ISLAND FANTASY AT AUSTRALIA'S GREAT BARRIER REEF, YOU CAN IMAGINE LIFE AS A CASTAWAY.

Byline: Eric Noland Travel Editor

ORPHEUS ISLAND, Australia - The seaplane is a necessity, sparing guests a bobbing, 50-mile boat ride across open ocean from Australia's northeast coast. It's also a nice touch.

After lifting off from Townsville and soaring over a sapphire Coral Sea, the pilot of the eight-seater amphibious Cessna Caravan soon points out such islands as Great Palm, Fantome and Curacoa before sweeping down along the east shore of Orpheus and across the low spine of its isthmus. He splashes down at the mouth of Hazard Bay, as a boat pulls up to meet the new arrivals.

Even someone who has just glanced at the opening segment of ``Fantasy Island'' can't help but make the connection. This is seclusion. This is a social disconnect.

This is the Great Barrier Reef - or at least close proximity to it. Orpheus Island is one of nearly two dozen resorts sprinkled between the Queensland coast and the reef itself, a 1,200-mile swath of coral that has been identified as the world's largest living organism.

As you're carried by boat to the island's short pier, you can choose the appropriate character from fiction: Crusoe. Bligh. Gilligan. You've really gotten away from it all.

Orpheus Island measures 7 miles long, about a half-mile wide. It is home only to an intimate, all-inclusive resort of 31 rooms and, a few coves away, a marine research station. At any given time, there are likely to be no more than 100 souls on the entire land mass.

Sure, people come here to see the astounding variety of fish and coral beneath the ocean's surface - whether via scuba, snorkel or glass-bottom boat - but it doesn't take long for guests to gain an appreciation for an ancillary benefit of a stay here: total, blissful solitude. The resort, established in the 1930s, is one of the few private establishments in a vast national marine park, and there are no day-trippers coming ashore to intrude on the ambience.

A stay here is priced accordingly. It's the kind of splurge best-suited to an anniversary or a one-time trip Down Under. But the exchange rate has been extremely friendly to Americans for some time now. When we visited last fall, $1 U.S. bought $1.70 Australian, which was considered tremendous. But today the rate is even better - in excess of $1.80 Australian to the U.S. dollar.

Currently, rates for a beachfront terrace room - including all meals and activities - are about $280 U.S. per person, double occupancy.

We found a package to be an even better way to go. It included the round-trip seaplane ride from Townsville and an upgrade to a spacious Mediterranean villa. With the exchange rate so friendly, we opted for a full week.

After a short time there, only the air delivery of Australian newspapers (preoccupied then with a politician's sex scandal) gave us any idea what day it was. Time was whiled away swimming in the ocean, surveying the legions of hermit crabs along the tidal reef flat, hiking the island's interior, reading in hammocks slung near the water's edge, and marking time until the serving of the next gourmet meal. Nights were spent sleeping in a dark, quiet world punctuated only by the squawks of this continent's exotic bird life.

About the only negative was the inhospitability of the weather. Australia's seasons are upside down - spring has just begun, to be followed by summer when December gets here. Adam Moore, one of the water sports wranglers, said, ``Actually, there are two seasons - wet and dry. Dry is June through September, Australia's winter. It's sunny, warm; the water is a little cooler, but it's still comfortable.''

We seemed to catch the leading edge of the wet, which was accompanied by wind that kicked up a lot of chop on the ocean. It prevented us from taking a special snorkel excursion to the outer reef - an enormous disappointment considering we had allowed a six-day window to get it in.

Orpheus Island relies on a relatively small, 40-foot charter boat for its reef trips, whereas the big operators in nearby Cairns will go out in 230-footers that can handle much rougher conditions. Travelers who don't want to miss the reef, even in the rainy season, would probably be wise to book a trip with one of the big operators before heading to the island.

But neither were we left entirely wanting. Orpheus, though a continental island, has a fringing reef that features 340 of the 350 known species of coral. Hop in the boat for the daily guided snorkel trip and you'll be assured of seeing plenty.

One of the popular spots is a cove near the resort that is thick with giant clams. The spectacular marine creatures - some as big as a bushel basket -landed on the endangered species list in the 1970s, but the James Cook University research center on the island restored them, bred them and returned them to many areas of the reef. In this cove, there were more than 200 of them, most appearing to grin from half-opened maws just a few feet below the surface of the water.

One day, the resort arranged a tour of the research facility, where Maggie Booth held forth enthusiastically on sea snails, black-pearl oysters and hippo foot clams while standing alongside a study tank.

