accompanied by a boat of maple syrup, fresh  butter and bacon that was done to perfection - all the fat crisped up nicely but the meat still tender and succulent. I savoured each mouthful (not my usual style, I know!), washed down with delicious coffee and decided to treat myself to lunch in the same establishment.

Outside the wind blew and the rain fell, inside I was entertained with live music and making good use of the internet connection to add photos and stories from Karijini and Litchfield. In reality, I had wanted to travel out to Hook Island and stay there for a night by myself before Dave arrived. But with the shitty weather and lack of available boats, I had been semi-forced into staying on the mainland. Having such a productive day blogging was ample recompense…and the food was about to get even better.

Initially, I'd got all excited about the calamari salad, only to have my hopes dashed by a lack of calamari. Determined to enjoy seafood whilst on the coast, I opted instead for the garlic prawns. At only 15 dollars, I expected a starter-sized portion but was pleasantly surprised to be served up an enormous, mouth-watering bowl. On the side, were four chunky slices of toasted brioche and a smattering of salad. In the centre was a heaped mound of smaller prawns, accompanied by finely chopped shallots, garlic, parsley and a cream and white wine sauce - immense! On the other side of the plate were five gargantuan tiger prawns, cooked to perfection and with shells that came off without the slightest trouble (thus avoiding splashing the laptop screen nicely). I felt that I couldn't have chosen better food if I'd tried, the staff were friendly and helpful without being in any way pushy and, all in all, for a day lashed with wind and rain, I don't feel I could have done any better for myself. I ambled back to the campsite via the supermarket, where I bought ingredients for risotto once again, with a mind for something easy to cook that night and the following day out on the island with Dave. I spent the rest of the afternoon booking travel options and doing research about activities for Dave and I. 

Later that evening, I used the excellent cooking facilities in the kitchen and got chatting to a group of girls while I ate my risotto. There was an English one, a Welsh one and an Irish one…no, this isn't a joke…and we just exchanged the usual traveller info (Where've you been? How long are you here for? What do you do? etc. etc.). They were all lovely but I had common ground with the Irish lass, Sorcha (pronounced 'sir-ka'), who was also a teacher on her summer holidays. They were playing cards and I didn't want to gatecrash so I made my excuses once I'd finished eating and went off to do my washing-up. Some of my fellow backpackers' kitchen hygiene left a lot to be desired and I had to empty out the plughole and rinse the sink before I could do the necessary - but this was a small price to pay for being able to use a sink and not needing to boil up my own washing-up water ;-)

I headed out to the Shed and sat out to one side so that I could use the bench and the wifi, without stopping other people from having fun.

I'd barely started typing when I found that I had company - Sorcha had wandered over with a bottle of beer and asked if I minded me joining her. I was quite keen to get on with my writing but she was both attractive and interesting and I'm not one to look a gift-horse in the mouth…well, not too much anyway. We spent a good hour and more gassing about our travels and, inevitably, ended up doing what all teachers do: talking about our jobs. This was all well and good (if you love what you do, it's never a bind to talk about it) until we started to mentioning kids that we were going to be working with the following academic year…before we knew it, our travelling bubble was in danger of being burst by being forced to remember that we'd soon be heading home.

Judging by the forwardness of her approach, I was guessing that Sorcha might be keen on me - although I really wasn't sure. I didn't want to have a late night before meeting Dave the next day - it had been a long time since we'd been able to catch up properly and we'd no doubt be talking late into the night - so I didn't have the luxury of asking her to come out somewhere else for another drink to test my suspicions. In the end, I made a pretty blunt reference to bed-time and, somewhat deflated, we both went our separate ways. I had managed to glean from her that she'd be back from her Whitsundays boat cruise in a few days and I knew that I'd still be around then, after Dave had returned to Melbourne. I figured we'd have another chance to bump into each other if it was supposed to be so.