The following year, Eloise and I returned to Brisbane as part of a more in-depth tour of Australia and New Zealand. This time, we had backpacks firmly strapped to our backs (always the best place to keep them) and were very much playing the student travel game, staying in youth hostels and backpacker accommodation nearly everywhere so we'd have more money to spend on seeing a wider range of places. Although we had very limited time and were really just passing through again, this time we wanted to play the tourist game and see what there was to do in the way of days out in the area. The Transit Centre had a tour desk which was covered in colourful posters advertising local attractions, but unfortunately many of these either required the presence of small children or only seemed to run on the third Tuesday of every month when there was a Q in the year. The one thing which did grab our attention, however, was the opportunity to go whale watching at Hervey Bay. We had already tried to do the whole whale watch thing the previous year when we visited Kaikoura, a small town on the east coast of the South Island of New Zealand (more of that elsewhere), but had experienced only limited success due to the skies constantly opening up and the rough weather either threatening to capsize our boat or causing the worried staff at the whale watching place to cancel the trip entirely.

It certainly isn't hard to find anybody willing to take you out to see the humpback whales at Hervey Bay. When Eloise and I arrived at the harbour front bright and early with our tour from Brisbane, it seemed as though the place was already packed with people arriving from all over to get on board any of the numerous boats moored along the front with fanciful names and pictures of whales and dolphins along the sides. In fact, the whole whale watch is so well established here that they've even got something called the "Whale Industry Association of Hervey Bay" just to make absolutely sure that nobody is ever expected to get up at the crack of dawn by somebody called Honest Bob, handed a bucket and forced to board a rickety looking boat with holes in it. Thanks to quite stringent regulation, the tours all seem to be run by people with many years experience in the business, who know exactly where to look for the whales in order to avoid disappointment. You can choose from tours at first light, tours at sundown, half day tours or full day tours. If you've got altogether too much money burning a hole in your pocket, for a mere twelve hundred dollars you can even book yourself onto a week long ecological expedition with the Oceana Project, a group who spend their lives out at sea studying whale and dolphin behaviour. Of course, not all boats and operators provide the same facilities, so you need to do some research ahead of time and find out exactly what comes with your trip - I am slightly disappointed, for example, to discover since returning to England that some whale watch companies have installed underwater sound systems on their boats so that guests can actually listen to the whale song when the humpbacks are below the surface out of sight.

The whale watch in Hervey Bay offers guaranteed whale sightings, as did Kaikoura the previous year. In reality, however, what this actually means is that they'll take everybody out again on a free trip if they don't see anything the first time - it's not as though they'll just leave you moored out in the middle of the ocean for twelve days until something comes along or anything. This sounds great in theory, but of course it isn't much compensation if you're only passing through and simply don't have the time to go on your free trip. This is the one thing which I would always advise anyone to remember when planning a whale watch: although the whales at Hervey Bay are more than used to these strange human creatures turning up on their doorstep and staring at them all day long, and are therefore not remotely bothered about coming right alongside the boat so that you can almost reach out and touch them, that doesn't mean that they don't get shy from time to time. There is nothing more disappointing than travelling thousands of miles to see something which then simply doesn't feel like coming out today - so be warned.

After our previous experience at Kaikoura, we were really hoping things would go more according to plan at Hervey Bay, and we weren't to be disappointed. In New Zealand, the weather really did put a bit of a damper on things, and although we did get to catch brief glimpses of whales when we finally got out to sea, it was still pouring with rain and what we did see was brief and distant - usually preceded by somebody shouting out "whale!", at which everybody would rush to the other side of the boat just in time to catch the splash from the giant tail as it started to settle on the water. Add to this the fact that the rain and rough seas prevented us from going outside, and all but the bravest sea dogs in our group were having to look out for the whales through small heavily misted glass windows from inside a warm lounge rather than the deck. To say that we had much more success at spotting these magnificent creatures in Hervey Bay, however, would be an understatement - and to think that I hadn't even previously been aware that whale watching was considered as big a deal in Australia as it is in New Zealand.

