Brisbane – Adelaide – Rainbow Beach – Noosa – Lennox Head

As we have seen many of our regular readers since our last update, and many of those people have heard our recent stories, we have decided to just post some photos with extended captions.

After we left Lennox Head we headed back to Brisbane to go to a Twenty20 match at the Gabba. We then had a couple of days cruising the streets of Brizzy before flying to Adelaide on Nov 25. Fortunately the weather was not it’s usual monsoonal self as we celebrated my 28th birthday at Wet ‘n’ Wild World on the Gold Coast.

The cadillac of waterslides; the Aqua-loop. Trapdoor gets popped and you drop.

Schoolies week plus waterpark equals high levels of ear piercing squealing.

The Black Hole. Reminiscent of the lower intestine in its humid darkness. Passing through was, however, much more pleasant.

We arrived home to a beautiful sunny Adelaide afternoon. Our week was soon filled up with coffees, lunches, dinners and drinks with all the friends and family we hadn’t seen for months. For those of you we saw, it was great. For those we missed, we’ll be back again soon. Unfortunately, we were so excited to see everyone not many photos were taken but we do have a few pics of Nat and Tom’s wedding, the impetus for our trip home.

Young men being manly. First three from the left are called Tom. Gotta love imaginative Anglo parents.

Meet Mr & Mrs Hahn (AKA the Stifflers)

Now Mums… don’t get any ideas!

After a full on week of full on catching up we were well and truly ready to get back to the simple life. We only just made it out of Adelaide due to the wild weather and didn’t make it to Alistair and Jade’s till midnight. As they were getting their floors done we had to crash in the van which was pleasantly dry and surprisingly non-stinky. The next day we got up early and bailed out of town to the west. Spent the day driving through attractive rolling hills around Lakes Wivenhoe and Somerset and ended up at a campground below Lake Borumba near Gympie.

Most rivers in the area including the Mary system were flooded after the heavy rains but Yabba Creek below the spillway at Borumba was a bit clearer and I scraped up a few small bass and this surprise Silver Perch during a short morning session.

One of the better camps we have had at Inskip Point just north of Rainbow Beach. Inskip is a narrow peninsular which is only separated from Fraser Island by about 100 metres of water. Super interesting area. The roaring pacific is 30 metres to the east of this shot. Heading west one passes through colonising dune vegetation, casuarina groves, mixed malaleuca/banksias/grass forest and into mangrove forest all in 100 metres or so. You are then looking at the rich, shallow waters of Tin Can Bay. Incredibly biodiverse and a joy for the armchair ecologist.

Protected inshore swimming gutter near camp at Inskip.

After Inskip we trundled down to Coolum Beach via the backroads and stayed with family friends Eckhart and Sylvia. Despite torrential rain overnight, Eckhart was still keen to take us canoeing on the upper Noosa River. It was warm so we decided to just charge it and were glad we did. The system was absolutely beautiful and we are now inspired to do some long range canoe camping missions there. No photos were taken due to “high humidity” but here’s one of us in our Olympian outfits looking very fashionable after we made it back safely albeit slightly damp. PS Lifejackets were for warmth.

Don’t let a few inches of rain dampen your spirits! Despite having to periodically stop to empty the canoe of rainwater a good time was had by all.

Now we are back in Lennox happily ensconced at Shorty and Mels’ place. Absolutely lovely here despite the steady influx of holiday makers. Lots of swimming, skating and surfing going on but surprisingly no fishing as yet. Planning is in full swing for Christmas with Matias threatening to go the full Asado (Argentine BBQ requiring open fire and half a lamb).

Streets of town are filled with shirtless Euro youths, Byron goddesses and Thai Fisherman pants. The vibe is rubbing off – heading out to do a days work at an organic farm on monday for a box of veges. Who knows, might stop voting for the Nationals if I keep this up.

Frequency of posts will likely be reduced over the next month so our apologies to our regular readers. Merry LudiChristmas and happy new year to all! Cash contributions are welcome payable to “Tom and Mandy’s 7 day weekend fund”. xxxxxxxxxx

Townsville – Dingo Beach – Brisbane – Lennox Head

After a few days getting our act together in Townsville we were both itching to hit the road again. We had the car serviced and a tyre repaired and were all stocked up and charged to spend as long as possible in a remote location before having to stay in a town again. Unfortunately, the Whitsunday area is not enthusiastic about letting people camp for free anywhere. After checking out a few spots around Cape Bowling Green Bay we ended up in a town called Hydeaway Bay just north of Airlie Beach. It is almost a twin town with Hydeaway on one side of a small peninsular and Dingo Beach on the other. In many ways it was like a poor (or smart) man’s Whitsundays with no tourists, beautiful beaches, close islands and abundant coral reefs.

Our first afternoon in Hydeaway Bay. Unfortunately the weather wasn’t indicative about what would happen for the rest of the week.

After the first idyllic day we decided to just stay for a week and explore the area a bit more thoroughly. We had a pretty exhilarating day after launching at the tide dependent ramp at Dingo. Navigation was intense with drying reef all over the place and a stiff sou-easter blowing. We found a protected bay and caught a few trevally and reef fish but when we nosed back out to head home we realised how rough it had become. As the tide dropped the swell and slop was churning like a washing machine in an area of shallow reefs and the sounder was regularly blanking out as we crossed nearly exposed patches of coral. After pulling into the channel with a huge sigh we then had to wait for enough tide to get the boat back on the trailer.

The grim determination of fishing in paradise

After that adventure, the weather crapped out and we stayed landbased sight-seeing, reading and eating mangoes for a few days. The rain was getting a bit oppressive and the rivers were all flooding again. One day we decided to check out a famous impoundment near Proserpine that is stocked with barramundi and would be a bit protected. After getting our permit and a bit of local info we then arrived at the dam to be greeted with driving rain. I set the boat up in a break then we sat in the boat for 40 minutes watching the rain and hoping it would stop. Finally, I had to get out, pack the boat up and we left without even launching.

There are other ways to amuse oneself at camp. Note the juggling balls and hippie pants.

The next day we decided to leave Hydeaway Bay early and head south to hopefully get beneath the system. As we went through Proserpine again it was relatively clear and Mandy commented that it would be a shame to not hit the dam. I was less than keen but we headed up and it was quite pleasant. We joined the other boats trolling the main basin and within ten minutes saw some guys hook up. I was then in a state of controlled anxiety which wasn’t helped by the two coffees and a coke I had consumed. An hour passed without incident and it felt pretty weird trolling around in 30 metres of water for barra. Every now and then you would see a huge mass of plankton/daphnia on the sounder with accompanying baitfish and occasionally a huge fish icon.

All of a sudden some moronic teens showed up in dad’s speedboat and started wakeboarding illegally and dangerously in amongst the barra boats. It was absolutely ridiculous and forced us out into the main basin where it was a bit choppy. We had just decided to sack it when I hooked an absolute freight train. It was fairly weird fighting a barra like a tuna without having to worry about getting snagged but I was still fairly excited when over a metre of fish popped up.

Tom with the catch of the day at Peter Faust dam

It was an unlucky fish as the lure pulled at the end of the fight but somehow ended up lassoing the fish around its pectoral and dorsal fins! I got its head into our inadequate net and managed to heave it into the boat. For the record it was 115cm and probably 20-25kg.

We also managed to score a feed of redclaw crayfish so had a great meal that night at a shitty caravan park in Sarina. The other course was an equally unlucky flathead which I had caught in the cast net trying to get some mullet for bait a few days earlier.

Red claw… the yabbies bigger and tastier cousin

We woke up to more rain and made the executive decision to just punch it down to Brisbane where I have a cousin and a friend of ours was getting married that weekend. The 800 kms was super easy as the roads got better and better and before long we were happily settled at my cousin Alistair’s house with his partner Jade. After a few drinks and a catch-up we headed off to Fortitude Valley to see friends! What a novelty!

