Zelma’s Trip

Having arrived at the YHA the previous evening I decided to explore the town. I got the courtesy bus into the centre and explored the two shopping centres. The latter was actually really quite big and had a pleasing smell of cookies. Having had lots of issues with my ears popping and unpopping all the time I decided to visit a small salon type place where I decided it would be a good idea to let a complete stranger put tubes in my ears and set light to them (the tubes not my ears).  It was a very strange experience actually especially for a non-interventionist control freak such as myself. It felt like it had some effect, I’m not sure exactly what but it was interesting.

Having explored the town, and the rather impressive beach, I went and sat in a bar in the town to wait for Stuart to finish work.  Stuart was one of the English group who I met when traveling up through Noosa.  He had been in Maroochydore with Martin but Martin had a disagreement with a pineapple, apparently, and headed back to Noosa.  In the bar I got talking to a group of locals, actually they got talking to me and half of them were Kiwi so I guess that wasn’t a particularly accurate description of the events.  Stuart went and bought some exciting food like noodles and bread and then we collected my things and took them to the hostel he was staying at.  I was pleased that my dorm room was infact a twin with just the two beds, the other being occupied by a sweet Chinese girl.  We decided to head back out and discovered the group were still at the bar.  They began to get slightly more annoying and we headed to another pub.  Well when I say pub it was a place with pokey machines and a couple of old men outside drinking with a boy who looked about twelve.  Shortly after that we decided to call it a night and headed back to the hostel.

The following day Stuart went to pick more pineapples and I did the obligatory wandering around the town thing whilst purchasing ice drinks, cookies and occasionally checking my email.  In the evening we joined a couple of the other guys at the hostel at a different bar which had a karaoke night on.  We only actually stayed for one drink, partly as Stuart was shattered and partly as it wasn’t the most exciting place on Earth.

On the Thursday it rained, and rained hard.  Hard enough infact for all the picking to be cancelled.  The hostel was a workers’ hostel and I was actually the only one staying there who wasn’t working.  On the Thursday the only pickers to go out were those who were picking straweberries as apparently they turn to mush and need to be picked even more quickly when it rains. My roommate was a strawberry picker unfortunately for her.  Anyway, Stuart was picking pineapples, or rather he wasn’t due to the weather, so we decided to go and explore a bit further than the cafes and shops I had previously visited.

Stuart drove his van and we headed towards a waterfall outside of town itself.  On the way we went through a beautifully quaint hillside town called Monteville (hmmm, I may need to check that one) and vowed to stop at one of the pubs for a drink on the way back.  When we got to the part of the country park where the waterfall was it was still raining.  It wasn’t torrential though so we got out of the car and headed towards the rainforest.  Unfortunately prior to going into the forest there was a small lake type thing which had accumulated across the walkway.  I carefully avoided this using a handrail and shimmying across whilst looking over some rather fast flowing water below.  Stuart decided to brave the water, or rather not to brave the handrail, and soaked his shoes.  We got a short distance into the forest and asked a guy taking photographs where the waterfall was.  He informed us that it was back up near the car park so we headed back through the lake, having admired the wet trees for a little while.  Back at the car park there was a kind of lookout down over some amazing scenery with two large cascading falls.  It was stunning with mist and clouds adding to the magical setting.  On the way back down to Maroochydore we stopped at the pub we had passed on the way up.  It felt very much like the kind of pub you would find in the lake district or somewhere like that in England even down to the log fire with the wet dog trying to warm himself up by it.  The drive back down was no less spectacular than on the way up with the rain and clouds adding to the atmosphere rather than detracting from it.

On Friday I spent way too much time uploading photographs and said my final farewells to the shops and centre of Maroochydore.

I woke up and left the caravan park in Chinchilla and headed down the final stretch to Brisbane.  This stretch was perhaps the easiest with dual carriageway practically the whole way down.  When I got to Brisbane I managed to find the place to drop the van off easily enough and made use of their free internet to check out places to stay in Maroochydore.  I also found out that a shuttle bus went from the airport so got a cab there to get the bus.

I was sad to see Bern go as I’d had another amazing time on the road.  Amongst the amazing scenery, flora and fauna I also saw some very strange towns.  I don’t think I mentioned "Big Rig" either which was a place I visited in Roma.  It was dubbed as "a living history of Oil and Gas exploration".  I stood at the desk deciding whether or not to go in and when I asked the guy managing the desk he told me that there was not a great deal to see although he did get rather more excited about the night show that evening.  I decided to go in and walked around the exhibits which were mostly billboards explaining about the history of gas.  It was interesting though and a chirpy old man was doing the same route round as me.  When I got to one indoor section where there were buttons to press which made an Australian man tell you about the history he was pressing the ones behind me so there was this strange kind of stereo thing going on.  For some reason I found this very amusing and he looked slightly confused as I chuckled to myself.  He must have felt let down when he got to the sections after me.  What really got me though was the final section.  I’m guessing that few people reading this are likely to visit Big Rig so I don’t think it will spoil the surprise.  Anyway, it’s the piece de resistance when they strike gas and a big drill comes through the ceiling with sound and smoke.  This made me jump out of my skin and let out a little yelp.  I really should have expected it after the warning signs and the fact that I stood underneath it to figure out what it was before it popped out, but I didn’t.  That was perhaps the highlight of Big Rig.  Actually it was quite interesting and the industrial vehicles, drills and cranes made for some great black and white photos.