One thing which I certainly learned from Hervey Bay was that it never pays to be a smart-arse. I can honestly say that, in all the years I've been travelling on boats, ships and ferries, I have never had any sort of problem with seasickness. Over the years I've been back and forth to Europe by sea, spent days at a time on short-haul cruises, happily hopped from island to island in Hong Kong and zoomed across the water on the back of a speedboat in Thailand - and, despite rolling around like a marble in a tin on many of those trips, I can say with my hand on my heart that, before Hervey Bay, I had never felt so much as a hiccup. Eloise, on the other hand, has a slight problem with balance, something which getting on board a fast-moving boat on rough seas wasn't going to help - and, although the sky was clear and the weather pleasant, the wind was strong and the sea at Hervey Bay on the day of our whale watch had clearly decided that it was going to get progressively rougher as we got further into it. And in case you've been wondering, this is where the bit about me being a smart-arse comes in.

Wanting to show what a loving, understandingboyfriend I was, I saw that Eloise was starting to feel a bit ill and suggested that she should sit inside the boat, at the front, and stare at a fixed point on the horizon - pretty standard advice given to people suffering from motion sickness of any kind. The crew was very helpful and understanding, providing lots of kind words of support and sick bags. Having done all they could to help, they then went about setting up a load of fold-out tables along the centre of the cabin and covering them with every type of snack, nibble or dip known to mankind, as well as large jugs of water and juice - something which very much proved to be my downfall. While it is true that sitting calmly in your seat and not rushing around like a lunatic is probably a good idea to avoid seasickness, dashing around a table loading food onto paper plates and fetching cups of water for your seasick girlfriend and then racing back and forth across a heaving deck to deliver them probably isn't - and within no time at all I was feeling sicker than a whole tree full of parrots. Within a matter of minutes, I had joined Eloise at the front of the boat and we were both sitting quietly and staring forlornly into the middle distance while holding on to seasickness bags. Believe me, there is much more to this anecdote, mainly involving the fact that the crew all went off to do something else and forgot to mention that the bags were only strong enough for one use - but I firmly believe that exploding sick bag stories should only be told to people that you really don't like. Suffice to say that neither of us were feeling very well when we got to the area where all the whales were, but we soon forgot how ill we were when the boat slowed down and we saw how many humpbacks were waiting for us! The crew, however, didn't get to see any of it as they were too busy searching for mops and buckets and placing orders for stronger sick bags...

The whales swimming the waters near Hervey Bay are Humpbacks, and they are frequent visitors especially during the months of July to November. This is because the Humpback Whale migrates from the southern oceans of the Antarctic each year in order to head for warmer waters for calving before returning to the Antarctic as winter rolls around. I think it would be safe to say that both Eloise and I were blown away by our whale watch expedition, and came away with huge smiles on our faces. The Humpbacks didn't seem at all worried about the proximity of various boatloads of tourists all around them, and we even ended up getting up close and personal to a mother and calf, which was something pretty close to being the most amazing experience of my life. Both whales seemed totally relaxed around us, although the calf didn't stray far from its mother - we all crowded along the side of the boat and watched them appearing to play together in the water, the sight of the calf projecting almost its entire length out of the water right next to the dark island of its half submerged parent being far more than I think any of us had been expecting. The captain and crew of our boat seemed to be extremely knowledgeable, and not only did they seem to know exactly where the whales would be at any time, but the captain was clearly in constant radio contact with other vessels and would head off as soon as anybody radioed him that something was going on elsewhere.

