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Published: August 31st 2010
Cairns city
from the road to Lake MorrisCairns is a well known holiday destination for Kiwis, many make it their permanent home on retirement.
We’ve been here three times before and each trip was a week of clear blue skies and warm tropical weather. So we arrived in the middle of June keenly anticipating a couple of months sunny R&R after our busy schedule making sure we see as much of the West Island as possible. Days lazing by the pool, punctuated by strolls beside blue oceans or emerald rainforests.
Our time in Cairns has certainly been relaxing, but mainly because the rain which creates the luxurious rainforest had forgotten to abate for the dry season and we’ve often been confined to the van or under the awning, watching clouds swirling round the valleys above us.
When you live in a rainforest everything stays wet - clothes, towels, salt, newspapers and ears. I have discovered I have very special ears. I prefer to refer to them as petite, or delicate, but I now have to defer to medical advice on both sides of the Tasman that I have unusually small ear canals, which unfortunately provide a perfect breeding environment for ear infections.
Lake Morris
Cairns water supply dam in the hills behind the city According to my doctor in Cairns, who looked like a cross between Moses and Lurch from The Adams Family, I also have very HAIRY inner ears - even better for the bugs to make a cosy nest and procreate in profusion. The general consensus is that I caught a particularly nasty bug - official terminology Tropical Ear - through showering in the amenities block where the water pressure is wonderful, but where apparently tropical bugs love to live in shower heads - eeeuuuuwwww!
With three weeks of extremely high humidity, any water that did get in my “tiny lug’oles” (to quote Dr Lurch) didn’t ever dry out, creating the perfect location-location-location for bugs, which to quote Dr Lurch again, “are looking for somewhere warm, moist and dark... like Cairns” (followed by a satisfied cackle at his own joke.)
So I spent two weeks having antibiotic goo regularly poured in my ears by Rhys, which rendered me inactive for a good hour each time as I had to lie or sit with my head on one side looking like a moron while the stuff penetrated my minuscule ear canal (it felt like it was seeping
the park in the rainforest
our spot in the Lake Placid Caravan park into my brain.)
This was slightly more pleasant however than the ear ‘suctioning’ to remove the “crud” - another delightful medical term from Dr Lurch - left by the infection.
All in all, a holiday experience not to be recommended and one more bullet point on the list titled “Why it would not be so wonderful to live in the tropics”.
Fortunately the dry season finally arrived in time for a visit from The Boy. Torin flew up from Sydney to pitch his tent by the van and be shown tropical sights such as the Daintree National Park and Cape Tribulation - named by Lieutenant James Cook as the place where his ship the Endeavour nearly came to grief on the Great Barrier Reef.
The Endeavour struck the as yet uncharted reef, gouging a hole in its timber frame and causing much panic as cargo, cannons and anything else heavy was heaved overboard to lighten the ship so it could float off the reef and limp to shore. They landed at what is now Cooktown, north of Cape Tribulation, staying for several weeks to complete repairs before carrying on their voyage of
Lake Placid
looking up the Barron Gorge near our caravan park - it's called Lake Placid but there are no crocodiles. They're downstream. claiming this great southern land for England in 1770.
Having done Cooktown previously we decided not to go this time, but we recommend the museum - it has all the info about this inspiring part of nautical history, including an original anchor salvaged from the Endeavour.
So Cape Trib is as north as we’ll go on the east coast this trip. We’ve done the lovely drive from Cairns along the coast and through the Daintree Forest four times now and I’d happily do it again tomorrow - I think it’s one of the country’s best drives.
It can be done in a day although there are plenty of accommodation options along the way and at Cape Tribulation. There’s a variety of touristy elements en route; stopping off at one of the many palm fringed and usually deserted tropical beaches, the car ferry over the Daintree River, crocodile viewing cruises, rainforest and primordial mangrove swamp walks, tropical fruit and tea plantation tours, Daintree ice cream made from tropical fruits like sapote and mango (an absolute must) and the latest method of extracting the tourist $, a zip-line jungle flying fox ride.
Just try
Barron River
with Glacier Rock in the background, on a rare clear day not to go in the height of the season - it’s bumper to bumper backpackers in disgusting Wicked vans.
