Picture an island. The purest, cleanest, and most tranquil one you can imagine. With a heart and perimeter the palest shade of white you can think of, and a deep green spine slicing its centre. Here lies K’gari Island, the pinnacle of beauty for naturalists worldwide for three key reasons: being the world’s largest sand island, home to more than half the world’s perched freshwater dune lakes, and maintaining the only rainforest in the world to grow purely on sand. It sits off the east coast, nodding out at sea and only in 2021 was able to finally shrug off its dark colonial past. Coined Fraser Island in 1836 after Eliza Fraser’s fabricated stories against the Aboriginal Butchella people of the island, it has since returned to its former name K’gari. This translates to Paradise in Butchella tongue and goes back thousands of years to the Aboriginal Dreamtime story of the goddess K’gari who fell in love with the beauty of the earth, lying here to rest forever.

 

Mere excitable keen tourists, Millz and I arrived on this island in complete and utter awe. Since becoming a UNESCO World Heritage site in 1992, you must pay a national park fee; an invitingly fun surprise I am sure you can imagine for a bumbling pair of young backpackers. As with any hurdle we faced throughout our travels, glass half full was always our mantra and in this case, we consoled ourselves in knowing our funds helped to preserve the island. K’gari island is particularly unique, consisting of beaches for roads, freshwater lakes for bathing, beaches for accommodation, and a singular policeman for maintaining just an element of legal sophistication. Its population comprises the local Butchella people along with over thirty individual packs of dingoes; Australia’s wild dog which come in their purest most untamed form here since being isolated from inter-breeding with domesticated dogs on mainland. As a result, accessing K’gari is restricted to 4x4 vehicles carried over by a flat ferry shuttling across from Rainbow Beach, thus lending itself mainly to local tour groups. I considered this positive as guides ensure no waste is left or damage done to the landscape whilst teaching you local knowledge integral to the place. Afterall, who is going to answer all my questions otherwise!? So, we joined the Sunrover Tours gang for the next 3 days which turned out to be one of the most special, unique few days we had ever experienced.

 

That morning, the 21 of us strangers were bundled up together into three white defender-style 4bys, one of those you practically have to jump in and out of (or perhaps just me…). Together, we brought together the flags of Scotland (or Irish to the Aussies, eye roll), Denmark, the USA, Britain and more with ages varying from 19 to 50. As soon as our tyres hit the pale sand, our guide practically burst with excitement, roaring his anthem “Anddddd we’re on the beach on Fraser Islandddd!” that we all came to know so well. The guides absolutely love it here, and their enthusiasm is infectious. We all broke into laughs and smiles, gazing out the window giddly and pinching ourselves to confirm we were in fact cruising along the beautiful golden sand of the infamous 75-mile beach. The two other “4bys” cruised beside us, competition bubbling under the skin of each of driver. The race had begun. We darted around each other, swerving in and out the sea and over trickling creeks, spraying the salty water through the windows onto innocent passengers in the back. All the while the sun beamed down on us, smirking down at the childish behaviour below that never ceases. I guess that is the effect K’gari has on its visitors, just as it had on the goddess in the Dreamtime story.

Our route then cut inland into the Jurassic green of the Island’s spine, where old ferns and gigantic trees protrude from the white sand, void of any soil whatsoever. With that also meant no “roads” in any sense of the word. Instead, bumps and pothole galore; a sort of tourist bootcamp to separate those who emerge from the car wincing pitifully at their constellation of head bruises from those who revel at the challenge of it all! We stopped at a spot called Central Station Rainforest for a spot of luncheon, historically a highly sacred site for Aboriginal Butchella women as this is where they came to give birth. Here, under the rainforest canopy, the Wanggoolba Creek carves its way through, providing the second cleanest and purest water in the world, the first being glacial water. So, I guess sandwiches and the nationally renowned Coles “Ultimate chocolate chip cookies” (did you know they come in 40%, 50%, and 60% editions!) could be considered slightly less sacred… We meandered along the creek and took in the silence and peacefulness of it all as the guides pointed out key biological spectacles. My favourite was the rare King Fern- an evergreen with fronds as large as 7m in length! Amazingly, the only thing keeping the fronds erect is capillary action; a force exerted by a constant stream of water. If you cut anywhere along its length water would spurt out and the fronds collapse.

 

Onwards, we arrived at one of K’gari’s key sites; Lake Mckenzie, or Boorangoora, known for being a perched lake in amongst the 98% silica sand dunes. This means it is composed of entirely rainwater, filtered so intricately and carefully by the sand that the water is the clearest and bluest of anywhere in the world. The high silica composition of the sand is what gives it its pure white colour, and together with the water creates a stark beautiful contrast between the blue and white. Fun fact: it is this highly silica-rich sand that was used to make the glass for the Hubble Space Telescope! Here the group spent the afternoon relaxing and swimming, or for Millz and I, taking fun underwater videos using her waterproof camera case (SO COOL).

