The Sundays of Whit; A Royal visit to Hamilton Island

We arrived into Hamilton Island with yet another experience of the airport- shuttle of death behind us and were delighted to find ourselves enjoying beautiful tropical sunshine. The airport was of similar size as the one on the Galapagos, but with the distinct advantage of English speaking staff to inform you that you would be able to collect your luggage from the back of a truck outside the terminal building.
Day one was primarily occupied with having a bit of a nosy around the resort and the 'town'. Not so much a town as an extension of the hotel seeing as the entire island is owned by one company and you can therefore charge anything you buy in the local shops to your room. Once we were all moved into our accommodation (Bungalow 17, doncha know), a scout of the pools and facilities was well in order before we decided to give in to the luxurious surroundings and booked ourselves a dinner cruise for our last night on the island. Well... when in Rome.
That night we decided to sample the best of the French cuisine on offer with a tipple and fabulous meal in one of the rather snazzy waterfront eateries. Here we had our one and only experience of good Australian customer service during the whole two week holiday. Obviously the waitress was American. We also experienced an absolutely fabulous thunderstorm, with dramatic Blakesque lightening illuminating the sky. We had actually been very disappointed when, after 3 days in a continuously rainy Sydney, the weather forecast for Hamilton was for rain. But this was some seriously awesome weather, and luckily the only precipitation we saw during our 3 day luxuriate.
The next day, clear sky a go go, we headed for the pool. After we'd had breakfast in the company of several koalas, of course. That's how you know food is good quality- its like the kite mark for breakfast. During my time in Oz I couldn't help but notice that the Australians are somewhat casual about the appearance of Sol; noone downunder really feels the need to remove all their clothes and lay in the weakest rays of light like the sun-starved Brits are wont to do. The pool was reflective of this. And also the fact that Hamilton Island resort hadn't provided sun umbrellas so lying by the pool for long isn't seriously an option. The plus side to this was that we immediately got sun loungers, the downside was that we couldn't keep our pasty selves out of the harmful rays long enough to hang on much past lunchtime. Plan 'A' defeated and we were off on the island loop bus tour. Hamilton island is actually quite small, and we made our way around the majority of the inhabited area within about 40 mins. The scenery was breathtaking, and we were torn between being excited by that and the news imparted by the woman behind us that HRH Wills was on the island. Naturally we were invited to dine with the future king that night, but we already had better plans- and it was off to the shops to purchase Doritos and beer, theoretically to be enjoyed on the porch con hammock (yes, I did manage to get mum in the hammock, and needless to say she now irrefutably agrees with me- life in a hammock is just better). However, we hadn't banked upon quite such an enthusiastic showing of the native Ozzy wildlife when at the first crackle of a crisp packet being opened a Hichcockian flock of cockatoos (locally referred to as 'galahs') descended upon us in a way that could only be descibed as predatory. Eventually we were forced to cede our territory and retreated back inside the bungalow to finish the beer and crisps.
A good amount of hammock based reading/ napping time later (I was SO in need of a break after all that stressful travelling and amazingness) and the black pit that is my stomach was ready to be fuelled again. Down to the docks for fish and chips, where we were given a pager that would tell us when our food was ready (I know this isn't really a phenomenon anymore, but I was entertained by it. A pager... for fish and chips! How posh are we?!). The great British classic was good, and always tastes better sea front adjacent as we were, but noone does it quite like Blighty.
Our final day I tested out my sailing bravado by taking out one of the resort's single man catamarans- having a ridiculously enjoyable time out on the ocean wave. The afternoon saw us have a bash at that Great Barrier Reef snorkeling lark, but close to the island there was little to be seen and the resort staff informed us that to see the really good fishes we really needed to dive. But as we were sin PADI Quals, and off on our very posh dinner cruise that night which would be visiting the Great Barrier Reef, we weren't hugely concerned.
And the Dennison Star Cruise didn't disappoint. In fact it turned out to be rather entertaining as had my annual abortive attempt to be ladylike and ended up covered in a mayonnaise, and the wind soon ensured we both closely resembled the much feted galahs! We were joined by a friendly Ozzy couple for dinner, for which mum and I both opted for kangaroo steak (highly recommended- we likes it raw and wriggling precious!), and the night was just perfected by the gorgeous sunset and the breathtaking stars that followed (you can see more stars with the naked eye in Oz than anywhere else in the world!).
And sadly, the next day it was bye bye Bungalow 17 and off on a jet plane to Sydders (Wills did offer us his Leer Jet, but we don't like to draw that kind of attention to ourselves), but not before a marathon breakfast at the hotel in order to properly ensure our moneys worth. Yes, 3 breakfasts in a row is achievable if you're wondering.

This is not just any island... this is Prince William approved, sun drenched beaches, Hamilton Island