Matt and Tom team up to catch a taxi home from the Valley in Brisbane

-Tom

The next day we woke up a little worse for wear after a night on the town with friends! but in the early afternoon we headed off on a tourist drive with Alistair and Jade. They’re in the process of renovating their Queenslander house and needed to tour around looking at roof colours. Not something that Tom and I do on a normal Sunday but it was enjoyable to scope out all the different styles of the wooden houses. Let’s just say, the usual brick dwellings of Adelaide can’t hold a candle to these attractive homes!

Brisbane lookout

After a quick stop at the Brisbane lookout we ventured down to the South Bank waterfront precinct. It was a beautiful day, sunny and pleasant and a welcome change to the wet and grey of the previous week. The lamb roast that was cooked up by Al and Jade that night was also a nice change and a tasty one too!

Our friends! were in Brisbane for another day and we caught the train into the city for a bit of shopping and lunch. There was a post-wedding event on in the afternoon so we managed to see some people we hadn’t seen in a long time. And of course congratulate the newly wedded couple Jamie and Carli. With friends! heading down the coast to Ballina that night Tom and I decided that it was high time to get out of the city and so drove down the next morning. It was a pretty cruisy 2 – 3hr drive along the motorway and soon enough we found ourselves in Byron Bay.

Friends! doing it for hip hop. Tom and I had so many people to talk to over the past few days we didn’t know what to do.

Now Tom and I have never been up this way so didn’t know what to expect when turning up in the surf/ hippie mecca that is Byron. It is a beautiful place with good surf on main beach and the ability to just drive 5mins to get away from the majority of backpackers. Fortunately we’re staying at Joey’s in Lennox Head which is further south. We’ve been making up for lost time, having bbqs with friends! and enjoying the mini Adelaide community that is here.

It’s been funny hearing that lots of our friends have read this blog over the past couple of months although it does mean that many already know of our adventures. Hopefully we’ll have a few more stories to tell when we arrive in Adelaide this Thursday November 25. We’ll be in town until December 7 and hope to see many of you then!

- Mandy

Goldsborough Valley – Townsville

Goldsborough Valley – Mission Beach – Cardwell – Bingil Bay – Cairns – Broadwater Creek – Balgal Beach – Townsville

So it’s been a little while since our last post. After another delay dealing with our insurance claim we decided to head south from Cairns for a few days with plans to stay at a friend of Tom’s bush block in El Arish (inland from Mission Beach). As we had a couple of days up our sleeve we turned off the highway to go to the Babinda Boulders – a well-known swimming hole and potential fishing spot. After a quick tour of the Boulders Tom headed off into the wilderness as a light rain started falling. It unfortunately soon turned into a tropical downfall. Tom appeared a short time later soaked to the bone and we decided that this wouldn’t be such a great place to spend the night.

Heading north again we went into the Goldsborough Valley National Park (another swimming hole and potential fishing spot) for a night’s camping. Upon arrival Tom managed to swipe his leg on a Gympie Gympie (Stinging Tree) and after a quick waxing session involving gaffer tape to remove the fine hairs he appears to have averted disaster and his leg continues to stay attached to his body. The light rain continued to fall overnight, something which we didn’t even notice much while sitting next to the fire listening to the mating ritual of high school students who were camped nearby.

Goldsborough River one day, chocolate milk the next.

In the morning we were greeted by a river which had risen about a metre and turned from a crystal clear mountain stream to a discoloured muddy torrent. We couldn’t wait to get out of there thinking that the low bridge on the way in may be impassable. We also wondered at the teachers who still thought it would be a good idea to take the year 10 students canoeing… Fortunately we aren’t built of such strong stuff and hightailed it out of there to the relative comfort of Gordonvale, which like many north Queensland towns had the ever present sickly smell of molassess from the sugar mill. Several coffee and cakes later (yes, we really aren’t made of much at all) we pushed on south to stay at the Treehouse Hostel in Mission Beach, where Peta and I had stayed on our Queensland trip circa 2002.

Mmm sickly sweet sugar mill

The drive south was entertaining in itself as it didn’t stop raining. Each river we crossed was swollen and brown. Obviously the ‘light rain’ had been somewhat heavier in the hinterland and it soon became obvious that there wouldn’t be any fishing done in the next few days. We later found there had been 200ml in 24 hours!!

In my memory the Treehouse was full of fun-seeking backpackers hanging out on the balcony smoking and eating their pastas well into the night. Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the time of year but the stoic, silent reading of books by the eight guests wasn’t really the wild night we thought it was going to be and we soon retired to bed (in our van, in the carpark – yep, we are tough).

It was raining when we got up in the morning, which caused much alarm and consternation between Tom and I. Maybe it would continue to rain? Maybe this was the end of the trip as we knew it? Maybe we would be back in Adelaide with our tails between our legs before Christmas? So many questions caused by so much rain. Anyway we had a date to meet Mike and Jana at their block in El Arish and armed with vague directions to get there we headed off via Tully (which didn’t inspire us with much hope.)

-Mandy

Getting to the block was pretty interesting. The directions to the general area were easy enough to follow but then petered out into “you’ll see a bit of an unmarked track disappearing off into the bush, then a few stone steps that might be overgrown”. After a few failed attempts and a bit of advice from a local we managed to find the turnoff but needed to abandon the boat before tackling the rough and heavily vegetated track. Unfortunately, our teamwork was a bit lacking and the boat got away from us a bit and rolled into the ditch! Thank god for the Delica and its 4wd capabilities as it towed it out no worries as the heavens opened and another inch of rain poured down.

Crossing the creek. Yes Tom is aware that he looks like an Olympian. I also have the same jacket, they were cheap and waterproof. So we are a team.

After repositioning the boat on more level ground we had a crack at the track and it was pretty fun with regrowth as high as the windscreen and a sodden, greasy base. We popped out into a level clearing but there was no sign of a hut or shed. Getting out to investigate we found a little path that led down to creek. It was like being in a strange Enid Blyton book as we cautiously nosed our way into the rainforest in the driving yet warm rain. The path turned into a crude, handmade bridge over the creek which we carefully crossed and then into a rough stone staircase up the other side. After a few more twists and turns we found the campsite sitting bone dry under a sophisticated array of tarpaulins.

Nothing like a bit of dry cover in the middle of a downpour.

Mike and Jana showed up soon after but the rain showed no sign of abating so we didn’t do much other than go on a “Kokoda recreation walk” up a fire trail into the rainforest to check out a swimming hole. After getting back and de-leeching we all decided it wouldn’t be very nice spending the night so they took off for Cairns and we headed for a free campsite near Mission Beach. The weather gods had other ideas though as 10kms away the rain came down so hard we nearly pulled over. After a quick discussion we again stayed at the Treehouse and I bit my tongue all night sitting amongst the surly Germans and humourless Swedes. They were eating plain rice with white sauce and Coco Pops for desert for gods sake!

Fishing across from Hinchinbrook Island in the sweet sweet sunshine

Tired of humanity and rain, we consulted as much meterological data as we could and decided to head south to Cardwell as it appeared to be in some kind of rainshadow. Sure enough, it was dry and sunny and we wasted no time in getting all our sodden and rapidly festering gear out to dry. Without sounding like Tourism Queensland, I’d just like to take a moment to plug Cardwell and Hinchinbrook in general. It is simply incredible and I am amazed it is not more of a tourist trap. The island is over 30km long and features mist shrouded, rainforest clad peaks, pristine beaches, one of the biggest mangrove forests on the east coast and sheltered waters.

Yep there it is… Tom finally lands a Jack

We threw the boat in and checked out one of the closest creeks for a few barra and (finally!) my first mangrove jack. While eagerly anticipated this was somewhat anticlimactic as he didn’t live up to his specie’s fearsome reputation at all. Oddly, upon getting back to the marina there was a hot barra bite happening at the end of the marina breakwall and we hooked another ten or so in short order but only managed to get a couple of little lads to the boat.

