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Fraser Island has been the best part of the trip so far - a three day and two night self drive 4x4 safari around the world's largest sand island. Hervey Bay is a dull little town that basically just serves as a base for the safaris. I only spent one night there either side of the trip, both times taking full advantage of the $10 all you can eat pizza deal. We set off at 6 in the morning. Our group of ten included the three English girls I'd been travelling with (Kathleen, Lauren and Vicki), two Norwegians called Nik, a young British couple and two Swiss girls who could only speak to each other in English because they came from different parts of the country. To be a driver who had to be 21 or over - only three of us were, and I was the only one willing to actually be a driver. The massive, 4.0 4x4 was a bit of a step up from my 1.0 micra back home, and getting the clutch right took a couple of minutes. After that was sorted it was plain sailing, although corners had to be taken slowly as the top section was so full of booze. We took the ferry over to the island, where the 4x4ing finally, which was pretty damn fun, even if you do rarely get into 3rd. It was about 45 minutes in that the people started noticing the ominous clunk our car was making. At first thinking it was a flat we got out and checked the whole car, finding nothing wrong, and so we drove on. On the beach we met up with some of the other cars from our convoy, and decided we should get some to check the car out. After a quick lunch we headed for the nearest village with a phone, the banging getting worse all the time. After reaching the phone and waiting for some moron to make his way through a whole pocket of coin's worth of call, the mechanic told us to head back the way we'd come from. By this point the bang was massive. As we drove down the beach people kept shouting out that something was wrong with the car, as if we hadn't noticed. Idiots. The others relieved the stress by breaking out some beers. I was driving so didn't, even though Aussie drink drive rules are ridiculously lax (for men, two standard drinks in the first hour and one every hour after!). Anyway its getting on a bit so I'll add to this later. And we're back. Bit later than I'd planned, but staying in backwater New Zealand towns means limited internet access. Despite being in New Zealand we're only half way down the Aussie coast online, and it would be a great disservice to you, my doting audience, if I weren't to finish. Just another thing on drink driving Down Under - I went wine tasting in Sydney, and mid afternoon, after at least 4 glasses of wine, I used a self testing machine for a laugh and wasn't even a fifth of the way to the limit! Of course the Aussies don't help their little problem with drive-thru bottle shops (off licenses) making it all the easier to booze on the go. But I digress. We were merrily clanking our way down the beach (which is 75km long) at a speedy 40 kph - keeping the pedal at that level really hurts your ankle after a while. We were headed to Eurong, a tiny hamlet based around some chalets, where a mechanic awaited our busted cruiser. Somewhat disturbing the peace of this small settlement with the racket the car made, we finally reached the tin shed the mechanic worked out of. He wore shorts that were almost underpants, a ripped vest, and looked extremely emaciated, but despite his hobo-ish appearance we were told he was a 'mechanical god' by the locals. As ever God wasn't of much practical use. After driving back and forth a few meters he broke the bad news by quoting Aliens (possibly to lighten the mood, possibly because he was jsut weird); 'You've broken the trans-axel Ripley'. In other terms, the car was screwed, and we were without a ride. After putting in a call to the tour organisers they agreed to drive a new car out first thing the next morning - for now we had to move the car down to the nearest camp site, well away from anyone else, and set up for the night. Cue the breaking out of the beers and barbecue - as I'd driven all day I got to sit back and let everyone else cook (not that I offered otherwise). It was soon dark, and out on a virtually uninhabited island the stars looked quite incredible. Somewhere along the line the decision was made to sleep outside. This was foolish. I was on the outside of the group, and awoke around 12:30 to find a dingo sniffing me from about a foot away. Needless to say I jumped ten foot in the air, which sent the thing running. After that close encounter I bravely decided to sleep in the tent, telling the others where to go when they tried to make me stay out. I was especially pleased with this choice as, for a while at least, I had the blokes' tent to myself. However, a dingo in the face will make anyone move, and after one started growling at those still outside, everyone piled into their tents. When we got up in the morning we found that a pesky dingo had had a chew at a few flip flops and my bottle of insect repellent, the stupid thing. The group wearily packed up, and before long the hostel workers rucked up with our new car. Not to miss out on an opportunity, they brought a crate of beer and fishing rods with them so they could have some fun too. Our team had to fit in two day's sight seeing into one, so we got cracking - I let other people do most of the driving for the day, as despite there being park rangers on the island the over 21 to drive rule was ridiculous and not worth obeying. The best site we visited was Lake Wabby, a large fresh water lake with a massive sand bank along the shore line, which provided endless fun in rolling down, jumping down and pushing other people down when they didn't expect it. We cruised around the rest of the island, enjoying the new found ability to get to giddy speeds, well in excess of 40 kph. There were a variety of pretty geological formations, a big rusty wreck (which some bright spark spray paitned 'rust in peace' on ahahahahahahaahahaha. Dick.) When it came to set up camp for the night we rode into the site the other cars from our convoy were using. After a quick look around a group decision was made that we preferred staying on our own in the campsite from the first night. I muttered that we were off to find toilets for the girls, and then hightailed it out of there down to the Eurong campsite for another night of drinking, eating and stargazing. It started to rain on the third day, which was alright as it was primarily taken up by leaving the island, motoring it all the way back to civilization. By the time we reached the hostel the rain was pretty torrential - some people that had left for the island that day returned on the next due to it. But that didn't concern me, as we'd had sun and fun, and what better way to round that off than another all you can eat pizza buffet? The next day the group parted ways - the two Niks were headed North in their campervan, the two swiss girls were going that way by bus, and the rest of us headed South to Rainbow Beach, which was just another base for going to Fraser Island, but also unfortunately a compulsory stop over for the Oz Bus. Rick and Claire, the couple, were staying there for a while, but the girls and I were only there for the night and foolishly made the mistake of going without having booked anywhere to stay, thinking that we'd be able to get into a hostel. We couldn't. Everywhere was booked, and things looked a little desperate until we stumbled across a hotel that offered us an apartment for 35 bucks each, which had such luxuries as its own kitchen and washing machine, as well as a big TV, which I took full advantage fom my cosy perch on the sofa bed. A good nights sleep later we were off to Noosa, a super-trendy beach resort for rich folk and, apparently, poor backpackers too. It doesn't deserve its own blog entry I did b***** all there except rest off the last two weeks and sit on the beach eating ice cream.
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