Travel: 1770 & AGNES WATER - East Coast Australia Adventures Part 1

I’d been in Australia for over 6 months and yet had seen little more of the country this time around than my adopted hometown of Noosa, and Byron Bay (you can read about that here). It was about time to change that, and so I booked myself an East Coast adventure that would take me from Brisbane over 1,600 kilometres to Cairns, and then on to the Northern Territory for good measure.

All about getting maximum impact for minimum money, I’d booked myself onto the cheaper of the two coaches which take you around the country, the Premier Bus Service. I packed light, with just a backpack and string bag to last me over two weeks, but this sure made travelling around a hell of a lot easier, even just in getting to Brisbane Coach Terminal to start my adventures.

And so we began, driving North. The bus driver kindly allowed me to hop off the bus at Noosa to say hello to my friends, and then it was straight on through. Having left Brisbane at 2pm that day, I didn’t arrive at my first destination, the town of 1770 / Agnes Water, until 12:10am. To say it had been a long day would be an understatement, and it wasn’t even over yet.

Now, one of the disadvantages of being as frugal with transport as I am is that it doesn’t always take you exactly where you need to be, and so I was dropped off 25km outside of town. I’m not really sure why the Premier can’t head into town like the Greyhound does, but this did mean ordering a $50 return shuttle to take me to my hostel.

Things didn’t get off to the best start when I arrived at Southern Cross Backpackers in the middle of the night, as no staff were around, and apparently no arrangements had been made for me to stay the night. Thus, I was placed in the first empty room to be found (Southern Cross is bizarrely a ‘keyless hostel’, meaning none of the doors get locked…) sans any linens or comfort that I wouldn’t have strange animals or stranger people walking into my room in the middle of the night.

Circumstances didn’t necessarily improve the next morning when I was up bright and early to check in as soon as reception opened, which it didn’t until 40 minutes after advertised. Delightful. Alas, I was here and it was time to see all of the delights that 1770 had to offer. The hostel kindly offered free shuttle transport to town at various times throughout the day, so I hopped on the shuttle at 10am and was dropped off in the small town of Agnes Water.

First (and only) stop – the beach. I spent an hour or so wandering along the beach as it is indeed one of my favourite pasttimes, and to be quite fair, there really didn’t seem to be very much else to do here. The bus returned after midday and I headed back to the hostel to prepare for the first of the activities my travel agent had persuaded me to get involved in – Scooteroo.

Where do I begin with Scooteroo? If you’ve read my blog before, you’ll know that I do sometimes get myself involved in strange situations – the Moulin Rouge being a notable example – and yet even that pales in comparison to Scooteroo. On paper, it’s a scenic tour of Agnes Water and 1770 via chopper bike. In reality, it’s what seems to be a drug-fuelled hallucination.

We lined up at the bike shed and were greeted by our instructor Craig, who had undoubtedly ingested every kind of drug known to man, quite possibly that day alone. I make no exaggerations when I say that all of us were slightly concerned that this man was to be in charge of our safety. But then again, pretty much all of the people I’d met on this leg of my journey so far appeared to be on drugs, so maybe it was just their way of coping with living in 1770…

There was a brief trial period on a dirt track for us to get used to riding a chopper. It was at this point that I wondered why I, who is not even confident driving a car, had decided to sign up to this. Here we were, already feeling pretty shaky on a dirt track, and we were about to be released onto the roads.

Deemed road-safe (ha), we filed single file out onto the roads and started tearing off at 50-60 kph. Trust me when I say that the less you thought about what you were doing, the better. We stopped at some kind of forest area for a brief walk through the woods, not seeing an awful lot, and then back off we went.

Riding along straight roads was fine, but corners were hard for me. The bike was heavy, and I found it very difficult to steer the handlebars enough to make a tight corner, sometimes veering into the other lane and panicking to pull myself back straight before I headed off the road. Apparently I wasn’t the only one, as we took a corner and behind me I heard an ear-piercing scream. We were going fast, and didn’t know what to do until Craig zoomed ahead of us, flagged us to stop, said ‘there’s been an accident’, and zoomed off again.

Down the road behind us, one of the girls had been thrown off her bike taking a corner. We waited up the hill as she was taken off to hospital. Let me tell you that it was at this point that we became very aware of our mortality, and that perhaps this hadn’t been the smartest thing to do Day 1 of my tour, when I still had so many activities that would be so much better without a broken arm, and indeed, still alive.

The rest of the ride was tense, and the main topic of conversation as we stopped for potato wedges and sundown at the port of 1770 was hoping the girl was alright. We raced home before the sun fully set, and were all relieved to arrive home in one piece and find our compatriot safe and sound.

I’ll be brutally honest – I’d had more than enough of 1770 by this point, and indeed was rather confused as to why I’d been sent there in the first place. My travel agent had been so adamant that 1770 was not to be missed, but I can’t say I’d agree. And here I was, with another full day ahead of me before my bus onwards arrived to pick me up at 12:10am that night.

What was I do to with myself? Head back to the beach, I guess. But even that didn’t last long, and we found ourselves back at the hostel by lunchtime. With nothing to do, we wasted time watching a movie before the kangaroo sanctuary nearby opened for the brief period of 3-4pm. I walked over and spent a little time feeding the kangas sweet potato slices before heading back to the hostel.

You’ll know I’m a big fan of sunsets, so that was my next idea, and I found myself accompanied by one of the hostels resident loons who offered to take me to his secret ‘beachside workshop’ where he was building a raft to sail to Indonesia… You’ll be pleased to know I declined. I’m not sure I’d still be writing this blog post if I’d agreed.

Thank God that a full Greyhound full of people arrived at the hostel that night as I’m really not sure what I would’ve done otherwise. The tour group happily integrated me into their ranks, and we spent the night playing cards and chatting before my shuttle returned to collect me and take me far away from that town.

Thanks for reading today's blog! I hope you enjoyed hearing about my adventures in 1770 and Agnes Water - have you visited these towns before? If so, was your experience any different to mine? I'd love to hear about them - drop me a message in the comments below and make sure to follow me on Twitter @CiarasCountry to stay up to date with future posts!