Reef and rain forest

Angsana Resort & Spa

According to the stickybeaks (Australian slang for nosy people), Bill Clinton has purchased one of the 69 suites at Angsana in Palm Cove, a half-hour drive north of Cairns. This is only a rumor as far as I could tell, but I did read in a Sydney newspaper that he's a frequent visitor to the upscale resort area. Having just missed Al Gore at Lizard Island, I felt I was on the flip side of political journalism, trailing Democrats who've wandered off the campaign trail from spa to spa.

The trail that leads to Angsana is a palm-lined waterfront esplanade, with small shops and restaurants. It's the only Queensland spa I visited whose setting approximates an urban one, and yet it's the only Palm Cove resort on the beach. My beachfront suite's balcony overlooked a tiny wedding chapel, and from my perch, I saw the sea breezes interfering with the perfectly placed tendrils of a young Japanese bride's coiffure. Her wedding consultants, dressed in uniforms like flight attendants', buzzed around her so the photographer could complete his task.

Angsana, named for a tree that blossoms unexpectedly, is Australia's most Eastern-influenced spa, with modern Asian decor and a Thai staff. It's also the largest spa I visited, with eight treatment rooms, four of which are rooftop. The tented treatment platforms, each hidden in a capacious outdoor rock garden and surrounded by a fence, overlook their own private pools. You can also see the ocean beyond and hear the waves rolling in.

Since I'd already experienced several Australian treatments, at Angsana I selected Thai ones. The tamarind-and-watermelon-juice scrub made a delicious if slightly sticky exfoliant but was gentle enough for Tip, my tall Thai therapist, to rub it between my toes. I rinsed off at an outdoor shower that resembled a rock sculpture.

Next, Tip handed me Thai fisherman's clothes, my outfit for my first Thai massage. (I had never encountered the one-size-fits-all pants before and required some help getting them wrapped.) Once I was dressed and on the table, I was surprised when Tip climbed up, too. She gracefully perched between my calves and padded up the backs of my legs like a cat across a newspaper. Lying facedown, I couldn't picture what contorted shape I was in and where she was exactly. When I turned onto my back, I couldn't resist a peek and pulled away the eye pillow to find Tip dangling off the end of the table, counterbalancing herself by pulling my ankle and pushing her foot into the back of my thigh. If I hadn't been completely and blissfully unwound, I would have laughed.

On my next day, I took a ride along the 4.7-mile Skyrail Rain Forest Cableway over the rain forest and the Barron Gorge. From the gondola, I had a bird's-eye view of the birds. Gliding over a sea of every possible green, I easily spotted the white cockatoos preening in pairs. The canopy is so dense that it's impossible to see the forest floor, which is perhaps for the best. To clear these enormous trees, the cableway is about 100 feet up. When it carried me over the Barron River, I closed my eyes, but only for a moment. When I returned to Angsana, I fell onto my sofa's shiny silk pillows and ordered room service: bug (Australian lobster) ravioli, the perfect comfort food.

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