A Sandy Paradise

An island made of sand, the largest in the world, where ancient trees of staggering height tower over smaller palms and luscious jungle ferns whose roots somehow grasp onto the soft sand floor and thrive off of the rich nutrients which are returned to the sand from their fellow plants. Crystal clear fresh water streams flow from equally pristine lakes located in the center of the island whose basins were filled by thousands of years of rainfall. Miles of uninhabited beaches are bordered by the soft turquoise blue water of the southern Pacific Ocean and guarded by hundreds of sharks and jellyfish waiting just off shore. The beauty that exists on this island seems to magically float on a bed of sand. This place seems impossible.




Accessible only by ferry and 4x4 vehicles, Fraser Island is a world of its own. The public is allowed access to this wonder, but the best way to get around this world of sand is with a well-trained guide. Mine was Johnny. Johnny was a crazy little bottle rocket of a man, dressed in board shorts and a jackaroo hat, full of wild energy and freckles. It was obvious that he was the product of a lifetime of the outdoors with his knowledge of the island, ability to drive a 4x4 like a grand prix driver and, not to mention, tanned skin and naturally muscular body.




Johnny's vehicle of choice was Gabby, a Toyota Land Cruiser born and breed for 4x4-ing: brush guard, above engine air intake, roof rack, ladder and bench seating for the seven group members, naively at the will of Johnny. I wouldn't say that Johnny was a bad driver (I've never been driven around on a sand island in a 4x4 vehicle before,) but I firmly believe that all Aussie tour guides believe that they are race car drivers and therefore subject all their passengers to a test of their bodies' limits. The backseat of a Land Cruiser traveling at 110 km/hour down a sand highway is not exactly shock proof and traversing through the interior "road ways" is more like sinkhole dodging than driving. But it was an adventure.




Five minutes after Gabby hopped the ferry, we were on an island that was vaguely reminiscent of one of our barrier islands on the east coast of The States. It was low tide and small waves were crashing on long wide beaches whose border was head high sand dunes guarding a forest, the interior. The fluffy white clouds that dotted the morning sky, the warm humid air and the strong smell of salt and fish only heightened my sense of deja vu.



As we were flying down 75 Mile Beach, the main “highway” of Fraser Island, we passed 4x4 vehicles by the dozens; Land Cruisers similar to Gabby were in the masses but also present were trucks with beds full of fishing gear, the monstrous tour bus sized 4x4's that looked like military salamander vehicles and also the occasional moped.



Since Fraser Island is accessible to the public, any idiot with a rented 4x4, a slew of camping gear, a cooler full of beer and $20 to get on the island can come join in on the fun. And rental companies in Australia will rent a 4x4 vehicle to any idiot, whether they have knowledge on how to drive one or not. Just to point out this fact, our group had to help push out three others bogged in the sand on one "road."

Half way to our first stop, Johnny threw on the brakes and reversed 100 yards down the beach. He hopped out and began digging in the sand. He came back with a handful of small clams, or Pippys. He ensured us that they were safe to eat right off the beach and cracked open their shells on Gabby’s bumper. The soft shellfish inside resembled a clam but its taste was sweeter and combined with a hint of saltwater still on the shell, they made a delicious snack.



Our first stop on Day 1 was Wabby Creek, one of the fresh water creeks that snaked through the island. The water flowing towards us on the beach was clear and cool and the creek’s shallow depth allowed us to see through to the rippled white sand on the bottom. Along its borders were tropical plants whose branches hung over the flowing water and roots grew down into the banks. Although this place was gorgeous, the reason we stopped at this creek was to float down the natural lazy-river. With the coaxing of a doggie-paddle, there was a current that gently swept you along the 300 yard stretch. The sensation of flowing with the clear and cool water surrounding you was indescribable. I allowed myself a few floats downstream, although it was necessary to steer around the fellows floaters walking up stream past me.



Lunch for the day was dished up by Johnny, picnic style, out the back of Gabby; sandwiches, fruit, cookies, all served on metal camping plates. Standing with a half eaten sandwich in one hand while still dripping with fresh water from the creek brought me back to my summer days at the pool as a kid. I couldn’t help but smile.



After lunch, we jumped back in Gabby and drove a few more miles up the beach, destination: a 2.5k walk through the rainforest towards a fresh water lake. One of the thrills of hanging out on a sand island is the freedom to run around barefoot, which I did on our walk to the lake. Our barefoot trek through the forest took us through palms, ferns and the occasional giant Satin Wood Gum Tree. These trees easily stand 100 feet high and have a girth of at least 10 feet. They stand impressively straight and tall despite their root in the soft sand below.



