Rescues, rows and burglaries sometimes vacations dont run is in accordance with contrive. Tell us your own holiday nightmares in the comments or via GuardianWitness

The Whitsundays: What sort of holiday necessary teaches?

Our firstly holiday as husband and wife was a disaster. This is not counting the honeymoon certainly, because honeymoons must be resolutely remembered as ecstatic, otherwise the union is doomed. But our first holiday thereafter, still newlyweds, still getting are applied to life in tandem: disaster.

No one actually mentioned the word divorce so early in the bit but when youve got one sailing boat, five days of unseasonably scandalizing problems and two chieftains overinflating their sailing event and underreporting their bossiness, thats the threat hiding behind every curt instruction.

What sort of holiday necessary teaches? Well precisely. A vacation in which one person is required to take charge in a bossy-boots kind of path is no vacation at all. Add to this disgruntlement the necessity to yell to be heard over roaring airs while you stray dangerously off-course, and “youre starting” dreaming of official holidays to get over the holiday.

This is what we supposed: the becalmed beauty of the Whitsunday Passage, that impressive collection of islands protectively nestled inside the Great Barrier Reef, safe from prevailing winds; bright blue languid daylights slipping over turquoise liquids, taking switches at the tiller in our togs; procuring our own private cove as the sunbathe goes down; diving into heated pristine liquids; the tinkling of intimate laugh; the fizz of champagne and the sizzle of prawns on the barbie.

This is what we got: driving horizontal torrent( freezing ); cyclonic jazzs( freezing ); nasty, choppy, steel-grey water( freezing ). A heaving barge, the relentless slap, smacking, blow of the hull , no relief in quiet coves, and yelling from stern to bow. Ill look at the delineate, you steer! No, Ill steer, you look at the map! Liberate the cleat, I said, the CLEAT.

Our compounded minutes of voyaging knowledge brought us untie when we touched a reef on day 2, with a nauseating crunch and move onto that pallid fragment on the map that youre supposed to avoid. Cant you envision the blood-red directions? The RED LINES!

Ill save you the pain of dates three and four and take you straight to date five: a mayday see, a recovery mission, and a midwater carry-over from careening boat to lurching boat.

A friend of excavation formerly said he calculated best available research for any brand-new relationship is the camping excursion, but the yachting in cyclonic modes with next-to-no sailing know-how trip-up will do the trick more. If you can make it through that, calmer seas await. Lucy Clark

“Thats what we” envisaged: the becalmed grace of the Whitsunday Passage. Photograph: Maureen Dettre/ AAP

Tokyo: Please do not be appalled by my appearance

Before I got on the plane from Barcelona to Tokyo I emailed my best friend I was staying with. Please do not be sickened by my illusion. I appear a bit different. Too, I wont have any money when I arrive, so if you can help me sort it out appreciate.

My appearance was stunning. I gasped with fright whenever I inadvertently glimpsed at myself in the reflect and that was before I even registered that it was me looking back. My look went worse on the plane razz to Tokyo whether it was just the cabin pres or the time that bruises take to bud. But my friend, converging me at a Hilton in Tokyo, blanched when he saw me. My eyes were pitch-black and swollen shut, one area of my look was likewise swell and bruised and a long cable of pitch-black, severely sewn strand ran down my right synagogue to my eyebrow. The sewing looked like someone had killed a exceedingly black spider on my appearance but left the body there.

I had been assaulted and cheated in Barcelona a few days before, which resulted in two black eye, a swollen jaw and fractured skull , now dented and sewn together by an tired apprentice who would never acquire a reward for the neatness of his craftwork.

My friend in Tokyo was a lawyer who dealt with the intricacies of transnational airline leases and wore immaculately tailored clothings. We made an odd-looking duo as we disappeared from bank to bank with my passport, trying to get money out or get fund wired or exactly access it somehow. In his flawless Japanese he negotiated on my behalf as I accepted there my appearance a grotesque mask. But every time we were rebuffed. In a chilled Starbucks my friend produced me an iced coffee, which I suck through a straw( my mouth still pained) and said, The people in the bank perhaps suppose I overpower you up and am trying to drain your bank accounts. Thats what it looks like.

