I'm sitting on our living room floor after arriving back from the Whitsunday Islands and Airlie Beach yesterday evening. As some of you might remember, some of us attempted a holiday last semester too, and even though it was good fun,
pretty much everything went down the shitter.
But this time around, with a little more holiday experience under our belts, we achieved the Rolls Royce of trips! Our plane left Avalon airport in Geelong (Just south of Melbourne city) at 2pm, a pretty comfortable time to fly, leaving you with plenty of time to pack and getting organized.
From there we had a brief stop in Sydney airport, and on during the landing we got to see the Opera House from two different angles in the air, bonus! We then had a relaxing meal and we guys had a beer, before strolling to the plane to Proserpine airport in the Whitsundays.
The airport has to be the tiniest airport I have ever been on, and if my memory serves me correct its even smaller that Haukåsen airport in Sogndal. You strolled over the tarmac before going in to the arrival hall and wondering where the hell your luggage was! We actually had to go outside and one of those little, long luggage carts drove out of gate from the runway with everyones luggage on. You could then help yourself and get to the cabbies. We then saw absolutely nothing for the 30-40 minutes the ride to Airlie Beach took, not even the decent roadkill you would come to expect in those wallaby infested parts.
Then FINALLY we arrived in Airlie Beach, the spring board for all the lovely islands in the Whitsundays. As we drove through the heart of Airlie, which by the way is smaller than Sogndal too, we came by a place called Beaches Backpackers. This was the place we were originally supposed to stay, but decided against when we got 2 free nights at Magnums Backpackers when we booked our boat trip (more about that later).
Anyways, when driving by Beaches, this enourmous party filled club area opened up and everybode was going: "NOOOO! That was where we were supposed to stay!".
We then got another little shock, because 2 seconds down the road was Magnums, and that was even louder, brighter, bigger and nicer than the place we had just driven by. I guess I wont have to illustrate the sounds being made in the maxi-cab at that time.
After a bit lengthy check in, we were literally on our way through the jungle, heading for our cabin. Consisting of nothing but some pieces of wood and metal sheets for outer walls and roofs, it had air-con, roof fans and a fridge plus 4 bunk beds. It was situated amongst other similar cabins and larger buildings that contained the single and double rooms.
Unlike Gold Coast, we still had enough energy that night to check out the city and what it had to offer. Magnums actually had a pretty nice bar, club and a place to eat, so we stayed there for a fair while before going further down the road to a bar.
Now, I cant recollect if it was this night or the night after, but me, Knut, Øyvind and this other guy actually had to physically restrain a kid who was OD'ing on the pavement and was shaking uncontrollably and cracking the back of his head on the curb. After a while four police officers arrived, but they seemed to think we did a fair job of calming the guy down, so they stood back until the ambulance arrived and strapped him to the bed. We actually thought he had epilepsy because of the shaking and biting, but after asking his friend afterwards it became pretty clear that he had been popping a pharmacy worth of pills and whatnot.
The day after we did nothing but strolling the (incredible bad) beach in Airlie, and the surrounding areas. We then soaked some sun before heading of to the sweetest and most expensive Thai dinner I have ever had. I had some kind of honey coated fried chicken, and only that. I could feel the diabetes creeping in on me, even though the food was good. Then I believe this was the night when we got to know the first of the Swedes from the trip, one of them was definitely named Victor, and I strongly suspect the other one was called Ulrik.
The following day me and Knut, didn't feel like spending another day just lying around, and screwing up our moles, so we went for a walk up the hills of Airlie, with all its pretty villas. We got stopped by a fence and a "No Access", and then we went for a bit longer walk up another extremely steep hill, where they were building more of the same villas. Almost at the top we got pulled over by this guy in a pick-up truck and he said it was of limits, and that his ass would be on the line if we tumbled down that hill. After asking him around a bit he could tell us that there actually was this famous walk you could do right above Airlie called The Great Walk. Our feet was pretty banged up after all that walking in only flip-flops so we decided against it for the time being and went to catch up with the girls and Øyvind at the beach. It got a little to slow at the lagoon for us after a while so when Øyvind agreed to do it too, we thought; what the hell, lets do that walk.
After getting a map at Magnums, we headed off up the hills of Airlie, and we soon got to this wooden walkway and stairs that led up to the pathway.
We walked for maybe half an hour through steep terrain and leaf covered ground before getting to the sign describing the route. We discovered that we had actually covered only a sixth of the path called The Honeyeater, which is an appendix of The Great Walk, and it leads up to this great lookout point.
Realizing that flip-flops was not the ideal footwear for climbing a mountain, we finally reached the look-out and it was pretty much worth the steep climb, even though the thought of our emerging descent was lurking in the back of our heads.
By the time we got back down, it was like walking on meatballs, and the day was pretty much up, except for the compulsory party at the night. I believe this was the night when we met up with the other Swedes we got to know this holiday, Linus and David. The last thing I remember is us taking a bath in the pool in the middle of the night, and then Linus shoving me into the pool with my pants on, a action with severe consequences as you will hear about later :)
Wednesday, and we are meeting up with all the other (awesome) guests at the Reality Is, party boat. We actually thought it wasn't going to be THAT much of a party boat, so we bought some wine and met up at the designated area. The first thing the crew says to us is: "Listen, boys aaaand girls. This is a boat. Things run out a boat. Sunscreen, chocolate, alcohol. You are going to go through more of these things than you would ever think possible. So go back to the shop and buy moooore, then meet back up. And so we did.
