Posted on April 20, 2024
about September 21, 2022
Once we pulled our dinghy ashore, we got our first good look at the area. The beach was huge, not so much in its length as its width. Wanting to read a sign near the trees behind the beach, we trekked across, turning our stroll into an unintentional hike! Meanwhile another yachtie couple had arrived and set up an awning to sit under. I couldn’t believe how far away they seemed, looking like mere ants from our vantage point.
Walking back towards shore, I noticed the beach had a particularly ethereal quality. The air had that almost misty look so unique to these islands, softening the afternoon sunlight which bathed everything in a gentle glow. The whitish-gold hue of the sand and the light blue water near shore gave the scene an added warmth.
This beach was quite flat, and the low tide left shallow pools of water scattered near the shore. These pools mirrored the clouds and blue sky above, creating a striking effect. Nearby Lindeman Island, and the Whitsunday Islands further north, filled the horizon with their dramatic hilly landscapes.
Below, some photos from this lovely beach.
We walked along the beach to a copse of mangrove-type trees near the headland. At high tide, these trees sit in water, but for now, the sand from which they grew was dry. We walked among them and wow, the temperature suddenly seemed to soar. We retreated, deciding it was time to cool off by sitting in the water along the shore.
As we looked for a good spot to sit, we noticed numerous small pointed shells that initially seemed to contain hermit crabs. But Rich pointed out they had a proboscis and cautioned me not to touch them. When we realized they were also in the pools on shore, we were thankful we hadn’t stepped on any because these critters can sting–some species even fatally. These didn’t appear to be the fatal sort, but that didn’t mean a sting wouldn’t hurt. Below, a photo of the cone shell.
We chose a shell-free spot in the water and enjoyed sitting there. (For anyone wondering why we didn’t swim, these waters are home to several species of dangerous sharks, not worth the risk in our opinion.) As it was, Rich felt a small sting, likely from a cone shell, and with that, we decided it was time to head back to the boat. Below, a couple of photos from our dinghy ride.
After taking showers, we opened a bottle of wine. It had been a trying day, and I was glad we had plenty of our “feel-better” liquid friend on board. I took the time to make chicken breasts with lemon and dill, which paired wonderfully with the feel-better friend.
We could hear what sounded like howler monkeys outside, but I soon realized they were what I call whoop-whoop birds (whose proper name is pheasant coucals). Their haunting cry suits this area well–not quite the actual tropics but close enough to share many of its characteristics.
Later, I heard a sound I associate with New Zealand, the hooting of a small owl known as a morepork. It turns out there’s a similar owl here in Queensland with an identical cry. I momentarily felt wistful for New Zealand, a place we consider one of our homes. But the time had come to move on and step towards the future, whatever that may hold. Still, I’ll always pause to experience the nostalgia that washes over me when I hear a moorpork, recalling the feeling of wonder we felt while cruising the islands around New Zealand. –Cyndi
The last time by, we didn’t think we could get into the bay through that shallow entrance. I guess we had more confidence this time and it was no problem, with 16 feet the shallowest we saw on the way in.
