Island hopping

Flying low over the brightly coloured corals of the Great Barrier Reef is like looking at a giant kaleidoscope. Azure, aquamarine, pink and yellow - there's no better way to see the reef and the Whitsunday islands than from a tiny de Havilland seven-seater seaplane.

One minute we're gobsmacked by nature's design palette and the next we're flying over pristine Whitsunday Island (the largest in the group), which is all national park.

Pilot Andy Polson points out a long slash of brilliant white beach. It's the famous Whitehaven, often named in the top Australian beaches, and our picnic ground today. Landing in a seaplane is surprisingly easy as we glide smoothly over the sparkling water (none of the bumps of a runaway) and then the plane morphs into a boat and chugs up quite close to the sand.

We wade through knee-deep seawater up to the sparkling seven-kilometre beach. A few other groups are dotted around. Some have come by boat and others by seaplane. Decadently, we feast on champagne and orange juice, cheese and crackers, even though it's only 10am.

This is day one of a tight schedule. I have 74 hours (a little over three days) in the Whitsundays and I want to see as many as possible of the 74 islands that make up the group. Of course, I'm cheating with this Air Whitsundays joy ride, as we pass over many islands, including Dent, Hamilton in the distance with its resorts and airport, Lindeman Island further south (closed for renovations), Whitsunday Island where we land, the mesmerising Hook and Heart reefs, Hook Island (great forest walks and Aboriginal cave paintings) and Hayman (for those in search of luxury).

The next day I take a ferry to Daydream Island, a resort and spa that's now open to the public. The surprising highlight is feeding stingrays. In a small sea pond, marine biologist Jenita Comer reassures our group that the barbs have been extracted from the baby stingrays. We shuffle along the floor of the pond, standing with legs well apart, so the stingrays can swim through, and pat them, gently avoiding their eyes.

After my initial nervousness, I take a piece of fish in my gloved hand and hold it out to the swarming stingrays. One comes straight away, a grey disc flapping towards my hand, and then, suddenly, like an efficient vacuum, it sucks up the fish. I start to relax and tell them apart, the quiet, polite ones from the cheeky bigger guys.