Water, water everywhere….
…and not a drop to swim
in. This is what the Ancient Mariner
might have said about northern Australia!
Here we are, cruising down the coast in North East Australia, stopping
at islands just inside the Great Barrier Reef in tropical temperatures, and
when we arrive we can only look longingly at the azure blue waters. Swimming is NOT recommended, because the
waters abound with crocodiles, not to mention sea snakes and sharks. Every town and every cruiser has a story
about someone who was taken by a croc, so these are warnings not to be taken
lightly. In fact, last year when we
arrived in Torres Strait, the first thing the customs people said on boarding
the boat was “Don’t even think about swimming.”
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| The view from Cook's Lookout |
A nighttime skinny dip from
the swim step or the beach would be particularly ill advised, since the crocs
apparently hunt at night. Ick.
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| Cairn marking the spot of Cook's surveillance |
For that reason, the stop
in Lizard Island was a very welcome treat, since the island is far enough
offshore to be croc-free. First thing in
the morning after we arrived, I dove in and swam to the shore and back – it
felt good to stretch my arms and legs!
Before the sun really got high in the sky, we tossed the dinghy in the
water and went ashore to climb to Cook’s Lookout, the hill from which Captain
Cook, frustrated with the reefs that continued to threaten his boat, sought a
way to open water.
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| What Cook saw (minus the fiberglass) |
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| The namesake of the island |
When cruising in BC and
Alaska, I never miss an occasion to visit a spot where Vancouver stopped, and,
since Vancouver crewed for Cook, I’m enjoying following in Cook’s wake as well. Cook is the mariner who charted Australia
with the same attention to detail that Vancouver brought to BC, and the names
Cook bestowed on coves and islands and points reflect the frustration he was
feeling: Tribulation Bay, Misery Bay, Endeavor River, etc.
I guess he had given up the complaining when he arrived at Lizard
Island, for he just named it for the one living creature he saw there...of
which we saw several when we hiked to the top of his lookout.
I was sweating profusely by
the time we reached the lookout – while I have acclimated to the heat on the boat;
hiking in it is another matter! So, once
back on the beach, I went in with all my clothes on. Then, back to the boat to put on swimsuits
and goggles for some snorkeling.
WHAT A TREAT! The best photos of the trip would have come
from yesterday’s snorkeling along the fringing reef of Lizard Island. Tropical fish in all hues – yellow, black,
white, turquoise, lime, pink and orange, striped, spotted…a piscatorial candy
box. Coral in all shapes and configurations
piled over and around each other: brain coral, stag horn coral, amorphous
blobby coral and lime green sheets of coral shaped like giant heads of hard
lettuce.
But most amazing were the
clam gardens – clusters of giant clams, some 3 or 4 feet across. While the outsides of their fluted and
scalloped shells were covered in a coral camouflage, the insides were in a
variety of brilliant jewel tones, each clam vying with the next for my
attention. Fuji film would never have
been able to replicate the brilliance of the hues. In one grouping, there were five clams, each with
flesh of a different color: lime, celery, turquoise, teal and chocolate…each
one speckled with flecks of fuchsia, orange, yellow and topaz. No rack of prom dresses would have held a
candle to the array of color. When the
clam was open, and its mouth was also open, you could see inside the body to
meat that was as white as coconut milk.
I hovered over the grouping for 10 minutes just watching the interplay
between fish and clams, trying to memorize every aspect of the display.
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| A typical anchorage on the reef |
Lizard Island provided a
much needed respite from the relentless beat against the South-Easterlies, as
well as an important turning point. The
trades are finally abating and as I type this, we have all sails up and are
moving along in almost flat seas at 7.5 knots.
Lovely. Every few miles, a low
sandy island slides by, part of the barrier reef that knocks down the ocean
swell. Such a different kind of
anchorage from what the northwest: breaks the waves, but not the wind.
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| Another way to visit the seaside: is the bag croc-proof? |
