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| Cardwell Jetty |
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| A day spent in and around the resort's pool. Life get's tedious, don't it? |
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| Bronnie and Julie (staff) with Rick and Bob on "Reef Venture" and on the beach |
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| Zoe Falls |
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| Hinchinbrook Island |
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| Raffles City, Singapore |
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| Ho's Postcard |
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| Raffles Hotel Swizzle Sticks |
After a non-eventful trip from Singapore
back to the Land of Oz; and then an equally non-eventful connecting flight from
Brisbane to
Townsville, I finally ended up in Cardwell where I stayed overnight, but not at
the Lyndoch Motel, my usual mainland hang-out. The motel was booked out, so I
stayed in a self-contained apartment further north along the highway from the
Lyndoch.
Excited in the knowledge my island home was just across the
waters of Missionary
Bay, I was eager for the
night to pass. I was impatient for the morning to arrive; keen to jump aboard
the “Reef Venture”. I’d pre-arranged
with Bonnie, the wife of Bob, the skipper of the “Reef Venture” to pick me up
in the morning in my own car, to drive me to the Cardwell jetty. Bonnie operated the small mainland booking
office situated in the centre of the town.
She attended to all the office work, which included holiday reservations
for the resort, day-trippers, and all other matters pertaining thereto. In the
meantime Bob did the runs to the island, every day, except Mondays (and
sometimes on Monday, if required), ferrying day-trippers, holidaymakers as well
as delivering the resort’s provisions, gas bottles etc. Bonnie and Bob stored my car, a Ford Cortina Ghia
in their garage at the rear of their office.
Up bright and early, I was showered, dressed and ready to
go. I’d had a wonderful week in Singapore, one
in which I’d created life-long, happy memories, but now with the island within
my reach I could hardly contain my emotions.
I’d missed my island home and my staff.
Upon hearing my car pull into the driveway of the unit, I
flew out the door before the motor was switched off; but, I immediately came to
an abrupt stop. My mouth fell open and
my eyes grew as large as saucers!
“Who’s looking after the island?” Were the first words
issued from my mouth.
In my car, with smiles as bright at the Evening Star and as
wide as the Great Australian Bight, beaming at
me were most of my staff members!
“What’s going on?” I exclaimed. “Why are all of you here? Is anyone left on
the island?”
“G’day, Mum!”
Cheerfully they shouted in unison as they leapt from the car full of vim
and vigour. Grabbing my luggage like a
mob of frenzied porters, they promptly loaded it into the car’s boot (the trunk
for those of you in the Northern Hemisphere).
As explained in previous posts, often, with good-humoured
affection, my staff called me “Mum”. It
grew from me regularly referring to them as “the kids” or “my kids” when talking
with island guests. So the moniker of “Mum” stuck in lighter moments! When they weren’t pleased with me, or vice
versa, formality reappeared briefly.
That morning they figured using the nom de plume of “Mum” was the safe
route to my heart and good nature!
“Well! Why are you all here? Who is left at the resort?” I
repeated, too stunned to move.
“Everything’s under control, Mum! No need to worry!” One
grinning renegade told me, as the rest of the cavalier bunch nodded in
agreement.
“We took a vote! We drew straws to see who would remain at
the resort. There aren’t many guests at
the moment. Rick was throwing a
Thanksgiving Party, and he invited us along! So we’re the ones who won draw,
and drew the long straws!”
Rick, Bonnie’s brother-in-law, married to her sister, was an
American from Boston. He and Bonnie’s sister were on an extended
holiday, staying with the family in Cardwell.
During his stay in Cardwell, Rick acted as Bob’s deckhand on the “Reef
Venture”. Hinchinbrook
Island and the resort
became his second home, too.
I was too flabbergasted to kick up much of a stink; and
seeing their happy faces milling around me made it nigh impossible for me to be
cranky at them. Their actions, body
language and comments showed they were very pleased to have me back within the
fold. Anyway, it was too late to cry over spilled milk; they’d already enjoyed
the Thanksgiving Party, perhaps, a little too much I sensed! However, their exuberance was contagious, and
soon I joined in with their laughter. They were the ones who had to fight
through hangovers, not me! I had faith in my staff (most of them, anyway). I knew they wouldn’t desert their posts
before having all bases well covered.
To allow a chance to party slip out of their hands was not
in my staff’s DNA. They worked hard when
on shift, and they had partying down pat!