Local hotspot – the breakwall at Port Hinchinbrook

Another idyllic day was spent at Cardwell with an early morning crossing to Hinchinbrook for a closer inspection the highlight. We decided to start heading back towards Cairns on the assumption that the authority to proceed would be forthcoming and returned to the campsite we had missed out on due to rain. Bingal Bay was amazing and while not free as we had thought was cheap, quiet and beautiful. We went to sleep listening to the surf and looking out the windows at the stars in the clear sky. What a difference a few days and a weather change makes!

Million Dollar view at Bingil Bay campsite

In the morning the long-awaited call came through and, after nearly hitting a cassowary, we were back in Cairns. It was a pretty busy morning as we had to get there, unload the van completely at our cabin, pick up a hire car and drop the van at the body shop. Amazingly, we were done and back at our digs by midday committing the sin of sloth in a big way. After the intensity of the last week camping in the rain and constantly rejigging everything, we were more than happy to draw the blinds and watch TV from the comfort of our crisp double bed. Despite not leaving the pad except to cook for the next 48 hours we actually got a lot done as I had to organise a buckshow, send off some resumes and write a few things.

Recreation took the form of going over to the common kitchen and watching the culture clash between the staid pommy and German travelers and the wild young French and Dutch. The former seemed to be into early, simple dinners followed by a quiet perusal of a map or two while the latter appeared fond of complex meals started around 9pm followed by wine and “make party”. To compound the conflict several of the older Pom couples thought it would be a good idea to pitch their tents directly adjacent to the kitchen for easy access. This led to some pretty funny late-night, multi-lingual yelling matches. One of the highlights for me was “Shoot tha fook up! It’s a fookin’ weeknight!” I wasn’t quite sure what influence the day of the week had on a backpacker but this couple was incensed and later tried to enlist us into their faction without success.

Mandy got to train with the derby girls again and I got to have a skate on the outdoor track which left me a heaving, sweaty mess within 40 mins. My hat goes off to Mandy for doing two hours of frenetic skating in these conditions. The car was ready the next day but upon collecting it we were dismayed to find someone had “forgotten” to take it down the street to get the exhaust replaced. It was quoted, authorized and booked but just hadn’t happened. They were able to do it basically on the spot that afternoon but it necessitated another night in Cairns. Arrrrgggghhhh!!! It was probably good in the end as we got to charge up the van and have a relaxed re-pack.

It felt amazing getting out in the morning a powering south and when we passed Cardwell into unknown territory spirits soured. We had a chat at the information centre in Cardwell and were pointed to Broadwater State Forest inland from Ingham. After a look at Lucinda we headed the 50kms inland over some pretty damn rough road at times. It was all worth it as the spot was idyllic, quiet and on the second night we had it to ourselves. The creek is a tributary of the mighty Herbert River and is croc free, crystal clear and very inviting. We had some great swims, I caught a few fish including my first elusive Jungle Perch and each night we enjoyed a nice fire and a few hours listening to the sounds of the bush.

Flyfishing on Broadwater Creek

After another stop in a little town called Balgal Beach the next night, we are now in Townsville getting rained on again. Call me ignorant, but who knew Townsville was so huge?!! We had no idea it would be this metropolis but it is a very attractive town and, for Mandy, has a derby league! She has managed to fit in two sessions and we have had a nice time doing a few city type things.

Tomorrow we head off into the bush in search of solitude again around Cape Upstart and Dingo Beach. After that, Shute Harbour and the Whitsundays.

-Tom

Mossman – Daintree – Cairns

Well, things took a rather unexpected and unpleasant turn upon leaving Cairns. We were headed for a campground just south of Cape Tribulation but didn’t make it past Mossman. Mandy had just taken over driving when we went to turn into a picnic area on the South Mossman River. We knew it was coming, having done a u-turn to go back to it, and were indicating and decelerating for ages. Anyway, an elderly tourist driver had decided we were driving too slowly and attempted to overtake us as we started to execute the turn. He hit us right at the trailer hitch doing about 60km/h. I didn’t know what had happened as the impact wasn’t that great. I initially thought the trailer might have had a blowout and rolled. We both jumped out and were confronted by this:

Yep, that’s the boat… on the highway

I immediately grabbed the petrol tank that had been flung out of the boat and got it out of the way before checking on the other people. They were both fine but the other driver was insisting that our trailer indicator hadn’t been on and that they had only seen our car indicator when we started to turn. I normally would have been nervous about whether he was right but I had actually checked all the lights the day before and knew they were fine. As luck would have it, a group of council workers were having lunch at the spot and ran up to assist. One of them announced himself as an SES member and started managing traffic and making sure Mandy was ok. Cops were called and arrived immediately. Now the question on everyone’s minds was “Will the indicator work?” Thankfully it did and old mate was charged with a couple of offences to his utter chagrin.

Everyone came to our rescue

The cops and council guys were just amazing and gave us a hand to get everything off the road and start working out what we were going to do. Surprisingly, the car had suffered minimal damage with only the tow bar bolts being sheared off and some cosmetic damage to the rear. We were able to drive up to town to an engineering joint called Waugh & Dwyer and they had fixed it within an hour!

We then drove back to the boat and limped it back at 10km/h. The boat had suffered a few minor dents and scrapes but the trailer was the real problem. You could see immediately that the tyres/bearings had copped it when being shunted sideways and the bearing cover had been knocked off on one side letting gravel in. The bolts holding the hitch onto the trailer chassis had also been bent and stressed. On top of that, several items had been thrown out of the boat onto the road and were stuffed. I’ve gotta say I (and the cops) was impressed with my packing job as the majority of our belongings stayed in the boat despite the impact and rolling.

Waugh & Dwyer needed a few days to do the work so we abandoned the boat and spent the night in a nice B & B to recouperate. Mossman Gorge B & B was fantastic and it was quite the luxury to have a pile of pillows, fresh sheets, ensuite and plenty of room. Thanks to Mandy (proprietor of said B & B) for making us feel at home and all the local information.

Every cloud… view from our Mossman B and B digs

We decided to just truck on to the Daintree sans boat and give them plenty of time to do the work. This ended up working out fine as there was nowhere to really use it and the road to Cape Tribulation is pretty wet and windy anyway. That night we stayed at an amazing campsite at Noah’s Beach and listened to the most incredible frog chorus I have ever heard. Surprisingly there were very few mozzies despite us being right in the middle of a sodden rainforest. I attributed this to the healthy environment and abundance of things that eat mozzies. It was a real treat to sit outside in the strange night watching fireflies and listening to the sounds of the forest. A very effective way to unwind after the stress of the previous day.

Evening stroll along Noah’s Beach

We headed back across the Daintree ferry late the next day and set up a more permanent camp at Wonga Beach. We were heading out on a snorkeling tour to the outer reef in the morning so we had an early night after compulsively checking the weather. Thankfully the earlier forecasts that had induced us to book for the Friday stayed accurate and we woke to clear skies and light winds. It was the best day in weeks and we were stoked as we drove down to Port Douglas to board “Calypso”.

After being such tight-arses it was good to just drop some money and do a super touristy day. The boat was well appointed, food was nice and everything ran smoothly. Despite my inherent skepticism about over-hyped tourist activities, it was actually a pretty mind-blowing experience. The visibility was great, conditions were perfect and reef was just incredible. The day flew by, so much so that Mandy didn’t notice she was getting pretty roasted frolicking around in her new bikini. I guess it was just such a treat to be able to swim without the threat of crocs, sharks and stingers.

