South Stradbroke Island

I'd recently joined a Meet Up group, whose maiden voyage was bound for South Straddie, as the island is known locally. Meet Up is basically a platform for like-minded strangers to gather periodically. It's a great way to make friends. I'd been to 2 group meetings on Chapel St in Melbourne, in a bid to widen my social circle. Whilst I found the host rather rude and intrusive, I liked some of the other members and subsequently am now friends with one.

There are a fair few Gold Coast groups but many of them were business networking/ New Age/ had age criteria types. Naturally, I was relieved to find a group without an agenda/ dogma and a diverse mix of people. Not to mention the outing didn't cost too much, as most of the other groups' are apt to.

I'd been given the wrong instructions as to which pontoon we were departing from. A panicked call, a lot of swearing and a parking spot later, I was greeted by Desley, our hostess and Brian, the captain of the Rum Runner.

The day was sunny, much to my relief. I settled in with 2 men and a Kiwi lady. Everyone was very congenial in spite of my impunctuality and soon off we were.

Farewell, Paradise Point!

During the hour long cruise, Henk our affable host offered all sorts of interesting titbits on the history of the islands. Geographically and historically-challenged, I am always impressed with people capable of carrying tons of seemingly random facts in their head. KG is a stellar example.

We arrived at Tippler's Kiosk, where I stopped by the convenience shop to buy lunch (steak and mushroom pie, which turned out to be congealed in starch and fat - I highly recommend bringing your own meals).

Angela and I squinted away whilst rushing Robert to click the shutter.

The families stayed behind whilst 8 of us sprightly ones set off for the trekking route. South Stradbroke is a long, thin sand island. For the first half of the journey, we were walking through the bush. Note: Bring loads of mosquito repellent if you expect to survive in shorts. Thankfully, Henk came prepared and we frantically covered ourselves in the stuff. I have roughly 10 lumpy souvenirs all over my limbs.

We stopped at about 1pm and settled down in a little clearing to have lunch.

A freshly shed snaked skin nearby the toilets.

We soldiered on and climbed over a sand dune, post toilet break. It was amazing. From a lush, sub tropical setting, we were instantly transported to miles of white sandy, seemingly untouched beach.

From here, we walked through 5km of fine, loose sand whilst chatting away. The beach was scattered with medium-sized unbroken shells, mostly scallops and mussels. It was all very pleasant, though by 3pm or so, my knees and calf muscles were aching. I'd discovered one of the group lives only 10 houses away on the same street and shares a common language with KG, so that was nice. We plan to meet again soon.

We then climbed over the dune again to head back. In a faux-ranger tone, Henk suggested I "stop feeding the animals" with my blood. I groaned my amusement whilst his wife admonished me every now and then for my more or less continuous scratching.

The landscape changed once more. I forget the name of these trees - ghost pines? Ghost firs?

The band Kulaz performs every first Sunday of the month. Mostly top 40 hits fare, but decently covered. That's our captain and his lady sitting in the foreground.

Angela trying to get the best angle for her shot.

This is possibly the dearest house on the Coast. Sovereign Islands is a man made patch of exclusivity - only houses costing a minimum of $1million need apply. This $33million monster is built on $12million worth of land.

9km of exercise did me good. I'm really looking forward to the next one.