Its face was half illuminated in the fire light, as it sat there staring into his eyes. Because of the singing, we hadn’t heard it sneak into the camp and, looking at its dirty face, go through our bin. We all sat in complete silence, staring back and wondering what it would do. Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it turned and disappeared into the night. Nervously laughing about the situation, we all returned to our tents quite quickly and zipped them firmly shut.
Throughout the night we were kept awake by savaging dingoes surrounding our camp. It sounded like there were hundreds of them and at one point I was convinced they had developed the dexterity to open the zip and so grasped my pocket knife ready for a fight. As the sun breached the horizon, the noises ceased allowing me to venture out and inspect the damage. The camp was a mess as all the bins had been ripped to shreds by the wild dogs, allowing the rubbish to flutter into the surrounding forest. The humidity had increased dramatically leaving me feeling sweaty. Nobody else was awake at this point so I grabbed my towel and ventured across the beach to the shark infested water for a little wash. Luckily, there was no traffic on the road and I was able to cross without any problems before stripping off completely and diving into the refreshing water. This may seem like a slightly crazy idea, indeed you may be asking yourself why the men in white coats hadn’t arrived to take me away before this point, but I just wanted to embrace this moment in touch with nature. So far I had camped, eaten lots of meet and built a fire – the next logical step was to go skinny dipping. Plus, I calculated that if a shark was going to be big enough to take me, it would need water deeper than a metre to swim in. At least I hoped. As I had imagined, the feeling was completely liberating and separated me totally from the stresses encountered in the modern world. I say - forget about going to university, earning money and getting a mortgage – just strip off and go jump in the sea! Thankfully the waves had lost a lot of their enthusiasm, becoming relatively gentle and allowing me to swim parallel to the shore without much hassle. Unfortunately though, the moment must have grabbed me slightly too much as I heard the imminent roar produced by a 4x4 convoy motoring in my direction. Suddenly very aware of my naked state, I frantically clawed my way to the beach looking for my towel. It then became apparent that the moment had really taken me and I had in fact swum quite a distance along the beach. In doing so, I had lost my towel and, with it, my dignity. It was too late now though, the chance to save myself had passed – I was now merely an incredibly white naked man, covered in goose pimples, parading in front of a mass of traffic. They beeped a lot. One person may have even shouted ‘it must be quite cold mate’. Either way, my embarrassment had been sealed.
Upon returning to the camp, most of the other guys had arisen and were beginning to pack the kit away. ‘You look really tired mate. Dingoes keep you awake?’ I said noticing Tim’s drained look
‘No they bloody didn’t – it was this idiot’ he said pointing to his close friend Dave ‘he was so scared they were going to break into the tent that he sat hugging me for the entire night’
‘Well you did say you liked a little cuddle’ I remarked
‘True. But not from him – plus I was bursting for the toilet this morning because this git wouldn’t let me go in the night – he said the dogs might ‘get him’. What a women’
‘They might’ve though’ Dave said in defence
‘Sure mate, and then what would they have done?’
‘Don’t know…licked my face or something I suppose.’
.So you didn’t let me go for a piss because you were scared a dog was going to lick your face? Fan bloody tastic’.
Tim, Ryan and Dave decided to go off and explore the island on their own during the day, although we all agreed to meet up again for camp in the evening. Having spoken to Jimmy in the Whitsundays, I was anxious to venture inland and experience the fresh water lakes dotted across the island. By far the most beautiful and most notorious is Lake Mackenzie but we had been assured that the adrenaline junkies amongst us would really thrive at Lake Wabby. So that’s where we went first of all with the intention of enjoying Mackenzie on the return journey. However, upon arrival we realised our day was going to be filled simply getting to Lake Wabby.
Having parked the car we wondered into the wilderness, following the sign post which suggested the lake was a mere 1.8km away. Now you must understand that, under normal conditions and on a tarmac road, this would no be an issue. Indeed, for the first few hundred metres which was on solid ground, this distance seemed like a relatively straight forward task. And then it hit us. As I rounded a bend, I saw one of the most beautiful sights known to man – and one of the most demoralising. Stretching out in front of us were hills and valleys of beautiful rolling sand dunes. Illuminated in the strong midday sun, with the wind causing a gentle shiver across the surface, it looked like an infinite field of golden corn moving gracefully in the breeze. But the thought of having to cross it with the sun beating down from the zenith was one of utter despair. Chatting to the others, we agreed that Lake Wabby (from all the anecdotes we had heard) would be worth the effort however, and so set off on foot to cross The Sahara. After approximately 30 seconds I had enough sand in my shoes to build a beach in Dubai so I took them off and threw them into the paralysing bag upon my shoulder. The sand was scorching on my feet but this only made me walk faster thankfully. A long time seemed to pass in those dunes, but eventually the lake came into view submerged at the bottom of a huge hill side. You see, this was the appeal of Lake Wabby – it was surrounded by some of the steepest dunes on Fraser Island, making it fantastically fun. Immediately, through a combination of relief and exhaustion, I collapsed at the top of the largest dune, turned onto my side and let gravity do its job. The thrill was incredible as I gained momentum, my turns increasing in frequency as the water at the bottom got closer and closer. By the time I reached it, I had lost all sense of spatial awareness – I may have been half way down the slope, or still near the top, I simply had no idea. But then the spinning stopped and my body was engulfed by clear, fresh water all around. It was cold - really cold. As I scrabbled around to the surface in order to gain my balance, my dizziness set in causing me to tumble backwards into the water again. Eventually I managed to gain my footing and emerged from the water. It was then that I realised, for the second time that day, I had been caught with my shorts down – quite literally. Still, we all had a good laugh. Lake Wabby was a sublime place to have fun. Throughout the entire afternoon, we devised different games to play in and around the lake. Obviously most (if not all), involved some kind of rolling, running or sliding down the huge slopes into the beautiful water below. Someone even managed to successfully ride the dunes on a surf board – unfortunately the front of the board dug into the dune at the bottom and sent him belly flopping into the lake. Everything followed the same pattern of gaining great speed down the slope before launching ones body into the water. But this giant sandpit was bloody brilliant and the perfect way to release your inner child who has been suppressed for years under the immense strain of the western world.
