A pretty little town to do nothing.

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After the second worst journey of 20 hours on the greyhound (the first being the 23 hour one we did from Sydney to Adelaide) and we finally arrived at Mission Beach, a tiny little coastal town, with quaint shops and an impressive beach with inviting water, that, due to it being stinger season, you couldn't swim in.
So we holed up at the Misson Beach Retreat, a family run hostel, our hosts being two 70 somethings called Ron and Ann who had been roped into managing the hostel by their kids. Ron, whose job was to drive back and forth to the bus stop, picking up and dropping off guests, made it abundantly clear that running round after smelly backpackers was not what he had in mind for his latter years and would sooner have been spending his retirement in his caravan with a stubby in hand instead. Ann, however, loved it all, telling me that "people my own age gives me the shits"! Lovely.
Anyway, as with Agnes Water, we didn't do a great deal in Mission, other than while away the days on the beach, watching the crazy sky divers land and debate whether we were foolhardy enough to do it ourselves (we weren't. Then, at least).
And so, after another 3 days of lazing - its becoming a bit of an occupational hazard, god only knows how we're gonna get back into the world of work after this - we took another, and thankfully, our last ever greyhound journey, to Cairns.

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