On the way north, we stopped at Rockhampton, itself a pretty interesting place, center of a local beef industry, with a huge statue of a cow at either entrance to town, and a couple of buildings also have huge statues of cows on their roofs. I called Broken River Retreat from Rockhampton and received an unpleasant surprise:  they had no record of our previous correspondence and we did not have a reservation there after all.  We ended up making a reservation at a place on the shore called Cape Hillsborough National Park instead.  We then decided to visit a crocodile farm before driving on north.

The Crocodile Farm

 The crocodile farm was quite interesting. They gave a tour, starting with a video about crocodiles.  Then he brought in an egg that was starting to hatch, with the baby croc’s nose tooth partially through the shell, and gave the baby a small assist by breaking another chip out of the shell.  The baby crock all but exploded through the shell, much larger than any of us could believe could possible fit in that small egg.  It was all the guide could do to restrain the quick little bugger. He showed us the partially healed belly; the baby crocks absorb the remains of the egg yolk into their stomach, and the stomach heals over them.  The baby croc was very squirmy, and the guide had to hold him tight to keep him from trotting off at full speed.
 
 

At the very end of the tour, the guide brought out a yearling for us to look at closely and hold.  LaJean wasn't very interested in holding him, and indeed the guide didn't make it sound very appealing, after warning us not to hold him in a way that he could pee (or worse) on us.  The fact that his mouth was wrapped up in strapping tape did not increase one's confidence, either!

 From watching the hatching, we went to visit several crocs in their pens.  They have strong woven wire fences to restrain the crocs; you can see deep dents in the fence in several places where the crocs have tried to break through the fence.  This is more likely to happen in summer, because the crocs get much more rambunctious in warmer weather.  When we were there it wasn’t much above 90, if it was that warm, so they were relatively lethargic. They keep them, usually one male and one female, in each pen, but they rotate the males, to mate them with several females.  However, one large male had a huge pond with 14 females!  He’s a busy croc.

There is no way to tell the males from females, even for crocs, except that the males will eventually grow to be larger than the females, growing to as much as ¾ of a ton, 25 feet from tip of tail to snout.  When the males seek mates, they often approach another male, which usually ends in a fight.  The fights consist primarily in banging their heads against one another until one gives the submission sign, head raised to expose the throat, and retreats.  If not in mating season, the male crocs will also sometimes attack the female crocs if they intrude in the male’s territory or otherwise aggravate him.  The crocs are mostly slow moving, but they can put on a burst of incredible speed, as fast as 25 miles per hour.  They are very ill-tempered, easily irritated, and can sulk for weeks.  They live on surprisingly little food, as little as a couple kilos of meat per week, and they can go quite long between meals.  They live to about 90; become sexually mature at about the same age as humans; 10-13 for females, 15 plus for males.  They continue growing throughout their lives, but the most rapid growth is during the first 10-15 years, at about 1 foot per year.

After mating, the female builds a nest by scratching sticks, leaves, etc. into a mound, usually about a meter high and two across.  She will often spend as long as two or three days at the task, working slowly but steadily.  She then scratches a hole in the top to lay the eggs.  While laying the eggs, she goes into a kind of trance, lays one egg at a time, onto her hind foot, which guides it into its place.  Each female lays from twenty to sixty or more eggs at a time, sometimes up to a hundred; in nature only a few would survive, but by gathering the eggs they manage to bring most of them to hatching.  It is perfectly safe to approach a female while she is laying eggs; the trick is to know when she is finished, so as to get at least 10 meters distance ASAP, because once she finishes laying the eggs she comes out of the trance and protects her nest aggressively.  Sex of the croc is determined by temperature during about 2nd or 3d week of incubation; the farm can choose the sex according to the characteristics of the parent (do we want a breeding croc or do we want one for meat and hides?)  The farm aims for about 80% males, just because the males grow faster, thus can be harvested earlier.  They are harvested for hides and meet late in their juvenile period, at about 10 years of age, 10 or so feet long.

