David himself, architect, builder and host of the Whitsunday Wilderness Lodge, greeted us when the helicopter landed. Not much on formality at this place, I could have saved a couple kilos by leaving home the clothes I'd brought to dress for dinner. Who knew? And who could guess that we would have the whole place to ourselves. I saw the wallabies scurry into the jungle when we landed - already I was getting pulled into the bush.
Low tide for the residents of the 6th cabin from the left.
We met Jocelyn, the chef and sommelier from Toronto who was temporary Girl Friday. David put her in charge of us while he went to the mainland. One dinghy, two cannibals problem as David and his trusty mate Ian the entertainment skipper worked out getting provisions, Ian himself, and the new mini-ATV all on the island at once. In the meantime, Jocelyn showed us the monitor lizards in the compost - what other place have I been that is so low-key they showed me the trash? Didn't have the presence of mind to take a picture.
Poinciana, name of a favorite Ahmad Jamal song, and this red-flowering tree
And the rainy season had begun. The forest was lush, new green shoots for the wallabies, nectar for the lorikeets. And the highest tides of the year, with gale force winds (40 knots) predicted. Never mind, that would be tomorrow; we found the fridge, ate some of Jocelyn's goodies and went to bed.
On Monday, our first full day in the Whitsundays, Ian arrived, proposed and then declined to take us sailing as the wind kicked up, so how about kayaking in the mangroves where it was calm. Strange to be out of the wind, on the high tide floating past the trees, crabs sheltered on the roots, looking for birds. When we got back to the dinghy, I asked Ian about the water blowing to the left and sideways in the main channel. He missed it, but saw the next blast blowing to the right, and then we all saw the waterspout. Time to go. Ian is a very good dinghy driver, and we made it back ok. A couple hours later, when David was rounding the same point in the same craft (Ian having motored back to the mainland for the night), we watched him fight into the wind for a long time, and later he told us he had to fling himself on the bow to keep it from flipping over backwards on top of him. The wind blew all afternoon and we watched a flock of 30 cockatoos gamboling through the trees. We did not go sailing the next day.
Instead on Tuesday, we ate more breakfast, watched the morning tide to see if it would take out the bridge between cabins and kitchen, then walked to the palm forest in the jungle. Not having full mobility was driving R nuts - the moon boot simply doesn't have traction on muddy trails, but he gimped along pretty well. That sense of calm in the forest while you can see through a few yards of trees the white caps on the sound is simply eerie. It's hard to find birds looking straight up, and they don't like to come down in the middle of the forest canopy, so it wasn't that birdy of a walk, but we found spiders, mushrooms and other cool things, all before lunch.
Now it's at least 27 C (80F) during the day, sometimes more, and Jocelyn is turning out quiches, fresh cookies, tarts and all manner of baked things for our meals. No airconditioning, that kitchen has got to be sweltering. I appreciated it as I ate everything. It must have been healthy though, because I don't think I gained any weight, even with 4 meals a day - they have afternoon tea to warm up for the 3 course dinners.
Ian let me drive all morning
Twice Ian took us sailing, to 2 of 20 different locations they have scoped out, chosen for tide and weather conditions, as well as what we wanted to do. Ian found 3 new birds we wouldn't have seen at the lodge, just because. Another day, David motored us around to the opposite end of the island to a bay that most people get to via a 2 hour walk on a trail David pioneered. That was beyond the capacity of the moon boot, so we took the dinghy so we could see the milkwood forest - a secret treasure of huge trees, the likes of which have been completely logged out on the mainland.
In between, we swam, beachcombed and tide watched in front of the lodge and took photographs all around. One morning before breakfast, when I was out stalking critters, I heard this loud rustling of leaves, louder than the wind blowing, and I looked up to see a rainshower heading downhill right at me. I could hear the rain hitting the forest canopy a couple hundred yards away, but it was so localized I wasn't wet. Yet. I barely outran the storm to get my camera back to the cabin.
David and Jocelyn ate their meals with us, and we got to know them a bit, which made it really hard when David's pet kangaroo Myrtle died. R reckons she ate some toxic plant. She was 10 years old, and had been with David and the lodge since the beginning, sort of a mascot. He made a beautiful grave marker for her with her water dish turned into a bowl to be filled for all the forest animals, especially during the dry times. We never got to see her personality - she was the boss of the place and will be missed.
Edgar won't be a replacement, but he sure moved into her space right away. One (or several same-named individuals) stone curlew with a piercing call and a hiss when you get too close, he came in to see if there were any fish leftovers at supper, and had to be satisfied with disabled beetles we tossed him. The skinks would eat bugs we killed for them too. Lots of things eating other things - R stuck his finger at a humungous huntsman spider and it lunged at him, luckily hitting the fingernail and not any soft parts.
It seems more appropriate to call them a troop rather than a mob of wallabies, but nevertheless, they were everywhere, the joeys just big enough to start climbing out of the pouch and eat their own greens. We watched one mother forage along the beach (who knew?) and when she hopped, the joey's nose would nearly drag on the ground. Time to walk, son. It takes about 3 hops to accelerate to full wallaby speed in the bush, and they can careen around trees at the same time. We would hear rocks tumbling about as something or nothing spooked them in the night.
R covered the day on the great barrier reef which had snorkeling as good or better than French Polynesia or the Caymans. Saw no sharks, but I hear the waters are pretty thick with big mean ones.
New moon and Venus, between pre-dinner snacks and dinner. We can see the Southern Cross in Auckland, but the hills obscure it at the lodge at this time of the year.
Would I go again? Absolutely, helicopter being an asset now. Would I recommend it? Only to people who don't whinge (Aussie for whine) about bugs, lack of air conditioning, and plans changing because the tide is too high. People like R, who enjoys simple things like seeing how far up the tidal creek the stingrays will swim or counting cockatoos or digging up sand dollars and putting them back. Baby blue sand dollars for the guy with baby blue eyes. Yes, in a heartbeat, I'd go back with him.
