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Published: August 25th 2008
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After leaving Noosa for the last time we had to make some miles, so it was just an afternoon of driving, but through stunning scenery. We headed for Rainbow Beach, and it was dark by the time we arrived, but we had read that there was a great NP camping area (therefore cheap) right on Inskip Point in the sand dunes. It was the closet mainland point to Fraser Island, and the closet Stu would go to the Fraser Island experience. It was really secluded, and we were able to pull the van right up to the dunes and be just metres away from the gnarly sea front. The only problem was that we couldn’t find the toilets as it was so dark…..oh well….he would defo have a Fraser Island experience later! It would teach the Germans in the ‘wicked’ camper a thing or two for parking right in front of us.
(We made our phone calls home to Frank as he was another year older……75 today and no colostomy bag, well actually a day early, better than late eh?)
Rainbow Beach itself was fairly unspectacular so we pressed on to Mon Repos, as advised by Mrs O, it’s
the turtle thing I guess. It meant that we passed through Bundaberg, and the iconic rum distillery and sugarcane fields, a bit like stepping back in time. Australia is proud of its rum. It was not turtle season so we were allowed to walk on the beach, which happily for me and sadly for Stu, was the first beach sans surf in Oz so far. After a spot of BBQ lunch at Bargara, a haven for retired oldies I think, we moved onto the Town of 1770.
Yes it is actually called that. It is after the Captain Cook landings in the said year. And it is also the definite end of the line for surfing beaches and the beginning of the Barrier Reef which stops the swell rolling in some few miles out to sea. The campground was right on the estuary with its own little beach. It was rather crowded with local holidaymakers, gosh they love giving you advice, round about ‘beer o’clock’ as the afternoon draws in, the nosy bunch come out, a bit like curtain twitchers in a small town, with advice and hints on ‘what you should be doing is…’ and you know how
we both love being told what to do.
Anyway, it was a really stunning place. We were able to walk right around the point onto the spit, and get close up with dolphins again at secluded beaches. There was a resident possum and goanna in the camp kitchen. As usual we were woken most mornings by the cries of cockatoos and lorikeets in the trees above. We stayed there a few days and had some really great sunny weather.
The next leg of the journey was far less interesting, we had to really make some distance. So we pretty much drove solidly for a few days, stopping at points of interest as they came up, or at free rest stops for the night. One such stop was in a tiny village called Clairview, it was like that sketch from the Fast Show…’you’re not from around ‘ere are you?...’ We had a coffee with the WI ladies in the community centre while Stu was enthralled in conversation I strolled on the beach to take photos of the warning signs everywhere. Crocs in the rivers and deadly stingers in the sea, we were in dangerous territory now, and I am
sure we weren’t that far away from Wolf Creek.
Again we motored on up the Bruce Highway, passing through Mackay, Proserpine, (again), stopping at Bowen and its giant mango - it’s that aussie fascination with all large plastic food items re: big banana, big prawn, big pineapple, big crab and so on. We stopped overnight at a small typical north QLD town called ‘Home Hill’ with plenty of tumble weed, and feeling the need for some therapy checked out the new SATC film in a local village called Ayr, in a near empty cinema which doesn’t do sweet popcorn, sacrilegious! Followed by a brew in a local pub, which was weird. We finally reached Townsville and went on through as it was uneventful, and stopped at a secret beach called Balgal. It was really stunning, it had a camp and facilities for free, right on the beach next to the river with a lovely fish and chip shop to match. We took an unscheduled stay here as we were having such a good time. As we were going further north it was getting hotter all the time.
We took a detour inland next to climb up into
the National Park mountains up to Little Crystal Creek where we had a rainforest walk followed by a swim. It was a great experience, the falls were freezing and each pool was surrounded by huge boulders covered in algae. With a few trial jumps we were both in the water with Emma sporting goose bumps and Stuart trying to retrieve his testicles from his abdomen.
We drove on to our camp for the evening which was in Mission Beach, the place is on the backpacker trial so the usual cafes, internet spots and second hand book stores are there aplenty. The campsite was just off the main drag which allowed us to get up early the next day and start the proceedings with magnificent walk. With a knapsack firmly on the back we walked up Bicton Hill, named after a Capt. Cook sailor who used it for a lookout. For us it merely stared the search for the illusive Cassawary, or as the road signs stated ‘Be Casso Wary’. This bird comes with a rep of being hard to spot and not one to corner as its defence mechanism is a four inch long talon that is usually aimed
for the midriff. It felt like we were going hunting for the Velocirapter but without the annoying voice of Richard Attenborough to accompany us. It soon became obvious that we our constant conversation (Stuart) and fidgeting of clothes (Emma) that were more likely to spot Baker at newsagents buying 20 Malboro lights.
With a few more hours in the van heading north we had climbed in altitude and headed into the Palmerston section of Wooroonan. The temperature had dropped and we camped just a few kilometres away from a spectacular waterfall section at the Henrietta Creek. The gentle noise of trickling water woke us, it was the river behind us rather than a large animal peeing on the van. All equipped with boots and rain jackets we started to search for the Nandroya Falls, a really spectacular site and running strong with a good volume of rain recently.
It was a short drive into Cairns and an even shorter drive out of it. The LP mentioned that the city had only been grown for a tourism market. Personally I think a soap dodger designed it on the back of a bottle of Bundy rum one evening. It has
the personality of a collection of toe nail clippings, the smell of cheap bar carpet and could only provide us with a gateway to something much nicer.
So taking the Capt Cook highway out of Cairns was satisfying for more than one reason, the fact that were leaving the place but also it takes you past some of the most stunning coastal scenery. All winding roads and hairpin bends, it was a real test for the movement sickness occupants. But at the end of it was the pristine, manicured and stiff upper lipped town of Port Douglas. As this is the venue that Frank raved about before we went, both of us agreed that we would pay homage to his advice and use it as a base for more adventure.
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