At the other end of the path, expecting that lake, we came to a hill of sand about 300 yards long. Ever so slowly, we climbed the rolling hills of the sand wall and looked down the other side. The wall of sand we were standing on was a natural dam that created the lake on the other side. Thousands of years of wind blown sand had piled up and blocked a creek, forming this beautiful blue green lake. After Johnny assured me that the color of the lake was from plant matter and there were nothing but a few catfish and turtles floating in the tinted lake, I went for a swim to the other side. The water felt amazing. The idea of pure fresh water surrounding you while you float is so refreshing and relaxing.



Our first day ended with dinner and drinks at the Eulong Resort, our accommodation for the night. It was more dorm style rooms, unfortunately, but the short stay made up for the arrangement. After dinner, we were entertained by warnings of the dingos that roamed the island. The dogs on Fraser are the most pure bred of the species and are very smart and aware of humans and were known to walk about the resort at night. Not surprisingly enough, we didn’t see any while we sat on the benches outside talking loudly over a few evening beers. After a heated discussion of where the phrase, “A dingo ate my baby!” originated from (a newspaper headline from the 1980’s about a missing baby in Australia and a woman who blamed it on a dingo,) we called it a night and got what sleep we could before our early morning wake up call.



The next morning, we packed our things, had a small breakfast and jumped back into Gabby. We headed into the interior of the island on our second day via sand roads that truly tested the capabilities of any 4x4 driver. We went up and down sand hills, around sand pot holes and through sand traps. This island was treacherous and Johnny didn’t seem to blink and eye. We just bounded down the path, us fateful followers of the dynamic duo of Johnny and his Valiant Gabby, grasping to anything we could to brace ourselves in the back seat. As we went up and down through sand, we were thrown into the ceiling and tossed into each others’ laps, but we were grinning the entire time.



We finally ended up at Central Station, the hub of the logging community while it was still occurring on the island. The wood of those enormous satin wood figs was used to build the Suez Canal and logging was prevalent on the island until the 1980’s when Fraser Island was declared a World Heritage Site. From Central Station, Johnny sent us on another 2k walk that followed a small stream through the forest. Walking in amongst the trees and plants, hearing the exotic sounds and breathing the strange smells of the forest was fantastic. There is a constant melody of birds and insects, wind gently moving the leaves of the canopy high above your head and the occasional rustle of brush off to your side. The stream that runs to your right makes no sound at all; there are no rocks to create the bubbling noise you are used to hearing, just perfectly clear water gently flowing through groves of trees and ferns. Your bare feet walk along a cool sand path without fear of stepping on anything rough. You feel free and in total awe of this amazing place.



Our last stop on Fraser was at Lake Birrabeen, a crystal clear lake filled by ancient rainfall. Brilliant white sand was lightly lapped by the cool clear water. The white sand quickly turned into hues of blue and the water deepened. The dark mud that covered the bottom of the lake reflected back deep blue. The dark color tricked us into thinking that the lake was much deeper than its 2.5 meters. Swimming out over the color divide only proved this. The clear shallow water allowed us to see through to the bottom, mud.



According to Johnny, The All Knowing, the mud was considered therapeutic and he dove to the bottom to retrieve a handful of the fluffy stuff. Demonstrating its capabilities, he spread the mud over his skin and its dark color “painted” him brown. I was unable to turn down the chance to paint myself any color and smoothed the soft mud all over myself. After a few minutes of laughing from picture taking fun, the mud quickly dried into a difficult stain on my skin, I guess The All Knowing forgot to inform me of that, and I had to scrub off the coloring it left behind. It was not without benefit though; the mud left my skin incredibly soft! I was surprised!



We were left to sunbathe (bake) on the white sand before we enjoyed our last picnic lunch on the island. After more sandwiches and the best cantaloupe I’ve ever tasted, Gabby was making her way back out of the island’s interior. It was the bumpiest ride yet and we were held up by amateurs who repeatedly got bogged in the sand, but Gabby and her relentless driver managed to get us back to 75 Mile Beach, the highway that would take us back to reality. Another ferry hop and a sad look back and we were gone.
My time on Fraser Island wasn't nearly long enough. This place is a natural wonder, a mystery as to how the environment thrives, and I could explore it for weeks. But, my short two day venture would have to suffice. I think I'll just have to come back one day...