 The females are very protective of their nests, and the males are very protective of their entire pond.  Most crocodile attacks on humans happen when a human approaches within the danger zone, about ten meters from the nest or pond.  However, sometimes crocodiles tolerate incursions; the guide told about a group of sugar workers who were in the habit of swimming in a farmer’s pond after work, in spite of his warnings that there was a large male croc present.  Unable to dissuade them from this dangerous behavior, the farmer called the croc farm, which came and trapped the animal – a huge male, weighing over half a ton.

The guide also told of a croc in one of the zoos, who was annoyed by the sound of a power lawn mower.  The groundskeeper foolishly entered the pen alone to mow the grass, and eventually the croc lunged out of the pond, grabbed the poor man, dragged him underwater and drowned him, then left him without eating any of him or otherwise further molesting them.  After he was given to the farm, they tried to mate him, but he killed the first female croc they put in with him, so they have since kept him in his own pen without other croc company.  He’s a very disagreeable croc and doesn’t like having the grass mowed, tourists viewing, or anything else happening in his vicinity.   .

At the croc farm, when they have any maintenance to do, they work in threes:  One does the work, one stands guard, and the other goes to the far side of the pond with a long bamboo pole and stirs the end of the pole in the water to attract the croc’s attention.  He used this technique, stirring the pond with a long pole, to bring this disagreeable croc to the surface for us to see.  It struck me as quite a dangerous maneuver, since the croc appeared as from nowhere, lunged several feet up onto shore before stopping.

 Crocs are much more dangerous in summer, when it is warmer, both because they are more sexually active then and because they are more active generally.  But at any time of year it is a bad idea to get within their space, about ten meters distance.  The guide emphasized the importance of recognizing the three signs of crocodiles:  A nest, a slide (where the crocs slither in and out of the water) and a wallow, where the croc wallows in thin mud.  If one sees any of these signs, one should immediately move away from the water, and put at least thirty meters distance between oneself and the water or any of the nest items.

 The guide fed several of the crocs by tossing them about a quarter of a chicken, not plucked.  The crocs would come up to his call, rising quite lethargically from the water.  He would toss the piece of chicken to them, and there would be an explosion of rapid motion as the croc grabbed the chicken and raised its head to swallow.  They never chew their food; their many teeth are shaped for grabbing and tearing only.  They have a flap in the back of their throat to keep water out, and must raise their head and open the flap in order to swallow.  Apparently a number of humans, attacked by a croc, have inadvertently saved themselves by throwing an arm outward and blocking the flap open, forcing the croc to release them in order to avoid drowning. 

 In one of the ponds, both the male and the female came up to get the quarter chicken he tossed to them, but the female, apparently not very hungry, did not eat hers.  The male became irritated because the female was too close and started growling at her.  Apparently both were stirred up by the presence of so many people; when they started growling at each other, and the female raised her head in submission, the guide asked us please to move completely away from their pen.  He was afraid that if we stayed there, the male would get so stirred up that he might kill the female.

 The last croc we were shown was named “Rocky,” and weighs in between ½ and ¾ ton.  He was raised as a pet for several years, until he outgrew the family bathtub and his wife and kids got tired of the crocodile bites, at which time he was sold to the crocodile farm.  Unfortunately, his owner was in the habit of deboning fish before feeding them to Rocky, so his jaws were rubbery.  They put Rocky on a diet of chicken feet, and have almost totally cured his calcium deficiency.  The first time they put a female in with Rocky, he bit her, so they took her out.  They decided the problem was that Rocky had been raised by humans and didn’t know how to relate to girl crocs.  So,  they put in an older female, who they promptly named “Mrs. Robinson,” and that worked out:  Their first clutch had over 60 eggs in it, so the mating is considered quite successful.