In the day, when I should have been examining Tokyo( pictured ), I lay on the sofa in the hot, dark flat and watched reruns of Dawsons Creek. Photograph: Steven Beijer/ Getty Images/ EyeEm

We tried one more bank, and when they said no, rips erupt with some difficulty from my swollen attentions, and the display might have been so weird and heartbreaking that they finally said yes.

The rest of the time in Tokyo I didnt leave my friends flat. I was anxious and wearied, and to begin to dream of the assault in shattered and jumbled scraps. In the working day, when I should have been searching Tokyo, I lay on the lounge in the cool, dark flat and watched reruns of Dawsons Creek. Brigid Delaney

New South Wales: Vomit and a snowstorm

Holidays with children are wonderfully unpredictable. Our three-week international jaunt with a four-year-old and two-year-old, which included about 50 hours of moving day, was a fantasy, despite the fright stories concerning toddlers and long-haul flights. It was a week-long journey to the snow that turned out to be the family holiday that would bring us to our knees.

We had it all contrived. This would be a skiing holiday that would not interruption the bank. We borrowed gear, awaited all time for Aldi specials on teenagers snowboots and booked a family room in the youth hostel.

The journey from Sydney to the snowfields takes about six hours, according to Google, but by the time we had stopped multiple times to intervene in babies combats, change nappies and for abundant snack violates, seven hours had passed and we were only in Canberra. We booked a last-minute room at great overhead in a hotel where there was a assemble of levy auditors or something, so the whole lieu was full.

The next day, we realized it to our cosy chamber at the hostel. Then the projectile upchuck started. Our two-year-old had developed a high fever within times of us putting our purses down and was quite ill. Instead of marvelling at the snow twirl across the mountains outside, we were stuck in a chamber about the dimensions of the a small gondola trying to administer Panadol to a writhing toddler.

I stood up most of the nighttime are concerned about how to drive in the snow to a infirmary if happenings get worse at one point he started shaking. Vomit was on all of our invests, the bedsheets, everything. We couldnt rotate the light on because it would wake our daughter so we had to use mobile phones to try to see what was happening( we hadnt carried a light ). We couldnt open the window to get rid of the smell because there was a blizzard outside.

The next morning, the conditions on the mountain were perfect but the little bloke was still very ill. Fresh grey powdery snow was everywhere but we had to clear the call to pack up and intelligence home, dreading another nighttime of temperatures in the 40 s and no better access to a doctor. While my spouse packed up, I took our daughter to the snowfield to build a speedy snowman and journey on a toboggan. In the end, we expended three days jaunting, thousands of dollars probably( I didnt want to add it up) and about 30 times total at the snow. Patrick Keneally

Sicily: Even shouting, we couldnt hear one another

Id pre-booked most of the accommodation for our driving errand around Sicily because with a five-year age-old the days of tells just see which is something we end up were all behind us. But there was one day when I wasnt sure how far across the southern coast united drive so I figured wed precisely find something that night. How bad could it be? I supposed. As it is about to change, very bad.

Everything was full when we started ogling in the late afternoon. Hours subsequently, as the Im thirsty whine from the back seat was transformed into a meltdown, the tourism part in Sciacca said they had a private rental. We followed a bloke on a bike to a nifty little terrace live near the port, paid him, promised to leave the keys on the living-room table, and walked across the road to a trattoria for dinner, experiencing fairly pleased.

But as we rendered we find the terrace next to ours was setting up chairs and counters on the sidewalk outside its front door and ours. Well-dressed young Italians were getting out of cars and a very loud reverberate check seemed to be emanating from our living room.

The terrace next door was a night club. The music inaugurated around nine, shaking the walls and vibrating through the flooring. The pavement outside our front doorway was packed with screaming, dancing revellers. The beer garden included our back quadrangle. Even wailing, we couldnt sounds one another. We sucked some brews and tried to entertain our son who was hysterical with exhaustion. Ultimately, at 4am, the music stopped, but then the clean-up personnel smashed bottles and sang football chants until dawn.

