All Summer Long

Yeppoon was our gateway to the warm waters of Great Keppel Island. We crossed over by ferry from Rosslyn Bay Harbour, excited that we were finally on a boat trip, but unaware that we would spend the morning lost in my extensive search for its paradise beaches.

When we collected the tickets for the trip, they said to us – “the reef tour is usually straight after the ferry, but it will probably be departing later today because of the storms. You weren’t planning on doing any bush walks, were you? Because there probably won’t be time.” Like most other passengers, Nicola would have been content with reclining on the sand at the beach where we had been dropped off, enjoying the sun until it was time to board the boat. Instead, attracted to the island’s promise of hidden coves and better beaches, I led us foolishly into the forest. To be fair, it said “beach access” on a tin can that pointed into the trees. Half an hour in, dirt and debris underfoot, Nicola made the realisation – we’re on a bush walk.

Forty-five minutes or so later we emerged at the mouth of Long Beach, which at its Western extremity was reserved for nudists. By this point I had lost the trust of my wife, which diminished further as we edged away from a feral goat, and since we were on a deadline to get back to the original beach, we had to decide whether to turn back or forge ahead, otherwise we could miss out on our pre-paid tour of the ocean.

Stubborn as always I continued to lead us along the sand to Monkey Beach (delirious now, I had started calling the whole place Monkey Island) and in a hapless demonstration of my navigation skills, took us up a hill where the only remnant of any kind of footpath was guarded by an iguana. When we reached the top, guided by stone and branches, we had finally arrived at the place I was always destined to take us – nowhere. I said – “Let’s turn back.” Nicola said  -“You’re kidding.” We returned down the same hill, my t-shirt now translucent with sweat, and when we reached the bottom I patted my short pockets and head in a frenzy, realising once again that I had left my sunglasses somewhere along the trail. I had to retrace all of my steps, past the iguana, up the footpathless hill, while Nicola sat despondent on the beach. I was knackered! The walk back via Long Beach was pleasant and we saw two nudes who quickly scrambled to re-clothe themselves at the sight of us tourists, who had somehow happened to stumble within the margins of their privacy. Once we escaped the bush we did manage to get half an hour lounging and paddling on the original beach by the ferry’s drop-off where I admitted we should have stayed. I visited a hut to consult a map and found out where it all went wrong.

In the afternoon we floated over large stretches of fringe reef in a small, glass-bottomed boat. On the ocean bed we could see impressions of stingrays in the sand and even a few in the flesh, massive clams, the stinging tentacles of soft coral, and we heard about the hard and soft forms of a mushroom-like coral that externalise their stomachs to catch food slowly over a couple of days. The commentary was great and the water around Monkey Beach was really clear. The weather on the trip had so far prevented us from getting out to the Great Barrier Reef, so we were chuffed to have the opportunity to at least see some of the alien landscape.

We were looked after in our accommodation and our host, Gwen, talked to us at length about a cyclone that swept through the area and annihilated Yeppoon. The resort on Great Keppel is now derelict and a fig tree grows out of its abandoned swimming pool. The owners are locked in a stand-off with the government over a casino license, so the resort is suspended in a state of disrepair. Gwen also showed us some newspaper clippings about a 17-foot crocodile called Big Ben, shot in Yeppoon in 1872, and pointed us in the direction of Emu Park for the Singing Ship, a memorial dedicated to Captain Cook. The structure is built in the image of his ship Endeavour, and its organ pipes make ethereal music in the sea breeze. Gwen even baked us scones to take on our journey to Hervey Bay. Great lady!