 The crocs are fascinating animals, but they are also extremely ill-tempered, unpredictable, and dangerous.  They make brahma bulls look downright safe by comparison!  We both had crocodile meat for lunch – very tasty.  LaJean had kabobs, which were white and somewhat like a very firm fish; I had spare ribs, which were darker (possibly because of the marinade), and reminiscent of veal or mild pork – although crocodile meat doesn’t really quite taste like anything else.  We both enjoyed it and will look for future opportunities to have it.  LaJean says:  Crocs give new meaning to the word “mean.”  I wouldn’t have missed the croc farm for anything.  It was really interesting!
 
 

Cape Hillsborough National Park

 The trip to Cape Hillsborough National Park was rather long and boring, most of it through cattle country.  In Mackay (prounounced “MacEYE”) we had a minor disaster.  LaJean wanted to stop at an ATM:  When she saw one, I pulled out of traffic and over to the curb.  Unfortunately, in my haste to get completely out of traffic, I pulled too close and grazed the curb with my front wheel.  Mackay has, probably to help deal with the tropical downpours, wide openings in the curb, covered with metal sheets.  One of these grazed my front tire and sliced it open, almost certainly ruining the tire.  LaJean says:  I could make comments about the driver but considering he was driving on the left side of the road and I didn’t have to drive at all, my only comment is that the driver mostly did an excellent job.

The resort could be quite nice; the beach and the surrounding forest are both quite lovely.  There are only two short hiking trails, one over the headland (several very nice views) and one circling through the forest, with very informative signs about the uses natives once made of the various rain forest plants.  (For pictures of the two lilies click on the signs.)  Disappointingly, the ocean was still quite warm, so there was still danger from the box jellyfish, especially on an incoming tide.   I saw people wading in water up to about 2 feet deep, but it seemed more risky to me than I’m comfortable with, so I restricted my beach activity to wading in as far as about a foot depth and taking long walks, especially in the morning and evenings, which conveniently enough coincided with low tide and very, very wide beaches.  For such a lovely beach, it is remarkable how few people are out at any time; most of the people there spent their time fishing; a few played cricket on the beach.  Only a handful walked very far up and down the beach.  Several brought small open fishing boats to launch on the beach.

 This resort appears to be in transition from motel & cabin toward a campground orientation; they provide passably good meals, but very little in the way of facilities or equipment.  There aren’t even any beach chairs or umbrellas; sitting on the beach during the heat of the day is not even to be thought of!  No boats or sea kayaks to rent, no long hiking trails; our balcony had no view of the sea (almost totally blocked by trees – a phenomenon we have encountered almost everywhere).

 The beach is a long crescent, about a mile total, broken by a line of rock running into the sea.  The sand is fine, almost silty in places.  At either end is a high, rocky promontory, about 300 feet high.  The land here was formed by volcanic activity; the rock is still rough and sharp-edged, somewhat like the lava in Hawaii.  It is covered with lush vegetation including pandana and other palms, a variety of tropical pine, and other trees. At the extreme south end is an island (high tide) / peninsula (low tide), connected by a rocky causeway, on which mangroves are attempting to establish themselves. The rocks are spectacular to look at, and the off-shore islands are beautiful, especially in the morning when silhouetted against the sunrise.  Sunrises are spectacular; I took several pictures.

 The nature walks we did were quite interesting and we both enjoyed them.  The first was through a mangrove swamp, where they’ve built a boardwalk.  In addition to several distinct species of mangroves, we saw mud lobsters, mud crabs, mud skippers (all hard to identify, since they are about the same color as the mud!)  The other walk is a circuit through a patch of rain forest, with signs telling the uses natives made of the various plants.  Among other interesting things, we saw some green ants on a green fig (although the fig is supposed to be red at maturity), (I have pretty good close-up photos). As I wrote this, in the lunch / patio area, we  watched a very pretty black and gold striped fruit wasp near the fountain.  A flock of lorrikeets inhabits the trees above the dining area and outside our deck.