Another popular diversion for guests is a picnic outing in a dinghy. It's an Orpheus Island institution, in fact. The staff outfits you in a small motor boat, gives you a map and sends you off to explore the sheltered, western side of the island. But not without first loading on an ice chest and an enormous picnic hamper.

We motored south for Yanks Jetty, a secluded, white-sand cove that was used as a submarine demagnetizing station during World War II. The sailors left behind a pontoon pier, which is a godsend for those who don't want to contend with a fast-receding tide that often leaves an anchored dinghy high and dry.

We enjoyed this trip so much we did it twice during our stay, both times picking a remote stretch of the beach. In the utter stillness, removed from motors and radios and conversation, you couldn't help ponder what it would be like to be marooned.

The snorkeling was exceptional. The beachcombing was even better. We found hundreds of pristine shells - including incredible tiny swirled cones - most unbroken because they aren't battered by heavy waves here on the lee side of the island.

And then there was lunch. The array and quantity of goodies packed into those two receptacles was astonishing. A fruit platter contained cantaloupe, honeydew, watermelon, oranges, apples, grapes, banana, pineapple, kiwi, strawberries. Another platter held half lobster tails, prawns, oysters on the half shell, smoked salmon. There was also roast turkey, salami, pastrami and ham, plus brie, bleu and gouda cheeses. A full loaf of fresh bread had obviously been freshly baked. There was a jug of ice water, and for those who special-ordered them (as we did), bottles of Cascade Premium beer buried in ice. And chocolates for dessert.

Excessive? Hey, swimming and beachcombing are hard work.

After this considerable lunch, we sat under an umbrella and listened to gurgles, pops, burps and squirts. Uh, they came from the reef. As the water recedes, the marine creatures of the island's fringe put up quite a symphony. As we carefully walked among the coral, our favorite was the burrowing clam, whose mouthlike openings are brightly colored in burgundy and aquamarine. They clamp down tightly as the receding water leaves them fully exposed to the sun.

This part of Australia, in fact, provided us with quite an education about its unique critters.

On our first afternoon, we strolled out into the ocean waters in front of the resort when suddenly the ground moved. It was a stingray, camouflaged in the sand, scooting away because we'd spooked it. Then another took off. Then another. We headed for shore, and scared yet another between us and dry land.

One of the beach outfitters later told us to shuffle our feet when we walk along the sandy floor of the cove. The vibration alerts them and lets them get away, whereas if you lift your feet up when you walk and happen to come down on top of one of them, that tail will whip around and enlighten you as to how it got its name.

At night, the hillside back of the resort was alive with the sound of cane frogs. Big ones. Scores of them. They hovered along the edge of the walkway as we made our way to dinner nightly, sometimes leaping across in front of us at the last instant. (My kingdom for a flashlight.) You don't want to think about the exclamation that results from a woman getting her sandaled foot slimed by a huge frog in pitch darkness.

After dinner one night, we discovered that the turn-down housekeeper had left open a door to the bedroom from our veranda living room. Several frogs had made their way in, one winding up in the toilet bowl. A staffer soon arrived to cheerfully extract it.

On another occasion, I was up in the middle of a dark night, walking barefoot across the tile floor, when for some reason I decided to flip on a light. There, just three feet ahead in the hallway, stood a black spider the size of my hand. After my heart resumed beating and I attempted to guide him outside with a broom, I learned that this species can really move fast.

On a hike in the interior, we flushed a hare that was as big as a dog. Moments later, in a small grove of trees, I caught a spider web full across the forehead. Recalling the encounter of the previous night, I got it off in record time.

At night, the tropical birds let out some shrieks that nearly sounded human - a bird being mugged, perhaps. We could have sworn that one repeatedly cried out, ``Go back! Go back!'' Another: ``Help out! Help out!''

We chalked the wildlife experiences up to a different hemisphere and latitude line. At other times, we simply took a knife and fork to them.

Orpheus Island Resort prides itself on the quality of the dining experience it can provide - witness the picnic basket. With a clientele that is about an equal mix of Australians, Americans and Asians, its culinary philosophy is less fusion than convergence. And there is a heavy emphasis on that which can be pulled out of the vast ocean.

It was hard not to enjoy the succulent tails of Moreton Bay bugs - relax, it's lobster. We were also introduced for the first time to a reef fish called barramundi, later to something called coral trout.

