At first light I’m out the door, rugged up against the tropical winter chill with a towel flung over my shoulder and goggles dangling from my wrist. Within minutes I’m at the water’s edge, unpeeling layers beneath towering fan palms and sliding into the steaming translucent flow of Bitter Springs.
My oh-so-dreamy drift dive begins. I lift my feet and float silently, staring up into a dazzling canopy of lime-green palms and watching rainbow bee-eaters hunting on the wing. I slip on my goggles and duck-dive through thermal bubble trails rising from the deep, spooking wide-eyed freshwater turtles and schools of tiny fish with my wayward kicks.
The 6am solitude is heavenly enough, but it’s the water — warm, soothing and mineral-rich — that unwinds me to my core, stealing away a hundred bustling thoughts and sending me floating gently downstream in its current.
In this distinctly tropical scene, Bitter Springs works its magic, and I’m so utterly absorbed by the tranquillity that only when I bump softly into the pandanus fronds at the pool’s end do I suddenly return
