Tangalooma – On the Road with Don and Paula

The dim horizon slowly dissolved into a faint outline of a small island. The eager people on the ship had finally spied land. As the strange island slowly grew in size, it became apparent that it was not large like Tahiti or Hawaii, rather it was small, but still about the size of Catalina, say 20 miles long and a few miles wide. But, no worries, because land it was for sure! Soon they would be close enough to lower the boats and carefully creep their way forward, ever mindful of the sharp corals that lay just beneath the surface, ready and willing to tear the tiny boat to shreds if the slightest miscalculation was made.

Meanwhile on the island, the sleepy natives were waking, ready to start their day. It was an idyllic place this island was…. the shore was dotted with inviting beaches making it easy for the residents to dive in and hunt the abundance of fishes here. Fish and other underwater inhabitants were always on the menu. Life on the Island was peaceful, the natives not having a care in the world except their next meal, which thankfully, was always just a few steps away.

Throwing back the flaps of their tents, the natives walked down to the beach to greet the new day. Gazing out at the sea, they spied the ship getting ready to anchor just offshore. Quickly they ran back to their encampment and cried out,

“Get ready! There’s another freakin’ Cruise Ship today! I can’t believe it! We come here for a nice, relaxing camping vacation and who shows up but 2000 Robinson Caruso wanna-be’s!

That’s what it felt like was happening when we dropped anchor at Moreton Island, a small island just off the coast of Brisbane, Australia. It is only a short ferry ride from here to Brisbane, so it is a favorite, peaceful getaway for Brisbanites…. except for today! But I’m sure that the local Tour Operators and businesses were happy to see us! We were all here to just enjoy this place. All the watersports are here, plus any number of adventures awaited those of us venturing into the wilds of the interior of the island. Unfortunately, this is another Water Shuttle “port” (?) as there is obviously no welcoming handy-dandy Cruise Terminal and its convenient pier for us to use. We anchored off the tiny hamlet of Tangalooma which has a pier just large enough to accommodate our Water Shuttles.

We were here to experience the highly touted Desert Safari. Lest we confuse you, the word “desert” is used very loosely here on the island. We need to go back a bit now, say a couple of hundred thousand years to the dry, windy interior of the Australian state of Queensland which makes up the entire Northeast of Australia. Now let’s dry up that interior’s dirt and rocks, mix in some fierce winds and blow all of that to the east and deposit it on the shoreline. Throw in the Ice Age and the rising sea level, and Presto!

Well, maybe not that much presto because it started about 20,000 years ago and still continues to today. This island and her two sisters formed and eventually became the largest sand islands in the world. This is no small feat of Mother Nature, the largest of these islands is Fraser Island which comes in at a whopping 74 miles long! Now, that’s a lot of sand! And don’t confuse these sandy islands with say, Long Beach Island which at its highest is only about 12 feet above sea level. These guys have hills on them that top out at about 700 feet above sea level!

Anyway, there are large stretches and areas on the islands that are just pure, almost 98% silica sand which is very slippery, as in silicone spray….. just perfect for sledding.

Sledding?

Yup!

This is where we did not pay too much attention to the description of this particular excursion. You know, “Desert Safari” sounded pretty good, being in a large 4-wheel drive bus, maybe seeing some of the local species of critters, sounds ok, doesn’t it?

Besides, it was the only excursion left by the time we logged on to find things to do.

Well, the only critters we saw were the local version of buzzards drifting high in the sky just waiting for what we did not know was something akin to the March from (to?) Hell, but they did!

Circling lazily overhead they were waiting for this intrepid group of senior citizens to keel over and die. Equipped with their “sleds” of sorts, they marched out over the endless sand dunes in search of Dune Nirvana, purportedly found at the pinnacle of the dune in front of us, rising to heights that looked as if it touched the stratosphere.

These vultures knew what they were doing.

The march started after each victim was issued their sled, a long smooth piece of the kind of stuff that you put on bathroom walls. The wisest of these lambs was smart enough to stay behind because:

– I hate sand.
– I knew that after reaching the top, gasping for breath, I would only exacerbate my already 4-week-old annoying cough.
– I hate sand.
– I used my somewhat recently installed arterial stent as an excuse.
– Did I say that I hate sand?

*“I can’t believe you’re not doing this…”* It’s ok Honey, I want to make sure we get good photos!” (Heh-heh)

Paula, on the other hand, was the intrepid and adventurous “Hill Slayer”. She grabbed her new best friend “Boardy” and fell into line the other vulture morsels, gallantly placing one foot in front of the other, marching to their destiny. When the going got tough, the tough got bogged down a bit. Apparently it was like two steps forward, slide back one step. Nothing like very loose slippery sand to impede one’s progress.

Off they go for their appointment with Destiney…. or Fate.

It’s a good thing Paula wore a pink shirt, it made it easier for recovery. Oops! I mean spotting her for photos!

It reminds me of the “Hillary Step” on Mount Everest. That is where everyone gets stuck going to and from the summit as only one person can ascend or descend at a time. Thus, causing those infamous backups when a summit storm hits. No storms here this day! Thankfully, it was overcast because if the sun had been baking everyone…….

When they arrived at the top, they collapsed into one big heap until they all caught their breath.

Well, it wasn’t quite that bad, but as observed from the safety of Base Camp, there was a particularly long delay between reaching the summit and proceeding over to the Launching Pad for Parabolic Sand Dune Swooshing.

When it was Paula’s turn to be Jettisoned, she bravely advanced to the Launch Platform and faced her destiny. The Flight Instructor, who moonlighted as our Adventurous Bus Driver and Guide, spoke in clipped commands as he readied our valiant Dune Slayer for her ride down the several thousand-foot drop-off……