I don't know where some people get the idea that whales come to the surface once in a blue moon, spend quite a lengthy amount of time there and then vanish below the sea again for hours on end until they need to take another breath. Clearly, the many humpbacks in Hervey Bay take great pleasure in spending much of their time breaching, taking great leaps out of the water, performing all sorts of acrobatic stunts and slapping their sides as though somebody has just told them a really good joke. Many people come thousands of miles just to capture on film the moment when, having spent enough time having fun on the surface, a whale will momentarily appear to vanish below the waves before its massive tail appears once more, rises into the air and then creates a mighty splash as it finally hits the water and follows its owner into the depths. This is notoriously one of the hardest moments to capture on film, and yet once you know that the great arched back sinking out of sight is an indication to have your camera ready, you're pretty much sorted. Unfortunately, of course, this is usually also the moment that fifty people all charge towards the side of the boat with cameras in hand and you find yourself being trampled underfoot, ending up with lots of photos of frantically waving arms and other people's backsides.

Luckily, we had both a camera and video with us on this trip and I spent my time snapping away while Eloise tried very hard to hold the video as steadily as possible while keeping the whales in shot. Unfortunately, the wind seemed to have a disconcerting habit of waiting until the very moment that one of the whales would make some sort of acrobatic leap from the water before causing the boat to lurch suddenly to one side with just enough force to ensure that we got some impressive footage of a large portion of sky rather than anything remotely interesting. I'm really glad we had more than just a camera, though, because the video footage we did get really is something special - no still photograph can truly capture the excitement of people screaming with delight as whales burst out of the water in front of you again and again. There is, however, a wonderful piece of comedy on the video where Eloise can quite clearly be heard going "Oooh" and "Wow, look at that" while the captain is enthusing in the background about what an amazing thing we've just seen and how you don't get to see that sort of thing very often - this is all accompanied by a totally black screen followed by Eloise complaining to me that I really should remind her to remove the lens cap!

The captain, for somebody who obviously does this trip every day, seemed so genuinely excited about everything we were seeing from the start that it would've been easy to believe that he'd never seen a whale before in his life. This seems to be a typically Australian thing: many people you meet come across as constantly hyper and delightfully surprised by everything going on around them. Their wonderful habit (or a habit which makes you want to slap them, depending on who you talk to) of raising the inflection in their voice at the end of every sentence so that everything sounds like a question, is probably best explained by this apparent wonder at everything they see in the world around them. Throughout our whale encounter, the captain's voice can be heard on the soundtrack getting higher and higher with excitement until he's virtually breathless:

"They're gonna come right up to the side of the boat guys... this is an awesome encounter... wave and shout guys, give them some visual stimulus... oh my god... look at the calf, he's really showing off, he's saying "here I am guys"... he's head lunging his way across the water, following his mum... this is awesome guys..."

Because of this rather hyper behaviour, and the Australian love of practical jokes, it was hard to know whether to take the captain seriously when he suggested that we should make as much noise as possible, wave and shout and generally make ourselves known to the whales - this would bring them over to investigate, he said. This, of course, flies in the face of established rules regarding not disturbing the wildlife - going out into a forest and trying to attract deer by screaming and shouting and firing flares into the air probably wouldn't be very successful and would almost certainly really piss off every conservationist on the planet. Nevertheless, as we got closer to the whales, everybody crowded along the side of the boat and the air was quickly full of deafening whistles, people shouting at the top of their lungs, and children yelling "Over here, Mr Whale" - and it seemed to work. Within a matter of seconds, the whales were coming right alongside the boat, the calf following close behind his mother to see what all the fuss was about. It really is a shame that we haven't yet invented books with moving pictures like the ones in Harry Potter - if this isn't a prime example of when a still photograph just can't do enough justice, I don't know what is!

Humpbacks are naturally inquisitive and don't seem to mind getting up close and personal with humans, a fact which has no doubt contributed to them becoming one of the most endangered whale species in the world with only five thousand remaining in the entire southern hemisphere. To see mother and baby swimming together and know that they are now a protected species gives me hope that the decline in numbers will slow and future generations visiting the whale watch at Hervey Bay will be able to see many more whales enjoying the waters off the east coast of Australia.