Just before I conclude the section on my road trip I will share with you the dos and don’ts when in campervans.  These were instructions available in both Bernie and Bern:

"Never attempt to find a gas leak with a match".

Relatively self-explanatory that one eh?

"Never use cooking appliances for comfort heating".

Erm, do people actually do things like that?  Actually I guess they do and more hence the Darwin awards and the like.  Can you imagine it though, the mental images of a couple shivering in their van and one of them having the great idea to put the stove on while they sleep is a bit of an odd one.

"Always ensure that the hand brake is released and jockey wheel is stored before moving off".

Well I get the hand brake bit but what’s a jockey wheel.  More comedy mental images now!

"Always ensure the electrical lead is unplugged prior to moving off."

Now that one I can see actually.  Although I’m not sure having read the warning would make one any more likely to remember to disconnect it.

So, having successfully managed not to search for naked flames with matches nor use the cooking devices to keep my tootsies nice and toasty I was in Brisbane airport car-less and waiting for a bus to Maroochydore.  The bus arrived and I listened to the driver and an old guy sharing unfunny jokes for some time prior to arriving at the YHA in Maroochydore.  The hostel was actually really nice although I was slightly disturbed that the bunk bed opposite me had clearly male clothes strewn all over it and a box underneath with, "Sharon" written on it!

I got up and left Lake Maraboon and headed South on the Great Inland Way towards Roma.  I had the whole petrol dilemma again and realised that I still hadn’t learnt.  At least I now knew that I could do around seventy kilometres once the petrol light had come on.  I think I was actually using the nearly running out of petrol thing to inject a bit of excitement into the driving.  This section proved to be a -very- deserted section of road.  I had got better at overtaking by now and actually trusted the road trains when they indicated right to signal to you that it was safe to overtake.  It’s often very hard to see past road trains and, if you drop back far enough to see then, by the time you get close enough to overtake, the straight section of road has run out.  On the dreaded Charters Towers stretch it was night time and it took me some time to figure out what the road trains were doing.  I swore at them for indicating right without actually turning a fair few times before I figured out that they were actually trying to be helpful.  Then I questioned whether they were trying to lure me to my death by indicating when another road train was coming.  Eventually I trusted one of them, although I did it so hesitatingly that when I got half way passed them a bend arrived.  They then started helpfully flashing various other lights at me in case I hadn’t realised I was heading towards a rather sharp bend, rather too fast.

After some time, several road kills (not mine) and plentiful gallahs and cockatoos later I arrived in Springsure.  There was little of excitement here other than a petrol station, which I chose to ignore, so I carried on to Rolleston where I did fill up! 

The drive from Rolleston to Roma was long.  I listened to the radio which quickly turned from current hits to old……(use your own ryhming slang).  Actually I did like the country stations.  For a while they felt very apt for my trip through Australian nothingness.  I particularly liked one song about, “Brother Bill and brother Jack der der der der put the roo in the sack”….l kid you not!  Actually it reminded me of my Dad.  Not that he’s a kangaroo hunter or anything, just that he likes country and has some eclectic music.  He has one record of people playing flute like instruments whilst wearing baskets on their heads.  Adds to the acoustics or something.  Anyway, enough on that subject.  Actually, maybe not quite, one station I found on AM reminded me of my Mum with Elton John, the Beatles and other classics.  While I’m still on this subject yesterday I managed to get some Happy Hardcore which not only made me laugh for a good 10k but also reminded me of my brother.  Just before I leave the subject of the radio, which I’m sure must make thrilling reading, a quick moan about the fake football, I mean Aussie rules (AFL).  At one stage there was nothing other than about twenty channels dedicated to Aussie Rules commentary.  Maybe it was the equivalent of the F.A. Cup or something but it was seriously doing my head in.  One more thing, can anyone tell me the difference between FM1 and FM2?

Okay, enough now.  Can you see what happens to your brain on long, monotonous drives?  Actually you get to the stage where you think, “Oh my God this is dull”, and can’t take any more fake football commentary and then you see an amazing bird, remember how beautiful the vast emptiness is or see a  mountain in the distance.  That or you play the road kill game, i.e. trying to figure out what the animal was before the road train hit it!  There is a crazy amount of roadkill here which reminded me of the worrying absence of it in Asia…..mmmm Thai Green curry!

One continuous source of amusement were the signs.  The kangaroo signs may seem straightforwards but I started to question the distances.  Basically there’s a picture and a different distance written underneath it.  Now you can see how this makes sense with cattle.  For example a sign with cows on and 3km underneath would normally coincide with you driving over a cattle grid and then another in 3 kilometres.  This doesn’t really work as well with wild animals and isn’t one of the core traits of a kangaroo that it can jump?  Okay, maybe I am being overly cynical here as I can concede that kangaroos, for example, do tend to travel in certain ways and cross certain open sections to get to areas to feed and the like.  Certain signs though like “kangaroos, 300m”, made almost no sense to me.  Maybe the signs are -for- the kangaroos so that they know how long a section they are allowed to cross the road for.  Okay, so now I’m just being facetious.  I also had the thought about the anal American who measures the distance and then prays he’ll hit a kangaroo five metres outside the 3k so that he can sue!

