I was unable to avoid Mark From Sheffield's penis for three days. It dogged me everywhere I went on Fraser Island. Lake swimming? There he was in board shorts and no underwear. Napping in the hostel room? Now he was in Calvins, leaning over to ask what I was reading. It (IT) was perfect in every way, from what I could tell. I could tell a lot. But it was attached to a straight guy who was hammering every girl in sight. His friends didn't even have a chance. His cock was the ultimate block. Must. Stop. Looking at it.
Aside from dodging British penis, I had a great time at Rainbow Beach and Fraser Island. Dingo's Backpackers is a revolving door of people coming and going from the island - they handle the task with ease and keep a tidy pool (Mark From Sheffield frollicked there, swaying to and fro).
There was a mass meeting for all going to Fraser, which numbered about fifty. We were split into groups of ten and I thanked The Invisible Man In The Sky that my group was not filled with douchebags (there were small packs of douchebags scattered about the hostel). The briefing focused on the creative ways that we might die, and how to best cheat The Reaper. Rule number one revolved around never peeing by yourself at night. There was a fuckload of dingo discussion - do not pet the pretty doggies or they will gnarl your hand off. Any damage to the vehicles would be billed to the group equally, which again made me happy to be douchebag free (the biggest db vehicle would later lose their front windshield when one of the guys broke it trying to moon the truck in front of him).
Day one was full of baby steps. First, a lesson for the four of us drivers, entitled "you're fucked no matter what - plan to get stuck and kill at least one passenger". We learned how to weave just above the water line on the beach (no roads) and to only drive during low tide. We were also tutored on how to avoid washouts, which are giant pot-holes that come out of nowhere when the tides ebb and flow. The average time for an emergency airlift is three hours so you want to be careful. This is not like flipping the family Saturn in front of Dairy Queen.
We ferried to Fraser and prepared for our own little reality show. One sizeable ramp behind us, we motored down the beach. I was shocked at just how alone we were and how little skill we had to deal with the island. If we were dentists, we would be the kind that ripped teeth out with pliers. We nearly broke a spring on a huge washout that we missed - the drop hurt your balls even if you were a chick.
A 14km and near-verticle drive up a "road" (see also: parting of trees and tire tracks) found us at lake mackenzie. Worth the drive. The water can only be described in Jim Morrison terms like "azure". We swam for hours (Mark's cock) and had our first skirmishes with lizards and dingos. Not too bad. 2 foot lizards don't really intimidate me. Snakes - another story.
Setting up the tents proved problematic because many of the poles were broken. We ended up with four vinyl wigwams, some suspended by lines attached to trees. We were just over a sand dune, with the sea crashing on the other side. Undortunately the Douchebag trucks spotted us (it was getting dark) and set up camp around us. Everyone cooked and became far too drunk, far too quickly, including me. Mark ended up in our camp and, of course, asked me to go with him for a Dingo Safe Buddy pee. It was the first and only time I would have considered watersports in order to get some. Alas, just peeing on sand in the moonlight. At least it was a romantic pee-pee. One of the DB's tried to move his truck while drunk, getting it stuck and causing 20 people to give 25 different drunk instructions of how to dig it out. Ten minutes passed before everyone just gave up and we went to bed. My tent collapsed on me at 3am, at which time I was still drunk enough to sleep.
Our campsite looked like Pearl Harbor in the morning. We packed up and left the DB trucks behind, hoping that they found a way to dig their truck out (but not really). I had become fast friends with my tentmates, who I call Huey and Duey. They are both 20 and British and thoroughly great. Huey loves Radiohead and Duey loves cricket. They have been travelling about a month.
We drove to a few tourist spots on the island. The first one was quite boring, so Huey and I discussed the merrits of Amnesiac while downing boxed wine on the truck's roof, while everyone else piddled in a stream. Huey most certainly has a crush on me and I can't tell of he's gay or just into the fact that I can go toe-to-toe with him on pop culture. He's unbelievably cute but I don't want to spend two days on him, just to end up with a crummy handjob (after eleven hours of Coming Out discussion). I'd rather be friends. And what better way to seal it by removing the Goon from its box and drinking from the tap?
We visit the wreck of a really cool ship that had crashed on the beach. Huey and Duey waste no time in discovering real, actual quicksand nearby. Drunk on Goon, we all take turns letting ourselves be swallowed up to our thighs, before being dragged out by four hands. Quicksand is insanely cool and is no longer something I have only seen in movies. This experience is indicative of just how free you are on Fraser; you can wander off and be swallowed by sand without anyone even noticing.
We spend a few hours floating in champagne pools, which are frothy ponds just over an ocean ledge. They are alleged to be shark and jellyfish free - good enough for us. The DB's show up and within minutes one of them has cut his back on rocks, having attempted to stand on the ocean ledge (big wave go boom). Huey and I snooze off our mid-day hangovers. Then we drive off to find a new campsite.
We leave too late and mis-read the tides.
Group fear is a funny thing. There's the Ninny who panics from the start, which sets the tone. "High tide started an hour ago. Goodness." Then a few more people get nervous. Say, maybe if high tide has swallowed most of the beach and left little room to drive. By the time it has swept the driver, he is whiteknuckling with the truck spraying ocean on one side and sand dune on the other. The driver was me.
We had to make it 11km to the first camp area, which is really just a depression in the dune that allows you to drive off the beach. A big deal, but definitely bigger when the ocean is trying to Valdeze your vehicle. Nobody talks, except to point out the deadly craters that might swallow the van. We finally make the site, with little time to spare. Everyone pounds beers before even setting up the tents, a bit jittery from the close call. By dinner it is behind us. Everyone is also happy that no DB's have arrived...we are alone in the middle of nowhere and it rules.
Huey, Duey and I talk on the beach for most of the night, finding a dune spot between the spider holes and the crab holes. Duey goes to bed early and I resist the urge to be the first hiccup in Huey's sex life. Instead we talk until clouds roll in and turn out the stars. I also talk to Ian, who tells me that he is dumping Brenda after the month left in their trip. I wonder how many couples stay together just long enough to make it through travels. Brenda is annnoying and I encourage the breakup, injecting myself as the island's Dr Phil. She is the kind of person who can talk about Tea Tree Oil for twenty minutes and really, who likes those people?
We rode into day three. A snake tried to attack me on the way to Lake Wabby. Ok, it looked at me with apathy and slithered away. But still.
Day three ended with us back on the mainland. We gassed up the truck and turned it in with no problems. The remaining alcohol was distributed equally and we were back to Dingo's, this time as veterans. I watched Superbad with Huey and Duey, then made us a feast of mac+cheese, toast and beetroot. The rest of the booze was consumed and we promised to Facebook, which is much less sad than promising to write.
I left my dorm early, with everyone still asleep. On my way out I passed mark's bunk - he was of course in only jockey shorts and flying his morning wood. I saluted and moved on, sad that I would never see IT again.
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