Tag: great barrier reef

Michaelmas Cay

Michaelmas Cay can be found just off the coast of Cairns, Australia. It forms part of the Michaelmas Reef in the much larger Great Barrier Reef of which I am sure you have heard of. When I think of paradise I often think of this place in particular. In all of my travels I am yet to find a whiter sand and a bluer sea. I guess I will have to keep trying!

Our time in Cairns was much like a love story. Everything felt so perfect. From the hotel you could see the man made lagoon in which you could relax and cool off from the humidity of the day. Beyond that there was the Coral Sea with all its beauty and danger. The beauty, again I’m sure, does not need explaining. But the danger, well, you wouldn’t like to go swimming in it. The mangroves of the surrounding marshes are the perfect habitat for Australia’s creatures. They buffer the waves of the sea and make it a safer place to live. The roots of the mangroves arc and twist their way into the waters and from the surface look like nests. A perfect hiding place for the animals that call it home. Crocodiles and jellyfish come and go easily between the sea and marshes and swimming in both is strictly prohibited. Hence the man-made lagoon. I did not have to be told twice!

On one particular trip we jumped aboard a catamaran, ‘Ocean Spirit Cruise’, to be exact and headed out into the unknown. The water we were gliding on was the deepest blue I’ve ever seen and yet so light in the sun that it felt only metres deep. I have often tried to explain the colour to people and fall short, but just now, it has hit me. The water was like a sapphire. A sapphire that had caught the light. Glistening and all so encapsulating. Looking down into the water, my stomach dropped as I saw a white plastic bag floating in the waters. We were then alerted by the captain to all the jellyfish that were alongside us in the waves. Ah, so not plastic, just a terrifying floating death machine. Okie dokie. There were hundreds of them. Not huge in size, but large in numbers. Did I really want to go into the water today?

The wind whipped my hair around my face as the sun rose in the sky and I thought about our destination. A small sandy island from which to swim. Wetsuits and flippers on, we stepped from the sand into the shallow waters. The scene was crystal clear as we swam over the white sands of the seabed. Ahead there were small schools of fish. Shaped like Angel fish and pearlescent my eye was drawn to their beauty until their flittish nature made them dart away. I remember swimming lazily in the cool waters long enough that I wondered how far I had drifted. Righting myself, I gazed around to find myself only 30 metres or so from the island. The water hadn’t got much deeper and yet a turtle found it necessary to check out the commotion. He was fast. Much faster than I and once I spotted a jellyfish I knew it was time to take a breather. Swimming back to the shore was very lazy indeed and when I felt the seabed brush against my stomach I realised it was shallow enough to stand. 

On the beach, the sand was as cool to the touch as the sea was. The wind was carrying away the heat of the day and I wondered what my face would look like later on. Sunkissed or cousin to a beetroot. As tranquil as the waters were is how deafening the beach was. The island is a major nesting sight for a variety of terns and at my best guess I would say there were over 2000 birds. They lined up along the sands like soldiers. The beach rose from the waves for about 4 metres until a rope drew the line between us and them. We were guests. They were home. I found that it did not detract from the day. It only made it all the more tangible. It felt as if we had been plonked into a storyline of this country. Between the water, the waves and the nature we had one of the most beautiful snapshots to take home. The atmosphere was electric with life. 

To prove that all life was here a tern found its way to our shadows on the sand. It was not scared. It did not want to move away. As this was a nature reserve we knew it would be wrong to touch it. For the briefest of moments, we acknowledged that the bird was probably ill. And so we left it alone in our shadows. It had found peace and when we left, the on-site ranger took it from the sand and placed it beyond the rope. To this day I remember the life and death cycle of that island and how much it taught me to be in the moment. That we are all linked. It was a very humbling experience and it felt like time had slowed down. The white noise of the squawking birds and the breaking waves became a dome around us and our thoughts. I did not feel sad or happy, but a realisation of how much we can experience in such a short amount of time. 

Back on the boat, we waved goodbye to the Great Barrier Reef and the Coral Sea. It would be the last time we would see its waters. As the boat pulled away from the Cay, its small stature disappeared as the waves rose above it and the horizon pulled it from view. 

To divert attention away from our last night in Queensland, we visited the lagoon to cool off. It was busy and we found ourselves sitting and sharing the silence of our thoughts. Not too long after arrival the clouds sent down a heavy rain and the lagoon’s occupants raced for the shelter of the trees. I remember wondering why they were avoiding the rain whilst swimming in a lagoon. Wet is wet right? 

