spider smuggling
A couple of weekends ago, celebrating the fact that I have finally found a job, we went out with a local dive company to spend the weekend diving on the Barrier Reef. Barrier Reef is a slight misnomer as we were in the Palm Island Group - which is technically inner reef rather than the glorious TV special proliferation of life seen in documentaries. It's also been badly damaged by Cyclone Yasi - the drive to Lucinda where we set out from was an ongoing vista of snapped trees. The local trees seemed to have fared better but the imported pines were all chopped off over a certain height or leaning at an alarming angle.
Lucinda boasts the longest pier in the world, something like 5km! You can't go and have an ice-cream or enjoy the funfair though as it's strictly reserved for shuttling coal out to big ships who can't come in any closer to shore due to the shallow depths.
That aside, camping on the island was fun. We were well fed and looked after. On the Saturday we ended up doing 4 dives - too much in my opinion especially as even with sea sick tablets down the hatch I was beginning to feel the effects of the swell and being on a boat all day. We had booked in for a night dive though so we gamely went back in. The dive instructors were buggering about with the gear on the boat for ages though - some issue to sort. And in the interim Phill and I waiting in the gathering gloom.... bobbing and bobbing..... eventually Phill got into the water. Not so much pitch off the boat. Picking up on the murderous mood the instructors gave up on whatever it was that had had them so transfixed and the dive began. Horrors.... The viz was terrible due to the swell, all churned up and the site was shallow enough to still be constantly buffeted up and down. With no horizon to look at - just a wall of grey green mixed with brown, I could see nothing except for Phill's fins. It was hell. And then, under the water, I was sick. Copiously. Doubtless many more fish appeared at that point however I was in no mood to be civil, desperately purging and rinsing my regulator inbetween spasms. Luckily I don't panic as it's probably not the easiest environment in the world to throw up in. Those huge gulps of air you'd like to suck in... not a good idea.
What's an even worse idea however is leaving your bag undone for even a minute. I was convinced it had been done up all the time - ok, most of the time - when I wasn't actually using it. It was a right pain getting changed etc on the island, everything was damp and covered in green (bitey!) ants so I hadn't even been in it much. So it was a great surprise to me when, on reaching the main land the next day and looking in it for a clean T-shirt, I came up holding a not a T-shirt, but a fist full of tarantula. Again, it's lucky I don't panic - or mind spiders - although the noise I made about it may have convinced locals in the next town otherwise.
Lucinda boasts the longest pier in the world, something like 5km! You can't go and have an ice-cream or enjoy the funfair though as it's strictly reserved for shuttling coal out to big ships who can't come in any closer to shore due to the shallow depths.
That aside, camping on the island was fun. We were well fed and looked after. On the Saturday we ended up doing 4 dives - too much in my opinion especially as even with sea sick tablets down the hatch I was beginning to feel the effects of the swell and being on a boat all day. We had booked in for a night dive though so we gamely went back in. The dive instructors were buggering about with the gear on the boat for ages though - some issue to sort. And in the interim Phill and I waiting in the gathering gloom.... bobbing and bobbing..... eventually Phill got into the water. Not so much pitch off the boat. Picking up on the murderous mood the instructors gave up on whatever it was that had had them so transfixed and the dive began. Horrors.... The viz was terrible due to the swell, all churned up and the site was shallow enough to still be constantly buffeted up and down. With no horizon to look at - just a wall of grey green mixed with brown, I could see nothing except for Phill's fins. It was hell. And then, under the water, I was sick. Copiously. Doubtless many more fish appeared at that point however I was in no mood to be civil, desperately purging and rinsing my regulator inbetween spasms. Luckily I don't panic as it's probably not the easiest environment in the world to throw up in. Those huge gulps of air you'd like to suck in... not a good idea.
What's an even worse idea however is leaving your bag undone for even a minute. I was convinced it had been done up all the time - ok, most of the time - when I wasn't actually using it. It was a right pain getting changed etc on the island, everything was damp and covered in green (bitey!) ants so I hadn't even been in it much. So it was a great surprise to me when, on reaching the main land the next day and looking in it for a clean T-shirt, I came up holding a not a T-shirt, but a fist full of tarantula. Again, it's lucky I don't panic - or mind spiders - although the noise I made about it may have convinced locals in the next town otherwise.