Another sign which I didn’t really understand was “koalas 5km”.  Although I may not have appeared to take the whole kangaroo and road thing very seriously hitting one is deadly serious, often for both parties.  Now explain to me firstly how hitting a koala can hurt you and secondly how you’re meant to hit an animal whilst driving which is a tree-dwelling stoner?  Having thought about this I wondered if it was one of those signs which countries have to make themselves proud of their fauna and heritage.  If it was the latter it was a bit stupid as it meant that I spent the next 5km staring into the trees trying to spot the koalas they had so helpfully told me were abundant in the area and consequently paying no attention to the road.  Thank God there wasn’t a kangaroo -and- koala sign, now that would have been dangerous!

Another sign which confused and amused me was a, “blind people crossing” sign.  I was bemused on several levels by this.  Firstly, was one to assume that there was an abundance of blind people in this certain village?  It sure didn’t look big enough, or near enough to anything or anywhere, to have an eye hospital.  Secondly how are you meant to tell from a distance?  Do they wear signs out here?  Also, what exactly is one meant to do with this helpful gem of information?  If they were blind and deaf I could see how this could pose a problem but blind people are normally quite adept at such tasks as crossing the road.  I expect this would be made slightly easier when firstly there is no other noise and secondly it’s hardly spaghetti junction with about two vehicles passing every hour.  Now that really would be unlucky even for the blind, deaf and intellectually disadvantaged individual now wouldn’t it?  Ow, I think I’ve spent too long in Australia.  I’ll stop now lest I offend.  Although with the medium being text based and all I’m guessing that might be a tad difficult given the current subject.

Anyway, so I’m driving along for hours, going slightly insane and getting overly attached to dead animals and signage, when I arrive in Roma.  Roma didn’t really do it for me so I continued to Miles.  Yes I said, “to Miles” and not “for miles”.  Although the signs again proved yet further amusement to my numb brain.  I mean, imagine the hilarity when I saw the sign which pointed to miles and then had a number of kilometres next to it!  Woah I seriously need to take someone with me on my next road trip!  So I arrived in Miles and decided to carry on to Chinchilla.  There should be no explanation necessary here as Chinchilla is perhaps the coolest place name ever.  Well other than “Zelma” which is a place in Australia according to Google.  Once in Chinchilla I found a nice cheap caravan park ($15 a night) and settled down for the evening. 

I left Charters Towers truck stop in the morning after a shower and egg sarnie.  Other than the unwanted car park guests I was pleasantly surprised by the laundry, hot showers and other facilities they had.  I drove about ten kilometres down the road prior to the oil light coming on in Bern.  At first I did the whole self questioning thing but after it did it a second time I decided it was probably a good idea to head back to get some oil.  When I collected Bern they asked if I had driven a van like him before.  Well, obviously they didn’t say like him but you get the gist here.  I said I had so they then neglected to tell me anything helpful such as how to access the engine.  Admittedly when they showed me Bernie’s engine I was thinking ‘why the hell are you showing me that, that’s the only time between here and your depot that that’s opening matey’.  But this time I actually needed to know.  I figured out it would be in the same place, i.e. under the passenger’s seat and then couldn’t lift the seat.  I tried every combination of levers and seats up and down and then gave up and smiled sweetly at a driver about to pull off.  He came to my rescue and lifted the seat so that I could pour oil all over the engine and a few drops into it.

So I headed off again towards Clermont on the A7, the Great Inland Way.  The driving was cool and at one point I saw two cassowaries right next to the road.  I presume they must have been a mating pair as apparently they are solitary creatures and don’t live in groups.  See, I told you they were evil!  Between Charters Towers and Clermont there was a single track section of road.  This proved quite worrying when a fifty metre road train came thundering towards you in the other direction.  You basically had to get off the road as quickly as possible and try to do so in a way that would neither involve you showering yourself with rubble or the passing roadtrain doing so.

The next place of note that I arrived at, well actually the next place full-stop, was Belyando Crossing road house.  I went in and got a drink and took a break – see the signs do work!  I was informed that there was absolutely nothing between there and Clermont and, as I left I passed a sign which stated there was no petrol for 180km.  I considered turning back but decided not to.  I then started seriously hoping that the petrol gauge was accurate and that the last quarter didn’t suddenly plummet to nothingness.  After some time, and a much lower looking petrol gauge, I began to get slightly worried about running out of petrol miles from anywhere.  I turned off the radio and the fan in order to save fuel and didn’t smoke as I read somewhere that having the window open increases fuel consumption.  So there I am bored with no music, stressed as I think I’m going to run out of petrol at any moment and as I can’t smoke and sweating profusely due to the lack of fan.  I decide to do positive things like figure out how much petrol is in the tank and how far this is likely to get me.  This soon becomes depressing as I realise I am very unlikely to reach my final destination.  The petrol light then came on with around 70km to go so I started remembering the number of kilometres and landmarks (like creeks and railways) in case I had to hitchhike to a petrol station and hitch back.  The van felt like it was juddering a lot but I wasn’t sure if this was running out of petrol symptoms or just the generally bumpy roads.  I figured out that right hand bends were good as the petrol light went off, although this wasn’t particularly helpful unless I wanted to drive around in circles.  Slightly more helpful was the discovery that the most economical speed appeared to be 87 kilometres per hour.  Stressed and hot I arrived in Clermont, praised Bern, momentarily considered extending his name in recognition of his feat and put some over-priced petrol in him.

