Lizard Island on the Great Barrier Reef

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The Lizard Island Experience

On The Great Barrier Reef Where ‘Wilderness is Luxury’

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Isolated, miles from nowhere off the coast of Far North Queensland, Lizard Island Lodge sits right on the Great Barrier Reef in a wilderness very little changed from when Captain Cook landed in 1770 looking for a passage out of the maze of coral reefs that had trapped him in these tropical waters for months.

Great Barrier Reef World Heritage Area A few days on Lizard Island, now a terrestrial and marine National Park under World Heritage protection, is redefining my understanding of what is luxury. It’s not only the place I’m fortunate enough to be staying in. It’s how I’ve been lucky enough to be lead, to literally dive into unbelievable outdoors opportunities that staying in a marine National Park offers, even to a man approaching 70, as I am. Lizard Island Lodge The uber-­‐comfortable Lizard Island Lodge villas are simply uncomplicated examples of ‘Queenslander’ beach cottages set under coconut palms. They’re only metres from white sand beaches with easy access to a sprawling homestead-­‐type veranda of the main lodge for al fresco dining or a cocktail at sunset. This is not Architectural Digest with manicured paths and clipped boxus hedges. Flying northeast from Cairns, over coral reefs for almost an hour, the turquoise colours below simply dazzle. After landing on the island’s airstrip, we make our approach the Lodge on a sealed road through typical Australian tropical bush; a bit dry in fact. There’s neither tree-­‐lined drive nor imposing porte-­‐cochère on arrival. There is a warm welcome from very natural and friendly staff over sandwiches and mocktails in the gazebo; and the island landscape is pretty much just as Captain Cook last saw it. The Beach Club Early on in my stay, I go to the Beach Club for equipment to go snorkelling over the coral reefs in front of my villa. I’m fortunate enough to meet a very helpful, sun-­‐tanned young Ross, who, while explaining why a wet suit aids buoyancy when snorkelling, and fitting me out with flippers, mask and snorkel as well, he’s talking of “The Perfect Day”, tomorrow. “Come on the full day trip on our dive-­‐boat to the Cod Hole, one of the best known dive sites in the world. It’s on the northern end of the Great Barrier Reef. The fish are amazing. You’ll never have another day like it,” he’s telling me. “Me? Diving into a Cod Hole at the outer wall of the Great Barrier Reef? That’s for the experts, not I. But why not? I’ve flown a long way to this spot; and after all, I’m right here living on one of the Seven Natural Wonders of the World.” The ‘Big Day’ dawns gloriously! It is a still morning as we head due east towards the outer reef and the Coral Sea without any wind. The sea of so many blues and greens is even calmer. The regulars call it a ‘glass-­‐out’, a rare occurrence where the sea and sky become one. How perfect is this?

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The Cod Hole Conditions at the Cod Hole are tranquil, more than I can say about me, who am about to put his trust in God and jump into the sea! Climbing into our wetsuits for the first of our snorkelling adventures of the day, we see waves from the Pacific Ocean breaking on the reef. Potato cod and Grey Reef sharks swim around the dive-­‐boat to greet us, knowing there’s going to be prawn shells after lunch, but I’m sufficiently trusting to believe Captain Matt when he says they’re not maneaters. I give my rented camera to Scott asking that he capture underwater images of me and some of the fish, for the record! I simply can’t concentrate on both survival, and photography. Jumping off the back of the boat, I bite tightly on the mouthpiece of my snorkel and put my head under the surface of the water, and come face to face with a giant potato cod. Floating there, mesmerised (I’m talking about me, not the potato cod), and amazed that my wetsuit is indeed keeping me afloat. I watch a row of circular-­‐shaped, chocolate-­‐coloured fish with two vertical yellow bands, feeding on the plankton of our mooring rope stretching away into the distance. They may have been angelfish. Scotty comes looking for me to join the others. “Use your flippers; not your hands”, he yells out to me as I strike out across the deep. Finding ‘Nemo’ and Schools of Oriental Sweetlip We are so fortunate to see hundreds of diagonally striped Oriental Sweetlip appearing enmasse from darkened crevices in large schools, and swimming through clear sunlit water, and around towering walls of coral beneath us. It’s only a few weeks a year that these schools of black and white fish with bright yellow fins, and yellow tails with black spots can be seen like this. They create a virtual technicolour wall before our eyes at so many turns! Finding ‘Nemo’ the clown fish was not as easy as locating the magnificent sea anemones on the ocean floor. Sure enough, Nemo floats out of his protective anemone home, winks at me, and smiles for the camera. Iridescent blue sea stars attached to the coral wall add even more spectacular impact to this magical, fast-­‐moving, underwater vista. Discovering the ‘New Luxury’ This is the ‘new luxury’ for me! It is not simply a pleasurable self-­‐indulgent activity as the dictionary suggests. The ‘new luxury’ is having my very being exposed to a rare, totally unexpected, extraordinary, and self-­‐absorbing experience. “What’s moved you lately?” Feeling elated, I surface and climb back on board to dry-­‐off, before settling down on deck to a picnic lunch of fresh prawns, smoked salmon, and cold chicken. The crewmembers are so excited at weather conditions being so perfect, that Captain Matt decides to head north in the direction of New Guinea for a second dive at a rarely accessible spot, ‘No-­‐Name Reef’.