 

As the sun began to sink, we made our way to camp where our guides began cooking up some grub on the barbie as we settled into our tents whilst nibbling on dried mango courtesy of Coles refill (#weloveyouColes). And the best part? No need to head to the campsite shower cubicles- our skin and hair were already ultra clean and soft thanks to Mrs Mckenzie! So instead, the goons were popped open (Aussie word for box wine), Jack Johnson took centre stage on the JBL clip, and the evening commenced with happy chatters and the clinking of plastic mugs coming together in cheers. After a ravenous Aussie banquet, card tricks were shared amongst the group before Millz and I took the dirty dish trolley for a spin across the dunes to the hose pipe for a scrub. Giggling away, we gave them the necessary wash required for a place where sand coats every surface (i.e. a “rinse”), then retired in front of the campfire where the stars came out to play. They glittered above us and some even danced across the sky, spreading silent whispers of wishes across the lips of the group. We smiled, looking up until our necks ached and yawns spread infectiously amongst us. Back in the tent, Millz and I carried out our classic 30 mins (minimum) of laughter before dozing off. I distinctly remember finding it simply hilarious when Millie’s rather disapproving voice remarked how she can “feel a lot of plastic on her”- I swear, SO funny at the time.

 

At 7am next morning, after some amusing impersonations by the Scottish boys of the previous night’s “girlie giggling”, we had some breakfast and headed out to the Maheno Shipwreck; an old ocean liner and naval ship that had been caught in a cyclonic storm and beached. From here, we drove further along the Eastern Coastline to Waddy Point, my personal highlight of the whole trip. This spot is less known, being just a little further along the shore from the more popular Indian Head lookout, but is all the more beautiful for it. We rolled to a stop at a spot plaited with multiple freshwater creeks thirsty for the ocean. A small hike up to the top of the Waddy headland rewarded us with a stunning 360-degree view across the beaches and ocean on both sides. Looking down from the top, the sea was so clear and blue that you could see stingrays and turtles drifting lazily across the coastline- not a care in the world! The beach had such depth that different layers of slow, slumbering waves stretched inwards and outwards, creating a layered plateau of varying shades of blue and white. With no clouds in sight, we were lucky to be experiencing these views in such perfect weather, and we gazed out taking it all in before returning to the beach. Down below, the freshwater creeks created a shallow pool safe from the strong rips, deadly box jellyfish, and high population of sharks that inhabit K’gari’s shorelines. We bathed quietly as a dingo hunted for some lunch before surrendering to bathe in the sun for a much-needed rest. As per usual, whilst the rest of the group engaged in rather more mature normal conversation, Millz and I joked about topics varying from her trotter feet to hijacking randomers birthday celebrations. Such fun.

 

As you can imagine, the days were packed pretty tight so off we set to our next stop- Champagne Pools. Driving further south along the beach, you began to notice the array of different colours of the bordering sand cliffs, from reds to oranges to browns. These are known as the Cathedrals and have been sculpted by the wind and rain blowing off the Pacific Ocean to create a remarkable coastal masterpiece. The Champagne pools are wide natural rock wells carved into the coastline just north of Indian Head. They resemble two large lungs lined with a ribcage of sharp jagged rocks. A constant inhalation and exhalation of seawater keeps the pools well fed and carries with it various forms of fish and sea life left to prosper, or fry (?), in the warm, shallow waters. Speaking as a glass half full kind of person I would liken it to a sort of authentically hard-core spa experience, whilst others might prefer the term “washing machine”.  Mention it to Millz and watch her face twist into the pained, jittery facial expression of Johnny English when hearing “Mozambique”. For her, scaling the burning boardwalk barefoot is perfectly comparable to Rowan Atkinson walking on the hot flaming coals of his Tibetan bootcamp. Poor thing lost at least 4 layers of foot skin throughout the day due to her lack of shoes. I tried to tell her, but unfortunately her devout belief in shoes confining and suffocating the foot spirits took precedence. But, as the saying goes, where lives the foot spirit when you have no feet left!? Laughable really.

 

After soaking up the 3 S’s; sea, salt, and sun, we cruised back along the beach towards the beautiful Ely creek. This elegant, clear stream of water meanders all the way down from the luscious sandy rainforest to the ocean’s mouth. Rather less elegantly, everyone sits inside an inflated (non-edible) donut and ride peacefully along; the flatness of the creek keeping the water movement slow and allowing for a truly relaxing journey. We all floated blissfully down, smiling up at the sun and the trees whilst splashing each other excitedly. Halfway down a stooping tree cuts cross the creek, twisted and arched from centuries of competing plants and epiphytes climbing and strangling it. Here is where our guides spring back into action, convinced there is nothing a tourist would rather do than hang off the trunk “like a drop bear”. The eyes of the group lit up at the thought of such a unique, and impressive photo opportunity, however, there is nothing I would like less than to hang in front of everyone baring my teeth in pretence of joy before having our male guide put his arms around my waist to “help me down”. Despite their best efforts, they received a polite refusal from Millz and I- thanks but no thanks!

