The Great Barrier Reef - October 23

We get up, still in the dark, and quietly go about our morning pursuits. Our little "suite" in Cairnes (Cans to the locals) has two sleeping areas and a kitchenette and a living area. We = Big Ass Petes. We start for our boat quite early (thank Mr. C. for the fact that we're always prompt) which turns out to be wise because of our many fits and starts until we find ourselves in the proper car park. Getting sufficient coingae for the meter for an all-day stay is not without challenge but, after a few pretty grim cups of coffee, all is accomplished and we are off to the pier. We spot the boat as well as the first of many adorable and friendly crew members and we board and check in. We sit and are soon joined by a kind and conversational couple from Melbourne and we enjoy the hour and a half trip to the GBR. It's cloudy but fairly warm and there's no rain and I'm feeling fine because of that little Bonine pill we popped back at the hotel. Excitement mounts as we anchor, don our fins, masks and wet suits and respond with a splash as the snokel guide yells, "The pool's open!" It was pretty spectacular to be snorkeling at the GBR. I am in the water no more than 5 seconds when something large brushes against my leg. I lower my face for a look and see one mammu fish swimming off nonchalantly. Ron estimated it at 70 to 80 pounds. Quite an indoctrination. We swim around the reef for about an hour, seeing many beautiful fish in bright array as well as some who prefer the background. The giant clams with there deep mouths for unsuspecting passers-bye are most intriguing. My only moments of unease occur when I am swimming atop some particularly close-to-the-surface coral and I wonder if I can avoid scraping my legs on it. Answer = all okay. We return to the boat for lunch after which I stretch out on the bow cushions and fall sound asleep until we anchor down the way a bit. I rouse when my new friend Anne and I go out without our husbands for the afternoon snorkel. Except for an occasional issue with water in my breathing tube, I have a wonderful and serene swim. I fell pretty blissful just to be. Ron unsucessfully tries several times to signal me that my snorkel is facing the wrong way, hence scooping up water. And I SO wantetd to look cool and not amaturish. As my Aunt May used to say, "Denied!" We head for home with Ron and I all alone on the bow. He's stretched out in front of me, asleep, and I'm cross-legged on the bench, feeling meditative. Suddenly, a literal downspout of water is funneled onto our heads from the second deck because we are plowing through the most enormous waves! At great peril to limbs, we careen from one side of the boat to the other, seeking shelter. I am slithering across the seats but Ron ends up airborne for his troubles as he crosses while upright. Sort of. My nice cap from the Hat Store in Long Beach sails off the starboard side, and we head into the boat, and yes, the word of the day is craeening! Unf'ing believeable. We zig and zag our way to our table where Anne is retching in the paper bags provided for that purpose and I see a stack of them placed near her. Not a good sign. She recovers, but only enough to be helped slowly (remember the pitches and rolls) out to the fantail where the rest of the green people have settled. Por sick bastards. Meanwhile, several of the crew cavort when there's a particularly dramatic bounce and use the momentum to leap high into the air. I barely stop myself from trying but any breakage would not enhance the trip, so I refrain. And not until we reach the inner harbour does Anne quite heaving, poor, poor thing. We bid them farewell and head home. Challenge of the day: Food, again! 1) Finding; 2) agreeing; 3) Hoping for, but being denied any quality. Did I mention that dining out is very expensive here? I make it through dinner in a stupor. I fall into bed, unable even to work a one-star (moron level) sudoku. Sound asleep before 9 P.M., both of us.