I asked at the petrol station what there was to do in Clermont.  The guy looked confused, scratched his chin and suggested that I visit a dam some way out of town.  I decided that food was a better option and headed into the rather modest town where I had a jacket potato in a local cafe.  I decided that the prospect of a town whose star attraction was a dam which wasn’t even in the town was not too appealing and headed to Emerald.

I quickly became conscious that I didn’t have masses of petrol as, despite the fact I nearly ran out previously, I’m still a tight git and didn’t fill up due to the shocking prices at the garage.  Bern did me proud again though and I arrived in Emerald.  Emerald was a much bigger town but the town nor the caravan parks really excited me so I carried on to Lake Maraboon Holiday Village, 17.5 kilometres further.  I checked in and walked down to the lake which was huge and absolutely stunning.  There was water as far as the eye could see and, with the sunset, there was the whole infinite water and sky thing going on where the two kind of merge and you can’t differentiate between them any more.  There were also the most picturesque reflections of the silhouetted trees on the lake.  I looked at a pelican swimming serenely for a while and then it rather pleasingly flew off into the sunset.  I watched the sun go down before heading back to the park, in the dark, worrying about treading on strange creatures. 

After a decidedly dodgy night sleep, due to the others in the dorm deciding that they not only needed the fan on but also needed the door open, I checked out and booked another relocation van.  I was told that I could collect the van from midday so faffed around online for a while and waited for the confirmation email.  The email didn’t arrive but when I called them back they gave me the details and I got a cab to the office where I was due to collect the van from.  When I arrived I was informed that the van wasn’t ready so I spent half an hour waiting around until it appeared.

Eventually I got my van, who became known as Bern.  This was largely due to the fact that Bernie was his predecessor but he was not quite as cool as Bernie.  Firstly he was smaller and not a pop-top so you couldn’t stand up in him.  I took some time learning this fact and managed to crack my head on several occasions in the process.  There was no fridge in Bern, although he did have an ice-box which, in my mind was a somewhat poor man’s alternative.  There was also not an exterior electricity connection which spoilt my fun somewhat.  Although this did arguably mean that you didn’t have to stay at powered sites.  There were interior lights which ran off the battery and I was reliably informed that they would shut off prior to the battery draining completely.  Although Bern was not Bernie he was newer and admittedly had his plus points such as the fact that eveything remained in place without cupboard doors flying open every time you went round a corner, although this somehow seemed a little less fun.  Bern also only had one bed which, although there was no need for the second, it was nice to have two.

When I asked one of the workers at the hire company which way I needed to go to get to Charters Towers he went and got a map.  This was a bad sign and, after he sent me completely the wrong way, I ended up going back through Cairns and heading South to Townsville on the road I had previously taken North with Bernie (the Pacific Touring Way).  I normally don’t mind diversions but it was a little irritating so early on and I also had a kilometre limit this time of 2062 kilometres.  It’s roughly 1700 kilometres from Cairns to Brisbane but I was hoping to take one of the inland roads for a bit of variation.  This meant that I was slightly conscious of my kilometres so Mr Helpful wasn’t really appreciated at this stage.

When I reached Townsville (349 kilometres later) I headed inland onto the A6 or Overlander’s Way to Charters Towers.  I arrived in Charters Towers just before nine at night.  People had asked why I wanted to go to the place stating that it was “Hicksville” but, unperturbed I  decided to visit the quaint old mining town off the beaten track.  I’m not sure what it’s like the rest of the time but it wasn’t this on a Friday night. 

I drove into the town and saw a sign for a backpackers’ place.  I drove up and down the road about ten times but could I find it?  Eventually I went and asked at a petrol station and they promptly sent me back to the same road which I drove up and down about ten more times.  The sights of Charters Towers were plentiful.  When I drove into the town I saw a miner dwarf with a beard nearly as long as he was tall.  There were also numerous people dragging ther jaws along the floor.  When I drove past one motel with a pub attached I considered staying there.  I was about to pull over as I drove passed the beer garden where I saw two girls comparing their wounds and bruises from a brawl.  There were also drunk children who beat the sides of my van every time that I stopped at a junction or slowed down.  People stared at me more than anywhere I have ever been which may have been as I was an “outdsider” or may have been due to the fact that they were confused as to why this strange girl was randomly driving round and round their small town. 

