As we pressed on toward the beach, we watched the trees change around us. There were six unique types of forest on the island and sometimes you could see the change almost as if someone had drawn a line between them; from rainforest to mangrove forest to eucalypt woodland and back. We also trundled through trenches in the sand as tall as the wagon. These were once dunes to be driven over, but they had been worn down over time so that now we simply passed through the middle.
We drove along the beach for a couple miles along the same stretch of sand we had seen from the boat the day before. There were quite a few other vehicles out here as well, all driving along within imagined driving lanes. To drive from one end of K’gari to the other along its full length would’ve taken a couple hours on a paved road, but there weren’t any, and this was just as well since it meant less human impact. Les told us stories and explained that there were Great Whites, Hammerheads, Bull sharks, Tiger sharks, and the occasional Salt Water Crocodile out in the bay where the whales were swimming.
After a time, we came to a place called Eli Creek and the site of a stream flowing with pure, sand-filtered water similar to what we had seen earlier. Les had said that we needed to take a drink of the water because it was likely clearer and cleaner than any we had ever had. I walked past several more dingo warnings and down to the stream to take a sip. While it was indeed pure, I was a bit unimpressed because it really just tasted like bottled water. My disappointment intensified when a large man in a speedo came wading toward us from around a bend further up stream and I suddenly realized that the water I had just swallowed likely contained some of his ‘essence’. He said a friendly hello which I returned through dry heaves. Further down stream kids and their parents were drifting around on inflatables and, of course, running. We had a quick lunch and watched as planes came in for landings and take offs, as those who wished could enjoy a fifteen minute scenic flights of the island and the thrill of landing on a beach. Again, there was no actual runway; just the same stretch of beach that quite a few cars were also using as a two lane highway.
It was here that I learned a new slang term. Peter had been wondering if the schoolies would be around yet. These are High School aged kids who suddenly appear in vacation spots during school breaks, similar to spring breakers. But there were also two variants of the term. Foolies were kids who were not yet High School age but trying to do the same thing, and toolies were people who were obviously much older trying to relive their youth and rub elbows with younger people.
We drove further down the beach to the rusted wreckage of what was once the SS Maheeno, a New Zealand warship until its retirement in 1918. By 1935 it had been purchased by a Japanese company for scrap and was being towed along by another ship when the tow line snapped in a cyclone and the Maheeno began to drift away toward the beach driven by large waves. It ended up running aground and today remains on the spot where it washed up so long ago. At best it’s just the skeleton of a ship now, but it had an interesting story to tell.
At one point we saw a huge white and gray Sea Eagle rising into the air and carrying a large snake. This amazing sight evoked another story from Les. He said that art of the mating ritual of these birds is for the female to carry a snake and then drop it for the male to pick up and return to her. This would be repeated with the female dropping the snake again from higher and the male catching it. If the male returned the snake to the female’s nest, then it was a done deal between them.
On the drive back to the ferry Les told us about once having to get on the case of a thickly accented German man who had allowed his children to run off and play at the water’s edge in the bay, completely unaware of the large, hungry crocodiles living in it. He also told us about a kid who had been dumped by his girlfriend, got drunk, and driven off in a huff on one of the crazy island roads. He was found the next morning fast asleep in his car as it hung precariously over a steep drop off where he had gone off the road in the darkness and safely rescued.
After an hour trip back on the ferry, we dropped off the other family and got a picture together. Afterward Les was nice enough to swing past the whale statue that Peter and I had missed the day before so that we could get a picture. Then he returned us to Lazy Acres and said goodbye before driving off into legend.
It had been an amazing day and far better than I could have imagined it would be. We made sure to give Les a good review since he was such a big part of what had made the outing so memorable. In the end we never ended up seeing a single dingo. It was slightly disappointing, but probably for the best.
I offered to buy the Condoleons dinner that night, so we found a Thai place and a Mexican restaurant that shared the same building and I immediately broke off to get some enchiladas while Peter and Carolyn went next door for noodles.
‘Gringo’s Mexican Cantina’ was a typical ‘Mexican’ restaurant with sombreros as lamp shades gaudy colors. When the Hispanic hostess came finally came over I asked her if she had specific types of enchiladas (mole, ranchera, or suiza) and she gave me a blank stare. She then told me in a thick Indian accent that they only had normal ones.
“It say here I can get an order of two enchiladas with beans or rice”’
“Yes, that’s right”’
“Well then could I get one chicken enchilada with rice and one beef enchilada with beans?”
“Okay so that’s two beef enchiladas with rice and two chicken enchiladas with beans”.
“No. I mean could I get two different enchiladas in the same order?”
“They come in twos”.
“Yes, I know that. But I don’t want two orders, just two different ones in the same order”.
“Okay. So you want two beef and two chicken? Both with beans?”
“No, no. What I mean is…”
Etc, etc, etc…
After several minutes of gesturing, repeating things, and generally not understanding each other she finally got my extremely generic order right and disappeared. About a half hour later she brought out a bag and sent me on my way. As I paid the $25 for my two enchiladas and side of nachos I thought about what a great price that was for three meals. It was at that point I suddenly realized that I had in fact only paid for my dinner and completely forgotten to pay for Peter and Carolyn’s. I met up with them a moment later and we all went back to the caravan to lament the quality of our meals. Perhaps this was why eating out on trips was not as popular on this side of the world? At least the beans and super-generic nachos warmed up well for breakfast, as did the thermos of coffee from two days before.
That night as I lay in bed I leafed through the visitor guide that I had brought with me. My aim was to spy out a good gift shop to patronize in the morning before we left Urungan. Beyond that, I was looking forward to a much anticipated rendezvous with a very special lady.
