North to Cooktown

I try not to indulge in "if only"s.  But sometimes I just have to.  So here it is.  If only I were many years younger, had a 4 wheel drive and an adventurous partner.  Oh, and it would probably help if I were a male.  Never thought I'd say that!  I just have to accept my limitations and resources.  So it wasn't possible to do the Bloomfield Track from Cape Tribulation to Cooktown and then on up to the northern most point of Queensland.  Instead we went around the long way, along the Mulligan Highway, following the sealed road all the way to Cooktown where the sealed road ends.  Roads past there are for 4 wheel drive vehicles only.

It's a longish drive, took us about 4 hours and there weren't many stops along the way.   We travelled through dry savannah countryside, a total contrast to the lush rainforest of the Daintree.  The road was mainly flat and easy to drive, through cattle country with no fences so we had to be on the lookout for cattle and kangaroos.  However, we found the cattle were easy to spot from quite a distance so posed no danger.  We didn't spot a single live kangaroo, just a few which had become roadkill.  There weren't really any views until we reached Bob's Lookout, a steep incline over the Great Dividing Range. 

Looking down from the lookout the view is typical of the countryside, sparse vegetation and shorter stunted trees, testament to dry country.

But the most lasting impression of the lookout was the disgusting rubbish that had been left there.  Rubbish bins were overflowing, there were full sacks of what looked like household trash.  I'd guess it had been left by campers.  The last thing you expect to see when you are so far from the civilisation is evidence of what we are doing to our land.  I could go off on a rant!  The ignorance!

About 50 kms later we came upon The Mighty Palmer River Roadhouse, in time for a late lunch.  

This area is rich in local history, with the 1872 discovery of gold leading to Qld’s largest gold rush. By 1875 there were an estimated 15,000 miners on the Palmer, with the population peaking at 17,000 in 1877. Gold is still found here today. We found a little statue of a gold miner around the side of the building as we stretched out legs while waiting for our meals.  (I had a delicious steakburger!) 

There were also a few relics from the past to look at.

 A couple of locals were parked outside.

We ate outside under the shady trees, enjoying the green grass - and the swish of sprinklers keeping it green.

I hope I'm remembering the order in which we made our stops.  Pretty sure the next time we stopped was at the unreal looking Black Mountain Lookout, in the Black Trevethan Range. The Mountain itself consists of large black granite rocks that make up the Mountain and there are countless stories over the years of people and stock wandering into the vicinity of Black Mountain, never to been seen again, including Police and Black Trackers sent to look for the missing people, only to disappear themselves.  Pilots report disturbance above the mountain and others have reported hearing weird sounds.  

The Kuku Nyungkal people of the region have long shunned the mountain, calling it Kalkajaka, meaning “the place of the spear” and sometimes translated simply as “The Mountain of Death.”   It has a long history of dark legends and myths.  I must be lacking imagination.  All I wondered was where had all those rocks come from?  It just looks so weird!  It is composed of gigantic, granite boulders, many of which measure up to 20 feet long, and soars up 900 feet over the surrounding landscape. These boulders were formed from solidifying magma around 250 million years ago, lack any trace of surface soil and have a distinct black coloration caused by a thin coating of iron and manganese oxides. 

On our way back, heading south, not far from Cooktown, I couldn't resist stopping at a couple of the rocky streams over which the road crossed. 

 

I think this one is the Little Annan River

On our way south we appreciated that we were now headed in the opposite direction to most of the traffic.   Not that there was a lot of it but definitely more heading north than south.  It was early in the year for the tourist season but there were definitely more campervans and caravans than regular vehicles.

The Daintree and Cape Tribulation

The Daintree has been on my Bucket List for so long, I'd started to think that perhaps I would be disappointed.  I kept reminding myself that Sir David Attenborough had called it “the most extraordinary place on earth”.  And who would argue with him?

I was in such a hurry to get there, we'd travelled 75 kms before I could be tempted to stop for a look around. But Mossman did the trick.  It's a picturesque little township nestled at the foot of mountains with wide, tree lined streets and, as luck would have it, a lovely old church - St David's Anglican Church.

My sister and our little rental car, dwarfed by the roadside trees, waiting for me opposite the little church.  That's a childrens' playground on the left.

 Looking back towards the township

Opposite the church. Sugarcane in the foreground. 

I took the next photo on our way to  the Daintree River Ferry. 

 Brahmin bull at rest

North of the Daintree River, electricity is supplied by generators or, increasingly, solar power. Shops and services are limited, and mobile-phone reception is patchy at best.   Here we would be surrounded by rainforest in the Daintree National Park.   The roads are mostly pretty narrow and winding with some great views of the coastline.