We left as elderly neighbours arrived dwelling on the back of scooters, having undoubtedly fled to sleep somewhere quieter. My husband may have shed the keys into the shelter. Lenore Taylor

Sydney: A ordinary weekend daylight( in a bad way )

Our previous expensive household vacation had ended in catastrophe, so we decided to be smart and holiday at home this time. It would be cheap! It would be fun! We would save hour roaming to our destination and exactly … be.

We made it to the peach farm and successfully picked two bags of return! It was to be the highlighting of the vacation. Picture: Attila Balazs/ EPA

I would like to write that circumstances went well initially, but they didnt. On the eve of our staycation two daughters got a temperature and was up all darknes saying her tummy suffer. Spent, we scrapped plans to go fruit picking the next day and remained local. It was like a ordinary weekend date. We even went to the supermarket.

The following daylight we constructed it to the peach farm and successfully picked two bags of return! It was to be the highlighting of the vacation. Gastro struck the rest of the family down in the following epoches. Oh, it was a staycation all right in the bathroom.

When we finally developed, thinner, paler and jaded, we had the working day continues to be of holiday. We went to the supermarket. The vehicle broke down on the way home. Bonnie Malkin

The Netherlands: Car difficulty

At one point on this vacation we called the Vaalserberg, a situate where the borders of Netherlands, Belgium and Germany meet. So they are able to stand in three countries at the same occasion. That did not make it the most difficult vacation in itself, but I say that as a preamble for a item about this history. Which is that when we my dad driving, my mum alongside, a 16 – or 17 -year-old fractious me in the backseat, my younger sister and friend manager down a remote country road, I cant recollect what usage the road clue saying DO NOT ENTER was actually in. Or perhaps it was just a clue with no texts. Anyway, the entail was fairly obvious, in retrospect.

I remember the next bit, which was about 100 m away: the rotations of the Nurofen-coloured Talbot spinning round in the dirt, country flying everywhere like an outtake from Carry on Camping. Us going out of the car while the local farmers Dutch? Lets say they were Dutch watched entertained and incredulous. My father in his lines, out of the car, attracting goons from tyres. I anticipate then a tractor, and a lasso. And exchange experiences with the Dutch farmers about that signaling back there, you know the one saying DO NOT ENTER in one( or maybe two, or nothing) of four speeches. It wasnt raining; I guess that was a silver lining.

We witnessed not so much better of Milans Piazza del Duomo( pictured) but quite a lot of the Talbot dealer in the less-fashionable outskirts. Picture: Giuseppe Cacace/ AFP/ Getty Images

And it also meant that when I became a driver myself I had learned my lesson. Ive merely so far since “mustve been” plucked out twice by a tractor, when I was a reporter in eastern England, both experiences within weeks of each other. No one told me there was a trench there. Or there.

Everything was wrong with that vacation. Night fears. Family dynamics. Me. Flat as a flannel-cake the territory and the environment. It was their own families holiday you swear not to go on again and you dont until you get older, when you find that your parents are just the sort of people you want to spend time with like that. Strangely enough it produced one of the best all-family visualizes we ever had taken, us all smiling. It contained a broader actuality but in that week was a horrible lie. My dad had a very dry humour and was not great with vehicles.

A year later, or before, we got off the motor-rail in Milan and bang the exhaust gases fell from. So we experienced not so much better of the Piazza del Duomo, a lot of the Talbot dealer in the little fashionable outskirts. And he had a line about devising a new Olympic sport: Battery-carrying on the Pembrokeshire coast. We didnt think it was much of a goer, but that was before they gave synchronised float, and golf. Will Woodward

The Whitsundays II: Sea rescue in miscarrying illumination

Tears of horror rolling down my childrens cheeks are the most enduring recognition of my worst vacation ever a sailing journey in the Whitsundays in April 2014 that turned into a sea rescue in fading light.

We probably should have twigged that something was wrong when the outboard engine on the dinghy miscarried on day one. An architect was dispatched to restore it and we sailed north towards Hayman Island in a blustering 40 -knot easterly.