Suitably cool enough, we turned our backs on the two waters of Cairns and headed to our hotel to pack. The day had left us with a lot of love for Australia and its inhabitants. A lot of love, awe and true humility. 

Still sitting still

When I was in University I was a mess, I was scared to enter the lecture room, and knowing now what I didn’t then, I know anxiety has ruled my life a lot longer than I ever realised. For a worrying moment, when I noticed how far back the anxiety stretched, I wondered if it had stopped me doing much in my adult life. 

Today, I had the most bizarre flashback, whilst sipping tea on a bench in my garden. I wasn’t covered in compost anymore nor was I chilly in the April breeze, I was in Paris. I was sitting outside a Parisien cafe, drinking coffee and watching the world go by. It was a Sunday morning, the early morning sun was making the cobbles blush and there was calm in the air. It seems it is one of my fondest memories, because it made me smile, really smile. 

It got me thinking, about other seemingly insignificant moments, that have created a collage of beautiful memories I unlock from time to time. 

New York, 2007, the Empire Diner, Sunday brunch. I’m wearing a lace tunic top and the waiter is parading up and down with peoples eggs and coffee as if he had just come from the Catwalks of Gucci. He had swagger. He had confidence. He had attention. And he loved it. He had a wonder woman tattoo on his upper arm, and paused by our table to say ‘Honey, I love your top’ in his American drawl. I have a photo of the two of us vogue-ing, it was fabulous and so was he. I picture him now, on Broadway in some garish and absolutely fantastic musical number, living his dream. 

Santa Susanna, Barcelona, 2014. The first sunny afternoon in 6 days, we dash to the beach to thaw our bodies and grasp back some of our holiday before the rain returns. The beach is busy. The sand is hot. Glorious! Women and men selling their wares stomp up and down; sunglasses, hats, scarves, coconuts. The cacophony of their voices, mingled with the muffled chatter and the gentle waves, just screams beach holiday to me. A sunbathing man calls over a small asian woman, selling her skilled masseur hands, I remember glancing over, and seeing her kneeling on the sand. She starts to dig a hole with her hands. Dumbstruck I continue to watch, the man waits, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. She continues to dig a deep round hole. In time, she stops and the man lays a towel over the hole, and it is only then that I realise the void is for his belly. I force my staring eyes away from the scene and tell myself to act normal. But for the rest of the day, I laugh internally, to the scene I witnessed. Lets, assume the man had seen this particular lady before and knew this was common practice, that’s one theory. Alternatively, I often think about someone being unprepared for the practice of the void/belly scenario and looking at the woman in complete disbelief. Much like I had. That memory generally floods back to me when I go to or see a beach. 

The Great Barrier Reef, Australia, 2013. I’m drinking a cocktail out of an enormous glass, my legs are over the side of a huge catamaran and all that stops me from plunging into the ocean is a thin rope that acts like a fence at the side of the top deck. I’m sunkissed, curly haired and tired. I have spent the day swimming the coral reefs and am in awe of where I am. I am nine and a half thousand miles from home, I have quit my job and am living out my dream. I am the luckiest girl in the world. No time to think of going back to England. No time to think if a brush will go through my hair later. No time to waste on anything but this moment. 

I often feel the best memories of my life, so far, are the ones that happen when I’m not moving. While I’m static, the world carries on around me, and I can appreciate the moment. What’s funny is in those moments, I never realise how much impact they can have, how much you’ll flit back to them in the future. How warming they’ll be when you are doing one of life’s mundane tasks. Maybe it was wishful thinking today to think of Paris whilst potting up some planters in the garden. Maybe I’m just grateful to have lived a life so rich in travel and culture. Maybe I’m starting to realise the small moments are the important ones. 

This is why when I had the truly horrifying thought that anxiety had stolen so much of my adult life it took me a while to come back to these memories. I have pushed and pushed myself to do and see everything when I travel because there’s an irksome voice in my head saying ‘make the most of it, do it all, miss nothing’. As lovely as it would be to see the world and run from experience to experience it would seem you aren’t in fact seeing all there is to see.  It is now that I truly believe when we stop, sit and look, we’ll find the world will continue turning, it doesn’t mean we are missing out, it means we are able to relish in it. Drink a cuppa, take a breath and appreciate it all.