I didn’t want to stay in the town centre as it was full of inbreds.  One motel had no vacancies and having passed it several times it took me some time to find the other motel I had seen.  I eventually found it and pulled in.  Now, it wasn’t late at this point, like before ten I think and yet the place was deserted.  I drove in and found that both reception and the restaurant were closed.  I did a hard sigh and then drove out.  Unfortunately, in my strop, I neglected to notice a rather low roof which I had looked at on the way in and decided to avoid.  I drove under the rather low roof, 2.5m to be precise – the exact same height as the van.  I noticed it as I graunched my aerial against the roof.  I decided to proceed -very- slowly and thankfully it was okay.  I drove around in a strop some more and contemplated going somewhere else but there was nothing anywhere near.  I thought about staying in my van at the side of the road but I was freaking out merely stopping in the deserted countryside to look at my map.  Staying in town was not an option as I had now generated a lot of unwanted attention from bearded midgets and small, drunken children.  So I took the road out of town and fortunately there was a truck-stop a little way out.  It felt like luxury with hot showers, toilets and a twenty four hour diner.  The parking area, where I was informed it was okay to stay in your van, had CCTV so I felt safe enough.  Bern proved easier in the whole bed conversion department than Bernie had previously and there were clean sheets and a full size duvet which pleased me immensely.  I fell asleep to be half woken up by people talking and saying things like, “Who’s in there”, and, “Well, -that- didn’t work”.  I fell back to sleep and was then woken again at around 2AM by a van pulling up next to mine with an Australian guy screaming, “Yay, backpackers, they’re craaaaazy man”, etc etc.  I was vaguely concerned for a moment which quickly turned into being really annoyed.  I was about to yell something back at them when the guy’s friend said, “You know what the good thing about traveling here is?  My Mum knows -everyone-!”.  After his friend inquired what he meant he slowly figured it out, shut up for a moment and started asking boring questions about vans and the like.  I got up, had a cigarette and went back to sleep.  This time not to be disturbed until the next morning.

In the morning I awoke to the sounds of the rainforest.  I mean literally hear not some dodgy C.D. that you can buy, you know in the rack next to the whale-song one.  I got up and checked out, ate some food and went on t’internet at the hostel.  When the bus came to pick me up I was proud that, perhaps for the first time since leaving Cairns, I wasn’t the one who made the entire bus wait.

On the way back to Cairns we took the ferry crossing across the Daintree river.  We stopped briefly at a look out and saw the cloud covered bays below.  We carried on and then stopped at Mossman Gorge.  The place was stunning with little waterfalls (you know how much I like them) and a suspended bridge over the gorge which bounced up and down when you walked on it.

After Mossman Gorge we went to Port Douglas where I looked at the beach, strolled round the town and ate chips.  Port Douglas was a nice place which felt very rich to be honest.  I had been told by a member of staff in Cairns that it was full of millionaires and was pleased to see children’s t-shirts with “trainee millionaire” printed across the front.  It was odd actually as the main street seemed to have a large number of children’s designer clothes shops.  Unfortunately there weren’t any eligible bachelors driving round in Ferraris so I decided that it wasn’t my kind of place.

Back in Cairns I got dropped off at the YHA hostel only to be told that they didn’t have any vacancies.  I headed to another hostel on the city map only to find that it wasn’t a hostel but luxury apartments.  The name really should have given this one away but for some reason it didn’t.  I have now checked into Cairns Bohemia central, or something, and I’m guessing should really return to pay them as I told them I was going to the cash point and have now been gone for a couple of hours.  I was invited out by a group of people on my bus tonight but think that an early night with a cup of hot cocoa and my knitting sounds more appealing.  Well maybe not the cocoa and knitting but a shower and some trashy television.

After an early night I woke up early on the Tuesday morning ready for my trip out to the reef.  The trip had been cancelled the previous day due to bad weather so I was pleased to find out that it was still running from reception.  I went and got changed into my bikini etc and headed back to get on the bus.  Unfortunately when we arrived at the beach a guy on the radio said that “Rum Runner” (the boat I was due to be going out on) had a technical fault and this, along with the poor weather, meant they had decided to cancel for the day.  We were taken back to our accommodation and I changed my horseriding which was due to be the following day to the afternoon and the reef trip to the next day.  I spent the morning watching television and faffing online.  I also went down to the shops and explored the area a bit.   On the way back through the accommodation I found a fifty dollar bill on the floor which was rather exciting.  Being the overly moral soul that I am I went and handed it to reception and asked that, if it was not claimed, I could have it when I left.

In the afternoon we were taken down to the area where the horseriding was.  I was looking at one of the horses which had been saddled up and thinking how beautiful it was.  I was delighted to find out that this was the horse they had allocated to me, well at least until the point when it was noticed that its shoe was coming off so they had to get another horse.  The second horse turned out to be cool though and was called Chief.  The only problem with Chief was that he was a bit of an anti-social chap and didn’t like any other horses.  This led to him going backwards rather quickly at the start of a big hill in order to try to kick the horse behind him at one point on the ride.  Although he was a horse loner he actually liked human attention, so I forgave him!  The scenery on the ride was spectacular.  We started heading through rainforest which was lush and green then after some time we popped out onto a beautiful beach.  We cantered down part of the beach, albeit not for as long as I would have liked, and then stopped to take some pictures.  After the beach we returned into a different section of rainforest and continued until we got to a small shelter where we stopped for snacks and drinks.  During the ride we went through streams and creeks in the rainforest and even saw a crocodile on the river bank.  I have come to expect joint rides not to be that exciting due to the different capabilities of the riders but we had about four canters and the scenery more than made up for any lack of speed.

