I took my daughter to the Whitsundays, a string of islands off northeastern Australia, because she was obsessed with finding Nemo. Actually, we both were.
She was after the lovable cartoon clownfish, the star of the bestselling DVD of all time. I wanted to see the real deal in its natural habitat: Amphiprion ocellaris - just the most famous of the myriad Day-Glo denizens of the Great Barrier Reef.
Apparently, we're not alone. Last month, marine biologist Billy Sinclair, who studies clownfish at the University of Cumbria, reported that Nemo's Bambi-like status could actually make it an endangered
species.
While the movie is about springing a clownfish from a dentist's office aquarium, that hasn't stopped legions of children from requesting their own captive Nemo. The clownfish harvest has led to a 75 per cent drop in the numbers of fish in some areas - from 25 to six at one coral reef in Queensland.
"My message to kids who loved the film is simple," Sinclair told Britain's Daily Telegraph. "Tell your parents to leave Nemo in the sea where he belongs."
An excellent suggestion. And since the waters that wash over the Great Barrier Reef are particularly rich in clownfish, the Whitsundays were the obvious place to search for the little guy in his natural habitat. First, because these islands are a convenient base for exploring the reef. And second because several resorts here turn out to be remarkably adept at handling the vacation needs of young children and their parents.
There are 74 islands in the Whitsundays, almost all of them small, steep-sloped and blanketed in dense subtropical forest. But most are kept pristine as part of the Great Barrier Reef Marine Park; tourist development has been limited to only seven islands, each with its own self-contained resort complex and distinct flavour.
Posh Hayman Island, for example, caters to the rich and famous. Hook and Long islands specialize in stripped-down budget travel. And Lindeman features the mid-market predictability of Club Med. My crew, meanwhile, was headed for the two islands that most brazenly tout their family-friendly bona fides: Hamilton and Daydream.
PETTING THE RAYS
As our ferry from the mainland pulled into Daydream Island Resort, my daughter, in the style of three-year-olds everywhere, danced a celebratory jig, hopping foot to foot and chanting, "Nee-MO! Nee-MO! Nee-MO!"
She didn't have to wait long for satisfaction. Not only did my girl get an eyeful of Nemo in the artificial lagoon outside the lobby - one of two reefs of living coral that encircle the main resort buildings - but there were two more in an aquarium inside and a range of clownfish emblazoned on the carpet below her feet. This resort knows its target market.
So much so that we found no good reason to venture farther afield right away. Notwithstanding the resort's amenities (from sea-kayak rentals to an expansive spa) and the daily sightseeing tours to nearby Whitsunday Island (with its stunning white-powder beach), we did very little in particular - which, after all, is sort of the point of a holiday.
We organized our days around the twice-daily feedings in the lagoons, which yielded clockwork Nemo sightings.
By the second day, my daughter had also built up the courage to pet the various rays in the lagoon, particularly enjoying the shovel-nosed ray, which looks like a flattened shark trying to swallow its namesake.
As for me, I'd learned that hand-feeding barramundi, which look about as exotic as lake trout, has its own adrenalin rush - roughly akin to dropping the cheese into a lurching, lightning-quick mousetrap. And my snorkelling expeditions on the island's small fringing reef each afternoon offered up enough psychedelically coloured fish and coral to keep me contented.
A TRIP TO REEF WORLD