After the ferry crossing we turned into the Walu Wugirriga Lookout, the first stopping point you come to after you depart the ferry. It is a short drive from the docking place and up the hill into the rainforest.  With stunning views over the coastal plain and the Daintree River mouth it was a good introduction to the area.  And a good place to wait a while to give the ferry traffic time to get ahead of us. 

I confuse myself sometimes when I think 'the Daintree".  Daintree refers to several different places.  There is the town of Daintree or Daintree Village, a tiny, funky little township with a few cafes and souvenir shops.  Tourist season had not yet kicked in, all was quiet.  When the first of the winter chills hit the southern states of Australia, the place will be hopping.  The population in the 2016 census is given as 129. 

The Daintree River view from the ferry was unimpressive but here in the village it glides peacefully by.  It's appearance gives no clue that it is home to many estuarine crocodiles which are frequently spotted from the safety of one of the wildlife-watching cruise-boats.

Then there is the Daintree Forest National Park.  The forest is thought to be over 165 million years old. It is in a high rainfall zone of Australia, parts of the park receive about 4,000 mm of rain a year.  It is home  to about 30% of Australia’s frogs, reptile and marsupial species, 65% of their bat and butterfly species and over 430 species of bird, including kookaburras, kingfishers, cockatoos, pigeons of various kinds, and scrubfow. Not that we saw many, but boy oh boy, did we hear them!   We saw a fews flashes of blue against the greenery; I think they were the famed Ulysses Butterfly. 

But best of all, it is home to the elusive Cassowary!  We were extremely lucky that Daintree Deep Forest Lodge, where we were staying, had a resident male and three chicks.  They hadn't been seen for a while and we'd been asked to let the owners know if we spotted them.  Females lay the eggs in the nest of a male, then moves on to do the same thing in the nests of several other males.  The male incubates the eggs, then protects the chicks, who stay in the nest for about nine months, defending them fiercely against all potential dangers, including humans.  The female does not care for the egg, her work is finished when she lays the eggs. 

Not very clear photos, I'm afraid.  I'd just turned into our driveway when I caught a glimpse of them. Cassowaries are reputed to be very shy, but when provoked they are capable of inflicting injuries, occasionally fatal, to dogs and people.  So I waited until they had moved away (out on to the road!) before jumping out and trying to get a snap.

Mostly I'm aware of my limitations when it comes to photography.  I knew it would be impossible to capture the beauty of the rain forest jungle, the mighty trees that block out the sun, the vines and creepers, palms and ferns and other small plants.  Our accommodation was deep in the forest, surrounded by it.  Our quarters were well hidden until we got quite close.

It was a little more visible from the hill behind the lodge.

We'd heard water running during the night and the next morning discovered a little pump house in the grounds.

We were just down the road from surely the best eating place in the area, Lync Haven, where the beer was cold, the food good and reasonably priced, the staff friendly and efficient and the outlook second to none. 

And their resident bird was quite the poser:

I didn't write down the name of the cafe where we had breakfast one morning.  It was right on the beach.   Can't remember what the food was like, I guess I was too engrossed in my surroundings.

I wandered across the sand to get a photo of the jungle meeting the sea.

Not too close to the water, though.  We'd been in the north long enough for the many crocodile warning signs to hit home.

Apparantly a large number of German tourists have had nasty experiences with crocodiles, leading to most signs bearing a warning in their language.  

The Queensland coast road trip

It's been two weeks since I returned home from my Queensland holiday.  I had better record my memories before they fade.

Photos from my first two days of adventures in Far North Queensland have been lost.  I had a memory card malfunction.   The only photos I've ever taken of crocodiles have gone!  I didn't find a solution to the problem until I reached Bundaberg so nearly all photos were taken on my cell phone. 

I don't need photos to recall the trouble I had remembering how to drive a manual car.  Luckily my first attempts with the little rental car were on a Sunday. I dread to think how bad it could have been in heavy traffic.  My sister had arrived from Brisbane and is accustomed to lots of traffic.  I'm not.  I can now report that I managed to drive from Cooktown in North Queensland to Brisbane, a distance of 2,017 kms (1,253 Miles), plus numerous side roads, without incident.  OK, there were two near incidents.  Once the undercarriage of the car came in contact with a gutter I hadn't noticed, no damage done.  And once we nearly ran out of petrol but I'll come to that because I got a great photo that day!

My sister and I met up at Cairns airport and, after picking up the rental car, headed north to Port Douglas.  I'd booked all the accommodation in advance and luck was on my side, with one exception I'd done a great job.  I'd aimed to find a mix of styles of accommodation from basic motel to posh hotels.  We were off to a good start at our first stay, an Airnbn in Port Douglas.  It felt so good to be back in the tropics and the outdoor living style.  Add to that great hosts who were only too happy to chat and share life experiences, make recommendations to add to the pleasure of our visit - what more could you ask for?

