Honolulu Star-Advertiser © Susan Scott
November 3, 2018
As much as I appreciate the privilege of anchoring and snorkeling on the outer reefs of the Great Barrier Reef, when I’m out there I miss land.
Yes, tiny bits of land, called keys, are out there, but most are so small they have no name and some don’t even get a dot on the charts. The keys are created by waves depositing sand in certain spots, giving terns and booby birds places to rest, and this snail admirer a place to look for shells.
Most unnamed sand keys, however, disappear during the two high tides each day, leaving the 360-degree view from Honu’s cockpit just blue sky meeting blue sea. After days of that, I long for greenery.
Forget bitcoin. Columnist Susan Scott gathered
a hat full of sand dollars in 30 minutes.
©2018 Susan Scott
That we found in abundance at 32-mile-long Hitchenbrook Island, the largest island in the Great Barrier Reef marine park complex. The island’s 3,678-foot-high peaks catch clouds, creating waterfalls and swimming holes. A maximum of 40 permitted hikers per day use ferries to get to Hitchenbrook’s famous trail, and boaters find protection from wind and waves in Hitchenbrook’s bays and channels.
Because we left the outer reef when the winds were northerly, we were able to anchor in Zoe Bay, a crescent usually exposed to the southeast tradewinds. Freshwater streams exit the mountains on both ends of the bay and provided us with a refreshing swim in one upper pool.
You can’t, however, swim anywhere at sea level in Zoe Bay. Park signs warn that both mangrove-lined creeks and the bay itself contain saltwater crocodiles and sea wasps, Australia’s deadly jellyfish.
But you can walk a 2-mile-long white-sand beach that rivals any I have ever walked.
At low tide platoons of charming, blue soldier crabs marched across the sand, scrambling over the art forms of countless bubble crabs. Both species eat nutrients the tide left behind by scooping sand up with their claws. As the crabs extract the food, they roll their handfuls of sand into perfect pea-size balls, dropping them around each crab’s home hole.
After several hours most of the tide flat’s surface is covered with bubble crabs’ remarkable “drawings,” all destroyed by the next high tide and re-created during the next low tide.
One of my favorite discoveries on Zoe Beach was endless sand dollar shells, so small we jokingly called them sand quarters and sand dimes. Sand dollars are relatives of sea urchins that live just beneath the sand’s surface, burrowing along on tube feet as they sift the sand for food. With the tide out, it was easy to see the trails of living sand dollars, and higher on the beach lay the skeletons of those deceased.
The crocs and jellyfish kept us out of the water during our stay at Hitchenbrook, but I didn’t mind. My appreciation of the island’s mountains, trees, waterfalls and shore life made me appreciate that I am, at heart, a terrestrial animal.