Durka Durka, Mohammad Jihad.

The "Atlantic Clipper" we "sailed" would make Dave cry.

The iron main sail was the name of the game for 90% of our entire journey around the Whitsundays. Not to say this made it that much less enjoyable, but it does begin to downplay the idea of terming it "sailing". Drinking, however, was not in short supply. We got totally out drank by some hardcore Norwegians who beer bonged till 3am and listened to Turbo Negro. We only brought goon. So that probably didn't help us much.

Yesterday morning at about 8am we were dropped off at Whitehaven beach when the tide was low. Look up pictures of it somewhere. Even they don't do it justice. I neglected my camera because I was scared it would get wet. This was both a curse and a blessing. I didn't get any pictures of Whitehaven... but where we negligently put our stuff, was soaked by the incoming rapid tide.

Joey (Curly) and I decided to make a low tide trek to one of the nearer beaches. The water only came up to, maybe, our hips, but in the shallow water around the rocks lurked lots, and LOTS of quite large sting rays. Fortunately, though, I'm smarter than Steve Irwin. Still, it was fairly unnerving watching the rays dart around your ankles as they notice your presence.

Snorkeling was shitty yesterday, but the beach they dropped us off at during the evening gave me many, many opportunities to fuck around with my camera. Sundown was simply stunning on the Whitsundays. Mike and I played a few drinking games with a room full of people, and soon gained the nickname "Team America", which prompted me to immediately do a few "durka durka, mohammad jihad"s. By the end of the night, there were rules among the drinkers that included everyone chanting "durka, durka, durka" whilst flailing their hands around like a marionette.

We watched 5 foot tiger sharks feed upon squid that were attracted to the light of the ship for a bit.

I slept on the top deck of the ship, looking at the stars after laughing my ass off with a truly gorgeous, innocent but fun german girl (pictures will be forthcoming) named Leo (pronounced like 'layo'?). She taught me "The Worm". Commando pembola. Commando Bock. Commando Flah.

Good times.

Today, I decided that to cure my now predictable hangover, I would snorkle out to the reef dropoff. The section of coral that goes from 3 meters deep to 20 meters, instead of a gradual fall. This is where the larger fish commonly congregate--sharks, turtles ect. My snorkle was crystal clear and the water was quite visible. I sat on the edge, staring into the dark blue abyss that meets the rainbow hues of coral cliffs. Schools of angel fish swam around me as I simply starred into the blue.
This was Queensland. There had to be some sort of wildlife that wanted me dead in the most painful way, out there. I want to see it. Just when I thought about swimming back toward the beach, I decided to adjust my stinger suit which required me to turn around, back toward the coral's edge. As I did this, I locked eyes with it.
It had soulless, lidless eyes. And all it did was stare. It was a clown fish. Fucking Nemo.
I have a massive desire to see some large marine life. Sharks, Turtles, Jellyfish, Squid, Krakken, the Loch Ness monster, Cthulhu. Hopefully my wish will come true in Cairns. We leave for there tomorrow.

...they are playing brent michaels over the internet PA. I need to leave before I vomit.

Bakalah, Mohammad Jihad.