This morning was a very sad morning. We were leaving our island.
We went to our office with the intention of writing while we watched the ferry come in, but ended up contemplating life. What are our one year goals? Our five year goals? Our career goals, our financial goals? Was it possible to live on the island like the natives? To work for housing? How do the backpackers do it? If we won the lottery, how would we live, and what would it take to do that realistically?
*sigh*
The ferry came in and dumped a load of visitors, who distracted us to much for writing, so we packed up and headed back home to pack and clean.
We donated some of our leftover food to the ‘community shelf’, which had supported us when we’d first arrived and had nothing. Then, with two hours until we were due on the beach for the ferry, we took one last walk to
Walking next to the runway where we’d first arrived brought back memories and made us glad we’d changed our minds and not bought a plane ticket off the island.
We walked back to the Village and migrated to the beach with the other people that were leaving. The ferry was waiting for us and anxious to leave, as the extremely low tide threatened to beach it. Geoff helped us drag our bags up the wobbly metal gang plank. It was the last we’d see him.
Inside, after the ferry pushed out to sea, we were offered muffins and fruit, to which lots of people dived into. Caroline and I went up top, now fully appreciative of Captain Jack’s sway, and took lots of pictures and movies as our Keppel faded into the background behind us. And the best part is that it was a stolen ferry ride!
We pulled into the marina about 45 minutes later, where a teenaged driver from the Rydges Resort was waiting. On the way to the resort we wound through the streets of Yeppoon—which bears a strong resemblance to the streets of
I could tell this place was going to be crazy good when started down the 5k driveway. I mean, when a resort goes to the trouble of buying up all the land within a ten mile radius and then landscaping it, you start to wonder just what the annual revenue is.
We were not disappointed.
The resort is broken into lots of different buildings, all of them backing up to the pool. It’s the kind of place worthy of a vet conference, or being featured on some international travel show. Blue water, curving edges, waterfalls, mock-beaches, bridges and water slides and absolutely gorgeous. Almost too good to be true. (Insert suspicious eyebrow raise here.)
And the room. The balcony. The big bed. The tiled bathroom. The big flat screen TV that personally welcomed me to the resort when we turned it on. Niiice.
But we were starving so we dumped our bags and went back to the pool, grabbed lunch, and ate poolside. The food was good, but as we watched the screaming kids and magazine-perfect teenagers and flabby parents, we began to miss our island more and more. Don’t get me wrong, it was nice… but more populated. A different kind of spoiling.
We retreated to the hotel room for a little TV before going back down to the pool, which now that night had fallen, was deserted. This was more our speed! We tried a few cocktails from the pool-side bar and did some spying—I mean, writing exercises—until closing time. Then, deciding to check out the karaoke, we headed over to the main building but were ‘bounced’ because I had inappropriate footwear (see: flip flops). Somewhat disgruntled, we called it a night.
And for the first time in a week, I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night afraid that some type of animal was crawling about under my bed.
Which, kind of made me sad.
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