Many decades ago, I broke ranks with my policy of 'No Queuing' and joined a tour. I forgave myself for this treachery to Principal because, after all, it was the only way I could get to see the Sistine Chapel. All went well until I found a reasonably clear floor area and then lay down on my back to view my adored sculptor's masterpiece in paint, from the perspective that I was sure Michelangelo intended. Strangely enough, the head boy seemed to think my actions odd and tried to move me along and several USAmericans ushered their innocent children away from me in case such logic was catching. But I did get a good 4 minutes of soaking the ceiling up with my eyes. So that was my only tour until this week.

This week I did the LARC tour. The Lighter Amphibious Re-supply Cargo vessel (pet-name being LARC) is an aluminium constructed vivid pink craft that is capable of propelling itself through water as well as over land. Remember that when you do the tour as first correct answer gets a mintie! So at the appointed civilized hour of 0900hrs, on a perfectly sublime May morning, 20 or so souls board the Sir Joseph Banks LARC from where she (hmm - conundrum with personal pronoun dilemma and convention of boats being female ~ Sir Josephine Banks perhaps?) is parked on the 1770 roadway. Mandy, a very cheery and happy lass sparkled the air with snippets of local lore and fawna spotting whilst a dashingly handsome and friendly Captain Paul navigated our craft across the bay and did a spot of off-stage prompting.

No children on board (praise be the Lord as I do think they shouldn't be released into society until the age of 30) but I do keep thinking about the lifejackets above my head. Still in their original plastic bags. Never used - true, means craft is safe but 'in my day' you had to stow personal floatation devices as 'readily accessible' which did not include in the plastic wrapper. Sometimes I hate being a pedant. Fortunately there is much to divert the eye and mind. Two baby dolphins where playing tag with their Mums (Mums in photo - babies shy or I am a hopeless photographer) beside the LARC while a white-bellied sea eagle gained its solo flight 'thermal-updraft-reverse-stall-swoop-but-don't-crash' wings. A turtle appeared to disport itself before our cameras and a stingray did a leap above the water just to prove it was there. We were spoilt with the natural performers.

Garlands of lovely shells all alone the beaches and many eyes ensured no one missed the plethora of bird life from oysters eaters with totally over the top red lipstick to sandpipers pretending our vessel wasn't there. At just the right time, we stopped for billy tea prepared by Mandy. Biscuits that landed with Captain Cook were off-set by most edible lamingtons (it's an Aussie delicacy, just trust me) and fruit cake. Clean lavatories and all very eco. Then off we went on arguably the highlight of the trip (arguably only because the natural attractions were almost shameless in their extravagence). Across the sand banks through the creeks and inlets and up past wise old boulders to the Bustard Head Lighthouse and its saviours, Stuart and Shirley Buchanan. I shant retell their story cos its best coming from the Scotsman himself with his delightful oratory or (now I sound like the LARC staff!) buy his book Lighthouse of Tragedy. Best read I have had since The Emporor's New Mind. I had just a leeetle bit of explaining to Tom later that day as to why the Author had added 'PS: See you tonight ' when inscribing my copy that day.

The Lighthouse actually is pretty much your standard neighbourhood white and red lighthouse and you cannot ascend it due to OH&S requirements but its a real buzz for an Aussie ex-school child to see The Dangers with one's own eyes (three rocks off the headland upon which many a vessel has floundered). To see the ground that held the blood and sweat and spent dreams of those incredibly brave women and their wiley men, and children who knew no other life. To stand stunned by the field of spears held by row upon irregular row of black-boys (a prehistoric native plant which has a politically correct name I don't use).

Pleasant sandwich lunch and a leisurely drive/sail home with Mandy at the helm as the setting sun drenched the russet backs of the sea-eagles gossiping on the beach. Lovely day, good company; there may yet be hope for Tours! Can thoroughly recommend the LARC as a most enjoyable tourist trip for all ages.

Post Script for Tour Guides: Aboriginals is not the noun. Aborigines is the noun. And whilst I am on my high horse - there is no such thing as koala bears - just koalas.

Stuart Buchanan was telling us the remarkable tale of how they acquired the astronomical telescope of Thomas Rooksby (Head Lightkeeper late 1800s) when by chance I took a photograph. On the far wall was a framed sunset view of the Lighthouse but when I downloaded my shot something else had appeared... maybe there are ghosts at the Lighthouse.