By the 1930s the scientific expeditions of the Australian Museum were accompanied by large groups of holidaymakers. These included the relatively large scale operations organised by Mont Embury and other smaller parties like that of the ‘Voyage of the Cheerio’ in 1935 which is highlighted as a case study at the beginning of Part 2. Many of these expeditions were organised in a similar way. Usually people travelled from southern cities by rail, and less often by motorcar. From a Queensland port such as Mackay, or further north at Cairns, they would travel by launch to particular islands. Visitors would establish one or more base camps during their time at the Reef, and from these they would make excursions to other islands. And, when conditions were suitable, they would also venture to the Outer Reef. Other excursions were facilitated by cruise ships that traversed the Barrier Reef and made stops at particular islands along the way, with some groups of visitors remaining on the islands for a period of days.
In general sea travel was an integral part of the Reef experience, and slower journeys, often in small vessels encouraged people to take an interest in their surroundings. This enabled holidaymakers to engage actively in orienting themselves in the land, sea and islands of the region. Individuals not only observed the routes they travelled, but kept notes, made maps and took photographs to record their position and movement within the landscape. In this sense they followed the traditions of navigation and re-enacted the activities of Captain James Cook and other pioneers in a way that is reminiscent of McGrath’s (1991) observation that contemporary Australian travellers re-enact exploration in the outback. The importance of travelling through the islands is constructed as an important activity within the Great Barrier Reef region. Henry Lamond, the former owner of the Molle islands in the Whitsundays, wrote in 1948 that he and other local operators believed it was
important to promote the whole Whitsunday passage not just one island (H.G. (writing as "U.9.L") Lamond 1948: 13). This idea of travelling about the islands is an important one, and it certainly characterises these early excursions.
Visitor maps of the Barrier Reef are numerous and varied, and suggest the importance of orientation and location in relation to external referent points. Most tourism brochures show
in some detail the many islands of the region and even the journeys offered by specific excursions. This is particularly so for earlier brochures, though the tradition persists in contemporary promotion as well. Similarly, there are few books about the Reef from the first half of the twentieth century that do not include detailed maps of the region, and they often decorate the inside cover of these publications. Although the early tourists were travelling for the most part within well-defined and recorded regions of the Reef, they made their own maps or traced details of their journeys on those provided in brochures or other sources. For instance in a letter to his parents dated 14 September 1925, Crosbie Morrison included a map showing the route that he had travelled to the Palm Passage of the Great Barrier Reef (Morrison 1925a). Similarly, a photograph album from a holidaymaker to Heron Island in 1953, includes a map of the island within its overall Reef context, and also shows the route taken by sea from the mainland (Love 1953).
In the Footsteps of the Navigators
The accounts from the excursion highlighted in the ‘Voyage of the Cheerio’ and others from the period include many references to landmarks, sailing directions and other directional information. Another activity that is noticeable from this 1935 excursion was the importance of climbing Mount Oldfield. Mount Oldfield is situated on Lindeman Island, a continental island with steep topography that was cleared of dense vegetation by goats left as a food source for stranded mariners (Henry George ("U.9.L") Lamond 1948: 19). This made it a particularly suitable place from which to gain a view of the surrounding waters and other islands. Consequently the climb became well established as a visitor activity in the Whitsundays. It was promoted by the Australian National Travel Association (1931) as part of a tour to the Great Barrier Reef, and visited by many different parties in the late 1920s and 1930s. The view from the summit is captured in several different photographs, including those of the Embury expeditions in 1928 (Embury Bros. et. al 1925- 1945), and one of the Australian Museum scientists who visited the Reef in the 1930s (Whitley 1935a).
The emphasis of the climb is on both achieving the summit and of seeing the panorama of the Whitsunday Islands below. The latter is distinctly a tradition of navigation. The act of climbing the hills to view the surrounding landscape was the means by which Captain Cook tried to find his way out of the maze of reefs. The view from the summit provides a
strategic vantage point that is central to the construction of Western maps. The perception of the Reef as a maze, and the enjoyment offered by panoramas of its scenery is reflected in the following quote:
At the north end of [Whitehaven] bay is a sound which one might well miss since it is blocked up with Sandbanks and up here we sailed. Keeping careful watch for shallow water. In spite of this we were stranded several times. The View along this sound is magnificent, and in the morning I intend to take a panorama of it.
