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Published: September 13th 2013
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Before and after CookPajinka done ....tick. We decided on a bit if a late start today. A bit of a sleep in and time to hang around and relax after the mission to get to the top. That didn't last long. Wayne's feet get itchy so off we went exploring elsewhere around the top. Since time began people have explored and paved the way for habitation of land. In this part of the world it was people like Torres, Cook, Bligh , Flinders, Kennedy, Pascoe, Leichhardt and one of the great pioneers John Jardine and his sons and their families. Jardine was a hard man by all accounts and the indigenous people named him Debil-Debil Jardine.
Because the Torres Strait was becoming a busy shipping channel the Queensland government of the day wanted an administration centre near the tip and so John Jardine was
requested to set one up at his property Somerset east of the cape on a windswept headland. This centre was to be a safe haven for sailors who were wrecked on the islands and reefs of the Torres protected from pirates and cannibals.
Somerset looked grand and stately by the photos and drawings we've seen. But it was under constant attack by the weather, the indigenous and the termites. The subterfuge of the termites won eventually and so that admin centre was relocated to the calmer waters of Thursday Island.
Remnants of the homestead still remain. Three cannons, a Catholic cross some gravesites and some derelict sheds.You can see parts of the coconut plantations. If you drove there without doing some pre reading you wouldn't know what it's all about and probably not understand the significance of the place and really be quite bored by it all.
I didn't really like it. I imagine that life would have been quite horrible there, especially for the women trying to make a solitary life there with no kinship and hard bastard like men in control. A bit like the heroines of Wuthering heights out on the wiley, windy moors
(sorry I had to do it). But really it is as hard an environment, if not worse, than the moors and heathlands as described by the Brontes. Jardine seems to be like all those evil lords and land owners of that era. I guess he had to be.
We saw some beaches some with that blue - you know "that blue" it's the one where the white sand banks sit just a couple of feet under, the waves are flat and it shimmers in the light of day like a billion crystals sparkling off the surface. White sands flare up a glare that blinds you as you find yourself reaching for the sunglasses. Albany island across the channel is gnarled with cliffs of volcanic rock that makes it an interesting feature of this glorious assault on the eyes. And the mangroves hang off the point always an ever present reminder that old Crockie is present.
Evidence of modern day human habitation only exists in a new species of tree which bares a strange fruit that resembles various coloured thongs. The one at Somerset beach has the added mutation of a graffiti'd car door.
Back to camp where
we are heading for the shower "cold" I am getting used to it and then off to dinner at the restaurant. We head off to the office to book a third night when we encounter Larry who helped us out with the panel beating.
He is really pleased with the campsite we paid for him and Jan because they helped us, and he invites us for dinner at their campsite. Jan is a Herbalist and was preparing a roast chicken on a Cob (some sort of roasting machine) and I could already smell that deliciousness as we arrived back to camp even before we saw Larry. I think the two of them had planted themselves at either end of the campground to catch us and invite us for dinner as we arrived. It was great they were lovely hosts the herb crusted chicken was yum and it was totally unexpected but a great end to the day.
Sleep now, for tomorrow it's Thursday Island and we have to get up early to pack up and head for Seisia to get the catamaran over.
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