Tag 47: He has a bright yellow rubber boat

15.08.2016

The morning today doesn't really motivate us to get up, but we have booked a boat tour to the world-famous and highly praised Whitsunday Islands, so we have no choice but to open our eyes. Unfortunately, what we see confirms our worst fears, which arose during the night due to splashing on the car roof. It's raining - and that doesn't go well with a boat trip to Caribbean-like beaches and the idea of turquoise blue water at all.

Optimistic as we are - well, I'm not at all, but since we don't want to lose sixty dollars in advance payment, we both have to be, we go to the harbor. The blue stripes on the coast, which we expected to see on the horizon, unfortunately turn out to be a mirage and it's raining even more here. The only silver lining: students don't have to pay for wetsuits - which is a good thing, because as it will turn out, we will need them desperately.

I still don't really understand what we booked, as the offers from the different companies are somehow the same and yet different. It is only when we climb aboard the boat that we realize what we have gotten ourselves into. Climbing is definitely the right word in this case, as it is difficult to board the ordered rubber boat in this rough sea.

However, our doubts quickly dissipate as Captain Tim starts four engines for the 20-person boat. It turns out that today we have primarily booked an adrenaline rush and the sandy beaches are just an added bonus. We are given very sparse "safety precautions" - which basically just means that we should hold on tight. A short time later, I almost unintentionally leave the boat, as instinctively I clap my hands after passing the first waves at a considerable speed.

Skipper Sam apparently has a sense for adventure seekers (or simply addresses the only non-Asian guests on board) and invites me to sit on the edge of the boat, holding onto a loop. I can feel that the free wetsuit is starting to pay off.

Just before we reach the first bay, I notice that Gudi's face is turning blue. This may be due to the fact that she was honored with braving the freezing cold wind in a wet wetsuit, but she may also just feel in solidarity with the Icelander Knut sitting next to her. I have named her seat neighbor after the famous polar bear of the Berlin Zoo, as he obviously has the same sensitivity to cold (namely none) in my eyes. While we all shiver bundled up against the cold, he sits there casually and looks like a Viking (which he proves to us with his slightly greasy, naked, white upper body).

When we arrive at the reef, Gudi decides to stay outside and keep watch, while I once again courageously dive into the waves. This time, I avoid facing the threat of drowning, but some Asians seem to be close to reaching the light at the end of the tunnel. In short, this means: kickboard, life jacket, and swimming instructor (which doesn't prevent hysterical thrashing). This fact, and probably also the rough sea, unfortunately prevents any great snapshots for my mental image.

Our further excursion takes us to the world-famous Whitehaven Beach, which is known for its spectacular white sand beach, which harmoniously merges with the turquoise blue water. The sand at this place is so fine that it can even be used to manufacture camera lenses. Removing it from the island is strictly prohibited, but since I still managed to unintentionally bring sand with me or on my clothes, I remain more than optimistic.[1]

After this unique experience, we continue to the last stop of the tour for now. At the next beach, also known as the island of seagull massacres, we are glad that we only have to defend our own packed lunch against the flying rats of the sea and not the ridiculously expensive buffet. We survive this experience, like so many others on this journey, and now we are heading back home at full speed (up to 90 km/h) in heavy rain. Initially protected from too rough waves in the bay, the captain decides to have fun by letting the rain whip into our faces at a much too high speed. After some time, I can only determine by tasting the salt content whether the liquid on my face is rain, saltwater, or tears. One thing is certain: every pore is open, every dead skin cell is removed, and any fear of too aggressive speedboat maneuvers is definitely nurtured.

In hopeful anticipation of soon reaching the mainland, we traverse a small sea passage and realize that some waves surrounding our boat suddenly rise to its height. This challenges not only the navigator of our little cutter, but also our stomachs and eardrums. The former are already used to the worst from various flights, while the latter are faced with the task of enduring the screaming of Asian fellow passengers without tearing apart.

The glorious highlight of the day is the attack of an - obviously prehistoric monster - which emerges from the depths of the sea just in front of us and threatens to devour the boat with its entire crew. Only when I count on a biblical end (à la Jonah and the whale), the liver donor realizes that his favorite food should be more environmentally friendly and we are spared. In retrospect, I look at the panic-induced photos and realize that the danger was probably calculable from the beginning, as the whale was further away than I thought. Nevertheless, we are fortunate to have the fascinating opportunity to observe these magnificent creatures of our planet and once again experience on this journey what it means to be exposed to nature and its laws.

Gudi's glorious laws:

Always wear a hat when you go out to sea!

What a lame law. But Gudi - plagued for years with chronic earaches - of course knows about all the dangers of the sea and "persuades" me to wear a hat. In the end, I don't really care if or what covers my bald head (which will be completely bald soon), while Gudi embarks on a panicked ride full of concern for our hats, initially unaware of the speed of the boat.

[1] Now, one day later, I checked my ears and actually found sand worth several thousand dollars.