We'd packed all our things away to be put in storage for the day, and we'd left out our clothes for today and tomorrow. It's been lovely and sunny for the last couple of days, so, typically, it was cool and cloudy this morning. Mikey assured me I wouldn't need anything warmer with me (and I believed him) so we checked out of the hostel and found the bus.

The bus picked us up at 7.45 and took us about 10 yards up the road to pick up more people. Each stop was just a short way away, but each time more elderly people got on. It was very strange, I think Mikey and I, along with another couple, brought the average age down to about 55. It wasn't quite what we were expecting, especially as we'd be sharing rooms with these people! The driver, who would also be our guide, was very chatty, and he told us about the bus (the largest all-terrain vehicle in the world) and our trip. It turns out that we were the only ones on the bus staying for the two-day trip, the otehrs were all going home again in the evening. A few minutes later we were on the ferry to Fraser Island. It's only a ten-minute trip, but we all got off the bus to look for whales, dolphins or manatees, and didn't find any.

Once on the island, the roads are just sand tracks or beaches. It was a bit bumpy and bouncy, but the bus was in its element. We drove along the beach for a while, and watched a dingo run past the bus. There are a couple of hundred here, and can be aggressive, especially this time of year when they are either mating or looking after pups, and we were told not to walk alone, and not to run from them. A little while later, after driving along deep sand tracks, we arrived at the resort we were going to be staying in, and had tea and cake. Someone gave us a room key. We were expecting to be in different rooms, sharing with three other people, so being given a single key made us think that we would have a room to ourselves after all, which was nice. We couldn't check in until lunchtime, so we got back on the bus and headed out to the rainforest for a walk. The place, Central Station, was where the logging used to take place, and it was replanted when the loggers left. There is a bit of a museum there, some large signs warning about the ddangers of dingoes, and plenty of gorgeous, untouched rainforest. Fraser Island is the largest sand island in the world, and all the trees are growing in sand, which is unique. Also, the sand filters all the water on the island so that all creeks and rivers are so clear as to be almost invisible at times. The small stream running through the rainforest could only be seen when a leaf or twig floated down it. I also saw a kookaburra sitting in an old gum tree-ee.

After the walk it was back on the bus to go to Lake Birrabeen, a 'perched' lake which is really just a massive pool of rainwater that has built up over the years. It doesn't flow out and isn't fed by anything, so it's just a puddle really. But what a puddle!

Despite the cold, the slight wind and distinct lack of sunshine, I had to swim. The sand in this area is more than 95% pure silica, which is supposed to be very good as an exfolient and cleaner of jewellery, and turns green if you wee on it, apparently. (The lake also turns orange under the same conditions, but I was told this, I didn't experience it first hand!) So I tried the wet sand as a body scrub (gorgeous) and I finally braved it as a shampoo too. Rubing handfuls of wet sand into your hair is not exactly pleasant, especially the icy dunking to get rid of most of it, but it worked surprisingly well. I then attacked Mikey with more enthusiasm than he showed, but he tolerated me with his customary good grace. He even went for a swim too! The silica was also excellent as a polish for my wedding ring and necklace. Rupert lent me a silver pendant before I left, which I have worn continuously (appart from twice when I took it off for a shower), and this is now a sparkling thing of beauty, rather than the slightly dull, less conspicuous piece of man-jewellery it was. But don't panic, I have several months left to get it back to its original ways!

We dried off as best we could amid soft powdery sand and an alrming crowd of old people congregating in the secluded spot we'd chosen for the task and then we were taken back to the resort for lunch. We were surprised to learn that the tour was over for the rest of the group, who would eat and depart. We were glad to be continuing for the afternoon.

Considering the Eurong Resort was a 4-star hotel, lunch was a rather unnimaginative buffet, but we ate (free food!) until we couldn't eat any more. Then we put our bags in our room. Which had bunk beds and a pair of unfeasably pretty Swiss girls, as surprised to see us as we were to see them. Never mind. One day we'll be able to afford rooms to ourselves!

After a bit of detective work and some lax orgainising on the part of the hotel, we joined a different bus for the afternoon, which was getting sunnier. We drove further up the coast to some beautiful coloured rocks and then back down to a remarkable shipwreck. The Maheno was wrecked in an unseasonal cyclone in 1935 and anything useful was sold off before the shell was left to rust on the beach. It's an extraordinary sight even though only the top deck of nine is now visible above the sand.

We'd seen a picture of the wreck on a poster and I particularly wanted to see it, and for me it was the highlight of the day.

Further down the beach we paddled in Eli Creek, one of thousands of freshwater streams that flow down the beach (because of the high Water Table, apprently. I'm hoping someone can explain that to me...) and went for a walk. We saw some of the humpback whales who are migrating to the barrier reef to spawn, but only in the distance. Then it was back down the beach to the hotel, a chance to make our beds and meet our room mates and then time for supper. We entertained ourselves by writing limericks about the tour (as suggested on a 'Win Free Beer' poster), thought about going for a walk on the beach, remembered the dingoes, went back to our room and read for a while and chatted to the Swiss girls. They complained about the Australian accent, and we had to explain that the phrase they'd kept hearing was words of encouragement, not 'Good Onion' as they'd thought.