I went in with Rick and Liz to the centre of Sydney then after a quick coffee and sandwich Rick kindly gave me a ride to the airport. There, I managed to send the surface mail parcel back to the UK, along with the airmail letters.

Then I boarded a BAe146 bound for Brisbane. The plane flew out to sea initially, providing a good view looking back to Sydney and the entrance to the Parramatta Estuary.

Further north the area around Avoca Beach and Terrigal were clearly visible.

I had to change planes at Brisbane, and then continued north through the vast state of Queensland. The coastal scenery was spectacular and the sky conditions perfect. I didn’t feel I was missing out too much from flying rather than overlanding.

A bus took me from Proserpine’s tiny airport to the centre of town, from where I was able to hitch a ride to Airlie Beach with some friendly surfers. Actually I think all surfers are friendly – it’s kind of their “thing”…

I got talking to a Frenchman who was on his way to recommended motel near the seafront. I followed him and was able to check in to the same motel. I booked a boat trip to the nearby Whitsunday Islands for the next day, and bought some new beachwear since I’ve not been at a beach since Ecuador! (this now seems a lifetime ago…). Later I ended up at Magnums, a popular hotel, with a public bar that shows films.

Thursday 28th I had to get up early to reach the boat in time. It was a trimaran called Tri Tingwa and there were 25 passengers on board – mostly young backpackers like me. We all distributed ourselves over the different hulls and decks – I had never been on a trimaran before – or even a catamaran for that matter. After setting what seemed to be huge sails, the crew slung a net between the bows of 2 of the hulls, such that it nearly touched the water. People who wanted to could lie in the net and get splashed by the waves during the voyage to the Whitsunday Islands. This is apparently called “boom-netting”.

We reached a reef just off one of the Whitsunday Islands, where many of us went snorkeling, eventually ending up at the nearby beach, where I had a go at paddle-boarding. Since the idea was to then spend several hours at the beach, I suddenly got a bit restless and looked for activities other than sunbathing. They were offering a scuba diving “resort course” – basically a “come and try it” for beginners. I have always been scared of the idea of scuba diving, being a comically hopeless swimmer and not at all confident in (and let alone under) the water.

However, the diving people claimed that didn’t matter, and told me a bit more. I was soon fascinated by the technical aspects of how diving worked, and forgetting my apprehensions to some extent, I decided to try it. After some basic instruction, we were taken into the water, and after a false start caused by pressure in my ears, we then all spent 15 minutes under the water, reaching a depth of 9 metres (30 feet). It wasn’t quite the first time I’d had an aqualung on my back and a regulator in my mouth, because I once sat on the bottom of a swimming pool for a few minutes in Reading, England, some 7 years ago. But this was the first time I was down actually swimming amongst the fish. Back at the surface, I was amazed to suddenly realise that I’d actually felt quite competent doing this activity…

On the voyage back to Airlie Beach I got chatting to a German girl from Cologne and a guy from my home county of Kent, and we all met up again later at Magnums for food and some beers. Chatting about the day’s adventures, some other people at the bar told us that Townsville, a few hours to the north, is a good place to learn to scuba dive and get “certified”. Part of the training is apparently done on the Great Barrier Reef…

Accordingly, next day, 29th March, after getting up late I bought a bus ticket for Townsville. Then after a leisurely morning, and lunch with 2 Irish girls who seemed to be amateur comedians, I caught up on letter writing while waiting for the mid-afternoon bus departure.

The three hour journey slipped by with the help of a rather relevant film set in the Australian Outback 100 years ago, involving wild horses, high drama, and Kirk Douglas failing to do an authentic Australian accent. Arriving at Townsville I went for the easiest accommodation option, which is the “Transit Centre” above the bus terminal. Tomorrow I will investigate diving training courses…