When boarding the boat we got introduced to the crew. Tommy, Clayton, Paddy (or Patty), Paddy(or Patty) the chef and Whatshisname the Skipper. Each one of the was crazier than the next, but I cant go into specifics, as it would probably cause shock and an untimely death for 50% of the guys reading this. Well ok, the Skipper wasn't crazy at all, he mostly just "existed" and drove the boat. We started devouring our brought aboard goods at about 3pm, and a couple of hours later we anchored up outside Long Island, our place for both our nights, and it was dinner time. I was expecting to get toast and cheese when I saw "All meals included" in the ad for the trip, but the food was really great. That day we had pasta bolognese with a fresh salad and garlic bread. After the food we moored at Long Island and headed off for our rooms. That night we spent drinking beer on the beach, very nice and dreamlike. We also randomly met a friend of Margrethe and Camillas, Thea and her friend Iselin. Camilla and Margrethe had also randomly met a girlfriend from the same island as them in one of the airports. Clichè: Talk about a small world.
This was also the night I lost the only shoes I brought on the boat, my 70$ flip-flops. The rumour is that they floated of into the nightly sea, but here nothing is certain, because this was the night when I was *lost*.
When you have had a night out, you really don't want get up at 7:30 in the morning to get on a boat. I got up an hour before that, because of some sketchy alarm clock settings, and stood there all dressed up an hour before we had to be ready. After breakfast we were briefed on our introductory dives, complements of the boat. The crew that at other times were joking around, were now dead serious and professional in their explaining to those of us that hadn't dived before. You actually got pretty nervous when they explained all the details that were involved in the sport.
We suited up and headed out to this island that was going to be our base for the dive and a couple of hours. I tell you, my breathing was pretty heavy before going under, but when you were surrounded by coral reef and these zebra looking fishes, all the stress vanished and the calm of the ocean washed you over. I got to go alone with my instructor, Tommy, in the first group, because the rest of the group chickened out, *wink-wink*.
I had to equalize my ears a couple of times and then clear my mask of water once, but except for that, it was all good. Oh, and I disovered Nemo!
We then sailed to Whitehaven beach, a beach with extremely fine sand. So fine that we were warned to bring cameras and leave them on our towels, because the sand would penetrate the cover and get stuck in the working parts of the camera. Me and Knut went for a long walk and Knut had a swim, and by the time we got back the boat was ready to head for Long Island once again. Whitehaven was extremely beautiful and quite long, postcard perfect.
That night on Long Island went a bit smoother than the one before, I am actually able to remember parts. Knut was pretty pissed (as in drunk), and he gave me money and asked me to go to the bar and ask for the most manly tropical drink they had. The bartender laughed and gave me a strawberry daiquiri with Frangelico in it. This was obviously Knuts big night out!
We had to get up at the same time the next, by the way our last full day in the Whitsundays, but I felt a little bit better since I could sleep an hour longer that day :)
The boat only did a little detour to a place called Daydream Island, which was private so we had to lurk around it. We then had to chug beer and goon from an improvised beer bong made out of an snorkel and a mask, and then it was straight home and goodbyes were in place.
By the way, the chicken got quite a bit of attention on that trip, but what can you expect from a boat full of drunken idiots. The crew actually hoisted the chicken up in the mast for the return journey.
We moored in Airlie and this is the part when my drunken no-shoes accident comes into play. I had to walk 15 minutes on black tarmac, on black painted wood, and on gravel before getting to my shoes in the luggage room. By then they had swollen so badly that it felt like one of my good ideas of not getting up during a 12 hour flight. The didn't look so hot either, all scabby and bruised after a rather rough volleyball match on gravel, with some Irish people.
I forgot to mention those. They kinda illustrate how this vacation went better than the last one. There the only Irish I met was a mumbling idiot which has brought me closer to physical violence than anyone. But these people were pretty funny and very nice. With a clear speech.
The crew had reserved a table for us at a place called Reefo's, which was supposed to be impossible to get thrown out of, no matter what you did. Cheap food also.
We got shipped out there by their free courtesy bus, and then back again to Airlie at about 11:30. And they were right, not possible to get thrown out. There was carrying of poeple involved. This was kind of a downer night out. I had real problem with swallowing beer, and switched to gin&tonic, which was a little better. A weird problem to have, considering me and Knut had been swallowing the devils brew, Whiskey, in respectable amounts earlier that week.
Which brings me to this freak thing that happened one night when we stayed in our cabin at Magnums. These two guys came up on our porch with a big box and asked us if we wanted to buy some Moonshine(Heimebrent). We politely refused but got a good laugh, and once again got reminded that Norway isn't that far off.
Anyways, back to the last day. We finished of at McDonalds, which was our only late night resort, considering Hungry Jacks hadn't opened up shop in Airlie yet.
Me, Knut and Margrethe headed home to our rooms and earlier that night I had put my pants (the ones that was wet from Linus pushing me into the pool:) out for dry on the porch along with a few towels. And yes, the pants reeked worse than 3 month old milk after lying in my bag for three days in the luggage room. Well, those pants and towels wasn't there anymore. "WHAT?! Someone stole my pants?! I cant believe it, damn bastards! What is the point of stealing stinking wet pants, and filthy wet towels?! If I ever get my hands on those guys I'm gonna take....Oh...wrong building.."
The buildings that housed the different rooms were so alike that we had taken a wrong turn and ended up at someone elses rooms and walked up and down their porch swearing our eyes out.
The remaining hours before our flight out of there the next day, was spent on the benches outside the cafè at Magnums. A sleeping Benedikte was harrassed by every living thing out there, and I spent the time worrying about my now pretty bleak financial situation and got some reading done. After spending half an hour waiting for a taxi, we were well on our way to the airport again, and the conclusion of our vacation.
I think this pretty much sums it up, and I won't fall into the trap of finishing up with a clichè like "And everyone thought it was a greeeeaat holiday".
