Gillian is petrified. In front of her is the deadly foe that she has somehow worked up to the levels of Voldemort in Harry Potter. “It’s no good,” she cries with a petrified authority. “We’re going to have to go back.”
We have just spent the best part of an hour and a half walking round the near-circular loop of Rainbow Gorge. As with just about everything else on World Heritage-listed Fraser Island, the walking track snakes through scenes of amazing natural beauty. From the multi-coloured rocks, to the wild, windswept bluffs, it is a treat from start to finish. That Rainbow Gorge isn’t even one of Fraser’s most hyped attractions says it all. Anywhere else, it would be trumpeted as the best thing ever by all the tourist brochures. Here, there’s just too much competition and gets put in the “while you’re there, you might also like to see…” bracket.
We are right by the end of the route, just before it branches out to the beach again. Unfortunately, we have company, and it’s dingo-shaped. Fraser is home to the purest breed of dingo remaining in Australia, and great lengths are taken to both protect them and stop them bothering tourists with night time camp raids.
Gillian, who is one of the two designated drivers in our hastily cobbled together expedition group, has spent a little too long reading about Lindy Chamberlain. She is adamant that she would prefer to walk backwards in fear for 90 minutes than just wait for it to go away. To do this would seriously mess up the schedule, which in these parts is dependent on the tides. If we’re not at Indian Head at the top of the island by a certain time, then the sea will envelope the beach and leave us stranded.
It’s time to do what Jack Bauer would do. Well, OK, in the circumstances, Jack would probably whip out a gun and shoot down everything in sight, dog or human, whilst screaming: “You’ve just gotta trust me on this one!” but let’s not be pedantic. The advice given in the pre-jaunt pep talk is to slowly walk forward, arms across chest until the dingo goes away.
Despite Gillian’s yelps from behind, the dingo doesn’t really fancy taking on three people way bigger than him, and he soon scuttles off into the rainforest that grows straight out of the world’s largest sand island.
And this is part of the joy of doing Fraser the adventurous way – you never quite know what’s going to happen, and you have to deal with it as it comes. In the last few years, things have got a lot, lot easier. Resorts have sprung up for those who don’t fancy camping, complete with showers and restaurants, but it’s far more fun doing it the old-fashioned way.
This generally involves rocking up to either Hervey Bay or Rainbow Beach on the mainland, being put together with a band of fellow explorers, and then being sent over to the island in a 4WD loaded with supplies. That means lots of things that sound infinitely more exciting than they are in practice, such as putting up tents in the dark, cooking pasta for ten on a tiny camp stove and having your morning bath in freezing cold lakes.
It also involves driving along immensely tricky, narrow, dirt tracks. There’s a good reason why only 4WDs are allowed on the island, and it takes considerable driving skill to get over the bumps, through the holes and over the deep sand without getting bogged down. Consequently, one of the islands great sights is watching grumbling campers heaving away at the back of the van while the whirring tyres spit sand in their face.
This experience is balanced out wonderfully, however, by the joys of driving down the main highway. Ninety Mile Beach is perhaps the most sensational drive in Australia, even if it’s not actually 90 miles long. To the left, you have the sand dunes and the lush greenery of the trees, and to the right it’s the shark-infested swells of the buffeting ocean. In front, you just have tyre tracks and a horizon’s worth of sand to full steam ahead along.
It’s utterly exhilarating, even when you have to slow down due to complaints at the back or rogue streams blocking the path, and the thrill carries through long into the night, out in the open around a small fire.
In the morning, we wake just before dawn, and scramble beyond the Champagne Pools to the top of Indian Head. To the right, there is the whole island and that magnificent stretch of beach, but it’s what’s slowly appearing in front that counts. If there’s a more magical rewarding in the world, then I’m happy to rough it a little more to see it.
Approximately four million companies offer 4WD trips to Fraser Island, and it’s a case of shopping around a little to get the package that suits you and your level of adventurousness best. Many of the deals are aimed squarely at the foreign backpacker market, but some such as Aussie Trax offer smaller vehicles and private hire. There are also the options of staying at the island’s main resort and going on tour trucks rather than driving yourself.
This article was originally written for Ninemsn.
Copyright David Whitley