 Reef Paradise, Port Douglas.  Photo courtesy of our host, Andrew

But first we had to get there and sustain our bodies to do so.  It was Mother's Day, cafes and restaurants were doing a roaring trade in Cairns, so we headed out of town, pointed north.  It was windy and the sea was a choppy, murky brown at Palm Cove, the area was heaving with people so we kept going before giving in to hunger and finding somewhere to eat.  We were past being fussy and marched into the first place that was near an empty car park.  Our meal was delicious and beautifully presented but also more than a little expensive.  I was hoping everywhere in the north would not be that expensive.  And it wasn't, thank heavens!

To be honest I'm really annoyed about losing my crocodile photos.  I have no evidence of the lovely day Tricia and I had on Lady Douglas river cruise when we spotted three of them.  We were lucky that we were seated beside some lovely, chatty people from the Central Coast, NSW and then discovered they knew my dear old friend, Allan Carpenter.

I like Port Douglas, it's laid back style, wide streets with numerous tourist resorts well hidden behind luxuriant trees and shrubs.  It was easy to find our way around, people were very friendly.  It was an absolute delight to see the famous and very pretty St Mary's by the Sea.  Bucket List stuff.  Like so many buildings in the north it was built to replace another church that was destroyed by a cyclone (in 1911).  Behind the altar is an enormous window which captures glorious views of the Coral Sea.   

Photo couresy of Kgbo, Wikipedia

On our second evening we strolled along the waterfront waiting for sunset.  Many others, young and old, were doing the same but that evening was not destined to be one of the more spectacular ones for which the area is famed.  Instead we shared a soft, pretty evening with a big group of Brazillian young people who have flocked into the area to work recently.  Andrew told us they meet here every evening to catch the sunset and catch up with each other.     

A sunset cruise making its way past the waterfront

After the sun set we walked to the nearby Combined Clubs, known locally as the Tin Shed, for our evening meal. 

 photo courtest of Google Images

The following morning we set off for the Daintree and Cape Tribulation.  It still sounds mystical and magical to me.

Back to Pouto

In just over a week I will be flying to Cairns in North Queensland to meet my sister, Trish and start a road trip down the east coast.  I have so many things to do before then, the only sensible thing to do right now is postpone everything and do a post to catch up about my latest little road trip with my daughter, Leone to Pouto.  The theory is it will clear my brain.  Hah!

On Monday we left home around 9 am, spent time wandering around the shops in Dargaville, while my car was having a small part fitted in the garage, had lunch before leaving town, then took a couple of detours before finally catching up with my niece and her husband at Pouto Point, sometime around 4 pm.  Had we simply driven from here to there it would have taken less than 2 hours.
 
The weather was changeable from minute to minute.

Kellys Bay looked foreboding and moody at low tide.

The colourful poles on the little jetty brightened the scene.  You can see by the puddles in the foreground that it had just stopped raining.

All was calm looking down the harbour.  

Leone always enjoy going back to Pouto.  It was the first place we lived when we moved to New Zealand.  She, and her brothers have wonderful memories of carefree, happy childhood days on the beach and nearby bays at Pouto Point. 

It's always a thrill to walk out on to the beach, see that beautiful harbour, feel the wind in your hair. There's nearly always a breeze at Pouto.  I know this isn't much of a photo but it was my pick from the trip.  The cousins stopped before stepping on to the beach to talk about the olive trees.  My daughter really does have an odd listening pose, doesn't she?

It gladdens my heart to see how the bonds formed in childhood are still strong.

We enjoyed a pleasant walk, the morning was cool but warmed up as we walked.  Sometimes it is wild and blustery on the beach with the wind giving a free microdermabrasion session, but not on Tuesday.  
 

 Beach fluff

Beach sculpture

Walking down through the trees to the little beach just around from the point.  We stayed in this house, right on this beach when we first arrived.  After living in the dry north west of Queensland, it was like heaven.  (And still is!)

Recently blown in black sand on the beach.  The next storm could bring in snowy white sand.  And sad evidence of erosion.

Thank you to Christine for the wonderful tour you gave us to all the old sights.  Below is Sheehan's Creek (the photo taken from her brother, Simon's farm)  where the children and I returned to holiday a few times after we had left Pouto.

Christine's contented cows

My fascination for churches remains.  This is the little church at Waikaretu Marae with its beautiful window that I found impossible to photograph.

 

Christine and Andrew exemplify the friendliness and hospitality for which Pouto is well known.  I've never known them to be any different. May they never change.