Some form of diagonal striped sweet lips

Some form of Kentucky Fried Mandy

On the way home, we noticed that Waugh & Dwyer were still open so we dropped in and the trailer was done! The next day was overcast and drizzling so we chucked the boat into the famous Daintree River to see if it would still keep the water out. It performed as well as previously but we were both fairly underwhelmed by the river itself. It is touted as this untouched paradise but the upper river banks are predominately cow/cane paddocks and you can hardly move without bumping into a croc tour. After being in the wilds of the territory, you kinda wonder what all the fuss is about. There must have been at least eight different tourist vessels plying the same little stretch all desperately trying to show their clients a croc.

The weather was hardly conducive to croc activity so they were doing it tough and were all crowded around a tiny 2 foot specimen that must have felt like a reptilian Britney Spears with all the cameras in it’s face. As we have grown accustomed to, we soon became part of the tours with the guides talking about what we were doing on their loudspeakers then annoyingly coming over to show their punters some real Aussies and show how legit they were as guides by talking fishing. Oddly, I managed to get another fishing-induced round of applause when I pulled a barra in front of one group. Bizarre. We were fishing for Mangrove Jacks and they once again eluded us although I did get to tick off a new species with their kissing cousin, the Fingermark Bream.

Always the bridesmaid – Tom with his Fingermark

It was finally time to head back to Cairns as Mandy was due to train with the Reef City Roller girls at 4pm. After the crash I had felt like trying to find the council workers who had helped us and buying them a beer but it hadn’t transpired. Well, we had one of those great little life twists and ran into the guy who had been the nicest at the servo on the way out of Wonga Beach. Mick was very keen to know how we had got on and what had happened after he had left. After a bit of a chat he and his mate invited us back for a coffee/beer so we went over and spent a great couple of hours with them and Mick’s missus. He was a very warm and colourful guy full of local tips and generosity. It was annoying actually having somewhere to be for the first time in weeks as Wonga Beach would have been a completely different place under their guidance and we were invited to stay as long as we wanted. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be and we reluctantly left promising ourselves that we have got to get out of the tourist loop and hang out with more locals.

Now we are back in bloody Cairns waiting for authority to get the van fixed from the insurance. Can’t believe how long we have spent in this strange town (particularly this same mozzie and rotten mango infested caravan park) and at the moment we don’t know when we’ll escape. It just seemed like the best thing to do was to get everything sorted, put the claim in and be done with it instead of dragging the whole process out. At least it has given us a chance to update the blog!

-Tom

Screech… Thump! That’s what we were greeted with as we turned right into a little picnic spot by the South Mossman River. After driving carefully around the coast from outer Cairns and past Port Douglas I, like Tom, had no idea what had happened when we heard the thump behind us. When we jumped out of the car, I looked over and saw a Hyundai Getz a little too close for comfort with a bonnet that had crumpled with the impact of the crash. Once it appeared that no one was hurt, we quickly got the items that had fallen out off the road but there was still the problem that the boat couldn’t be moved. I was very grateful when all kinds of people jumped in and began to help, especially Mick who we came to know later on.

Thrifty? Yes? There’s been a bit of a bingle…

To be honest I wasn’t much help at all having been the driver I was in a bit of shock hoping that I hadn’t been the one to cause the crash. However after explaining our side of the events to the cops, I was relieved to hear that we had done nothing wrong and it was the other driver who was at fault. When I found out about it I was a bit angry that he had been trying to overtake us in such a dangerous spot. After dealing with the tow ball and getting the boat to the repairers, Tom and I had to acknowledge that it could have been a lot worse if it wasn’t for our trusty Delica that was solid as a rock and suffered only minor damage.

They put the breakfast in Bed and Breakfast!

The night at Mossman B & B was a welcome luxury to say the very least. We had tried to keep with our caravan park themed accommodation but unfortunately (or fortunately) they were all booked out of cabins and half of what we needed had been left in the boat. The next day, after a deliciously laid on breakfast we visited the semi-closed Mossman Gorge before heading up the Daintree to stay at Noah’s Beach National Park which we had booked for the day earlier but hadn’t been able to take advantage of! It was a beautiful sunset as Tom trekked about looking for an appropriate place to fish. As he said, it was a great night in the rainforest listening to frogs and looking for fireflies.

Cape Tribulation crab balls

Fast forward to the reef snorkeling trip and we were up early to be at Port Douglas in time for our departure. Not having been there before we noticed that it seems to be the destination of choice for honeymooners and incredibly wealthy people. The reef trip in itself was fantastic, visiting three sites (although two of them seemed to be so close together that we didn’t actually feel the boat move) and seeing all kinds of reef fish. I could say that my favourites were the ‘colourful ones’ but that seems a bit too all encompassing. And I knew that I wasn’t covering up properly as before the second snorkel I wanted to put on a wet suit for more sun protection but gave up. I have certainly learnt my sunburn lesson for the trip as not being able to sit down or lie on my back is not very fun!

You could say I’M ON A BOAT!

Swimming with the fishes takes on a whole new meaning

As Tom mentioned our Daintree River cruise was enjoyable but not very fish filled although standing up and casting lures was a good way to pass the day with my severe sunburn. After another night in Wonga (as the locals call it) which included an extremely heavy downpour which almost saw the end of our awning, we headed back to Cairns. It was great to meet Mick by chance at the servo and enjoy a couple of ‘day beers’ before getting back on the road. I’d been talking up the possibility of skating with the Reef City Roller Girls for so long there was not a chance I could miss their training session. The girls were very lovely and welcoming to me but after not skating for 6 weeks I am feeling a bit sore now!

Reef City Roller Girls – note their amazing skating surface!

While we may be ‘stuck in Cairns’ we did manage to meet up with Mad Dog aka Michelle Delaney, a friend from Adelaide Fringe who was up in Darwin as well. On tour with Patch Theatre company MD, along with Belinda and Patinka are also ‘stuck in Cairns’ for the week. Catching up with them on Sunday night was hilarious – it sounded as if we were all in need of some much needed new company. Stories of life on the road were shared and now Tom and I know what not to do when faced with the five at five at the Criterion Pub in Rockhampton…

Kerblammo! Another mango just fell on the boat. Yep, it’s all happening in downtown Manunda, Cairns. Hopefully by the time that we finally get around to putting this on the net, we will have moved on to somewhere new but that all depends on when we can get the panel work done on the car. The grey nomads with their well established sites including fruit bowls are making me nervous…

xx

Mt Isa postscript – Karumba – Cairns

There were two things left to do in Mt Isa before we left. One was to take photos outside the office of “man of the moment” Bob Katter and the other was to go to the look out overlooking the mighty “man over nature” spectacle that is the Isa at night. Mr Katter wasn’t in so we left him a message…

Along the way, between our two commitments we discovered a few strange things about rural Queensland. One of which is, make sure you go shopping before 12.30pm on Saturdays. Otherwise your money will be left wanting until Monday. And purchases from supermarkets can’t be made on Sundays. And we complain that our South Australian hours are archaic! With those two boxes ticked it was onwards and upwards to the Gulf of Carpentaria, destination Karumba.

Downtown Normanton, still selling video to the locals

Our first stop was going to be Normanton about 70km inland on the Norman River. However passing through we decided to continue on to Karumba to see what it had to offer. On our way back from Karumba we had to stop in Normanton for supplies. It’s been a bit of a trait on this trip that we have noticed where there is a large indigenous population in towns such as Normanton and Boroloola, the price of groceries are exorbitant and there is a general feeling of unease as both sides – black and white – regard each other with resentment. I guess that’s why we liked Darwin so much, everyone there seems to just get along.

Karumba proved to be a sweet holiday town, famous for it’s barramundi fishing and prawn industry. Our time there was spent on the water (of course) with the sun canopy up and prawns on our hooks to catch the local delicacy – grunter or javelin fish (named after it’s oinking or grunting when out of water). While catfish and toad fish were also partial to a half prawn, the grunters soon came out as did the blue salmon. I was quite taken with the salmon, snapping off many a pic of this fish that really did look like something out of a cartoon.