(Morrison 1925b: Monday, 27 July 1925)
While the panoramic view is also used in a strategic way by other cultures, it manifests in a particular mode in relation to Cartesian mapping (cf. Ryan 1996). In orienting themselves from Mount Oldfield holidaymakers of the 1930s were therefore emulating the activities of early navigators and in doing so they linked themselves with their own colonial past (cf. McGrath 1991: 122-3). The consciousness with which early visitors constructed their experiences in relation to the navigators is apparent in the following passage from a published account of the ‘Voyage of the Cheerio’:
[A] full exploration of our surrounding on the following morning, with a hill climb by some to view and photograph from the heights one of Australia’s wonder spots – a prospect of cobalt blue sea, dotted right to the hazy northern horizon with the myriad isles of the Whitsunday Passage. From such a vantage point it was easy to see that the island chain owed its origin to an almost submerged mountain range. On the mainland to the westward was Cape Conway, defining the southern end of … the long passage …. The principle islands to be seen on the landward side were Pine, Long, and the Molle Group, while along the seaward margin were the closely-packed Whitsundays, strung along in what appeared to be a continuous series of rugged hills and valleys.
To-day great liners regularly steam through the Whitsunday Passage, and it is practically as intact as it was on that day one hundred and sixty-six years ago when the famous navigator who gave it its name sailed through on his little barque “Endeavour.” Here is the record that Captain James Cook penned in his journal: -
“Monday, 4th[June, 1770] … a gentle breeze and Clear weather. In the P.M. Steered thro’ the passage which we found from 3 to 6 or 7 miles
broad, and 8 or 9 Leagues in length…. Our Depth of Water in running thro’ was between 25 and 20 fathoms; everywhere good Anchorage; indeed, the whole passage is one Continued safe Harbour, besides a number of small Bays and Coves on each side, […] The land, both on the main and Islands, especially on the former, is Tolerably high, and distinguished by Hills and Vallies [sic], which are diversified with Woods and Lawns that looked green and pleasant. On a Sandy beach upon one of the islands we saw 2 people and a Canoe…. At 6 we were nearly the length of the N. end of the Passage…. This passage I have name Whitsundays Passage, as it was discovered on the day the Church commemorates that Festival….”
With these deep impressions the climbers returned to camp to await others less fortunate of the party who had satisfied their interest with a fishing tour off Kennedy Sound. A run across to Linderman [sic] Island was made in the afternoon, and a regular round of inspection commenced. More climbing was indulged in, several being ambitious enough to climb Mt. Oldfield, an imposing peak seven hundred odd feet high. From here there was a duplication of the view previously described, with some of the closer islands to the north standing out in greater detail.
(Pandion and Pandanus 1936)
This view from the strategic vantage point of “one of Australia’s wonder spots” creates a sense of the sublime and this sense is significant in landscape aesthetics. It is for the sublime – as mixture of terror and exultation – that the Great Barrier Reef is perhaps most famous. The awe-inspiring nature of the Reef is evoked in every interaction and lies at the heart of the alterity that frames human relationships with the region. The sublime as an aesthetic experience has roots in the seventeenth century reappraisal of human capacity for awe. Porteous (1996: 76) has likened the move from one inspired by God to the same reaction inspired by the largest features of landscape – mountains, oceans and deserts. The Great Barrier Reef represents yet another perhaps more lasting example of such an
awesome landscape, incorporating mountains, oceans and human desert. Its apparent endlessness is controlled by the panorama. At the same time, however, it is extended through the diversity of marine life and the intimacy of landscapes in which people interact. Even though the panorama from Mount Oldfield disconnects the viewer from those
landscapes, in the first part of the twentieth century efforts to reach the summit facilitated encounters with the environment that gave rise to sensuous knowledge as discussed in Chapter 6.
Disorientation
My observations at Whitsunday island resorts and in the adjacent mainland centre of Airlie Beach in 2001 suggests that determining geographic location is no longer a conscious and popular activity among tourists. Bush walks to summits or otherwise were poorly
promoted. Although walks across islands are accessible from several of the island resorts, they are not featured noticeably in promotion for the region and the information about them is only available at the resort reception areas where it must usually be requested. The information is presented on black and white A4 photocopied sheets. These stand in stark contrast with the proliferation of glossy full-colour brochures for other Reef activities which are readily available at several outlets throughout the resorts and centres like Cairns and Airlie Beach, and which make up promotional material at more distant travel agencies. Needless to say, only a few of the many tourists visiting the islands each day participate in these activities. Furthermore, all walks are self-guided and the information sheets do not include many details about location, so that even when people do walk across the islands they may have little idea about where they are or the specifics of what they encounter. Geographic location and orientation is therefore of secondary importance to the generalised panorama that is observed. It is possible that the panorama has been surpassed by the detail of readily available maps and satellite images of the Reef. There are also easier and more effective ways of achieving an aerial view of the Reef through a number of tourist activities such as sightseeing flights, helicopter rides and even skydiving. However, it seems from other evidence that geographic orientation itself has been diminished as an important activity for Reef visitors. This may partly result from fewer visitors taking a directly ‘scientific’ approach to their Reef interaction. It may also be that the Reef is no longer characterised and perceived as dangerous, as I discuss later.
