Wash Away the Every Day

A Trip to Babinda Boulders

If anyone knows anything about the way I like to travel, it’s that I like to take it slow. Yes, an aeroplane can get me home in an hour and a half, but why would I do that when I can do the exact same journey in 96 hours? That’s four days for those already with a beer in hand sitting on their beach chairs, relaxing by the water.

I picked up a motorhome and hit the road travelling north. I wanted to finally stop and walk the sands of the baches I had always flown over or driven past in a hurry on my way to be somewhere else. At the time of this trip, I had no ‘tourist’ destination in mind, but I knew I wanted to cleanse myself and find that natural balance in my mind and body again.

Kinka beach was my first stop, I reached it in time to watch the sun set and see children flying their kites, dashing about the sandbars. A calm place for families and reflections.

Driving on the next day I reached Airlie beach, but I didn't stay long. The hustle and bustle felt counter intuitive to my mission, so I waved the Whitsundays goodbye.

Following the Bruce I touched down in Mission Beach, it’s since become a favourite stop of mine. The flat, palm lined shore stretches endlessly, and the people there walk about the town and markets with a light step and twinkle in their eye.

From the ocean, I travelled inland, keen to wash off the salt with the crystal-clear waters I had heard tales about. Brushing up against the dark green mountains and tunnelling my way through rainforest enclosed roads, I reached a true pause in my travels.

There is something ancient about the way the mist clings and swirls about Babinda’s mountains. The township is small but happily healthy, and when I pulled into the campground my fellow campers were kind and full of stories to share.

When I trekked down to the Boulders it was late afternoon and nobody else was there. Slipping into the still water, the initial chill couldn't take away from the peace of the place. I recall floating there in the pools watching a blue-winged butterfly lazily flutter overhead and feeling all my stress flow away with the tugging undercurrent.

I rose early the next morning and went down again. This time I clambered upon and jumped off the large boulders the place had been named for and felt greatly refreshed. Sitting in the shallows I saw a freshwater prawn scuttle about as little fish darted to and fro. Meditating as much as the mosquitos would allow me, I listened to the world around me, hearing the overlapping languages of a world I had become disconnected to.

It was a trip travelled slowly, one that let me wash away the weight of everyday and allowed me to centre myself. If you ever get the chance to, I encourage you to dig your toes deeper into the sand, dive deeper into the waters, and take a moment to listen. The natural world around you has plenty to say, if you but pause a moment and lend it an ear.

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