We planned our snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reef to be a highlight of our trip. We both were looking forward to it immensely and were concerned when we both caught a cold. While I had mostly recovered, Blayne vowed that great quantities of decongestant cold medicine would get him through the day—if he could (just) breathe, he could snorkel.
After an excellent recommendation from a travel agent at a local information centre, we decided to book a tour to the Great Barrier Reef through Poseidon tours, despite its ominous name. They actually had a poster on board touting “The Poseidon Adventure.” Why not just name the ship Titanic?
Anyway, prior to arriving in Cairns, we were overwhelmed with the number of tour boat operators and found it difficult to determine which would be the best for us. Poseidon has an advanced eco-tourism accreditation (good environmental procedures), a reef instructor, a great reputation for smallish groups, and three dives at separate sites on the outer Great Barrier Reef. If this sounds like a promotion of Poseidon, it is—we plan to write a positive review of our experience in TripAdvisor.
The day started brutally early—we were picked up from the Bay Village hotel was at 6:50 a.m. to transport us to Port Douglas, on the outskirts of Cairns over an hour away. En route to Port Douglas, our driver delighted, as all Australians seem to, in telling us about the dangers that Australian flora and fauna pose to tourists and locals alike. “Don’t swim in the ocean,” he said, “it’s box jellyfish season.” Of course we already knew that, having been informed by our taxi driver from the airport. But the bus driver pointed out that the normal jellyfish nets were useless against the smallest form of poisonous jellyfish. “They’re as small as your fingernail and there are several people in hospital for stings right now. Swim only in swimming pools.” This informative commentary was not especially moral-boosting as we were about to spend the entire day in the ocean.
All the snorkelers gathered on the top deck while the scuba divers (or bubble heads as the crew called them) gathered on the lower deck. The crew, except for the crusty skipper Richard, was all young, fit, incredibly tanned and good looking. They were also incredibly gregarious, trying to soothe the fears of several people who couldn’t swim yet wanted to snorkel on the reef.
The lecture about the dangers of Australian sea life continued when we were all on the Poseidon heading out to the outer Greater Barrier Reef. On the upper deck Gareth, a marine biologist from South Africa, described the procedure for treating a sting on the hand from a beautiful spiny lion fish that is slow moving and incredibly poisonous. “I heat up a kettle and pour the incredibly hot water on your hand. And you don’t even care how hot the water is because you’re in so much pain. I’ve had people beg me to cut their hands off after they’ve been stung. And then we call a helicopter to take you to the hospital.” Blayne and I looked at one another, not sure if this was all a story designed to scare the tourists or a factual description of treatment. It's true. According to the reef website, "You have virtually no chance of surviving the venomous sting, unless treated immediately. The pain is so excruciating and overwhelming that you would most likely go into shock and drown before reaching the shore."
After an excellent recommendation from a travel agent at a local information centre, we decided to book a tour to the Great Barrier Reef through Poseidon tours, despite its ominous name. They actually had a poster on board touting “The Poseidon Adventure.” Why not just name the ship Titanic?
Anyway, prior to arriving in Cairns, we were overwhelmed with the number of tour boat operators and found it difficult to determine which would be the best for us. Poseidon has an advanced eco-tourism accreditation (good environmental procedures), a reef instructor, a great reputation for smallish groups, and three dives at separate sites on the outer Great Barrier Reef. If this sounds like a promotion of Poseidon, it is—we plan to write a positive review of our experience in TripAdvisor.
The day started brutally early—we were picked up from the Bay Village hotel was at 6:50 a.m. to transport us to Port Douglas, on the outskirts of Cairns over an hour away. En route to Port Douglas, our driver delighted, as all Australians seem to, in telling us about the dangers that Australian flora and fauna pose to tourists and locals alike. “Don’t swim in the ocean,” he said, “it’s box jellyfish season.” Of course we already knew that, having been informed by our taxi driver from the airport. But the bus driver pointed out that the normal jellyfish nets were useless against the smallest form of poisonous jellyfish. “They’re as small as your fingernail and there are several people in hospital for stings right now. Swim only in swimming pools.” This informative commentary was not especially moral-boosting as we were about to spend the entire day in the ocean.
All the snorkelers gathered on the top deck while the scuba divers (or bubble heads as the crew called them) gathered on the lower deck. The crew, except for the crusty skipper Richard, was all young, fit, incredibly tanned and good looking. They were also incredibly gregarious, trying to soothe the fears of several people who couldn’t swim yet wanted to snorkel on the reef.
The lecture about the dangers of Australian sea life continued when we were all on the Poseidon heading out to the outer Greater Barrier Reef. On the upper deck Gareth, a marine biologist from South Africa, described the procedure for treating a sting on the hand from a beautiful spiny lion fish that is slow moving and incredibly poisonous. “I heat up a kettle and pour the incredibly hot water on your hand. And you don’t even care how hot the water is because you’re in so much pain. I’ve had people beg me to cut their hands off after they’ve been stung. And then we call a helicopter to take you to the hospital.” Blayne and I looked at one another, not sure if this was all a story designed to scare the tourists or a factual description of treatment. It's true. According to the reef website, "You have virtually no chance of surviving the venomous sting, unless treated immediately. The pain is so excruciating and overwhelming that you would most likely go into shock and drown before reaching the shore."
Gareth said that anyone stung by a box jellyfish would also be flown by helicopter to the hospital. He stressed that nothing should be touched on the reef: not only was the reef to delicate to withstand contact but that many of the beautiful, colourful things that we would want to touch would be poisonous.
After these stories no one had any complaints when we were told that we all had to wear bright blue lycra suits to thwart any jellyfish. The crew referred to the suits as the “Teletubby suits.” After a brief introduction to the art of snorkeling, we struggled into our skin-tight, electric blue suits and jumped into the 29-degree C water.
After these stories no one had any complaints when we were told that we all had to wear bright blue lycra suits to thwart any jellyfish. The crew referred to the suits as the “Teletubby suits.” After a brief introduction to the art of snorkeling, we struggled into our skin-tight, electric blue suits and jumped into the 29-degree C water.
No comments:
Post a Comment