The car was overloaded even before my presence. Ungainly, I squeezed in as best I could,
sitting on someone’s lap, not having anywhere to put my arms or hands without
causing someone embarrassment, including me.
I held them were upright with my palms awkwardly splayed on the ceiling
of the car’s interior. If the Cardwell
police had been up out of bed they’d have booked us all and confiscated my
car! But, maybe not…they were a good
mob, the Cardwell cops. I got on well with them. Fortunately, it wasn’t a long
distance to the jetty. We succeeded in making the trip safely without being
hauled off to the Cardwell lock-up!
What a great headline that would have been!
Through the boisterous chatter and laughter I was informed
by my bossy staff that I wasn’t going to do a scrap of work once we landed on
the island. They allotted me no room for
argument. Their orders were my commands;
with promises of margaritas or pina coladas at my beck and call as incentives!
Who could refuse an offer/order such as the one issued me
that morning…not I!
I didn’t feel in “work-mode”, anyway. I needed a day to digest everything I’d
experienced the previous week – that’s what I told myself, anyway – and it
seemed good advice. I followed it
diligently, to the letter.
True to their word, as soon as we arrived at the island, my
luggage was whisked away off the boat, taken in the direction of my island
abode, with me rushing behind because I was eager to cuddle my beloved ginger
cat, Ruska. I’d missed him very much;
and from his reaction upon seeing me, it was very clear he’d missed me, too. After spending time with Ruska, ensuring him
I was back home to stay, without further fuss or ado, I donned my togs
(swimming suit) because the balance of the day was going to be spent in and
around the pool. Tying a colourful
sarong around my hips I walked back to the pool deck where an inviting cold
drink was already mixed and waiting for me.
Oh! Life gets so tedious on a tropical island at the start
of summer…but one has to deal with it the best way one can!
Sipping pina coladas in and around the pool while listening
to the stories about what had transpired during my absence, as well as
answering the endless questions tossed at me from all quarters, including from
Rick whom I’d forgiven for stealing my staff overnight, and for being the cause
of their hangovers, the day passed extremely pleasantly.
From memory there were only eight or ten guests staying in
the resort’s cabins at the time. During the day guests were off doing their own
thing. One by one, or two by two they meandered back to the restaurant and pool
where they, too, soaked up the casual, relaxed atmosphere.
Morning morphed seamlessly into afternoon; lazy,
leisure-filled hours were enjoyed by everyone; most of all by me. It was good to be home again with the sound
of the ocean lapping the shore, even if, on the day of my return to the fold,
the ocean sounds were mostly drowned out by the happy, at times lively,
unrestrained revellers.
However, once the fun and games were over, it didn’t take me
long to settle back into work rhythm.
About two days after being back home it was time to finish
unpacking my suitcases. I let out a gasp
when I found a brown paper bag bearing a pomegranate amongst the contents of a
suitcase. I’d bought the pomegranate
from a street vendor in Singapore.
Obviously, in a hurry when I’d returned to my hotel room I’d tossed it onto the
opened suitcase, and had rushed off to change before departing for my next
assignation. I’d completely forgotten about
it; forgotten I’d bought it. To find it
in my suitcase still wrapped up in the paper bag caused my heart and stomach to
do triple back and front flips in unison.
Immediately, I grabbed the large, illegal, edible, hexagonal berry, and
rushed out onto my deck overlooking the ocean.
There, with all the force and strength I could muster, I hurled the
forbidden fruit into the fathoms below.
Let the sea creatures enjoy the fruit of my innocent, illicit
importation!
What evidence, officer?
It’s all conjecture!
One day a few months after my Singapore Fling a Japanese
couple, husband and wife, arrived at the resort. I’d received about an hour’s
notice of their pending arrival. They’d
chartered a seaplane, a Beaver, through Air Whitsunday to bring them to the
island for lunch; just the two of them, to dine at the island restaurant. They
were keen to lap up the ambience of an Australian tropical island if only for a
couple of hours. I welcomed them to the resort and escorted them to a
table.
Lunch was never a big deal at the resort because most days
after they’d finished their unrushed buffet breakfasts the guests went off on
the “Reef Venture” to explore the Brook Islands, Gould Island, Missionary Bay,
Ramsay Bay, or when the weather and wind permitted, to Zoe Bay, with a trek
through the rainforest to Zoe Falls, thrown in for good measure – and exercise.
At outings’ end, Bob deposited the adventurers safely back to the resort around
4 pm.
