Kingfisher goodbye

"Now it hushed the strangers it was initiating...the trees were so densely massed, the columns so moss-upholstered or lichen-encrusted, the vines suspended from them so intricately rigged, the light barely slithered down"

Patrick White

The beaches, the creeks, the lakes and the headlands of Fraser are impressive.  But it was the forest that mesmerized me the most,  I imagined the very soil of the island to be held down by a fragile network of woven tree roots.  Without the plants anchoring down the sand it seemed the fragile balance of all the ecosystems would be blown away in a cloud of dust. 

"As a tree falls, so shall it lie" 

German Proverb

However, there was nothing fragile about the first 'timbergetters' such as Yankee Jack Pigott.  In 1863 he was the first commercial logger. Scorning the saw, he believed in using only an axe to fell the trees.  Legend has it that this huge man, with a flaming red beard, would shoot at the aboriginals from his horse and underpaid those that worked for him.  His grisly demise was discovered when his body was found buried head first in the sand with only his boots sticking out. 

"Breeze is the conductor, 

trees the musicians, leaves the instruments."

Nathaniel LeTonnerre.

Logging continued on the island for over a hundred years.  Satinay trees proved perfect for marine environments and the timber used in the Suez Canal and rebuilding the London Docks after WWII.  Walking around the Central Station logging camp in the center of the island allowed us a glimpse into the past as the abandoned equipment over the years is scattered around the clearing on display.  I felt a chill pass over my skin as I scanned the information boards and looked into the faces of past inhabitants.  One antique photo that caught my attention it had been taken at the very place I stood.  The "whitefella's" in boots and britches led their oxen teams, dragging the massive logs along with chains.  Scattered in amongst them were Aboriginal workers, authentically wearing little.  The grainy, blurry image captured the interface of two cultures and the sepia ghosts seemed to rustle in the trees around me.  

"The Australian native can withstand all the reverses of nature, fiendish droughts and sweeping floods, horrors of thirst and enforced starvation - but he cannot withstand civilisation."


Daisy May Bates.

Perhaps the coolness was from descending into the dark damp creek.  As we wound down I wondered why the self sufficient Aborigines had ever helped whites to survive in their land.  It had to be more than just a belief in sharing if you had plenty.  Possibly it was because of their belief in reincarnation.  When the outer layers of dark skin was burnt it lifted off to show paler flesh, so after death you rose up a "white fella".  A strange white man might be taken in by mourning relatives believing him to be a reincarnation of a loved one.  

“Don’t let go of vine” Tarzan 

Shh!  Don't tell the rangers, we had reverted back to making Tarzan noises in the forest.  I thought it best to leave before Cheetah arrived with the elephants.  

“After the kingfisher's wing 

Has answered light to light, and is silent, the light is still 

At the still point of the turning world.” 

T.S. Eliot

We had driven over 300 miles and thought why not add a few more clicks to the odometer and head over to the west side of the island to Kingfisher Bay.  The resort took its name from the bird several species of which can be found all over the Island.  The largest is the Kookaburra, affectionately nicknamed the Laughing Jackass due to its call.   

"Better late than never" Proverb

With true dumb blonde timing we were a day late to see the once in a lifetime sightings of killer whales.  The pod of 11 orcas were probably following the humpback migration as they hunt baleen whales particularly for the tongue and lips.  Seven killer whales had entered the Sandy Bight shallows between the west side of Fraser and the  mainland.  A mother and calf had beached and the onlookers  told of how the baby cried like a human child as it died on the beach with its mother.  The five other adults and juveniles stayed in the area, unwilling to leave.  Marine researchers towed one of the carcasses out into deeper water hoping to lure the others to safety.   The were indeed reunited with the other four and were last seen heading north.  No one had ever witnessed this type of sighting here before and it was  conjectured that perhaps one of the mammals was sick.  There seemed to be plenty of suntanned researchers eating in the restaurant but with no sign of anything other than dingo footprints we simply enjoyed the quiet lee of the west coast.  

"Leave only footprints"

Staring across the sandy shallows from the end of the pier provided a westward vantage of the mainland.  We had explored much of this island and we were ready to head back to Noosa in the morning.  

The early high tide meant we would run the gauntlet with the incoming surf if we wanted to try and catch an early ferry.  Packed and ready long before daybreak, we quietly rolled out of the village onto the beach in the dark.  Without so much as a sniff of coffee we cautiously headed along the sand southward to Hook Point.  The scattering of stars in the purple skies provided little illumination and we relied on our headlights to swerve around logs and negotiate creeks.  With the skies showing a mere hint of grey we waited for the sweep of the last wave and gunned it through to the cutting for the road down to the ferry.  

The sighs of relief and celebratory laughter were soon cut short with screams of terror as the first light brought with it the silhouette of a spider hanging onto the window.  Fortunately it was on the outside.   It took me a while to convince the two arachnophobics squashed into the backseat that the spider had been blown off. 

The dingo farewell committee had sent a lone representative to show us the way.  Apart from our animal totems, the road was empty and with the rays of the dawn at our back we were the lone tourists leaving paradise.  The last time I had left these shores my camera carried film, my phone was attached to a land line, email was just making it's debut and blogging?  Well, back then we just had to make conversation and rely on our memories.

“Every goodbye is the birth of a memory.” 

Dutch Proverb