Contemporary Reef tourism is characterised by high speed travel, both in reaching the general vicinity and in travelling to and from particular destinations. Many travellers reach their mainland destination by air, and often fly directly to one of the larger island resorts. While the view from the air is facilitated by this kind of travel, the experience is quite a fleeting one and is not the main way in which people experience the region. Even the aerial views on offer are usually quite short in duration and are focused on a particular site. For
instance there are aquaplane trips to Whitehaven Beach or helicopter rides to Heart Reef. The idea is to quickly reach a particular location rather than gain a sense of spatial relationships between different localities. This contrasts strongly with navigation which is more concerned with travelling through regions rather than to reach a specific end point. The desire for rapid transport and the speed of travel even across water has significantly reduced the impact of location in contemporary Reef experiences. Time spent travelling by sea was longer and slower in the past, and this provided people with more time to orient themselves and to take an active interest in the process of navigation. The journey was as much a part of the experience as any other. This has changed in recent times with the emphasis being much more focused on island resorts and underwater life, as discussed in Chapters 8 and 9. The primary goal is now to reach the particular location in which a number of essentialised Reef experiences can be acquired. The prominence of marine life in contemporary experiences of the coral reefs even breaks down the distinction between the Outer Reef and the fringing reefs of islands in the lagoon.
The more recent period of tourist experiences of the Great Barrier Reef is characterised by disorientation. In contrast with the earlier period of taking part in the navigational activities, large high-speed vessels transport visitors from island to island with little interpretation about the voyage. During my travel on the larger tourist vessels in the Whitsundays, skippers rarely made any effort to provide information to passengers about their location.
Very occasionally they noted the name of a particular island being passed en route to the
final destination, but generally it was only the points of embarkation and disembarkation that were named and noted. Directional information was non-existent. Although maps of island locations are included in brochures, these tend to be more stylised and less informative than those from the first half of the twentieth century. I did not note a single person referring to one of these or any other map on any of the voyages. On the longer journeys, such as the trip to the Outer Reef, passengers were actually discouraged from observing their voyage. The company screened videos about underwater life of the Great Barrier Reef and light entertainment in the form of British television comedy. The journey to the Outer Reef can therefore be seen as a ‘boring’ necessity that requires distraction, rather than being part of the experience. The sea journey is no longer conceptualised as part
of the experience of the Great Barrier Reef, but is rather a means to an end which in this particular case was the underwater marine life.
Orientation: Continuity and Change
Geographic orientation on the Reef can therefore be seen as a means by which the unknown is familiarised and controlled. In gaining the perspective of Western cartography the
landscapes are not only colonised and controlled but give rise to the concept of the Great Barrier Reef as a singular whole. However, this view diminishes the complexity and intricacy of interaction at a more localised scale. The result of the ultimate strategic view, that from outer space, is that visitors are able to become disoriented in their actual experiences of the Reef. In the first part of the twentieth century, in an effort to replicate colonising activity, Reef visitors gained a localised and oriented sense of place through slow sea voyages, lengthy stays in particular locations and a desire to experience and record their own way through the reefs and islands. In the contemporary context, Reef visitors travel more rapidly and the journey is not a valued part of the experience but only a means by which to reach ‘the Reef’ – a concept made possible by the strategic view. In other words, people’s experiences have shifted from spatial knowledge of lines that join particular points to experiences of isolated points (cf. Augé 1995). This suggests a shift in which one of the defining aspects of places, orientation, is replaced by disoriented
experiences.
A similar ambiguity characterises management of the region. The Reef is recognised and valued for its singularity and the boundaries that define the region are constructed from the aerial and strategic vantage point. However human interactions with and understanding of particular locations within the Reef are constructed differently. In the following chapters I will look at the types of bodily experiences that further contribute to visitor knowledge of the region.
Changing Environments and Accommodation on the Great Barrier Reef Islands