Back in Brisbane, Eloise and I were staying at the City Backpackers on Upper Roma Street, and it must be a testament to exactly how little time we spent there that I only recognise about two photographs on their website when I look at it today. Where was that huge swimming pool they show off in the pictures exactly? Anyway, wherever they were hiding the facilities, the place was about as large as I've come to expect from an Australian backpackers. As I've said before, this is one country which certainly doesn't treat travellers as though they are somehow inferior just because they happen to have their luggage strapped to their back - in many ways, it sometimes seems as though backpackers actually get a better level of service in many places! We actually stayed at the city backpackers twice, once on the way out and once on the way back, and on both occasions we had no problem at all in getting a private room as we had in Surfers Paradise the previous year - we had a small bathroom of our own which was just large enough to contain the sink, and we had to share a communal shower with everybody else in the block, but sacrificing some of the luxuries meant that we had more to spend on travelling between places. One thing I did find particularly of note about the City Backpackers was that it actually had its very own pub - The Fiddlers Elbow - which was in full swing having a party for somebody's birthday when we arrived on our first night. I have to say that this is definitely pandering to the customers - there's usually more than one pub within staggering distance of any hostel, but I believe this is the only time I've actually seen one on the premesis.

One of the things our fellow travellers were keen to tell us was that you really don't want to put anything down in the kitchen for more then five seconds if you want to see it again - it seems there'll always be somebody who just needs to "borrow" a fork and will forget to give it back afterwards, sometimes resulting in hour long and totally riveting "It's my fork", "No it's not, it's my fork" discussions over lunch. This was evidenced by the incredible difficulty I had convincing reception to lend me a can opener - they would only hand it out if I signed for it and brought it back as soon as I'd finished with it. I returned to the kitchen where Eloise was waiting, opened our can of baked beans (1), turned around to make a cup of tea and turned back to find that the can opener had mysteriously sprouted legs and gone off on a walkabout. After a slightly mad panic and a couple of hours, we eventually traced the wandering utensil, but not until it had changed hands at least half a dozen times and made its way around the hostel twice. The rule seems to be: if you want to keep it, label it.

I still mean to return to Brisbane one day and spend more time in the area. On every occasion I've visited so far, I've just been passing through or have had little time to do anything. The city strikes me as a great place to explore in more detail, especially as it seems remarkably laid back. On our one trip through King George Square on the way to our hostel, Eloise and I discovered crowds of people standing around between the statues admiring a giant sleeping dragon sculpted out of sand and laying in an oversized sand pit. I really wish I had a clue what that was all about.

(1) You would simply not believe how hard it was to get hold of normal, un-mucked-about-with baked beans in tomato sauce in Australia or New Zealand. Sure, I've heard people say that Britain is about the only place where baked beans are really eaten, but this was Australia and there really isn't a hell of a lot of difference in the dietary habits over there. Nevertheless, finding a can of ordinary baked beans in an Aussie or New Zealand supermarket seemed almost like trying to find a mini-skirt shop in the middle-east. One thing they did have in abundance, however, were cans of baked beans in a cheese sauce - mainly marketed by a company called Watties, which is what Heinz have evidently decided to call themselves down under, particularly in New Zealand, just to confuse visitors. After giving up on trying to find the normal stuff, we finally decided to try the cheese sauce variant and found it to be virtually identical to the tomato sauce version - which is particularly strange as I don't like cheese, which shows you how much cheese flavour they must have. I tried to do some research into this for this book, but found nothing on the internet but people ranting on about how much Australians love baked beans in tomato sauce. So we were obviously looking in the wrong place for a month. And no, you're not going mad - the entire last paragraph really was about baked beans. Sometimes, I clearly don't know when to stop ranting on about stuff.

About Simon and Burfords Travels:

Simon Burford is a UK based travel writer. He will be re-publishing his travel blogs, chapters from his books and other miscellaneous rantings on these pages over the coming weeks and months, and the entry on this page may not necessarily reflect todays date.