Three days and two nights on the world's second largest sand island later and I can honestly tell you that I have sand in every orifice of my body. It's in my ears, nose, eyelashes, toes, finger nails; it's become so much a part of my scalp that I foresee sand on my pillowcase for the next week. It's also in other places, but this is a public blog.
We piled up the 4wdrives with eskies, pots/pans, tents, sleeping bags, and our personals on Wednesday morning and were off by 9:30am. We were in the lead car, which meant that Muz (our leader) drove the entire time. The following three vehicles were driven by the passengers (if they were over 21 and familiar with manual 4wds). With heavy metal music pumping, Muz drove us onto the barge ferry where we enjoyed a dolphin show for the 10 minutes it took to cross the channel to Fraser Island. Back in the cars, we took off down the beach, marvelling at the endless expanse of white sand, crashing waves, and jungle trees.
Fraser Island truly is an all-sand island. The trees have created a sort of soil over the years from decomposed leaves, but underneath is pure sand. There eight of the world's deadliest snakes on the island, three venemous spiders, wild dingos everywhere, and a croc sighting on the west side of the island. Luckily, we were not bothered by any, though we did see several dingos.
We drove to Lake Mackenzie first, a crystal clear lake that defines paradise. On our way through the inland sand roads, car #3 stopped for no apparent reason and did not start again so Muz had to drop us off a the lake (1/2hour away), go back for them, then return once again to take care of the car. It turns out the starter engine was broken so the car was still functioning, it just had to have a running start. In the meantime, we spent 3 1/2 hours at the lake, frolicking in the water, sunbathing, getting to know our group members, and starving. Breakfast at the hostel had been at 7am. It was 4:00 by the time Muz came back. Our circle of swimmers was so hungry that we drew a sand bbq and placed sand steaks, corn on the cob, and a dead fish (found floating in the lake) on it. We also reminiced about the food we had eaten over the last 12 years of our lives. Salivating, clutching our stomachs, and moaning about starvation, we gave a cheer when Muz finally showed up to take us to the campsite.
After setting up tarps, tents, and bbq area, we got down to cooking dinner. It was dark by this time so we cooked by torchlight and the headlights of one of the cars. I volunteered to be the chef for the weekend (though we had a professional chef in our group, he was on holiday so it would not have been fair to designate him - though he did help me quite a bit) so I ruled the kitchen, ordering chopping and potato boiling while I took care of the steaks. We had mashed potatoes and rump steaks with a white wine (goon, to be exact - the cheap wine named after the aboriginal word for pillow since it comes in bags that the abos use as pillows once they've drunk the contents) onion saute sauce. It was a feast for kings and we enjoyed every bite.
After dinner, we mingled with the other groups, drank more goon, played games, and generally just had a marvelous time. Our bathroom was the sand (with a shovel to bury it so the dingos didn't get too close), our roof was the stars (far away from city lights, I truly enjoyed more stars than I have seen in the last five years), and our passions all centered around travel, giving us great conversations and fantastic stories to share.
The night ended with ghost stories and some rowdy song-singing at around 2am. Tired but happy, we crashed in our respective tents and slept on sand.
From sunny, beautiful Australia,
xoxo - Katrina
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