I woke up to the sound of heavy rain a couple of times but the alarm system was holding true. At 4:50am it wasn't. Helen and I had just dressed and had opened the door when the alarms were turned off. I went straight back to bed again but Helen went to the loo and met the exasperated night porter who was at least pleased that he'd switched off the alarm in 40 seconds rather than 40 minutes.
The dive shop opened after a few of us had gathered, we paid up and fortunately I tried my fins on -- both our feet are plastered up covering supperating wounds from rubbing fins -- and took a size larger. It then occurred that we'd not done any suit fitting or anything. Hmm.
We walked round the corner to the boat. We five [guests] and three crew headed out first to a shrouded Magnetic Island -- so named as Captain Cook's compass went a bit funny on the way past -- to pick up some students then continue for another three hours crashing into wave after wave, regularly rattling the scuba tanks which always makes me nervous. Once again the skipper seemed to be enjoying himself.
Not knowing how far the journey was we had no expectations when we suddenly just stopped. There was another boat and a large marker bouy indicating a protected area. We didn't stop moving though as there were 1m swells tossing the boat about. Most of us were paying for a guided tour on the first dive (the one non-student who wasn't got it anyway!) so we wobbled in with the help of the skipper who was turning out to be quite personable.
Not quite the "perfect" visibility nor the 25m someone had suggested but still on the way across the surface line and down the ascent line some big old fish were appearing, looming out of the gloom from the heavily overcast rainy day above. Then some big fish appeared, Queensland Groupers, about five green cod 2m long, giant Trevally 1.5m long, a 2m wingspan stingray (with a 2.5m tail, a whip-ray?). And the list would go on if I knew what the fish were.
The SS Yongala sank in a cyclone in 1911 in the middle of a flat sandy seabed. As such it's the only reef for miles around and attracts hundreds of fish and those fish are big. The yellow fin fusiliers are 50% bigger than those we saw in Cairns, the bat fish must be half as big again again(!). One of the Queensland Groupers, Grumpy, is famed for having swallowed a [too close] flash photographer's head and spat it out -- presumably as a warning. I think I would take heed is a 2m fish swallowed my head.
Amazingly, Helen and I are the last out of the water having spent 49 minutes watching the fishies. We're given a bit of slack by the dive leader for the second dive. This time we spot a four foot grey reef shark in the drift down from the bow to stern but don't see the turtle or snake-eels on the slow way back. We stay clear of Grumpy and friends. Another very good 45 minutes.
Fortunately, the journey back isn't nearly so rough though the self-made sandwiches added to the unsophisticated air of the trip. No pre trip briefing, no pre dive site briefing. Still the diving was very good, even if the weather meant it was a bit dingier than it could have been and the choppy waters made exit a little more interesting than we'd like [Don't lock your arm over the ladder or the next wave will dislocate it!]
In the car and head down to Airlie Beach for tomorrow night's live-aboard departure. On this drive the cane toads are augmented by the legions of bugs (in between torrential downpours) that fly at the windscreen like the Windows starfield simulator screen saver except that so many bugs hit the windscreen we run out of the freshly refilled screenwash. The last twenty km are done peering through small gaps in the carnage.
We extract the room key from the night safe and retire at 11.
Airlie Beach YHA S20.26968
E148.72034 Elev. -16m!
Copyright 2003 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.