When we got back to the accommodation I went and bought some dinner and some wine.  When I got back to the room I sat and had a couple of glasses of wine and listened to music.  The French group returned from the restaurant and one of them decided that drinking wine was a good plan and later accompanied me to P.K.s’ the bar at the hostel over the road.  We got talking to two guys and it transpired that they were father and son.  Somewhat bizarrely this was the first time they had met (well a few days previously) as the father didn’t know about the son.  Apparently he was the result of a one night stand between an English woman and Australian man and it only came to light who the father was recently.  They were very open and frank about it all, which, along with the wine led me to say, “Are you quite sure about this, I mean you look nothing like each other”.  I was then informed that they had had a D.N.A. test.  Having realised what I had said I tried to remedy the situation by saying, “Oh, so you have your mother’s looks then”.  I caught the French guy’s eye and translated his look to mean, “Oh my God, please shut up right now, you’re digging..” so I did.  After more drinks, including the obligatory black sambuca the guys offered their room as a place to carry on drinking when the bar shut.  Okay, that sounded worse than it was meant to, I think I have a knack of that.

After a long night we headed back and I awoke the next morning in order to turn my alarm off and go back to sleep.  Melissa (the French girl in my room) informed me that the bus had arrived to take me to the boat for the reef trip and that they would be returning in five minutes.  I thanked her and promptly fell back to sleep.  A little later there was a knock at the door.  It turned out to be the bus driver who later told me how funny it was when he just heard this panicked, “Oh, shit!”.  So I got up for the bus, bought a can of coke from reception and was taken down to the boat to take me out to the bigger boat.  I strolled from the bus down to the beach, fag in one hand, can of coke in the other and then realised there was a whole group of people sat in the boat staring at me.  After apologising I got into the boat to be taken out to Rum Runner.

Once aboard we were given a briefing about the day.  Well I think that’s what it was I was actually dozing for a fair way out to the reef.  When we got to the reef I asked the Captain if there was any way that I could smoke on a non-smoking vessel.  He went on about how illegal it was and boring things like that and then told me that, as long as no-one saw me, I could smoke on the top deck at the front.  I think that the pathetic look helped.  So, after a crafty cig, I descended into the surprisingly cold sea to snorkel.  This was the first snorkeling spot and it was really good.  The Rum Runner is the only boat allowed to go out to this section of reef to protect it and you could see that it had worked.  There were numerous types of coral and an abundance of fish.  The water was amazingly clear, especially given the recent rain and you could see for what felt like miles underwater.  After lunch we headed to the second snorkeling spot.  This was slightly murkier than the first and, after about twenty minutes, I thought about heading back to the boat as I was really cold.  I decided to go slightly further out and was so glad that I did.  I saw so many luminous blue starfish and giant clams which felt like they were the same size as me.  At one point I dived down so that my face was inches from one of them and then promptly swam back up due to, probably ridiculous, thoughts about it eating me up (cartoons have a lot to answer for).  Back at the top I came to a section at the reef edge like an underwater cliff.  There were hundreds of angel fish and these bright yellow fish just floating in the tide.  At the bottom were parrot fish and some huge black and white spotted fish.  The place was amazing. 

After the snorkeling we were taken back to the shore.  The ride throughout the day had been pretty rocky in terms of the waves and several people were very green.  I wasn’t thankfully although when I got off the boat I realised I had the irritating thing of still feeling like I was on the boat – again!  I was dropped at Ferntree and told that the bus would come back to collect me twenty minutes later to take me to my accommodation for the final night – Crocodylus.  The bus driver assured me that I had enough time to shower, change and pack my bag, if I was quick.  Evidently I wasn’t as when I was walking out of my room he had come looking for me again.  I then managed to get to reception without my bed sheets so they sent me back for them.  I asked the guy on reception about my fifty dollars and he denied all knowledge of it.  Admittedly it was a different person to the one who I had given the note to but still!  That’ll teach me for being a good citizen! 

I was the last person to be dropped off from the bus and the bus driver told me that he had met the two guys I had met the previous night.  I asked if they had gone to Cooktown as planned and he told me that they had looked very ill and the son was actually asleep in the back of the car.  I was pleased that the father described me as a “trooper” which I took to mean a cool lady rather than the military general type.

When we got to Crocodylus I was impressed as it was just as I had hoped.  Although the Ferntree lodge was beautiful it was not as engulfed by rainforest as Crocodylus.  The accommodation was relatively basic with huts with canvas walls which was ideal as you could hear all the nature.  Although there were a lot of things dropping noisily from the trees onto the roof which was slightly odd.  I had some food and went to my shared room (which I was the only one in), read the paper and fell asleep to the sounds of the rainforest.

I woke up too early and checked out ready for the bus pick up from my hostel in Cairns.  When I was collected I was pleased that the woman who drove the bus, did the tours and talked about things seemed really nice.  It transpired that she was rare as tour guides go in that she not only didn’t have a really annoying booming voice but that she was actually really knowledgeable.  The following information is from her descriptions of the area and wildlife.  Any mistakes are probably down to me hearing things wrongly rather than her misinformation.

