By Jen: Saturday afternoon: Rooney Point on the northern edge of Fraser Island is paradise found.
We anchored as the sun was setting. In the stillness of the new night we began to hear the tender songs of the Humpback whale families.
In these clear waters mothers rest and glide close to the shore with their babies. The moonless night had me spell bound. I sat in the cockpit in the complete darkness. I was terrified and did not know what to expect. With my adrenaline pumping I tried to record the low sustained notes of the tender mothers. (Unfortunately I only managed to record my own heavy breathing by using the wrong phone app.) Glenn grew tired of sitting and waiting and went to bed. I lingered because I knew that a whale was very close. I could feel the boat develop a subtle rocking motion without swell or tide. Suddenly an explosion of breath erupted right beside the ST3. Stale moist air exploded next to me. I smelt the stench of the whale's breath. I couldn't see anything lurched backwards and I think I screamed. I decided that the safest thing to do was to sleep in my life jacket. Glenn reassured me that this wasn't necessary. We didn't sleep well anyway because there were just too many strange whale noises drifting through the hull. Further into the night most of the noises were repeated fin slaps and explosive breaths.
Sunday morning: We were both really tired but elated. We wanted to get ashore.
How can this colour be real?
The classic Fraser Island photo.
ST3 waiting for our return.