On the beach, we saw several interesting things.  The tiny sand crabs hide in holes, from which they bring up tiny balls of sand, which they scatter in random, attractive designs; some they just pile up.  One of the staff people told me they hide themselves in sand balls during the day; the others are decoys to fool the gulls – but I don’t know if there is anything to the story.  We also saw a number of shallow pits near the low tide line, about 5 inches deep and 12-14 inches across, perfectly round; no-one here seems to know what digs them or why.  Where we would expect to see barnacles and mussels, here there are tightly packed oysters, all with very sharp edges adding to the problems caused by the lava.  They seem to cover only the normal tide range; we had very low tides, and the oysters do not cover the bottom foot or two of rock that has been exposed. I later learned that they are quite tasty, but gathering them is a great chore, and there isn't much to any individual one.  There is also a species of sand dollar, very small (I call them "sand quarters").

 Weather was sublime – apparently unusually so, since the local people expect rain on Easter weekend (the equivalent, more or less, of our Labor Day).  It  probably reached 85-90 F during the middle of the afternoon, but it was not very humid, so it was comfortable in the shade.  By about an hour before sunset, the temperaturedropped fast, down to somewhere in the 70s at night, usually with a very pleasant breeze in the evening and morning.  One night we didn’t use air conditioning at all, another night we turned it on only because noise from the campground required that we close the sliding door to the balcony.

Hook Island

 On our last day at Cape Hillsborough, a wind came up in the afternoon.  As it turns out, the wind presaged another weather change; it rained during the night, and when we reached Airlie Beach it was raining.  The boat ride out to Hook Island was a bit rough, and it was somewhat stormy, windy and rainy when we reached the island.  One of the casualties of that kind of weather is snorkeling or diving – the waves stir up sand and sediment from the bottom, especially when the tides are extreme.

We were somewhat disappointed in the resort itself, although the setting is spectacularly beautiful. We expected somewhat Spartan accommodations, but the full ocean view we had been promised is half blocked by the roof of a covered patio.  I eventually discovered that the bathroom was an add-on, built in only two rooms, coincidentally, the two rooms behind the covered patio.  Had we not requested a bathroom in the unit, we would have actually had a much better unit!  In any event, the dining and bar area is comfortable and casual.  Food is a bit of a problem; dinner is available, but they often cooked just one thing for dinner.  The first night, it was spaghetti and meat sauce – period.  No salad, no vegetable, no fruit.  The second night was a bit better; pizza, plus potatoes and frozen mixed vegetables.  All the experienced guests, we noticed, brought huge boxes of their own fruit and vegetables – should we ever return, we’d do the same.  The other thing I would do if we came here again is pay more attention to the Aussie school calendar.  This was spring break for the universities, and they had arranged 3-day Reef Adventures for the exchange students from America (and probably Europe).  As a consequence, every evening and morning there was a group of 20-30 college students, who pretty well dominated the patio and dining area, grouped together, didn’t mix at all with the other guests – and occupied the dive staff so that it would be difficult to book dives even if the weather were better.

The biggest disappointment was that we understood the island to include extensive opportunities for “bushwalking”; as it turns out, there was a total of about a half mile of trails on this end of the island, and the resort itself is all bunched together in a very small section of beach.  A primitive trail is accessible on Whitsunday Island, across the strait, and there may be primitive trails on other islands, also accessible by boat (again, the wind and relatively high seas was a problem, as it often is in the fall season.)  It is clear that the major activities here are small boat paddling along the shoreline (in good weather), snorkeling and diving – and, because of the “stingers” in the water, especially the quite poisonous box jellyfish, the staff advises everyone to wear either a wet suit or a body suit as protection.  Tuesday morning, our second day, just to be sure I put on a wet suit and swam out for a look.  At the line of buoys marking the edge of the coral, I extended my legs down as far as I could, and could barely see the tips of my swim fins – so I pretty well gave up on snorkeling.  I had planned to do some canoeing or kayaking while we are here, and the rough weather pretty effectively vetoed that; if it were calm, it would be a lot of fun.

