Packing up without any dramas we hit the road again to travel a short distance North of Airlie Beach to a place we were recommended by Jenny, the very fit and skinny personal trainer we met at Cape Hillsborough. On the way there, as we sped past the fields of sugarcane with the picturesque mountains in the distance we stopped off at a lovely out of the way strawberry farm. The boys spent the time picking some delicious fresh strawberries whilst Fi and I enjoyed a rare flat white and soaked up the sun. The weather was getting warmer and the boys were now feeling the heat. A bit of complaining was short-lived when we explained that this is what life is like now….hot… They became pensive and wandered off discussing it amongst themselves as to whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. After a few minutes they came back talking about Minecraft, so had either accepted their future or forgotten what we were talking to them about. I suspect it was the latter based on the past 3 ½ weeks.

Hideaway Bay caravan park wasn't any Cape Hillsborough, with a huge contingent of Victorian pensioners and facilities that were not quite 2 star. However, they had spent much of their revenue on a sattalite and a TV about the size of a small car which was playing AFL….nice…

Ros, the office lady, told us the rules and then indicated to our site. We turned around and looked to the patch of grass next to the road and what looked like an area that old campers had left all their broken gear and rubbish. Hmmm…. Getting things settled we got ourselves sorted quickly after working out the best angle to pitch the annex and set about putting up our little home away from home. The plan was to get ready and head out to a place called Monti's, a restaurant tucked away on the beach along a dirt track, about 5 kms from where we were staying. About 10 minutes before we had got ourselves ready to go out we heard some rustling from the rubbish pile next to us and a man emerged with shaggy hair, a large well cultured beer belly and about 3 fishing rods. He looked at us through bloodshot eyes for a moment then shuffled over to a very dusty ute and started rummaging in the tray for what looked like fishing tackle and hooks. The guy was aged somewhere between 50 and 80 and looked almost identical to Nick Nolte in the movie "Down and out in Beverly Hills" , but with dirty brown hair. The boys took one look and slunk off into the tent a little afraid, before emerging about 5 minutes later talking about Minecraft. It was at this point Fi and I decided to be friendly and said "G'day" to the bloke and that was the signal for the boys to start striking up a more formal conversation. Clearly it was going to be about fishing based on the paraphinallia strewn around what we now realised was his campsite (3 separate one man tents, half constructed tarpulins draped over broken tent poles and various boxes and broken eskies covered with bowls, tins, empty or half emplty soft drink containers and beer bottles). He introduced himself as "Rocket" and told us he was here for 12 weeks and was up from Victoria fishing for sharks in his 8 foot tinney without a motor, ie rowing out to the inner reef….. He then went into some harrowing stories of how he only fishes at night as this is when all the sharks come out; that he wouldn't swim around here at all based on the fact he catches bronze whalers and tiger sharks of various sizes just 200m off the beach; and only the night before he pulled in a "bronzy" that was 9 feet long and about 2 feet wide but decided to cut the line as his "tinney" (a small boat) was only 8 feet long. He then grunted something in such a strong Australian accent we didn't understand and went back his "camp site" to reemerge with a tin of peaches. He chucked it over to us and said "someone gave me this but I don't do fruit, so here ya go", then he turned and threw his rods with the enormous shark hooks into his ute and left. The boys eyes were as wide as saucers as he had clearly scared them sensless, so it took the drive of 10 minutes to the restaurant before they woke up from their catatonic state of fear before slowly talking again. We convinced them that "Rocket" was only trying to scare them on purpose and the lovely lady at the restaurant told us they never have people being eaten by sharks around here so they relaxed and began to get back to annoying us in general and talking about Minecraft. The meal at Monti's, overlooking the Whitsundays as the sun went down, was absolutely amazing. A seafood platter and some pasta without any wine and we were loving it. We took the opportunity to ask Mick, a bloke who was just off the mines and having a drink or 10 at the bar where the best fishing was around here. He stopped swaying for a moment and enquired if we had a boat. We replied in the negative and he looked up at the ceiling for moment, stroked his chin then announced to us that. "oh, you're f****d if you don't have a boat". We took that as not a good sign. As we finished our meal we met a lovely couple and chatted to them for a bit who have been coming to the area for 12 years and they recommended we fish out the front of their place, just a couple of hundred metres from the restaurant, which we decided to do the next day.

Hideaway bay and the adjacent Dingo Beach were stunning when we ventured out over the next couple of days. It was very similar to some of the places down in the South West of WA with all the little dirt tracks and beautiful houses overlooking the lovely bays. What made it special also was the weather, nice and warm, and the wonderful views of the Whitsunday Islands in the distance and the closer islands such as Gloucester Island and Saddleback Island. The next morning we took our snorkels and goggles out to a place called Frog Rock to try our luck there. The effort was worth it as the boys got themselves trained up on all things snorkelling and we braved the wind which was picking up and making the visibility a bit murky. No bother though as we grabbed the fishing lines and hit Monti's beach on the recommendation of Rick and Lyn from the night before. Spending the next 2.5 hours there getting some excellent casting practice in we once again didn't even get a nibble. My right forearm, from throwing in the line and reeling it back, hadn't ached this much since that infamous weekend in 1988 when my folks left me home alone when I was 15….and I didn't even make it out of the house to go fishing.

Watching the Ashes on the ginormous telly for the evening, with the balmy nights and the general chat about how so and so were going in the footy, what prescriptions do you bring with you and do you stock up before you go or get it on the road were making us feel right at home. We said our goodnights, caught a quick glimpse of a possum before we went to bed, and got ourselvevs sorted for the next days adventure. Sleep took a bit longer here as the possums from earlier seemed to be living, quarrelling or mating right above our tent as the sounds that were being made by these little critters was far louder than their tiny furry bodies gave away. Morning broke and Fi was up and in her fitness gear and out on a run. When she got back I made us a coffee, our one indulgence using the Italian coffee maker and quality ground coffee, when we heard tents from Rocket's patch start rustling. He emerged, stretched, farted, then went and sat down for his breakfast, which was a litre of Passiona soft drink downed in about 13 seconds. A burp, a scratch and then he turned around to us and said "you'se guys want some fish?". "Yeah, sure, thanks Rocket!". ( which really meant. "Thanks Rocket, please don't murder us in the evening with your massive shark gaff or fishing knife"….) He reached into one of the many eskies and pulled out about 3kgs of fresh shark fillet and some snapper he'd caught the night before. "I don't really need any more fish, and anyone who camps next to me gets a feed…." he muttered, as he passed us his previous nights booty. It was absolutely delicious, we were in love…or at least the boys were. For such a rough and ready bloke he was an absolute gentleman and over the next couple of days he was super patient with Harry and Bailey whilst they pestered him with all things fishing and was polite to us whenever we engaged in chat with him. The boys declined our offer to get a photo with "Rocket" because Harry whispered to me that it's bad to get photos with strangers. Not one to shirk away from any photo opportunity I suspected Harry said this because he was secretly afraid of the shaggy shark man. What a character, and what a place.