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Afloat, on the Edge of the Great Abyss There’s no mooring this time though. Matt is disembarking us right on the top of the reef wall – and the great abyss beyond. There’s a drop of more than 2,000 metres to the ocean floor on the other side! He informs us that the current will carry us along the wall, and he will be waiting further down the wall to pick us up an hour later. A lookout crew will always be near us in the zodiac. “Go-­‐go-­‐go”, Scotty screams to us while Matt is expertly idling the engines before surging away from the reef full-­‐throttle. How do you belly flop when only half a metre from the water and with long flippers to break your dive? Well, I do, and the crash pushes my snorkel up, filling it with water, and momentarily blinding me. It takes some seconds to gather my wits, empty the water, blow out the snorkel before grabbing the mouthpiece with my teeth, turn over and float facedown – becoming absolutely mesmerized with the peaceful underwater wonderland beneath my gaze. It is otherworldly. I feel the water from the ocean to be colder as the current moves me down along the wall without swimming. Schools of fish dart in and out of shadowy crevices, and brilliant coral formations move with the current. Scott is always on the lookout swimming over or shouting out ‘you a’ right?’ So, a little fearful of colliding with the coral reef, I opt for the security of hooking one arm onto a red flotation ring and let Scott pull me along on a rope for the last part of the adventure. I am nearly 70 after all, and I reckon I’ve been very brave to keep up this far! Meanwhile, back at the lodge, downloading my photos lets me re-­‐live these life-­‐ changing experiences. But it leaves me looking for the next ‘high’. Isn’t that so often the case in this hedonistic world? I ask myself, “Why not take a boat to a deserted beach for a picnic? I might get to capture those amazing turquoise, aquamarine and navy colours of the waters surrounding the island that I seem to be missing.” Jan and Juanita are all for it, and knowing it will be a ‘Michael Photo Opportunity’, they dutifully traipse off to the boutique and buy new picture hats. Beach Picnics Gus from the Beach Club zips us around the other side of the island to the privacy of Hibiscus Beach. He throws the anchor into the sand. We clamber ashore in cool shin-­‐ deep water, and I choose a shady spot up the beach under the casuarinas to drop the eskys and set up the beach umbrellas (well, Gus does all that carrying for us!). More of the smoked salmon, chicken and prawns and a Greek Salad are so easily washed down with the chilled Pinot Gris. The day is so good, we plan to return and spend more time swimming and snorkeling the next day. Little did I sense though that I’d receive a call after dinner asking me to come to the girls’ room? Half the clothes from the boutique, on loan, are laid out on their beds as they fuss, trying to choose which new top or swimsuit they’ll buy to be fashionably dressed for yet one more of the now famous “Michael Photo Shoots”. Just as Queensland Tourism advertises, "Beautiful One day, Perfect the Next", we wake to a perfect day. And enjoy another perfect picnic with a beach just for us. And photos to prove it.

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Time to Kickback For once, news of rolling strikes by overpaid aircraft engineers and the possible cancellation of our Qantas flight back to Sydney doesn’t faze me in the slightest. I can so easily kickback here on Lizard for another day (another week!) We seem to have been very busy, but I have enjoyed lazy periods lying out on my verandah drifting off listening to the breeze gently rustling fronds of the palms. Enjoying the water activities was also as simple as rolling off my day bed and wandering down to the Beach Club. The willing band of smiling young qualified people down there couldn’t do enough for us. I’d hate to think it was only because we were old enough to be their parents! I’m not really a ‘drinks at five’ person, but Ollie behind the Cocktail Bar shakes a mean lemon daiquiri. On other evenings we’ve been tempted to share conversation and a glass of bubbly with international guests before dinner. This is even more special when general manager, Robyn takes time and invites us to the pavilion perched at the high tip of the promontory to watch the sun dip into the sea. A champagne bottle dripping with the condensation from the ice bucket sits there waiting for me to pop the cork and serve the ladies. I haven’t realized just how many chefs there are in the kitchen to cater for guests in just 40 rooms until the night of the BBQ. There they all are, looking so scrubbed-­‐up in their whites and blue butcher’s aprons. Barbecued scallops and Moreton Bay Bugs so much sweeter than lobster tails, all in their shells, are so good with a touch of the char grill taste. And fresh tropical fruits beat the chocolate mud cake for my palate. While we enjoy the BBQ, anglers taking part in the 25th Lizard Island Black Marlin Classic are celebrating the end of their big tournament week at the old Marlin Bar in an original building further down the beach. Juanita has been angling to get on one of the boats for days, and I’m left wondering if she succeeded, judging by the fun and laughter I hear wafting across the waters of Anchor Bay late into the night. ‘Wilderness is Luxury’ It’s a wilderness experience staying on Lizard Island. But it’s a luxury wilderness combining uninterrupted natural beauty with fine dining and refined comforts. There’s no stress. Everything’s included (even that second bottle of Rosé that Juanita had the kitchen put in the Esky for the second picnic!) My initiation into the ‘great wilderness beneath the sea’ at the outer walls of the Great Barrier Reef without lifting a finger is a luxury, a rare one! And, not many of my friends would believe me, but finding myself in a technological wilderness, cut off from a world of television and mobile phones, (and only slow Wi-­‐Fi Internet access in the lounge), also proved to be a luxury. There’s no key to my villa. I feel naked leaving my room without a wallet or mobile phone in my pocket. My time on Lizard Island over these past five days emphasises the importance of my search for ‘the experience of elsewhere’ in my travels. It also provides me with a new understanding of the ‘importance of luxury’ that isn’t necessarily just confined to where I lay my head. Michael, Juanita and Jan – October 2011

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