The Common Brown Snake – Bites most people and kills the most in Australia.  The notorious Taipan which locals say is aggressive actually accounts for very few bites and fatalities.  It is, however extremely posionous with the Eastern Taipan being less venomous than the Western Taipan.

The cane beetle was destroying sugar cane at an alarming rate so in the 1930s the Australian government introduced the cane toad, in their wisdom.  The cane toad, which has no native predators in Australia, has since been responsible for the extinction of over thirty species of native frogs.  It is currently in direct competition with the green tree frog.  Somewhat ironically the cane toad never ate the cane beetle as they lived too high up the sugar cane for the cane toad to reach.  Nothing in the country eats the cane toad, it is very poisonous so animals which do eat it die.  This includes household pets.  Apparently one extremely posionous South African snake does eat the cane toad and the government thought about introducing it.  There was a lot of Public unease about this and, thankfully, they decided against the idea.  Sugar cane used to be farmed by hand with the workers having a very short lifespan due to bites from the taipan which lived in the cane.  The advice if you do get bitten by a snake is not to move as the venom travels round the lymphatic system.  So, don’t panic, apply a pressure bandage (not a tournique) and get someone else to get help.

Cape Tribulation is so called as Captain Cook got stranded on his boat just South of here.  He said that the place had given him the most trouble, hence the name.

Daintree Rainforest is the oldest rainforest in the World, categorised as such as it has the oldest trees living in it, oddly enough!  It also has World Heritage status.  There is one kind of lizard which only lives here and also a tree kangaroo which is endemic.  The latter is apparently very rare and timid so the chances of seeing it are low.

The Aborigines don’t have plurals.  Instead of putting an ‘s’ on the end of a word they say it twice to mean more tham one, hence a lot of Aboriginal place names having the same word twice.

The Hercules moth lives in Cape Tribulation as does the Cairns Birdwing Butterfly whose wingspan can be as large as twenty centimetres.  The Ulyses butterfly is a bright blue and is common in the area.  Apparently they are attracted to pink and red so these are good colours to wear.

There are three types of spiders in the area – web building, ground dwelling and hunting.  The most dangerous being the ground dwelling.  Ground dwelling spiders include the funnel web, which is highly venomous and the trapdoor.  The mouse spider, which is known as the bulldog of the spider World, is unusual as its fangs are at a forty five degree angle and it can lock onto its prey.  The biggest kind of spider in Australia, the bird-eating spider, is also native to the area.  This spider can get as large as a dinner plate and is also known as the Australian tarantula

The web-building spiders such as the golden orb are completely harmless.  The golden orb builds an amazingly strong web which is stronger by weight than steel.  There are also web-casting spiders which throw their webs out like nets. 

The hunting spiders are the hairy spiders, the ones which look like what you think of when you think of a spider.  They can spin but tend not to spin classical webs.  However, they do abseil out of the trees and, at around ten centimetres across, it can be slightly worrying if one suddenly appears infront of you.  They are generally found on vertical surfaces such as walls where they sit and wait for insects and then pounce.  Although they may look very scary they are not venomous.

There are three native snakes in the area the tree snake, python and venomous front fang.  The tree snake’s fangs are at the back of its mouth so it can only bite small things.  So you’re only at risk if you poke it in the mouth, which I guess would be pretty stupid.  The most common type of tree snake in the area is the night tiger.  Tree snakes are distinguishable from other types of snake as they have a very thin neck.  They come in a variety of colours including grey, black, blue, yellow, green and the night tiger a blue colour variant.  The pythons include the amethystine shimmer which is like an oily black.  They grown up to eight and a half metres long however they are constrictors and thus not venomous.  They can bite though.  The venomous front fang snakes include the notorious taipan, the red bellied black snake, the rough scaled snake, death adder and small-eyed snake.  This is the most worrying group of snakes to humans.

There are three types of rats in Australia, the introduced, new native and old natives.  The white-tailed rat in the area is the size of a cat.  Mosaic-tailed rats are much smaller but can chew through anything when looking for food including copper piping!

The yellow-footed rock wallaby’s males don’t live beyone eight months.  This is as this is when they reach sexual maturity at which point they mate for twenty four hours non-stop.  At the end of this, perhaps somewhat understandably, they die.  They are small marsupials about the size of a mouse.  Other marsupials include the quoll, a marsupial cat.  The largest natural predator used to be the Tasmanian tiger (dog-like and sized) which lived in inland Australia and Tasmania.  The last one died in captivity in Tasmania in the 1960s and, although officially extinct, each year people report sighting them.

After learning about the area and the wildlife, as you have now too hopefully, we stopped at the Daintree river for a river cruise.  Well to be honest it was more a croc cruise as the entire point was to see crocodiles.  They didn’t disappoint either.  We saw baby crocs, well really small ones which were apparently three years and under up to -really- big crocs.  The latter were quite worrying as the guide took the boat very close to them.  None of them were in the water, well actually they probably were, but none of the ones we saw were, they were trying to sun themselves on the riverbanks.