 

On the drive back to camp, we passed locals using intricate, local techniques to catch fish straight off the beach. First, they must obtain some bait for their line, with Beachworms being the delicacy and star of the show. Up to 3 metres long, I am sure you will be glad to know there are hundreds swarming in the sand just cm’s beneath your feet. Given their proximity and nervous system of just 302 cells, you might expect them to be easy to catch. But, success requires patience and skill, both of which are acquired through local knowledge and generations of teaching. We watched as the careful process began; nimble movements using “stinker” and “pippi” to minimise vibrations and tempt them out. It is remarkable how self-sufficient you can be on this island, so long as you have the necessary knowledge and skills. It is so abundant in rare plant species capable of treating the sick and feeding the hungry, and rich in fish and marine species all living lavishly along its perimeter.

 

Returning to camp, we were informed the day’s activities were not yet over, God forbid! First, as if we had not been in enough different bodies of water yet, we bathed in a natural Aloe Vera pool just beside our tents. Resembling a swamp, as you swam you looked up at all the reeds and shrubs protruding out of the water along its edges. The water was soft and smelled sweetly of the surrounding Aloe Vera plants with pockets of hot and cold water, which I of coursed rather vociferously announced to be a result of Millie’s chronic bladder problem. By the end, what skin we had had left had turned to scales and we clumsily dragged ourselves out like fish before finally putting on some dry clothes for dinner. This evening was incredible as before bed we were taken on a night beach walk that I absolutely loved. We walked barefoot onto the sand, not a light or any form of human presence in sight, nor noise besides the wind and sea to be heard. As our eyes adjusted to the deep darkness of the night sky and ocean, it was as if our panes of vision were suddenly awoken to a whole new spectrum of light and colour. Looking up at the stars and into the waves of the sea, the colour black, originally just one empty presence, was entirely broken and shattered into a whole palette of shades. The stars were everywhere and infinite, spanning 180 degrees across the whole night sky, bright and alive. I had never seen so many and so bright, with the Milky Way galaxy so boldly showing off its colours. Looking down, as you moved your hand or foot through the sea, bioluminescent phytoplankton came out to play, flashing you a cheeky wink to welcome you to the island. The sea lit up just like the night sky above, as if communicating, and I suddenly realised that this place was just as alive at night as it is during the day. The term Paradise had never felt more true. Millz and I stayed on after the others left to enjoy it one last moment longer, but then decided to head back in as it never a good idea to be out alone at night with the dingoes. As we returned to camp, our guide said how it was “nice for us to have a moment alone together” and we looked at each other puzzled. A hilarious realisation descended; they assumed we were a lesbian couple! And the worst part- it wouldn’t be the first time!

 

Our final morning, the two of us woke up at 5:15am sharp in order to catch the sunrise on the same beach. Clearly we had not had enough alone time! We were the only ones, and quietly shuffled through the squeeky sand to the sea, keeping an eye out for dingoes. The sun slowly began to stretch across the sky, yawning back at us as if to emphasise quite how exhausting it was to rise and set with such extravagance every single day- just imagine! It was absolutely stunning and we gazed up sleepily whilst paddled in the shallow waters. I was particularly lucky since I had two sights to enjoy; both the rising sun and the adorable scene of swarms of March flies taking a devout and intense liking to every inch of Millie’s skin. She pranced around, cutting some impressive shapes and kung fu kicks through the air, begging the question as to where these killer moves were on the dancefloor!? Serious. By 6:07am the sun decided enough is enough and waved us goodbye, or more appropriately “G’Day Mate”. But not before we carved the obligatory M and R in a huge heart in the sand; gotta keep them guessing!

 

Having munched on some bbq pancakes, packed up our things, and said cheerio to our tents we were off for our final adventure of the trip. It was time to experience the cruel, raw heart of K’gari – the desert. We first hiked up through thick rainforest with the choir of insects and birds echoing our voices and footsteps all the way. Then, just as we stepped out, we emerged from the lush greenery onto a huge sand dune, a pure, pale shade of white. Climbing to the top you looked around only to see more dunes, undulated up and down like waves. We pushed on before reaching the top of another dune that looked down on a pristine green lake perched and glistening in the sun. Like a waterhole in the savannah, a thick border of dark green vegetation thirsted off this isolated water source and created a real-life oasis. It was unbelievable and seemed so out of place. We walked down, baking under the sun, and dived straight into the cool freshwater lake and enjoyed the blissfulness. It was a delightful surprise to be greeted by huge and particularly gregarious catfish, lonely from years of isolation. Their age was pleasantly reflected by the their long moustaches that protruded out like antennae’s. Here we relaxed and swam until we started to feel impending dehydration and the daunting thought of the next newspaper headline titled “Young British girls lost in the K’gari desert dunes; gone too soon” becoming all the more plausible.

 

Bundled back into the jeeps, we left for the ferry and before we knew it were driving on roads rather than beaches. Such a quick change and we snapped out of the dream that was K’gari island.  

 

For more info on how to catch Beachworms, see https://allaboutfraser.com/catching-beach-worms-fraser-island/

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