We had breakfast this morning at the Fawlty Towers restaurant again. It really is most bizarre – a complete change of staff, but still the same peculiar service. The waitress said they had scrambled eggs on the buffet, but if we wanted eggs cooked other ways we just had to tell her and the chef would do them. As I do not eat eggs that are not freshly cooked, I asked for an omelette. She said that would cost extra – but I could have eggs cooked any other way and they would be included. I changed it to poached eggs, and went to put my toast in the toaster in preparation. She came back with my eggs eventually, and gave me “hard poached eggs”. Where did that come from? Paul reckons it is my accent. I reckon Basil is out the back.
After the trauma of breakfast, we decided to walk the beach. We walked for two hours, and still didn’t get to the end. This really is a spectacular beach. We probably met less than ten people the whole time we were walking. The sand is lovely, no stones or rocks, and lovely to walk on. Barefoot on the sand – how romantic! Paul was doing all of this without his hat – yippee! There was a life guard station a mile or so up the beach, with a big poster on the side showing all the stinging jellyfish that you will find in the sea. It went from the box jellyfish that will stop you breathing when you are bitten, to about eight others that varied from “seek medical attention immediately” to “soak the sting in vinegar”. There are several vinegar stations along the beach – I wonder how many times they are used?
This afternoon was our white water rafting adventure. This was Paul’s idea – I really did not fancy this one. But, as he reminded me, he has done all the other bits that he didn’t want to do, so I had to do this one. We were collected by a van with “Raging Thunder” on the front – felt like saying I had a raging headache and heading back into the hotel. But I didn’t. We got on the bus, and the driver had rock music on really loud – I could feel this was not going to be my cup of tea. We got to the meeting point at Lake Placid, and met up with the others that were rafting this afternoon – and we certainly were the oldest by several years. Once we had moved everyone up to the starting point, about five kilometres up the Barron River, we were sorted into rafts. I did point out quite loudly that I wanted the “wimp” boat – Paul could go in another one if he wants. Some of the rafts were full of youngsters with dreadlocks and looked as if they wanted to go at several hundred miles an hour. I was hoping not to be put in one of those. We were put with a family of four, and another British guy on a four month trip of Australia – all looked pretty normal, as did the “driver” Mezza. Not sure what to call him, but he was in charge of the raft and knew what he was doing.
We were issued with lifejackets, helmets and paddles (how am I supposed to hold on and paddle I wondered) and walked down to the river. There is a power station a little way up the river, and they let out water periodically that makes the rapids. There was about nine rafts on the water, and there were some crazy people. We were given our instructions – how to hold on when he shouts “hold” and how to get in the boat when he shouts “get down”. Great! We started down, and had to learn all to paddle at the same time, either backwards or forwards. We had to sit on the side, but there was a blown up bit across the raft that you could hook your foot under. Big deal! We started going quite gently – this bit was fine. Then we came across a load of rocks that didn’t look as if there was enough room for a raft to get through. Wrong! We had to “hold” then “get down” then “jump up”. The first two were no problem, jumping up took a bit more time. With both feet now hooked under the blown up bit, and my bottom wedged between that and the bit behind me, jumping up was not an option. Struggling up was more like it. By the time I had got back up, it was time to “get down” again. I could see this was going to be a long afternoon. I was determined not to fall out – I didn’t have any insurance for one thing.
We then got to the first big waterfall. I could see it coming! I “got down” and somehow managed to lose my paddle. Oh dear! Not only was I stuck, wedged in the bottom of the boat, I had lost a major bit of equipment. That will get me out of paddling! At the bottom of the waterfall, Mezza gives me a paddle. “Oh good” I said “You have brought a spare”. “No” he says. “Just picked yours up”. Wonder whether he would pick me up so swiftly? A few in the boat went out at this point for a swim – not me! We picked them up again, and went down a few more rapids. Either I was getting used to it, or it wasn’t very hard. It didn’t seem too bad at all. We got to a big one, and Mezza tried very hard to knock a few people out of the raft. Not me – I was hanging on for grim death. The boat was so full of water, I don’t know how it was still floating.
Then Mezza said that was it. No more rapids, just a gentle paddle to the end. Everyone, including Paul, jumped out of the boat, and got swept down a little rapid. Not me – I was staying firmly in the boat. We picked them up, and then paddled for ten minutes or so until we got to the end. Ha! I had survived. Not too bad either. Until we changed out of our wet clothes, and they had had a photographer taking pictures from the road all the way along. They gave us a slide show, and we could buy all the pictures on a stick for $30. Not bad value. Virtually every picture had me with my eyes closed, looking as if I was in front of a firing squad, and so far down in the boat I was glued to the bottom. Perhaps I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought then!
We were dropped back off at the hotel, and had dinner at Fawlty Towers. The service may be laughable, but the food was really good!
No comments:
Post a Comment