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Published: January 26th 2011
The owner of the 4WD Adventure Centre explained the insurance details for the second time. "You are liable for any damage caused to the vehicle...and I will have to freeze $1,500 from your credit card". Our knuckles were turning whiter at every eventuality she painstakingly went over. "But you'll be fine...most people are" she said, as we looked down at the front desk to see two pictures of 4WD jeeps smashed on the beaches of Fraser Island. The journey had already begun.
Stuck in the sand, as the chain ferry beckoned us, not knowing whether to put it in Hi-4, Lo-4 or just get out on all fours, you could smell the whiff of anxiety. We had left the adventure centre with very little instruction on how to manoeuvre between 2WD and 4WD (Hi-4 and Lo-4) and, the threat of another $500 if we drove it in 4WD on the road, seemed to linger longer in the mind than how to actually drive the thing. But once we were safely onto the ferry it all fell into gear.
Just five minutes across the water from the mainland and traversable only by 4WD, Fraser Island seems a world away. Formed
entirely from sand it is the largest of its kind in the world. Deep rainforest covers the interior, punctuated by translucent freshwater lakes and dazzling white sand beaches. One of the purest living species of Dingo roams the tidal shores that move in and out faster than the ferries. And as for the sea? If you don't get stung by a box jellyfish chances are a shark will be waiting. Escape them and the current will probably have the last laugh. We were going somewhere quite special.
Prepared with a crate of beers, food for two days, a map and a bottle of red wine to paper over the cracks, we were ready for the challenge. Dolphins danced in the bay as we checked the tide times once more. The sea made the main beach un-passable two hours either side of the high, which meant we had a few hours to reach the inland path. No worries!
Engaged in Hi-4 we hit the sand and began cruising by the rolling waves of the ocean. Flocks of birds scattered as we enjoyed the surreal pleasure of driving on a seventy-five mile beach. Having brushed a tree branch and flirted
with the sea (big fine for sea damage), Rob was in grave need of a morning coffee which we chanced upon in Eurong, the main town, if you can call it that.
The tide then took us inland, along tracks containing more potholes than an Indonesian mountain road. Bumping and rolling we weaved our way to Lake Birrabeen for breakfast and a morning swim. The sun was shining, reflecting off the snow white sand and mirroring the clear blue lake. The sight of a Santa hat cajoled us into making a sandman on the edge of the water before we slumbered on the soft, snow like substance.
Another cavernous road took us to Lake Mackenzie, an almost impossibly bright place. Shades of blue juxtaposed against white sand could not have been more pronounced. Turtles popped up for breath as enthusiastic snorkelers hastened their swims to follow them. It was a beautiful sight. The large, perched lake was perfect for a cooling swim and a game of frisbee, and with it all the worries of insurance claims flew as far away as our erratic throwing.
Our minds were at ease but our bones were about to be shaken
once more. The single lane track from Lake Mckenzie to Lake Wabby winded through the rainforest over huge tree roots and divots, putting the jeep at angles normal vehicles shouldn't be at. The track could not be trusted but our jeep certainly could. We had named it Hi-5 in relation to it's array of gears and it certainly raised some Hi-5's from us as we clambered down steep ledges and up over almost vertical paths. It was a unique experience to drive through this terrain with all three of us squeezed in the front, not knowing what was around the next bend, praying not to meet another jeep, and blissfuly in the moment. After over an hour we had bypassed Lake Wabby and come out onto the clear open stretches of Fraser Island beach. Hi-5, now in 2WD, was in tact, we had three hours until high tide and were in great need of a beer.
As the tyres scuttled loosely on the sand, the 4WD doing all the work, we hurtled north over countless creeks. Along the open beach we came to Maheno shipwreck, a timely reminder of the perils of the sea that surrounded us. The rusting
ship created great shapes for crabs to crawl around and the sea to lap between. Thus photo opportunities abound.
With the tide edging in, it was time to set up camp. We found a grassy spot just off the beach and soon tents were up and beers were cracked open. Before Rob had come to Australia he had told us, in reply to a question about camping, that he'd "rather not rough it". The fact that the logo on his tent, hired from the adventure centre, said 'Rough It' was not lost on any of us.
The sun was setting as we cooked dinner and revelled in our life's position. Reflecting on a great and eventful day, one thing was missing. We hadn't seen a dingo. But, as darkness set in and the wafting smells of a chilli con carne hit the air, this was all about to change. Up strode a dingo looking as pure as an Alaskan husky. We stood up to ward it off but it kept coming, only retreating when we motioned to throw our beer bottles at it, which was lucky as mine still had some in it.
The threat of dingo's
is very real here. Signs announce everywhere not to feed the dingo's and to keep in groups, while grids protect the small villages. Only a few years ago a small child was killed whilst playing on the beach. A product of the dingo's territorialism or perhaps the over exposure to the tourists who feed them.
The evening brought with it stars on a cosmic level. Sat on the beach, listening to the waves as we sipped our red wine, shooting stars lit up a sky unpolluted by any light whatsoever. It was a special moment, lying there enjoying each others company on this island of immense beauty.
Sunrise hit our east facing beach early but Rob and Han were already up and out to watch it. I was slightly slower and glimpsed it from the tent instead. We had to be away early, due to the tide, and so we hit seventy five mile beach, aiming north for Champagne Pools. Although sounding more like a Hugh Hefner jacuzzi, the pools were a sight of natural beauty and not the silicone kind. The sea around the rocky outcrop at the northern tip of the island splashed in, creating champagne
like froth. It was safe to swim here and so we did, in water with enough cold to wake us all up.
From here we popped up the steep path to Indian Head where we could look out over the vast beaches and ocean before us. The wind slapped our faces with enough gusto to almost topple us over, as we peered down at a turtle lulling in the waves. Eagles were still catching the thermals as we headed back down to our jeep. It was not long before the tide would be in so we bombed it down to Eurong and in to Lake Mackenzie.
The all inspiring lake and it's beach had lusted us back. Its serene charm had also brought lots of touring backpackers, but it was not hard to get away from them. Just walking around a corner saw us on an untouched part of lake fronted beach where we lounged under the warmth of the sun. Feeling energetic I swam from one side of the lake to the other in what turned out to be a rather mammoth swim. The aqua fresh water just had an effect on me and I was off.
We ate lunch in what can only be described as a dingo cage. Used primarily to keep dingo's out of the food area that is set in the woods, it felt more like we were the ones being kept in. Whilst cooking our pasta the cage turned rather more Jurassic when two large monitor lizards went on the offensive. Unable to scare these pesky buggers off, it ended in us sat on the table, legs in the air, eating as fast as we could.
As the day moved on we drove back through the inland jolting tracks and then zoomed along the sandy shores to catch the last ferry back to Rainbow Beach. We filled her up with petrol, double checked it was in 2WD and then got her back to the Adventure Centre just before they closed at 5pm.
Fraser Island is a journey. A place of feeling that, by its very nature, makes you 'do' instead of just 'see'. Once you have stolen the nerves to rent a 4WD, traversed the rugged tracks, beaten the changing tides and fended off dingo's you have earned the right to experience the beauty of Fraser Island.
The
aboriginals call it "K' Gari", meaning paradise, and I think we have found it.
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Junaid
non-member comment
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