Otherwise known as the day Phil couldn’t count. Lots of stops today, one significant one where the bus would pick up or drop off passengers: Townsville. On arrival, we got off to have our one-hour break in the town, and arriving back found the bus was a scene of chaos. There were about 50 seats on the bus, and about 70 people wanting to take them. Musical chairs was out of the question, and Phil was trying to decide what to do. He decided to board people one at a time after checking their reservation slips. The problem with this was that almost everyone had a valid reservation slip. After weeding out the three or four that didn’t, Phil re-boarded the bus triumphantly to find that about fifteen people were standing in the aisle.

Two hours later we were still in Townsville. Calls to HQ had finally resolved the situation and those that were willing to take the next day’s bus were re-booked. We moved on, and the second incident of the day happened a couple of hours later when Phil stalled the bus. On the upward slope of a hill. With no air pressure for the brakes. Fortunately, the people who make busses had thought of this and the bus did not roll back down the hill. It would not go forward either so we spent another 15 minutes stationery as Phil revved the engine until the air pressure was back to normal.

The hostel in Airlie beach was in darkness when we arrived. We decided to check out the beach itself (despite the darkness), and left our room to explore. The lighting ended at the entrance to a wooded passage which supposedly led to the beach, and certainly looked well trodden (the first bit did, we couldn’t see the rest very well). Advancing into the trees, armed with maglites, we followed the path as best we could. Shadows cast by the tress in the torchlight made for a very creepy setting and the going was getting rough. Torches had to be focused on the ground ahead as the tree roots surged to the surface, creating nature’s own tripwires.

Emerging on the other side of the path, the ground opened up and grass appeared underfoot. A few trees and a telephone/power line were silhouetted in the distance, but there was no immediate sign of the beach. We continued to walk straight ahead, crossing the grassy area in a few minutes, and soon noticed the ground was becoming softer – sand was making an appearance. A little farther on a deserted road with a single street lamp and a row of houses – but now the waves could be heard, and we were close. It appeared that to get to the beach itself we would have to slip through the gap between two houses, and so we did so as quietly as possible. Finally the trees, soil and tarmac gave way to a deserted stretch of beach lit up by the moonlight and two distant fires perhaps half a mile along the shore. The sight of moonlight being reflected from the surface of the water combined with the gentle lapping of the waves is a relaxing contrast to daily life aboard the Oz-bus.