Unlike chartering your own yacht in New Zealand’s Bay of Islands, sailing yourself around the Whitsunday Islands in Queensland is prohibitively expensive and so we opted to join a tour on a monster-big catamaran. A 26 metre (85 feet) lilac-purple one at that!

Those who know me well know that I’m not a great sailor — sail boats are much more Squiffy’s thing. I don’t much like the lean of a single-hulled yacht, the ropes and metal thingos on which to stub one’s toe are ever-present, whilst the required wind is not. What a difference being on a large catamaran (with crew) maketh! Almost no lean, oodles of room on which to walk or laze about, morning tea with cakes, barbecued lunch, afternoon snacks and–wait for it–unlimited access to the beer Esky! Yes folks, this is the life indeed.

We stopped for a snorkel just off a private beach on Hook Island, but frankly shouldn’t have bothered: we weren’t the only vessel to decant our passengers onto the shallow coral reef and some–quite a few actually–couldn’t find it in themselves to heed the “don’t stand on the coral” message. What followed was quite a horrific mass-murder of two-million year old aquatic life by clueless children, inept adult swimmers and first-time snorkellers. The visibility underwater was so bad, that Squiffy and I resigned ourselves to the fact that we had signed-up for a sailing trip, not a snorkelling one. Still, I suppose it’s better that the tour companies bring all their clueless guests to the same spot to trash the same coral: better that than trashing a new piece in a different location every day — in that way there’d soon be nothing left… After the safety boat had rescued all the bodies, noodles and float boards, we set-off towards Whitehaven Beach, the most famous white-sand beach in the Whitsundays.

It’s still marine stinger (read: killer jellyfish) season here in Queensland, so most people donned ‘stinger suits’ to reduce the risk of death. There’s nothing quite like a relaxing swim in Australia, is there? If the sharks don’t get you, the jellyfish will. (If you do make it back to shore alive, the local ‘Death Adders’ will explain their name to you.) Still, seeing everyone in black, full-length bathing suits was kind of reminiscent of the Muslims on Morocco’s beaches. Whitehaven Beach is, as all the postcards show, a supremely beautiful beach and after and hour and a half of making footprints and tentatively wading into the killing waters, it was time to return to the boat for yet more food, beer and a darn good sail home.

What a great day out we had. What a great crew who made it for us — I didn’t even have to pull a single rope. And what a great boat it is, just such a shame that it’s purple. As far as sailing goes, I’ve discovered that large catamarans are much more up my street — just need to find £2 million to buy one (in baby blue, of course).

Full marks to the team at Cruise Whitsundays for the wonderful day out. Aside from the snorkelling travesty, we had an exceptionally enjoyable day — and I’ve learnt that not all sailing sucks! Better start saving up for a big cat (and crew)…

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