OK, first update in over a week, there's a load to get through so I'll try to keep it short! Last Monday I went up to Port Douglas, and booked myself into a dorm in the Parrot Fish Lodge. Nice hostel, weird people in it - not particularly sociable, although I managed to meet two blokes (from Melbourne and Canada) to go out and explore the Port Douglas nightlife, which is a little sedate. On Tuesday I went snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef, on a boat with about 30 people on it. We stopped at three sites for about an hour's snorkelling at each. Fantastic experience, the reef is so close to the surface of the water that you can reach out and touch it (although obviously you're not supposed to). There were multicoloured fish of every description swimming around, although I didn't see any reef sharks and I didn't manage to find Nemo. He was apparently around there somewhere. On Wednesday I headed back down to Cairns, and went white water rafting on the Barron river (grade 3 rapids, apparently). I was in a boat with four Northern Irish girls and a bloke from Inverurie, along with our French guide (who the other guides called "Froggy"). Sadly Froggy was a bit lacking in communication skills, not to mention basic rafting skills. A good laugh, though, even though the rapids weren't exactly scary... Thursday was another day of rest (and re-adjusting to the new time zone). I managed to see the Pirates of the Caribbean sequel - vedict: OK, not a patch on the first film - and then had another new experience on the way back to the hostel. There was a dilapidated old house on the corner of McLeod Street and Charles Street, with two ridgeback dogs play-fighting outside. As I walked past, one of them took a particular interest in me - it ran towards me with a growl and a bark, then bit my leg and backside. The bites were nothing more than scratches, really, but it was a little disconcerting (and a bit of an omen, as you will see). A bloke in a minibus saw it happen and pulled into the kerb, asked if I was OK and then promptly phoned Animal Control on his mobile. "We can't have dogs biting our tourists" was his exact phrase. I went to the medical centre to get the bites checked out - as I thought, they were just scratches, but I got them cleaned and dressed for $55. Two officers from the council dropped off a statement form for me to fill out, then came round at 7am on Friday to pick it up. They were impressed with my description of the incident ("are you a cop?") and took a couple of pictures of my bloodied shorts, which then went in the bin. Apparently the dog owner used to have five dogs, but two had already been taken from him. They said they had a file a foot thick on the dog but this was the first time it had actually bitten anyone, so I may have just indirectly sentenced it to death. I then had a quick taxi journey into the centre of Cairns to start my Oz Experience tour. Our driver was called Cosmic ("or Dave") and chattered constantly over the bus speakers, repeating himself frequently and finishing every statement with "it's all good". He was actually a decent enough guy, he just wouldn't shut the hell up. On our journey to Mission Beach, we stopped at Lake Eacham for a swim, saw a massive fig tree, had another opportunity for a swim at a waterfall (whose name also escapes me just now) and then went to a crocodile farm to see feeding time. The crocodile farm was a fun experience, watching the guys who work there walk into the pens and rub their rubber rakes over the croc's eyes to stop it moving. They fed them hunks of meat - initially they told us it was a doberman which had bitten somebody and had to be put down, and I was disappointed when they eventually came clean and said it was actually just bits of pig. A kangaroo bounded past us a couple of times, and they also had cassowaries in cages. Back at reception I had a crocodile satay kebab, and we took turns to hold a baby croc and have assorted reptiles draped all over us. My python seemed quite interested in strangling me, until it caught sight of the crisp stand next to me and entangled itself in that instead. We arrived at mission beach, and ended up in a 12-bed dorm called the Nunnery. The evening was spent eating kangaroo steaks in plum sauce and drinking either Victoria Bitter (henceforth known as VB) or Toohey's New. By this stage, seven of us had formed our own little mini-group - hello to Kim, Jemma, Jenny, John, Stuart and Rob. They're all English, except for John, who's Canadian. Jem and Jen had already booked themselves in for tandem skydiving the following morning, and on the bus myself and Rob (and two Danish blokes also on the bus) booked ourselves in for the afternoon... So Saturday was spent in the sea, Rob and John and I building pools on the beach with varying degrees of success (mine was already the least impressive, even before a passing dog decided to relieve itself on it). Jemma helpfully told us about how her parachute's steering equipment had broken on the way down, and her skydive guy had to improvise to bring it down on the beach. In the afternoon we got to see some people land on the beach, just outside our hostel. Each person had an instructor strapped to their back who guided the parachute in to land on the beach. The funniest passenger was a Korean bloke who looked utterly shocked, he was white and holding his shoulder with a dazed expression on his face while he wandered around. In fact, he looked almost exactly like someone who'd just been pushed out of a plane at 14000 feet. Then it was into the van to sign our lives away as we headed for the airstrip. We were given a brief set of instructions, then strapped into our harnesses and loaded into the plane. My instructor, Greg, had previously had the Korean guy, and seemed pleased when I assured him I wasn't going to threaten to vomit all over him. The scariest moment was when the plane took off, although I don't know if that was because I was sitting right next to the door - which wasn't there. There was just a hole in the fuselage. We cruised over the fields and the sea, before reaching the required height over Mission Beach. One of the Danish guys went first, then it was my turn to shuffle over to the door and swing my legs out of the plane. Thankfully there wasn't time to think about anything before being pushed out and going into freefall. Greg had a video camera strapped to his hand for the purposes of making a DVD, which I haven't actually had a chance to watch yet. After a period of plummeting to the earth, he pulled the parachute and we cruised towards the beach. We also did a few rolls, and I got to pull the steering ropes to send us into a spiral. Eventually we headed towards the ground, and landed on the beach just outside the hostel. Unlike other people (who landed on their feet), we all seemed destined to skid in on our backsides. This didn't help my dog bite much... After recovering for a while and having dinner, the Magnificent Seven (as nobody calls us) went down to the beach to start a bonfire and drink silly amounts of alcohol. We were joined by another couple who were on the bus as well, making it the Nonsensical Nine (or something - I don't know, I'm making this up as I go along). The bonfire was just starting to shape up nicely when everyone decided they'd had enough, and went back home. Needless to say, the bus journey to Magnetic Island the following morning was full of people who were feeling a bit fragile. Our driver, Dane, wasn't as talkative as Cosmic, but he was definitely a bigger a*******. We got to Magnetic Island on the ferry, and checked the seven of us into an 8-bed dorm. Then we had a final-ish dinner, because five of the seven were leaving the next morning. Just Kim and I remained to spend a few nights here, while the rest went off to Airlie Beach. Still, doubtless we'll meet up again tomorrow. Yesterday was a much-needed chill-out day, spent doing laundry and wandering around. There was a pub quiz at the hostel, but it degenerated to the winner being the man who took his underwear off in front of everyone. The setting is fantastic - open the dorm door and you look out onto the sea, lined with palm trees. Shame that it's a bit remote from everywhere else on Magnetic Island, and it's full of posers and idiots. I'm running out of time on the internet here, so I'll have to leave it to my next update before I tell you about me and a horse called Mischief...