The Cattle Ranch!!!

From Airlie we headed to a rural place called Kroombit the home to a large cattle ranch full of bugs, horses, goats, and over enthuastic Aussie farmers! The trip down was an experience in itself thanks to our bus driver named Gweedo and only the three of us likely lads and a Scot named Dave!

At each courtesy stop we undertook in some ‘extreme’ events…1st up was the boomerang catch! Sounds simple but when there are 4 feisty lads all competing to catch one boomerang at the same time it turns into something very similar to American football minus the padding and the sportsmanship!

Next up was lawn bowls, a sport renowned for the elderly, even older than our old dears, however us four stooges brought a new dimension to the lawn! Paired up, me and Dave vs the formidable pairing of Hubbsy and McEvoy the fierce competition was underway! After some classic bowling the unexpected victors of myself and Dave took the other two to the cleaners winning 12 points to 4!
Anyway, we arrived at the cattle ranch at around 6pm, perfect timing for a couple of beers before dinner! That night we undertook in some ranch activities including cracking the whip where the end of it breaks the sound barrier releasing a small sonic boom…sounds exciting but after our coordination was comprised by the Aussie lagers it ended in a fair bit of pain when we whipped ourselves time after time!

The mechanical bull was next on the list of activities. After riding these bulls back in England at various events and succumbing to zero pain we thought nothing of this...however after the demonstration by one of the ranch girls we immediately regretted signing up to this event due to its violent nature in the groinal region! After each man was rejected of the back of the bull in new worlds of pain our time had come to mount this beast…we, like everyone else, spent little time on this however Baz came out victorious with an impressive 20 second stint!
Later that night whilst myself and Hubbsy we in bed (not together!), we got anxiously awoken by Baz. It had turned out, much to our amusement that an ‘acquaintance’ of Baz’s, a female Dutch dentist, had been bitten by something rather painful and poisonous. We got up to help out the worried party and assured her she was ok with zero confidence in our own judgement. The next day it turned out she had been bitten by a centipede which can cause ‘some’ discomfort!

The previous day one of the farmers was excited at the prospect of doing something different with a bus of lads…death was mentioned due to the lack of female presence!
So the morning had arrived and the same chap turned up and asked again if we wanted to kill something…being lads we naturally said yes! So we headed off in his jeep to the clay pigeon range and some shot-gun fun…a warm up for what was to come! We had 5 clays each with Hubbs shooting 2 out of 5 clays and myself and Baz drawing on 4 out of 5 clays! Impressive!
After being informed that the farm was out of goat meat we were 99% sure that a goat was going to die, but how we were completely unaware! Unlike in the UK these ranches don’t have the same humane ways to kill their animals. Dach pulled the short straw, and was handed a very old .22calibre rifle very prone to blocking.
So…the time had come and nothing could have prepared us for what was about to unfold in the pen (of death). Hubbs and Baz stood outside the pen whilst Dach readied the rifle and got it into position whilst the farmer held the unsuspecting goat down by the horn.
It must be made clear at this stage that none of us had been made aware of a goats thickened skull…
So the shot was released and much to our amazement the goat did not die, instead Dach was then instructed to reload and take a second shot and to avoid the flailing hand of the farmer as he struggled to hold the goat in place…still this time the poor goat was not at rest…I briefly turned round to see Hubbs and Dave struggling to watch…I unfortunately didn’t have that privilege and Baz remained poker-faced throughout, camcorder trained firmly on the assassination!
The second shot was fired and once again the goat survived, by this time the gun was blocked so the farmer ended it all in a very old school way, Swiss Army Knife!
All a bit shocked about what had just happened we skinned and gutted the goat which seemed a lot more soothing!
A very brutal experience however we were all happy to have witnessed and unfortunately undertake in a necessary way of life in the Australian outback!

Before we left the ranch to make our way to Hervey Bay one more challenge awaited us ‘the cattle prod’! The prod is used to ‘manoeuvre’ the cattle by sending 11,000volts through them. It has no current so cant kill you however as expected provides a kick with it! One by one and not really sure whether the farmers were being serious we stood forth arms out and took the voltage! Least to say it left us with a bit of a tingle!
All in all a very good experience was had at the ranch and Fraser Island now awaited us!

