australia
Coral Sea Adventures in Queensland's Whitsundays Islands
Where: Hamilton Island and Whitsunday Island, Whitsundays, Queensland, Australia. Oceania.
When: May - June 2025
What: Sunrise hike to Passage Peak Lookout, Sailing my first catamaran, Kayaking in the Coral Sea, Whitsunday Island Cruise, Paddle boarding at Whitehaven Beach, Sausage Sizzle on the beach, Mocktails at Sunset on One Tree Hill.
How: Domestic flights, golf buggy, walking, airport transfer, boat cruise.
Wildlife Spotting: Possum, Wallaby, Cane Toad, Curlew bird, Monitor Lizard, Sulphur-crested Cockatoos, Green Tree Snake.
Illnesses or mishaps: Forgetting to pack virtually everything that would have been useful for this trip; having our day bags ransacked by birds on Whitehaven Beach while we were paddle boarding; getting a nasty case of Swimmer's Ear from paddle boarding.
A four-day long weekend proffered the irresistible chance to travel inter-state, to escape my home state of New South Wales and head someplace new. Flight prices direct from Sydney to the Whitsunday Islands in Queensland were relatively inexpensive being, as it was, off peak travel season. With a flight duration of a mere two hours I was to find myself in another state and on a subtropical collection of islands in Australia's famous Great Barrier Reef region. Excluding multiple trips via Brisbane Airport for connecting flights out to Samoa and Solomon Islands, this was only my second time in Queensland in nine years of calling Australia home.
Tantalising glimpses of the island idyll that awaits you can be espied from onboard the plane as it begins its descent into Hamilton Island airport. Dark blue peaks of uninhabited islands rise like ice-cream dollops from the turquoisey waters of the Coral Sea. Upon landing you enter into a place that oscillates uneasily between Aussie utopia and Seahaven from The Truman Show. The problem, if you can call it that, is that this little Aussie toy-town-upon-sea feels a little too perfect in places - a man-made contrivance. Around five kilometres squared, Hamilton Island comes complete with a meticulously assembled marina bobbing with pearly yachts, perfectly coiffured gardens and golf buggies zooming obediently like wound-up clockwork mice choreographed to a time and motion plan. Even the hundreds of Wallabies you'll see nibbling at the island's lawns look like they've been carefully positioned according to some matrix calibrated by artificial intelligence to maximise photogenic appeal. Indeed, I'm pretty sure that the bus driver who took us from the airport to our hotel, the happiest bus driver I've ever been the passenger of, was an actor paid by Hamilton Incorporated. WiFi, an Australian invention, is available for free all over the island, no password required. Everything here is easy because it is meant to be. Less perfect, though, is the island's short runway which necessitates the pilot braking hard upon landing. At least the Qantas pilot forewarned us ("This is perfectly normal, do not worry"). See, then, this jolt of a landing as a metaphor for putting the brakes on your former stressful existence and the beginning of a new chapter - one that's carefree, simple and pretty.
We stayed in the Reef View Hotel with a balcony overlooking the Coral Sea's Catseye Bay. The hotel was typically Australian: supremely expensive, functionally dull and without all of the trappings that actually help to make a stay comfortable and homely. No rugs, no cushions and my pet hate in hotels: brilliant white lights that make the eyes bleed. There's an entrenched attitude in so many hotels with beautiful views which believes that a magnificent view holds limitless capacity to compensate for the litany of imperfections inside. And so it was at Reef View. This was a view punctuated by multiple visits from the cheekiest of Aussie birds: the Sulphur-crested Cockatoo. These birds, with their white body and punk-rocker yellow crest, took to swooping onto our balcony handrail, squawking, bobbing about and peering demonstrably into our room through the open sliding door. On every occasion I didn't know if I was going to be entertained - or robbed. Indeed, the Cockatoos are renowned for gaining access to hotel rooms on the island, trashing them in search of snacks. We were warned on check-in to keep doors closed and "gentle reminder" tickers would scroll across the TV screen in our room. To someone originating from London whose only hope of experiencing wildlife was seeing a half-starved pigeon pecking at a kebab discarded by a drunk the night before, this was all rather wonderful and absolutely part of the delight of living and travelling in a country where nature, bursting with character and attitude, isn't afraid to get up close.
Outside of the sanitised resort area, it's quite possible to embrace the island's wilder side. Our first morning was an early 5am start with a sunrise hike up to Passage Peak, a 5 kilometre scramble through the darkness past Cane Toads, lawn-mowing Wallabies, skittering Possums and stinging trees, up to a lookout platform in the race to catch day breaking on the horizon. The sunrise on the day of our hike wasn't the starburst spectacular we'd hoped for, but its muted pastels of pinks and oranges casting an understated glow over dark islands dotted about in the sea was a worthy reward in its own right. With my tee-shirt daubed in large sweat patches from the ascent, we headed back down the peak to Catseye Bay. The sun had now risen in all its glory and, in doing so, illuminated some of the most beautiful paradisal scenery I have ever seen. Flashing golds of sun and sand held dialogue with rippling blue waters, moody isle landscapes on the horizon and vivid green palm trees. Later that day I would embark upon my maiden voyage as co-captain of a catamaran sailing the Coral Sea...