Forgetting about the monstrous trek back, we thoroughly exhausted all our energy. Consequently, the hike back to the truck was even more daunting. When we eventually made it, the day was coming to a premature close, leaving no time to explore Lake Mackenzie. Instead, we headed inland towards the central station campsite. Having had our night in the extreme wilderness, it was a relief to see a shower and toilet block, alongside some gas barbeques. Luckily, we met the other two 4x4s by chance and followed them to our designated plot of land. I found the tent much easier to construct on this occasion and even had time to laugh at the German Princess who was shouting with frustration at her new spouse as he struggled to peg down their guide ropes. It was difficult to tell how long it had been since the toilet block was last cleaned, but needless to say it wasn’t during this century. Nevertheless, it was nice to finally have some warm, running water and even more satisfying to get rid of the sand between my toes. The 9pm curfew on the campsite made for quite a peaceful setting as darkness set in and Ryan got another blazing fire going. Compared to the previous night, this one was rather subdued as we sat around discussing favourite childhood TV programs and commenting on the unnaturally large size of the steroid loving ants dashing around our fire. Two German girls from the camp next door came and sat with us, bringing beer as a present as we gave them a jacket potato in return. Although nothing really eventful occurred, it was just nice to be a part of this somewhat old-fashioned but ultimately superior society.
There were no dingoes that night, but the ground was so uncomfortable I failed to sleep once again. My frustration and anger soon evaporated though when I got out of the tent and saw that Eva had risen early and bought Emma and myself an ice cream. She was so lovely and quickly becoming a very dependent mother figure. Emma, not surprisingly, was fast asleep in the tent. She didn’t appreciate me jumping on her at all, but soon changed her mind when she spied an ice cream coming her way. Our craving for sugar satisfied, we packed up camp in super quick time in order to make the most of our time at Lake Mackenzie before catching the ferry back to Hervey Bay. I felt sorry for Tom as the inland driving was proving very challenging along the tracks leading to the lakes, causing stress levels to rise slightly. It was times like these that I was actually relieved not to be insured. Eventually, the track simply weathered away leaving us defeated. Not to be outdone though, we grabbed the cricket stuff and marched purposely through the wilderness towards the lake. And there it was. Through a gap in the trees, there was a sudden sparkle like a diamond glistening in the sun light. As we drew closer, I realised that it was the crystal smooth water of Lake Mackenzie lying flat on a bed of pure white sand. Having seen Jimmy’s photos in the Whitsundays, I recognised the unique lake but was not prepared for its sheer extravagance. The elegant sand was reminiscent of that at Whitehaven Beach and created a beach about 20 metres in width. Enclosing the entire space was dense vegetation consisting of a variety of Gum Trees and encapsulating the scene in a landscape of its own. In doing so, it ensured that nothing escaped the eye and all the intricate details remained captured in this small space. The most dominating feature however was the lake itself and the mixture of colours it incorporated into the inviting waters. A clear, turquoise blue surrounding the shore, the water suddenly dissolves into a dark navy about ten metres out, the border between the two so sharp it gives the lake the appearance of an exotic cocktail. Standing at the beach’s edge, the others walked on to set up the cricket where as I just stared and amazement – this scene was a defining moment for my year abroad and truly signified the unique diversity Australia has to offer. Just as Jimmy had said, I dived straight into the water and felt like I could drink every drop. It was pure and free from salt so there were no extreme bouts of choking or intense eye irritation. It was simply clean, fresh and exhilarating. We continued the theme from Lake Wabby, jumping around like children, splashing each other and occasionally dunking our heads under the water. Thankfully I didn’t expose myself this time. Having such a large height and weight advantage, I ran across to Emma and, with the help of Tim, threw her elegantly through the sky, landing in the lake with massive splash of water. I suppose looking back that this was the great appeal of Fraser Island – its detachment from the main land meant a subconscious extrication from the mental responsibilities associated with it. On the island, the mask of maturity could be taken off without critical peer judgement and life could simply be enjoyed. This was of course a unique place because of its special, natural beauty, but its spiritual effect on individuals was deep and created a microcosm of pure enjoyment.
We spent the remainder of the day playing cricket on the beach, involving everyone we could find. It was a truly fantastic experience, one which I didn’t want to end. As I approached a group of young women to invite them to join in with the game, I noticed that one of them was Cory – the Canadian marine biologist Emma and I had met in the Whitsundays. This only went to increase the pleasure of this wonderful day as we caught up and shared stories concerning the island. Apparently she had been lucky enough to see some dolphins off the coast early the previous morning – right about the time that I was running along the beach naked frantically searching for my towel. I’m not sure my story was quite as impressive. Without warning, the sun went below the tree line and departed, taking with it our last few remaining moments on K’gari. The others returned to the 4x4s but I stayed behind, just for a few seconds, to take in the wonderful scene for a few more moments. But no time was long enough. Back in Hervey Bay that evening, all the group together, we hugged, exchanged e-mail addresses. We had all shared such an enlightening and enjoyable experience together and now it was time to go our separate ways.
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