When we were taking Torin up the Cape we got behind a slow moving dirty-hippy van. We saw an arm holding a bowl out of the van’s passenger window, then a stream of white liquid pouring towards us - the hippies had finished their muesli brunch and were doing ‘backpacker dishes’ by chucking the remains of their milk out the window onto our car.
We were horrified for about two seconds then Torin said, “Have we any food in the car?” We’d bought bananas at the Port Douglas markets so I handed him my banana skin, with Rhys going, “you can’t do that...guys...this is not a good idea...”
The hippy van was slowing up even more (possibly rolling an après-brunch relaxant) so we started to overtake...Torin wound down the window... we pulled parallel...he waited then hurled the skin out the window, aiming to hit their windscreen...BUT!...even better!!...the driver’s window was open and that smelly old skin flew right in!!!
Much whooping and high fiving from me & Torin, Rhys just tutted disapprovingly.
the Kuranda railway
From our caravan site we had a great view of the tourist train winding its way up the Barron Gorge It was a miniscule victory, but backpackers in rented wrecks really are a scourge of touring the country. By mid-afternoon you see them massing at the best beauty spots to set up a free camp for the night, often clustered around the NO CAMPING signs.
Their bathroom detritus spills out of public toilet rubbish bins, or on the ground where there are no bins, their washing drapes grubbily between trees obscuring the sea view, their cooking mess fouls public BBQs, their children/dogs foul anywhere they like.
Trouble is, you don’t want them next to you in a caravan park either.
Most backpackers are probably nice people in normal life and always remember their mother’s birthday, but they seem to have no consideration for others or the environment while they’re on holiday.
Grey Nomads call their vans whizz bangs, as from the minute they arrive there is a constant whizz as they open their sliding door and bang as it’s slammed shut, right up till midnight when you lean out your van in your nighty and ask them to shut the #@&% up.
We have however been highly entertained lately by the
silly boys at Port Douglas
this is what happens when I try to take a photo of Torin and Rhys Australian federal elections (which at this stage have produced a hung parliament). Our friends in Cairns were amazed at our interest in watching the election live on TV and in fact in our interest in Oz politics at all, as they, like most Australians we meet, have a complete distrust and disinterest in both federal and state politics.
It seems to be a negative of their ‘democratic’ process that it is compulsory to vote - people seem to resent having to vote, rather than treating it as a privilege. And their complicated preferential voting system has resulted in a kind of MMP effect of evening out votes between parties.
We thought it had a grand outcome, with independent candidates holding the balance of power, a Green MP for central Melbourne and the first aboriginal federal MP in Western Australia. Unfortunately this last victory has caused the spectre of bigoted, ignorant Australia to rear its ugly head.
Instead of rejoicing in the success of finally electing an indigenous person to government, the MP elect has been subjected to hate mail and phone calls from disgusted voters saying they wouldn’t have voted for him if they
crossing the Daintree River
we're on the car ferry, not floating had known he was aboriginal!!!
The Lucky Country eh?
Although we’d made two visits to Port Douglas while in Cairns, we decided we’d camp there for a week as well. We love Port Douglas - it has a beautiful beach that reminds us of Matarangi, great fish restaurants and trendy but casual shopping. Rhys dropped me in town on his way to golf to trawl the dress shops. In four hours I’d only done one side of the street...and bought...nothing!!!
It also has one of my favourite markets, every Sunday morning at waterfront Anzac Park between the main shops and the marina. Didn’t even buy a dress there...I think I’m losing my nerve for shopping!
Also in line with Port’s low key elegance is a by-law restricting the height of buildings to the height of the ubiquitous palm trees...when you walk along Four Mile Beach you see nothing but sea, beach and trees.
Port Douglas to us is also synonymous with sun, blue sky and winter warmth, but we had days of rain there too and now back in Cairns for an unscheduled repair job on the van, it’s pissing
Cape Tribulation
looking towards the Bloomfield Track down. Being the official start of spring, I hate to think what summer - the ‘wet’ season will be like.
We’re looking forward to heading up over the hill tomorrow to the Atherton Tablelands then the Queensland outback - clear blue skies, infinite horizons and dry air. All this rain reminds us too much of home!
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