Winds gusting above twenty knots meant that, when we arrived at the beach kiosk our hopes of sailing a catamaran were placed on agonising pause ("At the moment, it's a no", warned the guy at the counter). We sauntered off down the beach, killing time and considering our options until a final decision would be made. Luckily for us the call was made to go ahead, even though the windy gusts kept changing direction. We gathered around a catamaran docked on the beach for some schooling in the art of sailing a catamaran. The twenty-something Aussie guy had seemingly stepped out of an episode of Home and Away, owing to his board shorts, blond hair and characteristically Aussie enthusiasm. The aforementioned gusts of wind stole every other sentence of his advice meaning that I headed out onto a catamaran for the first time in my life with nothing more than a patchy understanding of how to operate the thing. One piece of advice I'd confined to short-term memory was the need to let go of the rope if the catamaran was toppling over. We set off and, for an hour or so, repeatedly changed sides to strike a balance between body and wind pushing against the mainsail in a bid to keep the catamaran vertical, adjusting the tautness of the sheeting to reduce or increase speed and pushing the catamaran's rudders left or right to control its direction. It was exhilarating trying to manage all of these elements to best harness nature's forces and move the catamaran forward. Occasionally everything would come together and we would magically cut through the water at a pace that was both exciting and frightening. With the catamaran brought ashore, I headed back out into the waters of the Coral Sea in a bright orange kayak; I sure feel at home in a kayak these days.
Our last adventure in the waters of the Great Barrier Reef's Coral Sea involved hopping to the neighbouring Whitsunday Island, famed home of the pure white silica sand of Whitehaven Beach. An unremarkable journey from Hamilton Island Marina out to Whitehaven Beach took less than an hour. As we furrowed towards my second island of the trip, my stresses from the previous working week diminished yet further. Soon we found ourselves disembarking at the southern end of Whitehaven Beach. We quickly left the throng of fellow passengers behind; for reasons known only to themselves they stayed close to the place where the ferry had docked, clinging to it, and the nearby sausage sizzle being set up by cruise staff members, as if it were a life raft. We headed north up the beach, donning our skin-tight stinger suits so that we could go swimming in the knowledge that we were reasonably protected from the Irukandji Jellyfish, one of the smallest yet most venomous jellyfish in the world. This jellyfish is another example of the Australian paradox: it's a land where the exquisite beauty of life and the threat of instant death coexist in perfect harmony.
We headed back to the southern end of the beach to join the throng for our share of the sausage sizzle (this is something of an Aussie institution), albeit a vegetarian version, before donning life jackets and heading out on stand up paddle boards (SUPs). For the second time on this trip, this was a water sports first for me, which explains why I was so terrible at it, barely managing to stand up before plunging back into the water. Every time I fell, I laughed louder. I maintain to this day that the paddle boards being the inflatable variety played a distinctly significant role in my failure to master this latest water sport, being, as they are, inherently more bouncy than the standard variety. Drenched, but happy, I dried off ashore, delighting in the natural textures and shapes of the beach as we headed back up to the northern end to collect our gear, which we were soon to discover had been ransacked by birds while out paddle boarding. Our bags had been emptied out and our belongings strewn all over the beach. The spot where we'd deposited our stuff, in hindsight somewhat naively, looked less 'beach paradise' and more like 'crime scene'.
For the second time Queensland proved to be wonderful, incredible, wild. I headed home with a feeling of intense satisfaction - the kind of satisfaction that comes from knowing you've made the absolute best of a long weekend.
A room with a view: Catseye Bay of the Coral Sea in Australia's Great Barrier Reef region.
Catching the sunset at Catseye Bay.
The 5am hike to Passage Peak: a 5km scramble through the darkness past Cane Toads, lawn-mowing wallabies, skittering possums and stinging trees.
There are many wallabies on Hamilton Island but this one, with his forest backdrop,was a particularly photogenic fellow.
Hamilton Island: untrammelled natural beauty.
Sailing a Catamaran - my maiden voyage!
An aesthetically-satisfying parasol looks out into the Coral Sea.
I sure feel at home in a kayak.
Whitehaven Beach: our location for a spot of swimming (wearing a stinger suit), stand-up paddle boarding and home to a giant Monitor Lizard.
travel tips, links & resources
- The Whitsunday Islands are exceedingly popular with Australians in search of an island escape. This means that you have no option but to plan ahead if you're going to enjoy your time here. Booking in advance for everything from golf buggies to ferry journeys and evening meals is essential if you're staying peak season. You heard that right: you have to think weeks in advance if you want to eat at your hotel.
- At time of travel, Qantas was flying direct onto Hamilton Island from Sydney. Other flights travel only to Proserpine on the Australian (Queensland) mainland. If your time is tight, as mine was, then flying direct to Hamilton Island will help you to maximise your time.
- The official tourism website for Hamilton Island is a good place to start when planning your trip. Get there from here.
- If you're planning on going for a hike on Hamilton Island, be mindful of the Gympie-Gympie Stinging Trees. The Gympie-Gympie has broad oval or heart-shaped leaves with saw-tooth edges and white or purple-red fruit. They are covered in stinging hairs which appear furry. Brushing against the tree will cause the hairs to embed into the skin and result in an extremely painful stinging sensation.
- If you're planning on entering waters other than man-made swimming pools, it is advisable that you wear a stinger suit to avoid getting stung by the Irukandji Jellyfish. This is one of the smallest (about the size of an adult thumb) and most venomous jellyfish in the world. It has been found in the waters of the Whitsunday Islands, predominantly during the summer months (December-March). A sting by one of these guys requires immediate medical attention. If swimming, wear a stinger suit like I did.
- There is just a single supermarket on Hamilton Island. Prices were reasonable all things considered.
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