Heli-beaching

Helicopter. This was Kevin's conclusion about the best way to get to Whitehaven Beach. He'd done a helicopter trip over it on his last visit here, and loved it; but this time we were going to land.

So he'd booked it last night; and we spent the morning hoping for good weather - the rain kept coming and going (Jemima and I went for a swim during one of the heaviest downpours, which was actually really fun. As another lady in the pool said, you're wet already...). But when the car came to collect us (driven by a nice young man from Woking - us Brits are all over), thankfully, the sun was out.

A short drive to the airport later, we were taken outside to meet Dave, our pilot, and our helicopter, a TINY red Robinson R44 - four seats, one of which had a cushion on, ready for Jemima. Life jackets and headsets on; safety briefing done (basically, don't open the door...); and we were off!

I've been on a helicopter once before, and then the thrill counterbalanced the fear (they are somewhere halfway between a plane (fine) and a gondola (awful) for me. So I was hoping it would be the same. And, with some determined breathing at the start, thankfully it was - especially as this time I had Jemima next to me to distract me. And she absolutely loved it: "wheeeee!!!!" as we took off; "look, we're so high!"; "this is amazing!". Her enthusiasm was infectious. And the fear was worth it for the view. Kevin was right: it was incredible seeing the islands from above, with coral reefs visible under the water, tiny boats scudding about, and amazingly perfect coves tucked into the edges of the islands we flew above.

Dave flew us over Hilltop Point, where a river (looking browny-green from the mangrove foliage) twisted and turned into the opal sea across white sand banks. And there was Whitehaven Beach: pure white, as the name suggests (from the silica it's made from, not sand), arcing away for miles, just forest, sand and sea. And on our way to land in about the middle, a turtle waved his flipper at us as a welcome before diving down.

A gentle bump, and we were down, feet out onto the smoothest, finest, whitest sand I've ever seen, stretching far away on both directions. It was bewitchingly beautiful. There was a boat and its group at the far southern end, but apart from that we were alone. Dave had a handy spade; so digging and beach races were undertaken, while the storm clouds came in again. Then the heavens opened - but actually it was quite refreshing. A follow-my-leader walk (with Jemima as leader, of course); hopscotch; and then it was time to go - damp, very sandy but exhilarated. 

Another glorious flight, with Jemima chatting non-stop into her headphones ("oh, more boring trees... The sea, that's better! Wow, look at that boat! They're very small but that's because we're high up...") Then a ride back to the campsite for another swim, before a taxi to town for dinner. We found an Italian near the water, and celebrated our exciting day. We'd happily stay another week, but time is ticking on, so that's it for the Whitsundays. Off south again tomorrow.