The other unfortunate consequence of the weather had to do with the underwater observatory.  They have built a round observatory in 20 foot water, halfway down part of the reef, with windows all around through which you can see the coral, sponges, etc., and lots of reef fish.  Unfortunately, when we visited it, visibility was limited to not much over a foot.  Even so, we could see fish and a little coral through every window.  On a sunny day with good visibility, it would be very much like diving – one would be able to see a lot of coral and fish without even getting damp.

 Our cabin had a reasonable bed, a tiny table and two chairs, and a couple of patio chairs on the walkway in front.  There was no closet, no hangers; we placed our open bags on the bunk beds.  The bathroom was a tiny one piece fiberglass unit, designed for installation on a small boat, although there is room in the cabin for a much roomier one.  The main problem was the sink, which is standard width but the basin was only four inches front to back, totally underneath the little medicine cabinet.  The faucets are spring loaded to conserve water, so tasks like washing one’s face or brushing teeth were just short of impossible, and always resulted in water being splashed on the floor, which was always slightly wet as a result.  The effects were ironic, because we quickly learned to use the shower head for washing face and hands, brushing teeth, etc., thus using more water than we would have in a conventional sink and faucet arrangement.  LaJean says:  He’s been very complimentary about the place. The bed was poor, the bathroom dirty, the help incompetent, the food impossible.  Visit at your own risk.

 Tuesday we talked it over and decided three days and two nights would be enough time here, under the circumstances, so we retreated back to Airlie Beach on Wednesday.  Not surprisingly, there was no thought of refunding the remaining 5 days of prepaid lodging.
 

On our second day here, a goanna climbed the tree directly in front of our unit and stayed there most of the day; I took several pictures.

 The islands themselves are a submerged volcanic mountain range, and look exactly like it, covered in dense forest, mostly pine and eucalyptus as far as I can tell. With the occasional rain clouds passing by they are quite beautiful.  On Tuesday, the second day, feeling somewhat bored and pent up (after we had already decided to leave on Wednesday), I was talking with Charl, a South African / Australian, and the two of us decided to cross the strait and climb a crude trail up to a rocky promontory atop the near end of Whitsunday Island.  Charl, who lives in Brisbane and was here with several family members (none interested in a half-bushwhacking scramble through semi rainforest up a steep slope, for some reason) had a small rubber dingy with him, so we took it across the rather choppy strait to a sandy beach on the far side.  Unfortunately, what with one thing and another, it was well after 3 before we reached the trailhead; with sunset at a little after 6 I felt pretty strongly we needed to be back down no later than 5:30.

Charl seemed to be in about the same condition as I, and made a marvelous hiking companion. The “trail” turned out to be mostly a scramble up a seasonally dry creek bed, boulders ranging from 2 to 6 feet, with the occasional deadfall to get over or around – very much like the slope my brother and I scrabbled up last summer in northern Idaho, except there was of course no snow or ice, and only an occasional muddly little pool.  Several of the tiny pools had yabbies, a kind of Australian crayfish, which was fun.  It was a good workout, but it was humid in the creek bottom, and our shirts were soaked with sweat by the time we reached the point where we figured we needed to angle up to the right toward the promontory.  From there on it was a matter of picking the best way through the saplings, occasional large trees, ferns, vines, and so forth.  It was about the same level of difficulty as bushwhacking through the coast range of Oregon or maybe the lower elevations in the Cascades would be.

 (As I sat on the patio watching the sunrise and writing this, a herd of goats appeared around the point to the northeast.  I don’t know for sure if they are feral, or if they belong to the small group of Torrez Islanders who live by a cove just over the hill and work here.  They seemed pretty tame, since they slowly approached me, scouting for food any of the campers may have left out and unattended.)

