Australasia > Australia > Queensland > Whitsunday Islands > Articles > Breaking Out

Ever imagined what might happen if you had a massage every day? Probably not. But just in case, in an idle moment, the question crosses your mind, let me tell you. Your skin breaks out.

I had a number of idle moments on my assignment to investigate (if that’s the right word) luxury islands off Queensland’s coast. I also had numerous massages and by the end of the week the therapists were inspecting my rash-speckled face and asking diplomatic questions about my lifestyle prior to falling into their hands.

Thing was my lifestyle had briefly taken a stratospheric leap forward in all ways that matter – food, comfort, relaxation to name a few.

Starting from my days in the Whitsundays at Long Island where Peppers Palm Bay is located. Or before that if you count getting there on a luxury motor yacht called DescaradA, which means woman of attitude in Spanish. My attitude once on board was nice work if you can get it. Your own crew if you chose, a chef who doubles as a lomi lomi masseuse and the ability to go pretty much wherever you want.

The Whitsundays are in fact the tops of mountains submerged when the last ice age melted away. These erstwhile mountain peaks are now a scattering of 74 bush-clad national park islands which fall within the Great Barrier Reef World Heritage Area. Less than 10 islands contain resorts.

So, to Peppers Palm Bay. The palms are actually introduced to give it that tropical ambience. Same goes for the fuchsia bougainvillea and salmon oleanders I guess but Peppers do a good property and the little A-framed houses tucked amongst the bush are themselves islands of low-key high-taste.

I escaped the talons of the Peppers spa therapist by opting for a trip to the Great Barrier Reef with Cruise Whitsundays. But once we’d hooked up to the pontoon at Knuckle Reef Lagoon I found myself in the hands of a Uruguayan princess who not only gave me one massage but found time for another later in the day.

Cruise Whitsundays have the whole snorkeling/diving operation down pat. Tubs for this, racks of that and bins to sterilise used gear here. Such pre-planning means people can organize themselves in and out of the water with ease. Diving lessons are available and so is a glass-bottomed boat. And meant for the children but used almost exclusively by man-boys is the rare waterslide which flings slippery bodies into the sea. It did get boring after the 11th time though.

The next day I found what sort of person used the Peppers heli-pad. Me. Destination? The 6km long Whitehaven beach on Whitsunday island itself with silica sand so fine it will polish your jewellery and probably give your phizog a free microdermabrasion if you’re so inclined.

However I was here for a romantic picnic. Just me and the pilot. Except the pilot behaved as he normally did on these occasions. He set up the tent, put out the picnic lunch, showed me the champagne and left me to my own libidinous desires for 90 minutes. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. Pleasure myself for an hour and a half in my little dome? Drink myself into a stupor? I ate lunch slowly which was nice but more airline food than haute cuisine and then was so desperate for company I befriended a seagull.

If you’re there with anyone with a pulse I’m sure it’s wonderful. The flight should be taken for the views alone which feature merging blue seas, milky sands and darker fresh water. These are the shots that usually feature on any promo for the Whitsundays.

I love travelling by helicopter. I just wish more people saw me do it. It’s so movie star and hectic. No one of any importance saw me land on Hamilton Island but it was still terrific.

Bit of a strange come-down though to then be bundled into a golf buggy but since this is the only mode of transport on Hammo I could hardly complain. Besides which I was whisked off to the smartly refurbished Reef View Hotel, had sunset drinks on a yacht and finally dinner at the Beach House. It was so damn good my companion (hired one from Hamilton Tourism) and I made noises as we ate.

The new owner of Hamilton Island is committed to raising its game. He’s already built a resort so good it’s beyond star rating and written in lower case – qualia (though at $A1450 a day minimum all inclusive, the price is not so diminutive.) A yacht club is underway as is a new marina and a 19-hole golf course on the island next door. Even Hammo’s golf carts will all soon be electric.

At qualia I was massaged again but this time by a woman who specialized in exquisite pain. I loved her. After her ministrations I could almost do an Exorcist and rotate my head 360 degrees.

I was about due for another cruise - this time with the Fantasea Ammari which fortunately did not live up to its cheesy name. My cabin was bigger than a Hong Kong hotel room and they’d thought of everything. Sunscreen, cold towels, an ironing board if you lift up the bed. The lounge room and deck areas were elegant and discreet. Activities were available if you wished though no bluff soul was going to chivvy you to join in. So I did. Just a quiz and a walk on Lindeman Island for a look-see over the Whitsundays.

The staff were a jovial lot of 20-somethings who have time to chat, time to attend to your needs and time to give you a facial and a massage even though my skin is starting to protest. The different oils I’m told. Nevertheless it didn’t occur to me to refuse knowing by now that a massage on a gently rolling ship as the sun sets is languorously wonderful.

I was genuinely sad to leave this jolly crew sailing wherever the weather took them but work beckoned. A half hour flight from Cairns and I was on Dunk Island. Dunk is a tasteful tropical four-star, family experience. Thanks to the devastating effects of Cyclone Larry in 2006, the property has been vastly improved. Actually that goes for much tourism in these parts.

Feeling rather like No-Mates Nellie by now I happily took the 20 minute boat ride to Bedarra Island. Little did I know how happy I would soon be. I mean you’ve gotta love a place where the porter tells you he arrived two weeks ago and still can’t take the smile off his face.

Bedarra is made for privacy, for solitude and for discretion. A massive fig tree on the property’s edge shades the deck, is a cover for the canopied day bed and encloses the little bay in a leafy embrace. Guests are encouraged to treat Bedarra like home which means using the bar as and when you want, loitering in the book-lined library and generally reclining everywhere you wish. Bedarra excels in romance and/or recuperation, depending on your needs. It was so lovely the $A1000 a day price tag began to look reasonable. Anyway it’s where I’m coming to live when I win Lotto.

I could choose Lizard Island, the northernmost Great Barrier Reef resort island, and not unlike Bedarra in design. I have been there before and I know the big monitor lizards do exert a bizarre fascination. Still, Lizard’s not as lush and comforting as Bedarra. More for the active said the porter assessing me sagely. Quite right.

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