After lunch the catamarans port-side instrument neglected. Powerful gusts or missiles as they are known locally experimented our linchpin overnight as we waited for another designer. Surely period three would be better.

The allay before the rain: Alison Rourke and her daughter Ella sailing towards Hayman Island, before the engine set on fire, they breached the ridge and “mustve been” rescued. Picture: Alison Rourke

In the late afternoon we set off for a sheltered overnight mooring. After 10 hours, the starboard engines gauge flow hot. My son came up from the compartment saying he could smell inhaled as pitch-black clouds billowed out of the stern hull.

If a ship is on fire, you get off they tend to go up( or down) very quickly.

I distributed the fuel extinguisher as my husband lowered the rowboat into the ocean. The children, aged eight and nine, sat mutely, frozen with panic. I dont think they had ever seen their parents in emergency mode.

I asked them to find their precious bunk teddies items I knew we could not live without. They say thats when they knew we were really in disturb. The raking seem that followed was unmistakeable. We had drifted onto the ridge in a falling tide with no meaning how much shatter had been done … by the flame or the coral.

Eventually the harbourmaster at Hayman Island came to our aid as nighttime descended but catamarans were permanently struck off our holiday inventory that day. Alison Rourke

Corsica: It is forbidden to pis in your wetsuit

Corsica, Zonza in particular, was, according to any persons I knew whod been( two beings ), a brilliant point for canyoning. You couldnt going to see Corsica and not canyon.

Our tour was jam-packed with outdoorsy sorts, the true category not the kind who are do outdoorsy for one day on one vacation per year. They gazed fit, had hiking paraphernalium and, unlike us, had introduced lunch. As the only non-French talkers, we appeared alone and outcast. We went off to find a sandwich, seeing for the first time that we may have got ourselves into a semi-dangerous place. Or worse. A just plain dangerous situation.

When our guide told us to try on our abseiling paraphernalium and that he would check it for security, I weighed up in my head the pros and cons of the working day as I now ascertained it.

Pros: Zonza was a great place to try canyoning. And the guides were cute!

Cons: we look like absolute chumps, or worse expire! And that would be in front of the cute guides.

Perhaps had I been a bit more careful while hiking down to the canyon, instead of practising in my psyche all the words I knew in French that I could possibly taken together to impress upon the templates and fellow traveller that I was not a complete moron after all, I would not have tripped on those stones, failed offset, fell over and then rolled sideways down the rocky hiking path.

We hadnt even got to the dangerous character yet. I started to wonder if my 10 m movement insurance policy would treat a helicopter coming in to get me right about now when your best friend Helen enquired 😛 TAGEND

Why didnt we find out exactly what canyoning was?

I dont know.

A guide started giving instructions in French. He seemed to be saying damned important substance. Beings were watching him and gazing serious. Every now and then some nervous laugh broke out. Eventually he looked at Helen and me and said: Mathieu will tell you in English.

Gabrielle Jackson on the day, but shortly before, she realised what canyoning was. Photo: The Guardian

After roughly five to seven minutes of watching him talk, Mattieu did. So in canyoning you rush like this. You take one step forward and push off with the other foot, almost like extending. Use your limbs to get your offset and then do this.

He spanned his arms across his chest. That was it. The other guidebooks pep talk to curtail three sentences.

Before we left, our steer represented one more proclamation in English: It is forbidden to urinate in your wetsuit.

We reached our first descent pretty quickly, and were there met with a choice: a two-metre or four-metre climb. So this is only canyoning: leap off boulders into irrigate you cant look and abseiling down boulders at ever-greater heights.

My firstly jump turned out to be quite exhilarating and I began to believe the hike may have been the scariest part of the day. Then Helen said there was no way she was rushing off a nine-metre high waterfall. I possibly should have thought that my dread of heights may have affected my ability to do this, ruminated Helen, as she swam through the canyons fresh stream, face grey and soul pounding.

Lets just say, the next five hours were long. Im glad Ive done it, but Ill not be canyoning again any time soon. On the plus surface, we never had cause to call in that helicopter. Gabrielle Jackson

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