Airlie Beach & Whitsunday sailing

After the brief stopover at the tranquil hideaway of Magnetic Island, the fast-paced party town of Airlie Beach hit us like a figurative refreshing lime to the head. The ‘Gateway to the Whitsundays’ proved a pleasant spot to liberate some animalistic drinking and general madness. We stayed at Beaches Hostel right on the main strip of bars and clubs, and enjoyed a healthy night of moderate beverages and socialising.
We luckily managed to select the correct beds in our all-male 8-man dorm, as during the night, one Aussie guy on the bottom bunk got a bit of a ‘splash’ due to his mate in the bunk above being involved in a one-drink-too-many/one-toilet-break-too-little battle. Needless to say we were relieved and amused…

The following morning brought our imminent departure aboard our home for the subsequent few days – the Broomstick. We were met by our crew of three, two thirds ex-pats, Skipper Rob, originally from Portsmouth and 21 year old Ross from Bournemouth. Leaving the marina with passengers totalling approx 90% male, we passed through torrential tropical rain – its fair to say, we began to think we had selected the wrong day and boat to sail on. But we soon got into the hang of things and helped out with raising the sails and enjoying the fresh, 30kt breeze moving us along towards Hook Island. Before long we donned our fetching, lycra stinger suits and went snorkelling amongst the island coral, desperately in search of the elusive Nemo. We finished the day anchoring in Narra Inlet for the night and being served up some amazing chicken dish cooked up by the crew which was then washed down by the wonderful Goon. As the bag emptied, our heads got heavier and we soon located our cabin and bunks.

We all woke the next morning with heavy heads and before long we had set sail and had the cobwebs blown out. But before long the chief Goon consumer, Dach began to sway as a result of the mixture of the goon and the winds getting up, he struggled to find his sea legs. The plan was to head towards Turtle Cove and then Whitehaven Beach (2nd best beach in the world). Unfortunately the wind was coming straight from that direction and try as we might, we couldn’t manage that feat without engine power and the Broomstick was having problems giving us that. This resulted in a snorkel sesh while the Skipper tried to fix the engine. This proved successful and we were soon full power ahead for Turtle Cove. We enjoyed a nice lunch on deck only being disturbed by curious turtles coming up for a nosey.
Following this we headed ashore for our trek to Whitehaven. Unfortunately, due to the time of day – high tide – we didn’t really get the full appreciation of the beach with the amazing sands (95% silica) mostly covered by the blue waters. We still had fun on the white sand, played footy, cricket and generally posing for the ideal paradise picture.
A great sail followed as the winds got up with clear blue skies as we boosted back to our evening stop, keeled over with out legs hanging over the edge. That night was a chilled affair as steak barbequed on the back of the boat was on the menu and we chilled on deck watched the stars and sipping the remaining goon. Ross then decided to treat us likely lads and took the tender (mini speedboat) for a spin out into the dark waters while we chilled and enjoy the peace, tranquillity, silence, odd bit of banter and of course goon!!

The following day was a fairly straight sail back to the marina with everyone tired from the days at sea. A fresh sail topped off a great trip out to the Whitsundays and Hubbs and Dach bought ‘Crew’ shirts to wear and impress the ladies on shore… didn’t happen obviously!!

The following day was Australia Day – some sort of ‘cheap’ version of St Patrick’s Day where everyone enjoys a few Aussie beers, all day long!! There was some debate whether or not to wear English rugby shirts but the thought of ending the night in A&E didn’t really appeal to any of us, so we donned our yellows and greens and ‘tattooed’ the Southern Cross of the Aussie flag on our arms and cheeks!! Major lash ensued and we did our best to embrace the craziness of the night, meeting as many Sheila’s as possible!! The remainder of the time in Airlie Beach was spent at the conveniently located lagoon, basking in the sun and our hangovers, playing the odd game of catch in the pool.

The Game of Life

The Game Of Life, once initiated into the game of life you cannot leave. A heavy burden to carry to the grave.