The horror of it all…

Our esky was soon full of fish after just a few hours fishing. On the way back to the boat ramp Tom just couldn’t help doing a slow troll over a ‘particularly fishy’ section of bank. Not knowing what might hook up, he was stoked to catch a just-out-of-season barra in front of a crowd on the beach. After the applause subsided he returned the lucky lass to the water. We had plenty of fish for a delicious dinner of grunter and chips followed up the next night by thai green fish curry.

Another delicious fish dinner!

While in town we also went to Karumba’s claim to fame the ‘Barramundi Discovery Centre’ so I am now well versed in the barra lifecyle. The discovery centre is actually a restocking facility for several rivers and dams in the area. Right now we find ourselves stopped along the way, having pulled off to visit Lake Belmore for lunch of prawns and mettwurst sambos. Tom has just called out to me after hooking a massive barramundi. It is not closed season here – this is a stocked dam and they actually want you to catch the big ones so as they don’t eat up all of their hard work!

Lake Belmore – a perfect place for a prawn picnic!

Tom continues on with our travels over the great divide and through the tableland to the tourist mecca that is Cairns.

- Mandy

Well, despite other recent successes that one got away comprehensively. The afore-mentioned barra of about 20kg just made a mockery of my woefully inadequate tackle while casting into a shallow lily-covered bay. Ce la vie.

Tom lands the booby prize of a sleepy cod in the red claw (yabbie) net

To digress; I really ended up liking Mt Isa. Very friendly people, interesting history, first rate people watching and cheap everything. The locals are right into the mines and are happy to talk them up at any opportunity. They’re certainly not hard to miss, with the main  Xstrata mine located directly in the centre of town. It was described to us flatteringly as “looking like a cruise ship” when viewed at night from the lookout. I’ll let you be the judge of that.

As Mandy mentioned, Normanton had that tense apartheid feel to it so we continued on to Karumba which turned out to be a (relative) paradise. There weren’t many people around due to the skyrocketing build-up heat (40 and ridiculous humidity) but it was really quite a nice joint if you like hanging out with grey nomads. I won’t bore with any fishing stuff except to say catching that barra in about 5 mins in front of the peanut gallery next to the boatramp was pretty neat. Don’t think I’ll motivate spontaneous clapping or be the caravan park’s resident guru again anytime soon.

The unintentional barra capture

As is often the way the novelty soon wore off. After 3 days we were itching to go and drove off into a morning full of brolgas, the car weighed down with stolen unripe mangoes.

Brolgas!

12/10/2010

Now we are in Cairns after a very interesting drive up and over the divide. After the midday stop at Lake Belmore we powered on to a roadside campsite next to an old gold mining chimney. We were the only ones there and enjoyed an amazing meal of garlic prawns courtesy of Mr Raptis, Karumba and grunter fillets courtesy of ourselves. That night there was some light rain which was a sign of things to come.

Raptis Seafoods – doesn’t get much fresher than that!

The next day’s drive was perhaps the most interesting of the trip so far. We passed through the regional centre of Georgetown around nine and picked up some dirt cheap produce which was a pleasant surprise after recent highway robberies. The road then started to slowly angle upwards towards the divide. First you go through the Newcastle Ranges to the east of Georgetown as an entrée to the main event. It is a volcanic province and the towns such as Mount Garnet and Mount Surprise are all hawking fossicking trips etc.

We had wanted to check out the famous Undara Lava tubes but unfortunately they are privately owned and the cheapest way of seeing them is the “basic” $46 tour which we passed on. The set-up there was even worse than a National Park and the Yanks were getting churned through en masse. You could stay in re-furbished old-timey railway cars, “the Stockmens’ Quarters” or “Tent Village”. It always amazes me to see the way Australia is sold to the world especially as 99% of the population wouldn’t know a cow from a sheep. Banjo Patterson has a lot to answer for.

Anyway, the road rose inexorably and we found ourselves passing through various eco-niches as it got wetter and cooler. The zones changed rapidly and within a few hundred kilometers we had gone from stunted scrub to woodland, dry to wet eucalypt forest and finally popped over the divide into tropical rainforest at Ravenshoe. Pretty strange considering we were sweltering on the Gulf of Carpentaria less than 48 hours earlier.

The roadside dry riverbed (on the road to Georgetown) changed into the mountainous Ravenshoe below in a couple of hundred clicks

Ravenshoe is the highest town in Queensland and was shrouded in cloud. It was positively chilly for us and almost prompted a change into pants. We checked out a few waterfalls etc and found a gold free campsite just out of town were we knocked up a feed and enjoyed the light rain falling outside our awning. The Delica definitely earned “best in show” at that camp as we watched the other poor saps getting wet. The next day we sort of prematurely left Ravenshoe and in hindsight should have stayed and checked out the festival that was happening and seen a bit more of the area. I guess we thought it would be more of the same tropical paradise but we quickly found ourselves in the intensively farmed Atherton Tableland. It was scenic enough in a kind of tropical-Swiss way but I was a bit depressed thinking of how altered the landscape was.

A quick waterfall stop introduced us to the local tree kangaroo

We aimed for a campsite on the road to Cairns called Davies Creek and it turned out to be very pleasant though also infested with tourists. Welcome to the east coast I guess. That night we took the plunge and went and socialized with a couple of young dudes from Cairns who were hitting the piss around a campfire together. They turned out to be great value and gave us a few tips for our travels.

At the Cairns lookout, note appropriate op-shop t-shirt buy from Karumba

A bit dusty the next morning, we completed the hair-raising journey over the saddle of the divide and found ourselves looking at Port Douglas and Cairns. I was amazed at how mountainous it was and also how large. I had always pictured them as little boutique tourist destinations but Cairns turned out to be huge. We checked out the strip for a few hours but grew weary of the parade of pasty poms promenading their paunches. Now we are ensconced at our mozzie infested digs catching up on the blog and vowing never to drink while on the road again. Re-packing vans is not fun hung over.

You don’t get udon noodles in Hotel Delica!

Next stop: Daintree Rainforest and Cape Tribulation

Heading East – King Ash Bay – Mt Isa

It has been a fair while since we had internet access so this is going to be somewhat of a marathon entry. We left you last time just as we were leaving Katherine for Borroloola/King Ash Bay. After the obligatory beer at the Daly Waters pub we fueled up and pointed the rig due east onto the Carpentaria Highway at about 3:00pm. It was classic savannah woodland typified by grass, acacias, stunted malaleucas in the washouts and termite mounds.

All the warnings about the road were a bit exaggerated. Sure, it is one lane of bitumen and you have to put half your vehicle onto the shoulder when a car/truck approaches but it is hardly Bourke Street and this only occurs every half hour or so. Further, it is so bloody straight you can see them coming for about ten minutes so, if you want, you can be stationary by the time they pass. The real threat is the cattle, which were abundant and completely blasé about vehicles and horns. Nevertheless, it was a really nice drive that afternoon. The colours were vivid, clouds were interesting and the due east bearing was a novelty. As the sun got lower we hit a stretch that was so accurately east/west that you could see the shadow of the car stretching for about a kilometre down the road.

Heading East… East!

Phil wanted to reach a particular campsite 30kms from Cape Crawford as it apparently had a great view of the surrounding area and was the point where you drop down into the gulf country. Unfortunately, his memory of its exact location was a bit rusty and it was actually a hundred clicks further east than he thought. This meant an hour or so of harrowing dusk/evening driving with roos bouncing all over the shop and large groups of cattle casually looming out of the gloom. It was with relief that we came to the stop. To be fair, it was a nice spot and we quickly had a feed and crashed out.

