The next adventure: Cairns and environs

After we recovered from our days in Sydney and our epic road trip through the Blue Mountains and Southern Highlands, we spent a day holed up in Wollongong in atrocious weather (cold, windy, wet, and did I mention cold?). In a way this was probably a good thing, because it let us appreciate the next adventure all the more: up north — way up north. To Cairns.

The first day was just a "check into the hotel and walk around a bit" kind of day, wherein I developed the impression that Cairns exists for providing puerile, anonymous revelry for backpackers and people who wish they were. I'm absolutely certain that there are other aspects to the town — they've started construction on a big, new performing-arts center, for example — but they're certainly not the first things that clamor for one's attention.

The second day, though — the second day! We (and five hundred other people) took a boat out about 40km to see a piece of the Great Barrier Reef. It was chilly by Cairns standards, and intermittently grey. And the boat ride out had its moments when it was less enjoyable (I am embarrassed that I was one of the hundreds of people who tossed their cookies on the outward journey, but I have to admit I felt much better afterward; and the staff is obviously expecting the flood of, well, never mind the specifics, because they are all gloved up and handing people cups of ice cubes and laminated bags and napkins — and anyway, didn't Horatio Nelson get seasick? Horatio Hornblower did, I know, but that's fiction).

Because of the cold, I'd been debating whether to actually snorkel, or just to go on the glass-bottomed boat. I got my nerve up (I hate being cold, it hurts), and went into the water.

Oh, man.

It has to stand as one of the most remarkable and transcendent experiences of my life. (Hey, Chard, if you're reading this, let us know next time you're planning a dive trip to Cairns and we'll find a way to go with you and I can get my dive ticket.) The place where the pontoon was moored had a variety of depths, which may have been part of the reason for the variety of corals and fish. Dozens, dozens and dozens, of different animals to look at, all there in the cool turquoise (yes, it really is that color) water. One brilliantly neon little fishie got all aggro with me. I am absolutely certain the little bugger lined me up in its sights, and then rammed itself deliberately into my face mask — tunk! I have no idea what it thought it was accomplishing, other than to send me a very clear "Piss off, ungainly mammal!" message.

And then. The sun came out. Oh, the colors!

Here are some photos of the sorts of things you could see through the glass-bottomed boat (which I did go on later). It's a pity the fish don't show up (they move too fast), but it's an even greater pity how monochromatic everything looks. I bet, though, that with a little bit of searching you could find some spectacular photos with all the colors.


I swam for far longer than I had intended. The main sound was my own breath whooshing through the snorkel (and the occasional ftoo! as I cleared it). I slowly swam from one spot to another in the blue and the quiet, inches from fish so big they alarmed me, or so small I could barely see them, and each one so fantastically colored you couldn't invent them. The coral waved, or sat stolid, with fish feeding or hiding or just going about their fishy business amongst the incredibly various species. And clams so big you could make horror movies about them, with their fleshy, pulsating valves (yes, two of them, "bivalve" is accurate) pumping water through.

If you ever have a chance to go snorkeling on the Great Barrier Reef, you should. (Coincidentally, my friend Cass went to the Great Barrier Reef just before we did; here's her blog post about it. She actually went diving, not just snorkeling!)

The next day we spent the morning driving up into the hinterlands a bit, to a place called Kuranda. If Byron Bay and Nimbin had a love-child, and someone cleaned it up real nice, the result would be Kuranda. It's a bit whimsical (see photo below), a bit touristy, a bit leftover-hippie. Very interesting place, really. I could see myself getting famous and spending my winters each year in a cabin a little bit outside Kuranda, writing. I could.

We also stopped for a brief visit at Barron Falls and its surrounding rainforest. Even though we were there in the dry, which made the falls rather more gentle than they will be in a few months, it was still very scenic indeed. Below are some photos. (Sorry the one of my family looking at the rainforest is blurry, but there wasn't a lot of light in there.) (Incidentally, that person behind Houston is not me, it is my niece, who only looks like me.)


So anyway, then that afternoon we flew back to Sydney. And now it's chilly and grey and we're in Wollongong. It's supposed to get sunnier later. And warmer, one hopes. We're planning to go for a horseback ride.

And then, tomorrow, off again on another adventure!