EVEN in Australia, which gets a generous quota of sunshine, in the depths of the Sydney-Melbourne
winter, everyone with the grey weather blues heads to sunny Queensland. Its resorts, beaches and
accommodation can get seriously crowded, so the canny traveller escapes offshore to one of the state's
islands.
In September, at the tail end of winter Down Under, we headed to Hervey Bay on Queensland's Sunshine Coast,
the departure point for Fraser Island. The island protects the bay, providing a safe nursery for
thousands of humpback whales from June to October, so my partner, two friends and I took a boat trip out to
see them.

Submarines
It was a typical tourist boat and our informative talk was issued from the PA system while we ate an Aussie
barbeque buffet lunch. Boats are limited on how they can approach, so we motored close and waited for the
whales to come to us. The three adults, which nonchalantly slid by, were massive, their blows hollow
like breath through a hose, black humped backs rising in the water like submarines.

But our best show came from an exuberant baby the size of a bus. The captain saw it breaching beside its
mother up ahead: "Here we go folks, get your cameras ready. The mother'll show him how to do it properly."
And seconds later the huge mother launched out of the water right in front of the boat. The baby copied her
and they breached again and again, although I still only managed to photograph their splash.

In Hervey Bay we hired a four-wheel drive jeep and took the small car ferry to Fraser, reputed to be the
world's largest sand island at 123km long. We soon discovered the fun of four-wheel-driving on sand
roads, and that for the least bumps and digging out the bogged-down jeep it's best to be the driver.

Surf
Because of its lack of tarmac Fraser is populated mostly by four-wheel-drivers and surf fishermen who
set up camp for the summer. Rather than stay in the pricey Kingfisher Bay resort we set off into the wilds with our jeep, tents, camp
stove and iceboxes. Fraser has an amazing number of different terrains.
The 75 Mile Beach speaks for itself, its miles of golden sand stretching to the horizon.

Rainforest
Despite logging there are still patches of ancient pine forest, and where freshwater creeks criss-cross
the island, valleys of lush rainforest. In the heat of the day we swam in beautiful freshwater lakes,
Birrabeen the colour of iced tea, Wabby with leaf green water and our favourite McKenzie, which was
shockingly clear, blue and sparkling.
We tested the jeep renter's assurance that your can easily do 80km an hour along the beach. It was
fabulous barrelling along squinting into the sunshine with great piles of dunes to our left and aquamarine
rollers breaking to our right.
Shipwreck
But it was easy to miss hidden creeks until we were plunging through them with the passengers, heads
hitting the roof. We stopped to see the island's attractions, the Maheno shipwreck foundered picturesquely on the beach, the
pinnacles, a huge red, brown and golden striped sand cliff, wind-sculpted into amazing formations, mammoth
dunes, which when we climbed up revealed plateaus of silent moonscape, and the Eurong bakery where we
stocked up on snacks.
But the sheer joy of the island is the open space, the clear air, endless sky, sea breeze whipping your hair
and a feeling of freedom you just can't grasp in a city.
We camped in the dunes, letting high tides and the failing light determine when and where we stopped.
Cold beer complemented the sun sinking into the sea to be replaced by the moon rising huge and luminous,
tracking a silver path across the water. We cooked dinner on our gas stove, always lightly
peppered with that camper's favourite, salsa de sand. The aromas soon attracted a lone curious dingo. But
with signs warning of $25,000 ranger fines for feeding the island's cheeky dingos, we had to refrain from
giving him a sausage.
Sharks
After a night of beer and tall tales by the campfire it was glorious to plunge into the sparkling
freshwater Eli creek, which served as both lazy river flume and morning bath. We were warned that on Fraser
all swimming has to be done in the lakes and creeks, the surf fishermen the only people chancing their
ankles to patrolling great white and tiger sharks. When we walked up the Indian Headland and craned over
the cliffs we saw several huge sharks cruising the shallows, along with turtles, rays, bottlenose
dolphins and even a gang of male humpback whales pursuing a poor female back and forth.

After five days on Fraser we returned to Hervey Bay and from there caught the short flight to Lady Elliot
Island at the southern tip of the Great Barrier Reef. The two metre square coral cay is a privately owned
resort. But its package trips are refreshingly cheap and include sumptuous breakfasts and dinners.

Lagoon
Development is restrained with just a few ground level apartments and cabins, a pool, restaurant, café, bar,
education centre and dive shop, interspaced with the nests of thousands of seabirds. The pilot did a fly-by
so we could fully appreciate our paradisiacal destination, before landing expertly on the grass
airstrip. The island was encircled by reef protecting the coral gardens of its sheltered lagoon.

Here we snorkelled in the warm clear water among brightly coloured fish of very shape and size, green
turtles, giant clams, squid, starfish and harmless reef sharks. But it was beyond the lagoon edge that we
got our real excitement. The water was a bit choppy, but you could make out what looked like huge black cloaks floating on the
surface. Scared by sudden movements they would quickly flick away, but if we snorkelled slowly the huge
graceful manta rays glided in front of us unconcerned with their gilled mouths filtering trails of soupy
pink plankton.

Turtles
We arranged diving from the resort shop and at a site called The Tubes saw turtles, large grouper cod and a
curious sea snake, which undulated through the water towards us and didn't seem to mind being patted by one
of the braver divers. But at first we couldn't make out what the most amazing thing we encountered underwater was.

Snorkelling off the lighthouse I thought the moaning, sighing noise I could hear was the wind blowing across
my snorkel.

Singing
But then my partner and I realised we were hearing the eerie sound louder underwater, and it was humpback
whales singing. Diving under, it sounded so near it gave me chills and I kept expecting to see a gigantic
shape suddenly looming into view. We were sorry to leave our reef island with its white
coral sand, aquamarine lagoon and dawn chorus of ten thousand nesting noddies.
But as we lifted off the grass-strip the pilot said: "There's been a mother and baby humpback out by the
lighthouse, so we'll circle round and look for them." As he dipped low over the island we spotted them
silhouetted below, the baby rolling and playing, with the sun glinting off its back.

BY JANE BARDON