Camp near Cape Crawford

Phil was right and the next morning you could see for miles around. With some height the woodland looked almost like a body of water with the uniform vegetation melding into a pastel sheet in the dawn light. Clouds of Zebra Finches, wrens and other song birds milled around the water tank next to us having a morning drink. Phil was also giving his usual morning chorus that consists of various deep hacks, expulsions of phlegm and cheeky farts.

We stopped and had a welcome shower at the Heartbreak Hotel Cape Crawford and Mandy decided not to do the helicopter tour of the Lost City at $160/15 minutes. Beer was $80 a carton and Al and Phil did not restock. I couldn’t help feeling a little nervous as their Katherine stocks had taken a severe dent the day before and I could see them running out before the houseboat had even cast off.

The last bit of road into King Ash Bay was 21kms of horrendously corrugated unsealed track. The boys in the Landcruiser shot ahead but we were reduced to an anxious 30-40km/h and arrived rattled half an hour after them to discover we had snapped a ratchet strap and lost a roller off the boat trailer…

King Ash Bay is a pretty bizarre place, a slice of communism in the wilds of the NT. The whole town is a club and what the land tenure arrangement is, I’ve got no idea. It seems like people are just squatting there. You can buy “life membership” and set up a spot but you never really own the land. Everyone has to volunteer in the shop/pub/campground and they seem happy to. Fuel, beer (no-takeaway), supplies and ice are kept cheap despite the remoteness. It has a permanent retiree population of a hundred or so but swells with grey nomads and fishermen during the peak seasons. It appeared to be the tinny capital of Australia with a veritable regatta of small craft at the ramp every day. The common language in town is fishing, specifically barramundi fishing. We had arrived after the dry season rush and there were only a few other groups in our beautiful campground perched above the McArthur River. There was a nice beach adjacent to camp and it took great mental strength to not go for a swim.

We still had a day to wait for the houseboat so Mandy, Al and I messed around in a branch of the river the next day for a mix of tropical estuary fish. The next day we were up early and used the tinnies to ferry everything out to our home for the next four days, “The Lady Carrington”. It was definitely not the luxury model and this was reflected in its modest hire price. It featured one large room with three bunks, a fold-out couch for us, kitchen and wheelhouse all jammed in. There was a little toilet/shower out the back and a bbq on the front deck. Anyway, we weren’t there for luxuries and we headed off in high spirits.

Our man Keith had suggested we head down the Johnson River or Crooked Creek arm of the system as it had been fishing well and would provide a better anchorage in the stiff sea breezes that had been prevailing. He also casually mentioned that the steering had been playing up and would require “a little drink” of oil occasionally. Keith also slyly procured a slab of mid strength somehow so the beer situation was somewhat alleviated.

Fortunately we had ye olde sea dog Phil on board

The river was incredibly sinuous (hence Crooked) and the tide vs wind demanded careful navigation. Within the hour it became apparent that the steering was completely shot and we were struggling to maintain control. There was obviously air getting into the system and you would have to turn the wheel again and again before hydraulic pressure was felt and the motor responded. Despite keeping on top of the oil, it was a pretty ridiculous trip with us yawing uncontrollably across the river and basically having to tack into the wind as the boat acted like a huge sail. We only managed to avoid a few near-groundings due to quick, decisive action all round.

The Lady Carrington in all her glory

Despite the boat it was a great trip -the woodland persisted for quite a while before the mangrove forest closed in and wildlife was abundant. Crocs were mercifully scarce and I couldn’t help but wonder if the locals had been conducting their own “management plan” free from the watchful eyes of parks Australia.

By 2pm we were negotiating the last hairpin bend and pulled into the anchorage. It was still a bit hot to go exploring so we chilled for a while before going for a look. We had parked about 3kms from the mouth of the Johnson inside a twin mangrove arm called “The Fletchers”. Now the question on everybody’s lips was “Would Al finally catch a barra?” This had become a bit of an elephant in the room as we had done several very expensive trips north in the past as well as him going up once on his own and he still hadn’t got one. The pressure was definitely on to stop him becoming “the 40 year old barra virgin” as our mate Hahn likes to call him.

The Fish Whisperer

Mandy and I checked out South Fletcher for no particular reason and the boys went into the Johnson itself. It was a pretty small creek and the tide had just started to run out. It was strangely featureless and I was at a loss of how to fish it having not seen the true structure of the creek at low tide. We found a section of collapsed bank upstream which was obviously the most significant feature in the creek so far and I immediately hooked and lost a barra. That’s a good start!

We drifted back to the mouth having a look around and came across a shallow, snaggy bank that was starting to get exposed by the dropping tide. Mullet were running the gauntlet across the shallow section into the deeper water and were getting ambushed amongst the snags. I had just got a barely-legal model that was released into the esky for dinner when Mandy made an amazing cast into some deep cover. I had just commented on her developing skills when the water around her lure exploded. She hadn’t even had a chance to turn the reel! She was so shell-shocked I had to remind her to strike and stick it to the fish before it ran into the snags. Everything that could possibly go wrong during the fight did-it ran around the electric motor leg, it ran under the boat and jumped on the other side and somehow decided not to swim into the thicket of snags right next to us. I got a net shot and scooped her trophy into the boat. It was a lovely thickset fish that would have been about 7-8 kilos and ended up being the biggest for the trip. It joined its little homie in the esky.

This fish is so big, I couldn’t hold it properly.

Just then, the dreaded cloud of sandflies descended and we beat a hasty retreat back to the boat. The others hadn’t seen a fish and we played dumb, lamenting that we hadn’t caught anything but had picked up a few crabs in the nets “which are in the esky if you want to have a look…” Haha! Fresh saltwater barra for tea was delicious and it felt great to have enjoyed immediate success. The downside was that Mandy hadn’t heeded my warnings fully and had received a pretty bad mauling from the insects.

Tom cleaning fish for dinner off the back of the houseboat

Without going into blow-by-blow details of the next three day’s fishing, I will summarise by saying we enjoyed modest but consistent success on the barra (or Carpentaria Sea Perch as I had started calling them) while they somehow continued to elude Al. I even guided him back to the upstream snags I had found, he declined to fish there and moved around the corner and I then got a 75cm fish second cast! Ouch! My ribbing was getting very unwelcome and the very real threat that he would miss out loomed large.

Thai Fisherman pants doing their thing – helping to catch dinner!

Finally, on the third morning we were drifting around a creek mouth on the run-out when Al hooked up to a nice one that did the requisite jumps and typical barra routine before succumbing. The relief was palpable around the swamp and the whole tone of the rest of the trip changed. We were all pretty fished out by now and Mandy in particular was feeling a bit flea-bitten so we lounged around and read most of the time.

Ah, the relief!

Other highlights of the houseboat were the incredibly bright full moons every night, cool sleeps, listening to Vietnamese crab fishermen on the radio and good food. Lowlights were having to listen to Phil’s dawn chorus at close range and living with the constant threat of sandflies every time the breeze dropped below 5 knots. To be fair to Phil, he did magnanimously sling a few morning turds off the boat rather than sully the toilet before Mandy needed it.

Moonrise over the water

The trip back was equally interesting as we had to push into the strong run-out tide. The coup-de-grace was running out of fuel within sight of the anchorage and nearly running aground on a rockbar before the anchor was hastily thrown out. Thankfully, Al got his Bear Grylls on and siphoned the last dregs out of the generator and transferred it into the boat which got us home. That afternoon was an arduous marathon of shuffling gear around, fixing the boat trailer and packing for the next day’s departure. After a counter meal and a few beers we could barely move and went to bed at 7:30pm!