Breakfast on the island, for our guests, commenced at 8
am. The staff had their breakfast in the
staff room from 6 am to 7 am or thereabouts.
Life on Hinchinbrook
Island was conducted at a
leisurely, unrushed, no-hassles-stress-free pace; at least for the
holidaymakers; and also, at times, for us hard working islanders!
If guests didn’t go venturing across the sea in the “Reef
Venture”, they’d disappear for the day, by their own means – their legs. They’d wander off to North and South Shepherd
Beaches at will and under
their own steam. Whether they chose a
boat trip or spent the day exploring by foot to nearby beaches my chefs
prepared individual picnic lunches for them to feast upon.
There were times guests would decide to just lounge around
the pool for the day, having chosen to be sloths rather than active hounds.
Of course, sometimes guests who’d only arrived in the
morning, brought across from the mainland by the “Reef Venture”, and those
later arrivals by sea plane, would choose to spend their first day
familiarizing themselves with their immediate surroundings and so on.
Most of my guests were off having fun elsewhere, away from
the resort’s facilities the day the Japanese couple arrived. I spent a great amount of time talking with
my fleeting, fly-in-fly-out visitors. During our conversation I learned they
lived in Singapore.
The husband worked in the finance sector. His company
operated from one of the office towers in the then new Raffles City. Raffles
City officially opened in October,
1986, about a month before my visit to Singapore. It was built on the
former site of the Raffles Institution, the first school in Singapore. The modern style of
architecture of Raffles City, a massive complex spread over three blocks, is in
total contrast to the iconic hotel it’s located close to….Raffles Hotel.
I asked the husband if he ever went across to Raffles
Hotel. He replied he’d not often done
so. I then proceeded to tell him the story of my love for Raffles; of my many
visits to the hotel, and of the friendship I’d forged with Ho.
“I want to ask you a favour, if I may,” I said to my
Japanese guest. “When you arrive back home to Singapore would you, one day, at
your leisure, call into the Writers’ Bar; introduce yourself to Ho; and pass on
to him, please, my very best wishes?
Thank him on my behalf for his wonderful hospitality while I was in his
country. Tell him I will always remember
his kindness to me; that I hold it dear to my heart. Please tell him I will never
forget him. I’d be so grateful if you
could do that for me.”
“I’ll do better than that.” My smiling guest replied. “We’ll
have our photo taken together; and allow me to take one of you alone. I shall be pleased to do as you ask; honoured
to pass on your message to your friend, Ho; and, while doing so, I will give Ho
the photos.”
John, my barman obliged in taking the photographs using the
Japanese gentleman’s camera.
Shortly thereafter, the time had come for my visitors to bid
farewell before boarding the seaplane to take them back to the mainland. They were a lovely couple. I enjoyed our time
spent together. At our parting, we
hugged. Waving, I watched as the sea
plane lifted off the waters of Missionary
Bay. I strolled back up
from the jetty to the restaurant area as the Beaver, bearing the Japanese
couple, disappeared over the island; out of sight…a brief encounter.
Life went on with new
people to meet; new guests to welcome; an island resort to run.
A few weeks went by.
As was his habit, Bob, the “Reef Venture’s” skipper, dumped the mailbag
on my desk one morning after his arrival to the island.
To my surprise…great surprise, mixed with extreme pleasure an
envelope addressed to me, personally, leapt out from the pile on my desk, as if
it was saying, “Pick me! Pick me!”
Tearing open the envelope, I discovered it was a postcard
from Ho!
The Japanese gentleman was as good as his word.
He went to the Writers’ Bar; introduced himself to Ho; and
passed onto Ho my message.
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I read and re-read the postcard over and over. Holding it gently in my hands, I treated it
like a precious gem. Included in the
envelope along with the postcard was a green swizzle stick from Raffles
Hotel! I couldn’t wipe the smile off my
face.
Tears of joy; tears created by wonderful memories filled my
eyes. Emotions flooded my being.
My faith in humanity was restored. Too many people say they will do something,
but never carry it through; never fulfill their promises. Words flow easily; and just as easily are
soon forgotten.
My Japanese guest, who had only spent a couple of hours on
the island, had honoured his word. I
held the proof in my hands.
Ho’s postcard is a much cherished memento of mine to this
day; as are my memories of that extraordinary, gentle man.
My memories of the rare gem of a genuine gentleman who so
kindly kept his word after such a brief meeting remain with me, as well.
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