28th September: Discovering North Stradbroke Island

Steve, from the agency, has received feedback from Commonwealth Bank. I did well, and they're figuring out what start date to offer me. I should hear in a couple of days. Excellent.

Now I can relax a little, and be a bit more of a tourist than a frustrated jobseeker. I start thinking about places to visit. Looking at the local maps, I ask Paddy about North Stradbroke Island. He's never been there, so I decide I'll represent. I surf the web for a while, searching for ferries and checking timetables. It's damned expensive to take a car across, and there aren't many sailings around lunch time. So I'll go across on the excitingly-named Stradbroke Flyer. That's exactly the kind of high speed, glamorous craft I deserve. It sails from a town called Cleveland, about 40 minutes drive from Brisbane. I consult my Refidex street map, plan a route, glug some water, and I'm on my way. Sure enough, about 40 minutes later, I'm at the Stradbroke Flyer ferry terminal.

For foot passengers taking the fast ferry, the terminal is actually just a small car park and a portakabin. I apologise to The Rig, leave him under the scorching Queensland sun, and head for the shaded sanctuary of the portakabin ticket office. It's a disappointment. It's almost as hot inside, and there's no breeze. I'm glad I don't have to work in here. I buy my ticket, and head back outside to meet the sleek thoroughbred boat, gleaming in the sunshine. When I see it, I can't help chuckling to myself. The Stradbroke Flyer isn't very different from the portakabin ticket office! Still, I have my ticket to ride, and the timetable showed that it takes less than half as long as the car ferry. So I take my place with the other passengers, standing at the top of the gangway, I watch fish swimming four feet below, and listen to the waves lapping gently against the wall. Ten skin-searing minutes later, we're beckoned aboard. The interior is clean, functional, and no-frills. But the engine sounds and feels smooth as we navigate our way along the channel that meanders away from the terminal. After a few minutes of slow passage we reach open waters, the throttles are opened, and the Stradbroke Flyer spreads its wings!

It's still not very fast (or it doesn't feel it), but we do catch and overtake the car ferry that left Cleveland about 30 minutes before us. Arriving at 1 mile jetty in Dunwich, we're released onto the gangway and I'm on North Stradbroke Island (or Straddie, as we locals call it). In the car park (even smaller than the one I left behind on the mainland), a minibus is waiting. Several of us board, sit in the sun-baked minibus while the driver has a quick chat with one of his mates, and then we're on our way. Relief! With doors and windows open, the bus cools down quickly and it's a nice journey. We're on a wide, well surfaced country road that winds along the coast for a few kilometres before heading inland and taking us on a tour through the bush. I gaze out of the window, contemplating the mountain biking possibilities around here. There are occasional small settlements, with holiday accommodation and camping available. A scuba centre, a backpacker hostel, but generally it steel feels fairly unspoiled. But half an hour is long enough on this bus, which is fortunate because that's how long it takes to reach the end of this route. I've arrived in Point Lookout.

Point lookout is a collection of bars, cafes and restaurants, and quite a lot of houses being built. Brisbane money is finding a new home in North Stradbroke Island, it seems. I buy a bottle of water, and drink it as I stroll back down the road to the Stradbroke Hotel. We passed it in the bus as we approached Point Lookout, and it's only a 5 minute walk back.

The hotel has clearly just had a lot of work done - all the walls and metal surfaces look fresh and new. The flower beds outside have young shrubs, recently planted, as small splashes of green in the dark brown soil and bark. Through a small walkway, I reach an open, airy cafe/restaurant on my left, and an equally open and airy bar on the right. Both of them have fantastic views of the Pacific. This is quite a place! I have a beer and a sandwich in the bar and watch some tv, and decide this would be a good place to watch the Aussie Rules Grand Final on Sunday. I chat to the barman, and we talk about the drink driving limits. They generally say 2 drinks in the first hour, and then one drink an hour after that. Or something along those lines. I'm not driving anyway, so it doesn't really matter.

I leave the bar, walk through the paved area outside, with people eating and drinking at the outdoor tables. Secluded from the road, peaceful, and overlooking the ocean, it's a fantastic setting to have a meal (the food looks really good) and a drink. I'll have to look this place up on the internet. But right now, I walk across the gravel car park, down the steps, turn right and along the path through the trees, and emerge onto Cylinder Beach.

It's a sight to see! Bright white sand, with hardly anybody around. To my left, there's a large lagoon which must have been left behind by the sea, although there's no sign that the sea has reached this far. The sand is completely dry, and squeaks underfoot. Obviously I have to try the water, and tiny fish flee in all directions as I paddle along the edge. The water is easily as warm as a bath. But it's too deep for me to walk across the middle - I'm wearing cargo shorts but I don't fancy soaking them in sea water when, ahead of me, I have a bus ride followed by a ferry ride followed by a car journey. So I skirt the edge of the lagoon and head out, away from the trees on my right, and towards the ocean on my left. The further I walk, the more I can see the rest of the beach, and it's enormous. It would probably take 30 minutes to walk its length, but I don't bother. It's fine where I am, and I'm kicking myself for not bringing any swimming gear. Just along to my right, there's a section of beach where people are swimming, between flags, watched by a couple of lifeguards. The rest of this enormous, white, sundrenched beach is almost deserted. I'm amazed Paddy and Vicky haven't been here. I'll have to bring them sometime. I paddle a bit more, stroll around a while, but there's only so much time I can spend doing nothing on a beach (about 20 minutes I think). So I make my way back to the Stradbroke Hotel, out of the main entrance, and across the road. Less than a minute later, the bus arrives, and I'm heading back to 1 mile jetty and the Stradbroke Flyer.

There seem to be a lot of people waiting for the ferry, but it swallows us all up easily. It's a misleading boat, that's for sure. Sitting in the open section at the back, a large Aussie guy and his girlfriend are sitting chatting. He reaches into his esky and pulls out a bottle of beer. It's his last one, and he's clearly looking forward to it. A quick rummage in his pockets for his bottle opener, and his brow furrows into a puzzled frown. He rummages some more. This isn't good. He rummages in his bag. His frown is turning to dismay. Eventually, his girlfriend tells him to forget it - maybe it's lost or maybe he can find it later. He looks crestfallen. Reaching into my pocket, I grab my keys - my keyring is a bottle opener.

"You need a bottle opener?" I ask. His face looks up and then lights up.
"Yeah. Do you have one?"
Noncholantly I lob the keys to him.
"Thanks mate." He opens his bottle and lobs the keys back to me.
"You must be a pommie." he says.
"Yep." I confirm.
"Man after my own heart."

That's high praise indeed from an Aussie to a Pom, and his girlfriend looks a bit surprised. Understandable I suppose. She's just sat right next to a bonding experience that she could witness but she'll never understand.

The ferry arrives back at the mainland just as dusk is falling. The sky is clear, and darkening from dark red to purple, with just a few wispy clouds on the horizon. I return to The Rig, and we share a perfect drive through the cool evening air, back to Hawthorne. Back at the house, I bore Paddy & Vicky with stories of how great Cylinder Beach is, and how we have to go. They feed me some food to shut me up, and we watch tv. We have some of the fancy chocolate that I bought on a recent visit to New Farm Deli. When I go to bed, I'm still thinking about Cylinder Beach, and how I'd have been a volunteer lifeguard there if only I'd got a job in Brisbane instead of Sydney. But I'll definitely be back there. Probably in the next couple of days.