The same mindset applies, I think, to things like Whitehaven. They're places you'll go to when you're showing visitors around the region, but at the price and given the crowding factor that kicks in when you head to the lookout it's something you tend to avoid doing until you have a reason to do it.
That, in any case, is my story and when it comes to explaining why I've spent fifty years in The North and close to thirty in Bowen without doing certain things I'm sticking to it.
We'd originally planned to take the Whitehaven Express, but the vessel was up on the slipway having its nether regions defouled, so we'd opted for Mantaray, which, as it turned out was a perfectly adequate substitute in an environment where you're unlikely to get too much in the way of differentiation.
Whitehaven Express, I think, offers a barbecue lunch where Mantaray does a cold collation smorgasbord, and that's about the only difference (as far as I can tell).
The coaster bus collected us from Martinique just after the scheduled 7:15 pickup and whisked us down to Abel Point Marina, where the first task was completing the inevitable paperwork and associated disclaimers that come with the territory when you're looking at activities that can, and do from time to time, kill.
That last point has a fair bit to do with the cheerful bonhomie that is on display for the benefit of the passengers, any of whom might be inclined to acquire cold feet if they're relative newbies when in comes to underwater activities.
Anyway, with the paperwork complete, and the passenger quotient filled, we set off, passing Airlie on a route that took us past North and South Molle, along the west side of Whitsunday Island and down the east side to Tongue Bay, which is where you debouched for the climb to the lookout that delivers your panoramic view of Hill Inlet and your actual Whitehaven Beach.
It's a good hour on the water, with pleasant island views punctuated by interruptions to try on various sized of fins (flippers, we were repeatedly informed, is a dead dolphin) and take delivery on the proffered wetsuits. there's a time and place for everything, and a lengthy passage from port to anchorage on a vessel with limited space is obviously the time to look after aquatic administrivia.
Once we'd navigated into the anchorage, however, it was obvious that a number of vessels were, effectively, doing the same thing as we were, dropping by, disgorging their passengers for agar at the silica sand and clearing out to have someone else take their place.
The transfer from boat to beach happened in three stages (based, predictably, on the space in the rubber ducky tender) and we hoofed it up the hill to find one of the scenic wonders of the world besmirched by people with very little consideration for everyone else.