Whit(sun)day islands...

Well, the clouds and showers of Brisbane were too much for a softie like me so I booked some cheapo flights (oh alright, Trish did...) up to the Whitsunday Islands.
The brochures were full of bright blue skies and white sandy beaches and June was supposed to be one of the best months to see the sights- no wind, calm waters and sunshine- Woo Hoo!
I said cheerio to Trish and plodded up the road to the train station.
It was a bit sad saying goodbye, i'd got used to seeing her all the time and then as i hit the road avec le backpaque once more, it dawned on me that I wouldn't be seeing her for a while...
ho hum, I was off on a trip to paradise so it wasn't too hard to cheer myself up.
The flight up to Proserpine was uneventful, well, that is until we approached the landing strip at the other end...
The wheels were fully lowered, the tops of the trees almost at eye level, we were strapped in and ready for the bump as we made contact with the tarmac... and then it just didn't happen.
In a roar of jet engines, clanks and squealing metal we managed to pull up off the runway and back into the sky. The plane was shaking and so were we.
The cabin staff looked petrified and i'm not sure that my heart could have pounded any louder than it was in that moment of repressed panic.
The intercom clicked on and we heard the quivering voice of the captain trying to sound confident and reassuring as he explained that we had nearly ploughed into something on the runway. No details, we didn't know if it was a cow or another plane, it was just a relief to be back in the air and away from the very hard ground.
We landed properly second time around and it was accompanied by an audible 'phew' from the passengers and crew alike.
It was so dramatic, in fact, that it wasn't until the transfer coach was winding its way into Airlie Beach that I noticed the Sun was not shining.
Aghhhh.
Dagnammit!
I'd brought the weather with me, once again.
Airlie Beach is a hole.
Well, maybe it would be nice if it wasn't for the fifty-million or so 18 yr old backpackers staggering and chundering their way about the place.
Mostly from Blighty, of course.
You can feel the pavement reverberate in time to the bass rhythm of pop disco/cheese/karaoke bars.
I'm invited to wrestle in jelly, enter a wet T-shirt comp and various other activities which nearly make me get violent with the airheaded bimbo handing me flyers.
I had to get out.
I book a trip on one of the billions of advertised boat trips around the islands.
Tall Ship, cheaper than others and it leaves tommorrow- perfect.
It is not until I rock up to the dock and see my fellow shipmates that it becomes apparent that I am to be the only singleton on board...
choice.
I tell myself that this is not a problem but as we head out to the open sea, cold winds blasting us from all directions, they all cuddle up with their 'other halves' and i'm left shivering and feeling unusually single.
oops, time to go, i'll finish this some other time....