Every Dog Has Its Day

While a dingo is genetically somewhere between a wolf and a modern domestic dog, it is certainly having its day in the limelight. It might turn out to be a very bad day, as calls for culling become louder. Since April this year there have been six dingo attacks on people on K’gari/Fraser Island. The latest, where a young woman needs airlifting to hospital suffering from more than 30 bite wounds, galvanises political action and sees the Environment Minister visit the island to gauge the situation. Clearly, as a career politician, she is well qualified to understand animal behaviour. 

In the interests of investigative holiday-making, we too are on K’gari for a few days. The caravan is in storage and we take the Landcruiser onto a barge which runs across the inlet between Hervey Bay and K’gari, taking about 40 minutes. Friends Peter and Jenny, up from Brisbane, and Brigid and John, in from New Zealand, meet us at the barge. In fact we are gate crashing their plans, offering the Landcruiser for exploring the island: K’gari is, famously, the world’s largest sand island and a grunty 4WD is essential – that and a driver who sees no obstacle too great to impede progress.

We hit the highlights, balancing activity with our proclivity for copious eating and drinking. A swim in Lake McKenzie is mandatory. It is one of several perched dune lakes on the island, all well above seal level and fed entirely by rainwater. The shores are sparkly white, fine silica sand which filters the water so it is clear as gin – and we should know. The temperature lets you know you are alive, as you can see in the photo by the look on Jenny’s face.

A drive across the island to the east coast takes us through a series of six different dune systems. Drive is an understatement – we undulate, sway, bump and grind through rutted tracts which vie for space with soft sand. Sadly we do not count a physiotherapist or osteopath or even a massage therapist in our number.

The oldest dune system, on the west coast, is home to heaths, swamps and mangroves. We continue through woodlands, rainforest, tall eucalypts, and mixed forest before arriving at the Pacific coastal forests. All this over only 18 kilometres – which takes us an hour, slewing our way through the sand tracks. Suddenly it opens up and we power through the soft sand and hit the 120 km long beach road. This runs the length of K’gari and is an official Australian gazetted highway, which also happens to be a runway. We are not the first to roar up the beach, eyes peeled for dingos – we see three or four, and watch out for any rocks or soft sand traps.

You may think we don’t need to go whale watching again after our fabulous experiences on the Ningaloo Reef, but we do. Every time is different. The humpbacks in the Great Marine Sandy Park are on their way south and find themselves funnelled into the bay by K’gari. It takes them a few days to realise the short cut doesn’t work. There can be a couple of hundred in the bay at any one time. We see about eight pods of three or four and the final ones come and investigate our boat. The crew call this mugging, and joke it is the only mugging where you walk away still with your phone and wallet.

Remember that barge we came across on? Well the reverse trip takes somewhat longer than 40 minutes. The hydraulics on the loading ramp fail so we are slowly travelling with the ramp locked halfway up with a jury rigged cable (or is it jerry rigged? the internet is confused)securing it. We arrive at the mainland with no way to take the vehicles off – short of magic. Cue men standing around, shaking their heads, talking on phones and, in that time honoured fashion, generally pretending they know what to do. An engineer arrives – it’s Sunday by the way – and in just another hour and a half – how time flies when you are stuck on a barge with a 300 km drive ahead of you – the ramp descends to loud applause and we can be on our way.

Good times with the mega fauna

If there is a more perfect place than Coral Bay, I’d like to know where it is.

half tide at Coral Bay

Here’s why: pristine white sand; crystal clear water that is bluer than you’ve ever seen; a reef a few metres from the shore, meaning not only great snorkeling to see corals and reef fish, but also calm waters; a very small, blissfully under-developed holiday town (permanent population about 300) that’s nothing more than a couple of caravan parks, a hotel, two cafes and a few tour operators variously offering diving, fishing, snorkelling, off-roading trips.

