Transformation: The grip of Oz

“It’s pretty,” I said, still shouting, still temporarily mindless. What I meant to say was that it was probably the most lovely thing I’d ever laid eyes on, but I just said, “It’s pretty,” and followed up with an illuminating “Really pretty.”

The next day, Ty and I transferred to Abel Point marina, in Airlie Beach on the mainland, and climbed aboard the Coral Trekker to set sail. As much as I had enjoyed the relaxed luxury of the Beach Club, the best way to experience the Whitsundays is to be out among them, following the same wind that Cook felt brush his face; pushing through the same waters that rushed beneath Cook’s ship.

Ten minutes out of Airlie Beach harbor, the ship was riding at full tilt, with nine passengers aboard and four crew. I leaned over the rail and watched the ship slice into the waves.

Over the next few days, we found ourselves exploring, diving and even playing “footie” (Australian for rugby) on and around many of the Whitsundays. Because of their national park status, the islands, even those that are inhabited, remain pristine. Every day aboard the Coral Trekker was like standing on the edge of a faultless, undefiled world, soaking up the nuances of the planet as it was meant to be. Every night the stars came out in astonishing array, sprays of light so numerous I felt I had traveled to a different planet. Each island stop was its own adventure. We dove and snorkeled many of the quiet coves sheltered off Hayman and Hook islands, encountering an unbelievable array of fish life and lush hard corals; octopus and rays and tiny purple anthias.

Then there was life on board, which is where I met Mac. Mac was 12. He had a wealth of knowledge, not all of it accurate and most of it learned from TV. He was traveling with his parents, his older sister Ani and a family friend named Ben. Mac was funny, spontaneous and told terrible jokes. At one point I looked up and met my husband’s delighted gaze and realized I was actually laughing. I think I’d stopped laughing some time ago. Thus the reason for this trip. I felt a bit like a small girl who’d been looking at a roomful of new toys, and now, suddenly, I was being allowed to play.

Ty Sawyer / Islands Magazine

When the weather turned rough, I could not help but stand on deck with the wind blowing through my hair and the sea surging up while those with more sense went below. It was dawning on me that there was more to life than just running around like a maniac. On that same day we were treated to the spectacle of humpback whales breaching not far from the ship. If you have never seen a whale breach, it is impossible for me to describe the thrill of seeing such an enormous creature effortlessly launch itself out of the ocean. My heart stopped for a moment each time. On the deck of the Coral Trekker, where there were no phones, no TVs, no BlackBerries, nothing to distract me from the inexorable pulse of life all around me, I began to believe that I could live my life differently, more grateful and graceful and less hurried. The spell of Oz was beginning to swirl about me.

We spent our last day on board in the protected cove of Nara Inlet off Hook Island. Taking a tender to shore, we hiked up a well-worn path to see Aboriginal cave paintings and a waterfall that flowed out of the rain forest and down the side of one of the cliffs overlooking the inlet. Throughout the islands, there is a casual excess of beauty. Standing on the edge of almost any path, you can look out and see 15 different shades of blue rising up from the sea to the sky. At one point along our hike, we all stopped and stared down into the inlet. No one spoke for a few minutes — we didn’t have to. As we walked farther, the waterfall formed pools that glittered in the sunlight, inviting anyone spirited enough to jump in and swim. The water was icy cold, and Nigel, the Coral Trekker’s divemaster from New Zealand, was the first to brave it. Mac and Ani joined him. About the time Mac began to turn blue, we decided to continue on our hike. Just up the path from the pools, we discovered thousands of butterflies crowding the trees. Light filtered through the leaves, and everywhere we looked butterflies were dancing from branch to branch.

On the way back down the path, Ty, who’d been to Australia before, stopped the group and pointed to a green ants’ nest attached to some bushes. These half-inch ants were immersed in slicing and “gluing” leaves for their arboreal enclave. “You should lick their bums,” he said. “It’s tasty.”

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