The road south

It had been a good trip but it was awesome to get away on our own again the next day. We took the bad section of road very slowly (took 50 minutes to do 21kms…) and made it to the bitumen without incident. Went and had a look at Borroloola and thanked our lucky stars we hadn’t made it a feature of our trip. After a quick stop and chat about Delicas with another couple at Cape Crawford (they had just bought theirs in Brisbane and were driving it back to Darwin), we pointed the van south and struck out across the Barkly Tablelands for the highway. This was a pretty crazy leg – 400 kilometres of single-lane gunbarrel across one of the flattest bits of Australia I have ever seen. It was total cattle country and we crossed several famous stations including one owned by Mr Murdoch. The sky and grassland were incredible and you couldn’t help but think that we were going between two roadhouses over a distance that is bigger than a lot of countries.

We had intended to stay at one of two free campsites but they were pretty desolate and reeked of backpacker murderers so we pressed on to the Barkly Homestead and dropped 20 bucks on a site which was well worth it. At one of the sites along the way we came across one of those psycho Japanese cyclists who had run out of water! It was ridiculously hot and he was 150kms from the last water. What was he thinking! We gave him as much as he wanted and wished him well-he had come from Melbourne over four months and was en route to Darwin, Perth, Adelaide and back to Melbourne. Pretty bad seasonal planning, don’t know whether he put much though into that.

I don’t know why we didn’t camp here. How’s the serenity!

The next morning while I was doing my usual safety checks I found we had snapped the winch strap on the bloody boat trailer! Thankfully, we were running so many other safety devices it didn’t really matter so I rigged something up and we headed east. Crossed the border around 12 and had lunch in the iconic but desolate Camooweal. We were in no rush to get to the Isa so decided to stay the night 50kms west in a roadside campsite. It was actually idyllic and we had a great time painting, playing guitar and cooking as the afternoon light turned soft and the sun burnt out through the stunted eucalypts.

The good life, need we say more?

The next day we trundled into Mt Isa and met up with our buddy Shane who works in the mines here. As luck would have it he had the day off so we dropped the boat at the caravan park and went and had lunch and a few beers on the shores of scenic Lake Moondarra. We even had a group watercolour session! Shane wanted to drop his motorbike back at camp so we got a bit of a tour of what life in the mine is like. Without denigrating it, I’ll just say I won’t be signing up anytime soon.

Hanging out with Shane on Lake Moondarra

I had said weeks earlier that I wanted to get Chinese in the Isa so we hit up Red Lantern just before it closed and had a good feed. We tried to have a bender but not much was happening and Mandy has feeling a bit off colour after Shane’s enforced shots at dinner so we went back to the park where Shane insisted on sleeping in the van with us. We didn’t mind but he started drunkenly and aggressively spooning me as well as snoring in my ear so I was forced to spend most of the night sleeping in our en suite bathroom (which are a feature of most powered van sites up here).

Today is Saturday and we are going to finish updating the blog then go and watch the grand final repeat at the RSL club! So strange, we were bitching about missing it then it gets repeated… Tomorrow we again head north to the twin port towns of Karumba and Normanton.

-       Tom

Tom has gone into great detail, so I’ll just add a few of my own observations. Heading east on the Borroloola road was incredible. The almost full moon rising in front of us over the red dirt, all I wanted to do was stop and take photos. King Ash Bay was bizarre in itself, full of retirees who had made the lifestyle choice to live the fishing dream in this tiny bit of Australia. The bar does make a mighty fine chicken schnitzel with mushroom sauce though!

In the campsite next to us were two couples, the females of which had obviously been taken for a manly holiday – the men had their dirt bikes and would go off fishing all day. When the men returned, they would then trundle off to the bar. This was my first encounter with what Tom termed ‘fishing widows’. Needless to say I’m very happy to not be left on shore during the day.

Sunrise over Crooked River

Our first trip out on the Carrington River saw me catch a flathead and estuary cod (a hilarious looking fish) and Al caught a Queenie and a Barracuda. As we tucked into the flathead that night, I was rather proud to catch and eat my first fish. Little did I know that the next day I would be bringing home the bacon in spades! I can’t describe a fishing capture as well as Tom but that catching that barra was very exciting and made me rather relaxed about fishing for the rest of the trip. The houseboat also quelled any sea faring fantasies I may have held – it was full of beautiful sunrises and sunsets but I think we all had a touch of cabin fever by the end of it.

They don’t call it the build up for nothing!

Coming further south than we have been in a few months is really interesting. You notice the drier air as it dries out your  skin, nose and throat.At the time you don’t notice the intense build up humidity and yet it is rather nice to not be sweating from 8 in the morning. We are also using a blanket for the first time in months! Mt Isa is a surprisingly lovely town. There is the constant smoke from the mines in the distance but everyone we have had contact with have been helpful and friendly. Not to mention the diesel is cheap and the woolworths even cheaper after living in ‘it’s the freight mate’ Darwin.

Sunset over Lake Moondarra, Mt Isa

As Tom said, we’re probably some of the few people in the country excited to see the grandfinal for the first time today. Although I’m sure that there’s someone fishing somewhere getting the scores on the UHF radio like we were last weekend.

And now further east and then north as we get to know Queensland – The Smart State (actual quote from their numberplates).

-Miranda

Yellow Water – Ubirr – Yellow Water – Daly River – Katherine Gorge

21 September 2010

Where there;s crocs there’s barra

Well… After our last post things took a bit of an interesting turn. I might wait for Tom to fully explain but after a few hours of pointless casting Tom worked out that the best place to catch a barramundi at Yellow Waters was where there were crocs. Lots of crocs. Despite the high number of encounters of the logo-dile kind (aptly named after their ability to impersonate floating bits of wood) the bird life was amazing, everything from magpie geese to whistling ducks, jacana birds and jabiru. But at the end of another day we found ourselves on dry land with a large barramundi for dinner. I’d be lying if we said we didn’t take great delight in showing it off to the passing tour groups.

Next camp was north to Ubirr (via Jabiru, visit #3), as we had been waiting for the tides to change because Tom wanted to be able to fish both the salt and fresh water. Ubirr is an indigenous art site right next to Cahills Crossing spanning the road into Arnhem Land. The Crossing is impassable at certain times of the day due to the high saltwater tides rushing over the road. It’s about as far East as you can go without needing a special permit. We enjoyed a bit of a nature Monsoon rainforest walk in the afternoon, checked out the Border Store with the most astronomical paddle pop prices before heading up to Ubirr for the sunset, something which was highly recommended by our Kakadu guide book.

Tom at Cahills Crossing

Ubirr has a number of indigenous art galleries. It is an impressive setting and one of the galleries has a cathedral-esque atmosphere, with huge drawings of x-ray style wallabies, barramundi and other food sources. You then walk up to the top of the escarpment to look out over the floodplain below. It’s a beautiful 360 degree view with a cool breeze blowing which was welcomed after the sweaty day. With clouds on the horizon the sunset didn’t look too promising so we decided to head back to the campsite before the final touchdown. Although it did end up looking like an impressive sunset on the drive home, it was good to be halfway through cooking by the time darkness fell… let’s just say we both had our second quality mosquito mauling for the trip!

We were up at dawn to make the tide the next day heading upstream on the freshwater side of Cahills Crossing. Despite the early hour it was a enjoyable time to be up, cruising the water watching the sunrise over Arnhem Land. The river, called the East Alligator by early explorers, proved to be fairly croc-infested but fish-free and so after a few hours boating, a few waves from the tour boat groups, a hair-raising midstream canopy repair we decided to return to shore. However the tide was deemed too low to retrieve the boat and as a result we sat around on the shore in the shade for a while which is fine, when you’re on holiday with nowhere to be.

Sunrise on East Alligator River

You never know who you’ll meet on the shores of a river and Tom and I met a couple from Brisbane who invited us to crew their yacht as it sails from Darwin to Mauritius at the end of the month. While it sounds rather romantic and you would get an awesome tan, we decided that the reality would be much harsher and would take us off course as we trek around Australia.