The game is beautifully simple. You cannot use the word MINE in any context……ever again around people who are playing the game. Should you say said word, you are to drop and push out 10 of your finest press ups, regardless of where you are, how your dressed, who your with, no one cares, all that matters is that you get yourself down and get pressing.

Sounds simple?.....so whos beer is that? Oh that’s mine…….balls. drop, Where do you find gold?….banter.

This is an unbelievable conversation starter and even better at ruining someones chances, if your trying to look cool in a bar, forget about it. We have welcomed many a new person into the inaugural game, and here are just a few pictures to keep you amused.

Were all getting pretty handy at the game and finding it hard to get each other. It wasn’t always this way, personnel favourites include Baz in the bank, Dach on the boat and Hubbs on the Toilet. Priceless.

Oh and writing this entry has cost me 20 push ups after Dach asked me to read it out, Joker.

Go forth and M.I.N.E, just don’t sing along to Guns N Roses. Costly.

Magnetic Island

The bus couldn’t arrive quick enough from Tully, jokes aside we all said a deep and meaningful prayer to the big man in the sky for sending the bus on time! Once onboard we quickly settled into the rhythm of telling everyone around us about the experience, regardless if they were asleep. Harriet and Pez soon took up the bait and before long we were rattling away to them for the whole journey. Poor soles.

We arrived in Townsville several hours later and had a short wait for the Ferry over to Magnetic Island. The ride over took just under an hour and we were all warned of the easy going locals who rushed for no one, perfect for Hubbs and his slow walking. Sure enough once on dry land we were waiting for the bus driver to sort himself out, he seemed to know an infinite amount of people to talk to and was enjoying the strained faces of all the travellers on his bus with no air conditioning in the heat of the day. The bus zig zagged across the island and we eventually ended up at Base the only hostel on the island.

After getting into our rooms, we headed down to the bar, only to be greeted by this view.

Slightly better than the Red Lion back home. Unfortunately we missed super and were forced to go foodless for the first time on the travels…..eating’s cheating anyway.

Day two on the island and it was time to explore. First stop the nudist beach. Local informants had told us that it was frequented by the travelling Swedes and other fine females. Needless to say we arrived after a considerable hike to find one old chap strolling around in the tod. Standard. We got involved with the tan line reductions, and sure enough we were amusing ourselves with the kayakers who had rented from the local beach and been told to check out the beach we were on as it was ‘beautiful’. Waiting until they had drifted into shore before rolling over and giving them a wave and offering to help them get ashore. Surprisingly no one set foot on the beach that day.

The evening was pretty chilled with a couple of games of pool and the obligatory all you can eat BBQ. It goes with out saying that we slept in after such a feed and managed to get up in time to get the snorkels out for the day. Once again after donning the lycra suits we hit the water, pretty average snorkelling ensued due to the waves and strong wind.

We headed off to tea, slightly different to being back in Leeds dodging gang warfare and street crime we headed through the jungle to get our Pizza, which was by all accounts exceptional. A stop off at the bottle shop ensured we had the supplies to get us through the night, ie. Couple of boxes of Goon. PUB AMMO, Goon is the name used for disgustingly cheap wine that comes in boxes, the bladder can be doubled up as a pillow if drunk and blown up, aboriginal tramps apparently used this first and in native tongue goon means pillow. That should save a tie breaker question sometime in your lives.

The walk back was even more entertaining with the goon and we settled down on the beach to watch the sun set and get tucked into the ‘wine’. As Dach tagged onto the only ‘fitty’ on the island, the others quickly became bored of watching the Russian crash and burn so Hubbs and Baz felt that skinny dipping was in order to fuel their boredom. Dach soon realised that the night was not to be and soon joined in the ‘Baywatch’ style sea assault, minus the stinger suit in the Irkandji enriched waters – cue the backpacker paparazzi!!! We lived to tell the tale.

We awoke with thick heads and 3 minutes to pack……we missed the bus…….…and the next one, we did manage to bring our Whitsundays trip forward and we did finally manage to get the bus and ferry. Onwards to Airlie Beach.