After seeing the crocs we were dropped at the other side of the river where our bus was courtesy of the ferry and continued our journey.  We stopped again for a boardwalk through the rainforest which was pretty amazing to be fair.  The highlight for me was the strangler fig.  Basically it is as it sounds, a fig which strangles another tree, using it to climb and suffocating it.  The centre was completely hollow with the vine-like fig wrapped around the outside.  I also got a couple of amazing photos up the inside of the tree.

After the boardwalk we were taken to our accommodation.  I stayed at the Ferntree lodge which turned out to be a lovely spot.  I was in a shared room with three French friends who invited me to go to the lookout with them -after offering me a beer that is.  The lookout was a shortish walk and was also next to one of the beautiful beaches in the area.  On the way back one of the French guys and myself decided to take the beach route back which turned out not to be the best plan in the World.  We wondered why several others were standing, wimp-like at the side of a creek until we tried to cross it.  The sand was almost like sink-sand and sucked your legs in.  It also got very deep very quickly.  We decided it wasn’t the best plan in the World and headed back to walk along the road.  Well at least it wasn’t the creek closest to the accommodation which we had been warned had a few very large resident crocs!

I packed up and left Kurrimine beach for the last stint of my journey with Bernie.  Hey that rhymes!  I stopped half-way to get some food and re-read my paperwork which, amongst other things, told me that the office where I was meant to drop Bernie off in Cairns was closed on Sundays.  I called them and, somewhat surprisingly, they answered and told me where to park up and put the keys.

Once in Cairns itself I did a remarkable job of finding the drop off point even if I do say so myself.  Well, when I say remarkable job, I didn’t have a map of the city and managed to locate the road it was on successfully.  It was on a silly sideroad though and I managed to drive past it about three times so I guess it wasn’t all that remarkable.  I was actually really sad to drop Bernie off as we had such fun together.  Okay, I am slightly conscious of the extent of the anthropomorphism going on here and think I might just stop now.  It was great having the freedom to go where I wanted though and at the pace I wanted.

I had booked a place at the Northern Greenhouse hostel in Cairns over the phone earlier in the day and decided to call them to ask about taxis.  The guy I spoke to initially gave me a number which didn’t work so I called back only to be told that he didn’t know any other numbers before he hung up.  There’s nothing like friendly staff and I considered checking in somewhere else but I had given them my visa details to secure the booking.  When I did check in the guy was in reception and I, jokingly, commented on his helpfulness.  He simply replied that he didn’t know any other taxi numbers so what was he supposed to do.  I had a few things in mind like a self-labotomy or perhaps a parachute-less parachute jump but decided to keep them to myself.  When I had checked in I was pleasantly surprised at the place which was not only central but had large, clean rooms.

I headed into Cairns itself which had a good feel about it.  It felt more ethnically diverse than most of the places I had been to in Australia previously and had a great area by the sea with a(nother) lagoon with cafes and bars along the front.  Other than pottering and generally faffing about, I spoke to my parents on the phone which was lovely.  I also booked a tour to leave the following morning to go to Cape Tribulation, an area further North where the rainforest allegedly meets the reef.

I checked out of Kookaburra park in Cardwell and drove up the A1 (Bruce Highway) to South Mission Beach.  I had a look round and also went to Mission Beach itself to check it out.  From Mission Beach I took the coast road to Bingil Bay which was great.  Once I had rejoined the A1 I headed the short distance North to Kurrimine Beach where I checked into Kurrimine Beach holiday park.  The park itself was lovely with a huge pool and friendly staff.  The manager was Australian and his wife Philippino.  They had lots of comedy arguments which always seemed to result in her in absolute stitches with him saying things like, “What am I gonna do with ya?”.  He also walked around with a cockatiel on his shoulder which apparently flew in through the office window. 

From the caravan park I headed down to the boat ramp as I had been told that this was the place where the reef was closest to the shore.  I didn’t snorkel, however, for three reasons.  The first, and perhaps the most important one, being that I didn’t have a snorkel and mask.  The second reason was that, although sunny, it was very windy and the thought of getting out of the sea into the wind didn’t really appeal.  The final reason was that there were crocodile signs everwhere.  I decided to opt for lunch instead and had the amazingly healthy chocolate milkshake, chips and a pluto pup.  A plutp pup is essentially a hot dog sausage, covered in batter and on a stick.  Yes, very healthy, very vegetarian and -very- tasty!

After filling my guts I headed back to the caravan park where I discovered that the electric cable I had was not long enough to reach the socket in the park.  There was always something, Bernie was a trier!  So I went to the office only to be given a non-compatible extension prior to some neighbouring campers, or rather caravaners if that’s a word, lending a hand and an extension cable. 

I spent the rest of the day doing washing and headed down to the beach for a lovely walk.  As I wondered along the beach I saw several stinger stations with advice about jellyfish stings and vinegar in case you did get stung.  Back at the park I settled into Bernie with a glass of wine and finally finished S21.  Although I have moaned about the book something chronic it really was a very good account of the atrocities which went on.  So if anyone feels like a really happy, light, holiday read try “Voices from S21 – terror and history in Pol Pot’s secret prison” by David Chandler.