It had been the perfect dessert to a lovely four weeks in Australia. Four days on a small beach resort in the middle of the Coral Sea. Home to the world's largest reef, and the millions of fish that made it one of the Seven Wonders of the World. My main purpose during my visit to South Molle was to relax. I'd been traveling across the outback on every kind of transportation known to man, and for four days all I wanted was for someone to cook me a real meal three times a day, and enjoy the fabulous winter sun.
It was August, and in the depths of the Australian winter I found the East Coast of Australia at its very best. During the summer months temperatures often get well into the 80s and 90s with nearly 100 percent humidity. It's enough to make even the most dedicated of sunbathers wilt in their loungers. This is without even mentioning the Killer Jellyfish as I refer to them. They come with the summer currents and make swimming on many of the Australia beaches dangerous and occasionally deadly without the protection of your mother's pantyhose.
It was my second night on South Molle I found the energy and enthusiasm to venture to the other side of the small island. Largely rainforest, it was home to hundreds of beautiful tropical birds including the Kookaburra, and the Cockatoo. It was around four o'clock and I hoped to get to the beach on the far side in time for sunset. My resort held the only humans on this island so there was very little chance of running into anyone else during my journey. In fact, as I checked into the resort I'd made a mental note of the note to all guests to please alert the staff when journeying out of the resort so that they could search for you if you failed to return.
That was not on my mind as I pulled on a pair of comfortable shoes and made my way to the edge of the resort and began my walk. It was a great evening with the temperatures already cooling. I looked at the dense canopy all around me and listened to all the birds high up in the trees. The amount of vegetation on this tiny little outcropping of reef was truly spectacular and I was surprised that the rainforest is so largely ignored by visitors to the Queensland coast.
The path was fairly wide and looked as if it was occasionally used by the resort's four wheel drives to get to the island's west coast although for what purpose I don't know. Occasionally some other hotel patrons drifted past on their way down to the evening meal and we nodded a hello. I was staying in this resort alone and had become famous for it within my 48 hours on the island.
I trod on, surprised at how long it was taking me to get to the other side. It had been nearly and hour bdidn'the island didn't look like it could be more that a mile and a half wide. Most of the climb was uphill so I attributed much of my difficulty to that, and finally almost without warning I broke out of the dense vegetationoutcrop grassy outcrop overlooking one of the beaches. This first beach looked to me to be largely inaccessible so I followed what seemed to be a well-worn trail on to the next. I made it to the next beach just as the sun was turning pink and I quickly pulled out my camera and began snapping pictures, then sat down to enjoy the view.
As the light faded I walked down a step trail of loose stone to the beach below. The sand was more course here, but the water was beautiful and I waded up to my knees watching the sun slowly sink behind the horizon. Then it dawned on me. The other portion of that soon to be infamous "Message to Our Guests", We also have flashlights available for our Guests when Needed for Night Hikes.
That was what I'd forgotten. In my sudden hurry to see a lovely sunset I had forgotten that the rainforest was completely unequipped with street lamps. After growing up and forever living in a city or suburb, a world without constant illumination was foreign and almost even inconceivable to my brain.
Having come to this rather abrupt conclusion I jogged hastily back up to the beginning of the trail into the forest, but the light was already failing. I made it only about 10 minutes before the canopy had blocked out all the light. The Cockatoos that had seemed so tropically beautiful to me only a few hours before now terrified me to the depths of my soul as I stumbled blind along the trail. They screeched and swooped but couldn't darkness I couldn't gauge how closely they were coming to me, obviously upset that I had interrupted their peaceful night. Making things worse were the unidentified creatures that scurried slithered and scampered out from under my feet as I tried to feel the trail ahead. It was a slow and adrenaline pumped journey, and I had yet to see even a flickering of light in the distance to mark my return to civilization. I sang loudly to ward of the fearsome Cockatoos. I sang badly and waved my arms above my head to make sure that nothing could peck my eyes out. If someone was watching with night goggles I would have been a sight to see. A crazy American drunkenly singing and waving her arms as she crept along a forest trail on a moonless night.
After two excruciating hours I finally saw the lights of the tennis courts, but I had couldn'the trail and couldn't figure out how to get out of the last hundred yards of forest. Due to a steep drop, there was only one place had a set of stairs to climb down. I was now near tears, but then I saw the trail. It was on the other side of a tree I'd passed twice already. I stumbled down the stairs and practically tore out of the forest feeling as if it was reaching out to grab me back. A couple of people regarded me strangely but whether it was because of the terrified look on my face as I ran out of the forest or if it was only the fact I had traveled here alone, I'll never know.