The world heritage listed Ningaloo reef is the world’s largest fringing reef: it extends 300 kms along the west coast from Carnarvon to Exmouth. It is possible to stop pretty much anywhere along here, grab your snorkel and fins and be swimming over the reef within a few metres. At least 250 different species of coral are here and, in total, represent over 50% of the Indian Ocean’s entire coral life. 

Where to start? It has to be with our first trip outside the reef to swim with the humpback whales. Thousands of these whales migrate north from Antartica along the west coast of Australia for mating and calving in warmer waters, and return south for the summer feeding grounds. So there are humpbacks passing by between June and the end of October. Sadly, my lack of planning means we arrive in early September after the whale-sharks have headed off.

However we strike it lucky with the humpbacks. After a couple of half hour snorkels over the beautiful corals on the outer reef, we wait for the spotter plane to call in a sighting. He sees a mother and her calf and we are off to meet them. Rules apply, and the calf must be at least half the size of the mother for us to go in with them, and adult whales can be 20 metres long. Our guides divide us into two swimming groups and we are group two – damn, I think, she may be gone before we get in. The first 7 swimmers get the call to go in and only a couple see her before she dives. In group two, we sit tense and ready on the swimming platform: Swim! the call comes and without hesitation we slide into the water, swimming in the direction our guide indicates. Look down, she shouts. I do, and immediately gasp/screech into my snorkel – the mother and calf swim a couple of metres below me, she bears a fleet of ramora (suckerfish), stark white against her grey-black skin. My thoughts race from Amazing! this can’t be real to, I hope she doesn’t come up under me right now! The following pic is a hazy screen grab from a go-pro video one of the other swimmers took – but you get the idea!

our humpback mum and calf with ramora getting a free ride

We think that’s it, but the plane calls in a pod heading south. We find them quickly and the spotter pilot says he counts 8 or 9. The boat follows them from the prescribed distance of 100 metres, though at times they close the distance towards us and put on a show I’d happily pay to see again. Breaching, rolling and waving pectoral fins, showing off their flukes. Apparently breaching is unusual behaviour as it’s a high-energy demand: a full breach needs the whale to break through the water’s surface at its top speed of 28km/h. We follow them at 4-5 knots for at least an hour and it is riveting. Apologies if you have seen these photos on my Insta @bevzac56 but it was so exciting I can’t help adding them in here.

waving, not drowning
No known reason for breaching, it takes a lot of energy so it must just be for fun.

We think that day will be hard to beat, but then we go out on another trip to find Manta Rays. Again a couple of snorkels on the outer reef first. These are wonderful as it is a low tide and so parts of the reef are in shallow water and the sunlight illuminates the fish and coral. We swim over massive cabbage flower corals through which hundreds of little iridescent fish swim; watch parrot fish nibble the coral; watch turtles swim to the surface to take a breath of air before sinking back down, lazily paddling their flippers. We stop at the shark cleaning station where grey and white tipped reef sharks come by and have cleaner fish nibble the parasites from their skin. With my advanced fish identification skills I mis-identify a large grey fish as a shark.

low tide at the outer reef – the clarity of the water is superb

Then the party starts – again a spotter plane, this time looking for the ballet dancers of the ocean, huge Manta Rays. These graceful diamond shaped rays are really smart (biggest brain to body ratio of any fish), have no sting or barb posing no threat to humans, and are filter feeders. They can grow to have a seven metre wingspan and weigh a couple of tonnes. this time we are in three groups, again we are number two. the spotter finds a beautiful large manta, about 4-5 metres in wingspan, and we rotate through the groups quickly. Group one swims until the manta has moved beyond them and by then the boat has moved ahead and group two drops in, then the skipper picks up group one, drops group three, picks up two, drops one etc etc. We have four swims and the final two are breathtaking, lasting what seems like ages but which in reality is probably five minutes, if that. Like a big blanket floating through the air, the manta undulates and glides, searching for food. It is mesmerising.

So we get to swim with two out of three of the mega fauna that frequent these waters, and and in the immortal words of Meatloaf, two out of three ain’t bad.