 We finally made it to the base of the rock at about 4, later than I was comfortable with, and discovered that climbing it would require some fairly ambitious rock climbing.  The first 30 feet or so was pretty easy, but then we came to a scramble up about an 80 degree crevasse, about 7 feet high.  Charl went up it and reported that from there, it was a relatively straightforward scramble on up.  It didn’t look any more difficult, to tell the truth, than any of a dozen other rocks I have scrambled up, but I didn’t fully trust the soles of my walking shoes (which are good on dry rock but tend to slip on even slightly damp rock), and I was especially wary of undertaking a tricky bit of rock climbing under pressure of time.  A broken or even sprained ankle would be pretty ugly right now!  So I passed both of our cameras up to Charl, and he went on up to take a couple of pictures.  By the time he returned, it was nearly 4:30, so we headed right down, again mostly bushwhacking toward the ravine with the dry river bed.  If I’m ever back there, and can find a suitable hiking partner, I will try to do that climb again, leaving earlier.  The visibility was pretty limited when we were on top but you could still see a dozen islands; on a clear day you could see both the mainland and the barrier reef from the top.

 At O’Reilly’s, my guide on the first day (Tim O’Reilly, if I remember right) pointed out three species of plants with bothersome, poisonous sap.  Two are, I think, related to our stinging nettle.  We encountered the least noxious one on the way up; it stung my hand slightly but not badly, and the stinging soon faded.  On the way down, I stumbled into the worst one, a short (waist high) bush with leaves that look like raspberry leaves, about five inches wide and 6 or 7 long.  It brushed against the sides and backs of both legs (yes, I really should have been wearing long pants – and would have, had I realized how much bushwhacking we’d be doing).  The result was a very very painful set of stings, especially on my right leg.  I sat down immediately on a rock and washed both legs with water from my canteen, which helped a little but not much.  Back at the lodge, I showered again and scrubbed the “wound” carefully, then applied some ointment Charl has, plus aloe, both of which helped only a little.  In the morning I saw no obvious welt, but there were numerous little white spots of dead skin, which accounted for some of the stinging.  It kept me awake most of the night, since rubbing the area even lightly made it feel much better but only for a couple of minutes.  Then it started feeling once more like being bitten all over by a hundred fire ants.  One of the staff suggested icing it, which stopped the stinging for about two hours; then the owner, who had been away most of the time we were there, sold me some ointment, which also stopped it for about two hours.  With the aid of that ointment, applied on the second night, I was able to get a good night’s sleep.  The following morning, the area itched only lightly, somewhat like a dozen two day old mosquito bites.  But on future bushwalks in Australia, you can be sure I will be on the lookout for that plant!  It's interesting; it pretty well healed after a few days, but it still bothered me from time to time as late as mid-summer, four months later!

 Other than that unfortunate and “nettlesome” encounter with the local flora, the hike was a lot of fun.  I enjoyed getting to know Charl, and I had been feeling a great need for a workout, the moreso since the Eungella stay didn’t work out.  The forest is quite pretty, and the view is great.  If the weather were clear, I think one could probably see the entire Whitsunday group, and possibly clear out to the barrier reef, from up top.

 Tuesday evening, after a long afternoon without squalls or even light rain storms, we took our dinner to a table just barely under the eave of the patio shelter.  It was a lovely place to dine, but this was the first time the chairs had dried off enough to move out that far – previously we had either sat inside or at the long picnic tables, well under the shelter – when the college students didn’t have them completely monopolized.  It was a typical tropical night, warm with a light breeze, lightly scented with ocean salt, eucalyptus (and unfortunately a tinge of sulfur, which we never did figure out).  Partway through dinner we were distracted when one of the staff caught a carpet python, a non-poisonous snake longer but not as thick as a bull-snake, actually quite pretty.  They are very common, and they are attracted to resorts and habitations, I think by the rodents and various birds that are also attracted to human activity.  When I returned to my meal, I noticed a curtain of rain out over the strait, but didn’t process the implications until a few minutes later, when I heard violent drumming on the roof overhead.  We jumped up, whisked our plates and wine bottle over to the row of picnic tables much farther under the shelter, and just in time – a very violent tropical squall blew in, winds probably as high as 60 knots, absolutely pouring down rain.  The wind was so strong the rain reached about ten foot under the shelter; a few drops even reached us at the picnic table.  Everybody got quite a laugh at the way we jumped and scrambled – interestingly, it broke the ice with another couple seated at the picnic table, and we ended up having a very pleasant conversation with them.