The menu reflected delightful diversity. Lunch one day featured - no exaggeration - local prawns with a spicy guacamole dip, a wok-fry dish, crusted camembert cheese and a Greek salad. Dinner - six courses, four stars, presented in a terrace setting that was open to the tropical breezes - routinely included a pasta dish, a Thai item, perhaps Victorian lamb and, of course, the generous bounty of the reef.

We delighted in a wine list that featured selections from all over Australia, very few of which we've since been able to track down in the States. (Alcohol is billed separately at the resort, and here's where the exchange rate really works in your favor. A fabulous Green Point chardonnay from Victoria's Yarra Valley, for example, is priced at $47; the current exchange knocks that down to $26 U.S.)

At breakfast our first morning, restaurant supervisor Carol Lock informed us that the kitchen takes great pride in producing special orders. ``Really?'' I said. ``OK. I'd like reef fish Benedict.'' She started briefly, blinked once, and said, ``No worries.'' And it was delicious.

We found that can-do spirit pervasive among the staff members, which is refreshing to anyone who has asked an American waiter for something only to be told, ``This isn't my section. I'll get your server.''

``It's not pyramid service here, it's flat,'' said general manager Wayne Greenwood. ``Everybody works together. And when guests ask for something, it's all about how you attack it. It's too easy to say no.''

He said the employees number 40, which means that at full capacity there is one staffer for every 1.8 guests, and most of the time the ratio is closer to one-to-one.

One of the resort's strongest attributes, we felt, was that guests are allowed to be as active or inactive as they wish to be. Two guests raced small catamarans back and forth across the mouth of the cove all one afternoon - and were both the color of pomegranates the next day. Another waterskied daily. (There is no extra charge for these activities.)

Others napped in the hammocks and lounge chairs, soaked in the spa, splashed in the pool (which was cooler than the Coral Sea), and maybe availed themselves of the swim-up bar.

One of our favorite pursuits was simply walking along the beach out front. At night, we could spot the stingrays gliding out of the darkness to within a couple of feet of the water's edge. Overhead, on the occasional night when the sky was clear, we could pick out constellations rarely seen in such glory back home - the Southern Cross, Scorpius.

On our final morning, the day dawned clear, sunny and still. The snorkel charter headed to the outer reef without us (doesn't it always figure?). But in the bright sunshine, along that same beach, we were able to take one last walk, and watch tropical fish circling the pilings of the pier.

Nothing this good can last indefinitely, of course. Soon, there was a distant drone overhead. The seaplane was on its way to collect us. And snap us back to reality.

IF YOU GO

GETTING THERE: Orpheus Island lies along the Great Barrier Reef just off Australia's Queensland coast. It is 50 miles north of Townsville, 120 miles south of Cairns, and is accessed by a seaplane flight operated by the resort.

COSTS: Room rates at the resort start at about $280 U.S. per person, double occupancy, for a beachfront terrace room. This includes all meals and activities. Packages are also available.

OFF THE SHELF: One of the best guidebooks for resort accommodations on the Great Barrier Reef is ``Fodor's Australia 2002'' ($21.95). It devotes 25 pages to the region, and includes extensive information on other island resorts - Lady Elliott, Heron, Lizard, Dunk, Great Keppel, South Molle, etc.

INFORMATION: From the United States, Orpheus Island Resort can be reached at 61-7-4777-7377. Web: www.orpheus.com.au. For general information on Australia, contact its tourism office in Los Angeles at [phone]; www.australia.com. For Queensland in particular, visit its official tourism Web site, www.tq.com.au.

CAPTION(S):

8 photos, box

Photo:

(1 -- 4 -- color) Life's pace slows to a crawl on Orpheus Island, a sliver of land tucked into Australia's Great Barrier Reef. Guests arrive by seaplane, above, and soon find their way to the spa and swim-up bar, top, or one of the beachside hammocks, right. On snorkel excursions, it's possible to survey giant clams, below, which thrive in the island's fringing reef; some are as big as bushel baskets.

(5) A short pier juts into the water in front of the Orpheus Island Resort, serving as a vantage point for surveying tropical fish.

(6) A hillside Mediterranean villa is one of the accommodations available at the resort, with a patiolike living room that can open to the tropical air.

(7) Maggie Booth, a researcher at a James Cook University facility on Orpheus Island cradles a hippo foot clam.

(8) An open-air veranda overlooking a quiet, sheltered bay is the dinner setting on Orpheus Island.

Eric Noland/Staff Photographer

Box: IF YOU GO (see text)