sea turtles, lorikeets and bats snorkel under hot air balloon
“… I wish that I hadn’t had the curry last night,” I told Nazy as I headed toward the head.
“I couldn’t sleep last night, Dan,” Nazy replied, “I kept thinking about those loud lorikeets that were roosting next door. And, aren’t you afraid of the jellyfish?”
“I’m sure we don’t have to worry about jellyfish,” I replied. “They wouldn’t take us snorkeling into jellyfish territory.” (“At least not fatal jellyfish territory,” I thought.)
“That’s easy for you to say, Dan. I’ve been stung by jellyfish in Key Largo, The Mediterranean off the coast of Italy and on the Pacific Coast of Costa Rica.”
“Don’t worry.” I replied, confidently but inaccurately.
Nazy asked about the jellyfish as soon as we got onto the boat.
“… yes, there are a lot of them — and they are very dangerous,” Simon, the divemaster, replied. Note: Simon was from Austria, hardly famous as a source of competent snorkel divers.
Nazy gasped.
“… that’s why everyone has to wear a stinger suit. Make sure everything is covered. Wear the gloves.”
As the catamaran headed to the reef, Nazy and I examined and eventually climbed into the stinger suits — which were not exactly flattering. (I felt like I was wearing a tight burka.)
We arrived at a cay that had a small beach for divers (and a much larger one that was a bird sanctuary for the, well, birds.) Firmly ensconced in our stinger suits, we struggled into our fins and facemarks. Then we headed out with Karin, who was from Australia.
We snorkeled with the group until my snorkel began to leak. I got a replacement, but getting the mask firmly — i.e. watertight — on my head while in the water proved problematic. Luckily, it was lunch time, so we swam to the boat. After lunch, we moved to the outer reef for another snorkeling trip. We saw (surprise!) lots of fish and a sea turtle. The reef looked healthy to us.
Simon said that although there had been two bleaching years (2016 and 2017) recently, the reef always has some dying parts and some living parts. They are also keeping an eye on all kinds of threats, for example, the Crown of Thorns starfish that eats coral very quickly.
That evening, Nazy and I listened to the shrieking of the lorikeets while watching the bats, roused from their roosts, heading out on insect patrol. We walked by a
“…. Hot Air Balloon ride salesman, Nazy!” I exclaimed.
“Where’s the restaurant?” Nazy replied, clearly as excited as me.
“Let’s just check this out,” I persisted.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
The sales person was very enthusiastic and convincing. Even Nazy was convinced. It wasn’t until after payment had been made that ‘someone’ asked about departure time….
“ … 4:00AM?!” Nazy gasped.
“You have to be there to take-off simultaneously with sunrise,” the salesperson explained.
“Is the sun up at 4:00AM?” Nazy asked.
“No, but the balloons aren’t here. We have to drive..”
“Can you do an afternoon trip?” Nazy asked.
“It’s too hot then.”
“We’ll be fine.” I concluded.
“It will probably be easier to just stay awake rather than trying to go the sleep and wake up for a 4:00AM pickup.” Nazy thought.
(But she would have missed this!)
Transport arrived at the Abbott Boutique Hotel at 4:05AM. Nazy, who slept most of the way to the lift-off site, woke up in time to see our not only our balloon, which was 450,000 cubic meters, but two others being inflated. We also had..
“ .. a spectacular view of Venus.” I noted.
The sales person had promised a ‘magnificent view’ of the sunrise; he wasn’t wrong. Before takeoff we listened to the safety spiel:
“… don’t smoke, don’t eat, don’t hang outside, don’t pull on my ropes and brace when we land because we always bounce a bit…”
“Where’s the nearest EXIT?” I thought, remembering that the nearest exit may be behind me. (In this case, the only exit was below me.)
The flight, like all balloon flights was turbulence-free. We were the first balloon to leave, departing just before the sun rose. We drifted and soared, climbing to 4500 feet and descending to 100 feet. We watched kangaroos hopping around, waved at children, checked out other balloons and marveled at the beauty of the sunrise over Queensland, Australia.
We had a traditional Champagne Breakfast after a safe landing. Nazy and I, along with all the other passengers, helped deflate, roll-up and stow the balloon…
“… it’s about time to retire this balloon,” the pilot said. “It’s getting old and may develop some rips.”
“That’s comforting,” I thought. “Is he joking?” I asked a member of the crew.
“No, this one has flown about 1000 hours. We check them every 100 hours, but 1000 hours is about the…”
“I’m glad we’re on the ground.” I thought. “Thanks,” I said.
When we got back to the hotel, Nazy and I both took a long nap.
When we woke, Nazy asked about the next day’s plans.
“We’re going to the Daintree rain forest and Cape Tribulation.”
“Tribulation?” Nazy asked. “What time do we have to be ready?”
“It’s much later than 4:00AM.” I replied, dodging the point of her question.
“How much later?” Nazy persisted.
“6:30. AM.” I concluded. “It’s a long drive.”
“Dan..”
“But we’re flying to Ayers Rock the next day.” I noted, electing to not mention the 6:25AM flight time.
More on Daintree, the crocodiles, the cassowary and the flight to the middle of nowhere in the next issue of The Weekly Letter. In the interim, some more photos from this phase of the holiday.
After the Balloon Landing