 If the accommodations were better, I think Hook Island could be a fun place in good weather.  In addition to some excellent coral for snorkeling and diving, they have canoes and sea kayaks that can be rented – I had planned to spend at least a couple of our projected 7 days here exploring the coast of these two islands.  With seas in the unprotected areas as high as four feet, that would call for an advanced level of skill with the sea kayak, and would be unthinkable in an open canoe.  In any event, to use either craft in 25 knot winds and seas of a meter and more would certainly be well beyond my amateur boat handling skills.  I am assured the weather usually isn’t this bad, especially at this time of year.  We knew we were bound to have at least a few days of bad weather in this long a trip; it is unfortunate it hit us while we are in a place with so few options.
 

Addendum from Airlie Beach

Upon our return to Airlie Beach, we stayed in the Coral Seas Resort, a moderately priced room with a view from the balcony of two of the islands and the sunrise over the small town (a four block strip of tourist bars, gift shops, etc.) and the thickly wooded hills beyond.  We arrived at dinner time, so decided to eat in the hotel, a lovely three course meal on the pier with a view out toward the islands and, closer at hand, the drama of a school of bait fish feeding on insects at the surface and a school of a much larger, about 14-16 inch long predator feeding on the bait fish.  Our meal started with “bugs” or “mud lobsters,” a delectable crustacean rather like a cross between a small lobster (with no claws) and a large shrimp; then we moved on to an interesting salmon dish served on a bed of green mango, to a berry pastry rather like coffee cake.  Total price, including wine, came to about what we would pay for a meal in a moderate restaurant in Portland but seemed quite expensive by local standards.  Thank heavens for the continuing strength of the U.S. dollar!  LaJean says:  The Coral Sea Resort was a wonderful place.  If you come to Airlie Beach, stay here.  They have laundry facilities, wonderful food, helpful staff, very nice rooms.  Each room has a large balcony with a good view, comfortable seating in addition to good beds, nice bathrooms (get one with a jacuzzi) with showers, mini-kitchen area with frig, hotpot, sink, nice dishes & glasses.

 We spent Thursday doing various accumulated chores; mailing back stuff, doing accumulated laundry, getting a haircut.  The tourist strip is less than a kilometer away, a very pleasant walk, part of it on a boardwalk, along the bay shore.  Our motel room also has a view of a couple of islands and a hillside across the bay.  The tourist strip is pretty typical, except that it has only one small bookstore.  It has one pretty good supermarket where we bought fresh tropical fruit for breakfast, an excellent bakery where we bought rolls for breakfast and a large whole wheat roll for lunch, lots of tourist booking agencies and “backpacker” centers catering to cut-rate tourists, who land here in cheaper rooms away from the bay and look for last-minute cheap bookings for trips to the islands and the reef.  The town is a lot like a college town on Friday night – every night, with students wandering the streets looking half lost, half hopeful, music blaring from a couple of the open air bars, people standing in clusters talking and laughing.  It was fun to be there for a day or two but we were glad to go.

We wanted to try a range of accommodations here, and one thing I’ve figured out is that you really do get what you pay for.  The really bottom rate accommodations would work only for people who understand the area, have all their own equipment, etc.  Before booking, it is important to ask the right questions – and since it is hard to know what they are in advance, that means asking a lot of questions.

 Most of the dive professionals say the stinger problem is the worst it has been in years; LaJean bought a full body stinger protection suit and I rentedf one for each of our trips.  She thinks she can use the suit for sun protection when we go to Hawaii and other such places.  She also bought a prescription snorkeling mask.  Given the exchange rate, it cost about half what we’d pay in the states – less than $100.  It increases her level of confidence and her ability to enjoy snorkeling, so it’s a bargain.
 

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Last updated September 15, 2002
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