That afternoon walked up to the escarpment of Ubirr again, staying for the full sunset experience this time. For those who haven’t been, it seems as though every tourist that visits Kakadu, has to visit Ubirr and it was much busier on the second night (but again we were happy to not to be here during the high season of Jun – August). What the tourists do when they get up to the top is interesting though, on the first night there was a French couple who decided it was a good place for a snooze and a cuddle, and there were two chicks who were decked out in their travelling wardrobe in ‘safari’ wear (knee high suede boots… not very practical). And then there was an Italian couple, with the guy in exciting colours and headwear who were part of a tour group. Not to mention the Kakadu park ranger from NZ with one leg whose job it was to make sure everyone left the rock safely… But others, they just took photos.

Perfect place to have a nap (chicks on safari in background)

The couple below were offered a platter of kabana and cheese as part of their sunset tour. We were not offered such a platter.

The sunset… finally!

The next day we needed to get a powered campsite for the night and charge up our fridge and other appliances so we booked into the Cooinda resort campground (via Jabiru visit #4). The shock of the cost of a site was a bit much but after a quick swim it all seemed worth it. We knew we were in a different place than the previous few days when we found ourselves sharing a beer with a couple of grey nomads. We tried our luck on Yellow Water for the second time where we were again the target of many photos from the tour boat – and this time we were even added to the cruise commentary!

On the way out of Kakadu the next morning the plan was to visit one of the park’s famous plunge pools but after getting to the turn off and realising that it would be 40kms of bad dirt each way we decided that it wasn’t worth it and kept driving. We were aiming to meet Phil and Al (Tom’s family friend and brother) in Pine Creek but the lack of phone reception got the better of us and we finally met up with them at the Daly River road turnoff. A quick stop at the Daly River pub (basically a shipping container with some picnic tables out the front) for a warm beer it was on to Sinclair’s Fishing Retreat.

I don’t know much about fishing but apparently the Daly River is known as the ‘Crown Jewel of the Territory’. It’s one of the biggest rivers I’ve been on, and after a hot day in the sun yesterday we came up without much to show for ourselves. It was still nice to be on the water, it was beautiful and clear in the freshwater area and slowly got murkier as we went more into the tidal influenced saltwater. Day 2 proved to be slightly better fishing and I got to add an Archer Fish to my fish catching repertoire. And the night time frog action by the laundry sinks – phenomenal!

I’d like to hand out a couple of awards for this part of the trip…

Best campsite – Muriella Park – minimal mozzies and neighbours

Best overheard comment – ‘It’s like a big yellow egg yolk dropping down’, American tourist – Ubirr Rock

Most number of frogs in the bathroom – Sinclair’s Daly River

Most impressive swift kill of a cane toad – Al, single handedly

Best idea – Buying a Delica 4WD!

-Miranda

As Mandy suggested, we got a more exciting boat ride than most of the punters at Yellow Waters. For once we actually wanted to put a fish on ice for dinner. Initially I couldn’t work out where they were but then realized they were up in the really shallow weed beds…adjacent to a pile of crocs. Immediately hooked up to two nice fish that jumped off near the boat then on the third a croc shot 50 foot across towards the boat at high speed. I locked up the gear to drag the fish in as quickly as possible, grabbed the leader and heaved it in. Unfortunately the croc couldn’t put the brakes on fast enough and thumped into the boat pretty hard. It backed off, hissed and eyed as with a cheated air. That was enough for me to pull the pin and relocate. It was frustrating knowing the fish were in one type of habitat but being a bit shook to go back there.

Croc cruising for barramundi to snaffle

We ended up steaming around until we found a similar little dead end bay full of water. The wind was in the perfect quarter and blew us along steadily into the sunset and shallowing water. Water birds were abundant and the only visible croc was about 100m away. Immediately, we started hooking barra but they were consistently getting off in the weed and when they jumped. The only fish we got to the boat were annoyingly undersize. After letting everything go for weeks it was frustrating to not be able to get one in. Finally I stayed connected and it turned out to be one of the nicest we had hooked. However, to my horror, another croc appeared out of nowhere and started charging the boat from 20 metres away. I had one shot to grab the gaff and heave the fish in. It landed on the deck with a thump and we both collapsed onto the seats. Similarly, the logo-dile parked itself out the back and looked sullen. After all those histrionics, I must stress that they were obviously only interested in the fish and they don’t really threaten boats. We are also leaving the crocodile infested waters of Kakadu now so all will be well.

Tom lands dinner while the croc (see behind his shoulder) slinks off empty handed

On the plus side, the ramp was beautiful and we were treated like conquering Australian wayfarers by the tourists boarding the evening cruise. That night we dined on garlic barramundi cutlet by torchlight with minimal bugs and all was rosy.

Memories of Ubirr are mixed. Art was incredible and I definitely felt a strong sense of tradition and culture emanating from the landscape, but the vibe was a bit ruined by all the Yanks and Frogs waxing lyrical and smoking cigarettes respectively. Talk about feeling marginalized as a tax-paying Australian citizen. You almost get the feeling around Kakadu that it should be the sole preserve of full-fee paying Euros and you are impacting on their “wilderness experience” by being there unguided and dispelling the charade that it is totally pristine and extremely dangerous.

Important sign at Ubirr. Crocs apparently have extra-sensory powers.

One of the nicest moments at Ubirr was seeing rock art from the boat on the East Alligator as we putted along in the dawn mist dodging snags and crocs. It felt incredible to just see it co-existing in the landscape without 15 interpretive “brown signs” telling you exactly what you should be feeling and thinking. Was having constant flashbacks to a series of children’s books I had which were set in the escarpment country and featured Mimis and Djinn-Djinns sneaking around in the crevices and cliff faces.

Back to Cooinda/Yellow Water and we needed a powered site to charge up. After biting the pillow and paying the exorbitant fee we relaxed around the pool and befriended John and Jenny next door who were en-route to the Master’s Games in Alice Springs. Cadged a free XXXX which was nice after being dry for a few days.

Anyway, ended up on the Daly with Phil and Al and beer consumption peaked. The Daly was incredibly beautiful but that beauty belied some pretty serious late dry season hazards. There were barely submerged logs everywhere and a swift residual freshwater current. We had to be right on top of the navigational aids and really stay alert. God knows how all the tough guys up here just steam past at 60kmh while necking tinnies. Stupidity I guess. The fishing was a bit crap and I felt terrible dredging up the only two small barra while Al went without (still a barra-virgin). Oh well, Borraloola will sort him out, or we can check out a barra farm…

Al and Phil on the Daly River. It’s always good to know you’ve good a support boat when in unfamilliar and slightly treacherous territory.

Started south and stayed the night at Katherine Gorge to do the rubberneck thing. All I can say is National Parks have gone insane in this country. What are they doing with my goddamn taxes? $30 for an unpowered site then they have the beaurocratic hubris to demand a “use fee” to put the tinny in the river for an hour! Needless to say, it didn’t get paid. Ranger Bob came over and questioned us about it on the water. He tried to get money out of us but finally gave up after a few stone-faced lies about my interpretation of the very clear sign at the ramp. No one wants to have to call a fellow human a liar to their face.

Al and Tom at Katherine Gorge. Photo from the illicit boat tour below.

Now the rig is packed and we are heading east! Very excited. Have been warned multiple times about the road to Borroloola so will be taking it very easy and doing the 500 or so kms over two days. Weather is fantastic a few hundred clicks south and spirits are high as I hit new road for the first time later today.

Corroborree Billabong – Kakadu phase 1

Humpty Doo – Corroborree Billabong – Jabiru – Kakadu

Well after waiting around Darwin an extra day for a special boat part for Tom, we were on the road. First stop (after getting slightly lost dropping something in Palmerston) was the world famous Humpty Doo pub. We had the requisite beer, overheard the news that Labor had formed a minority government and headed on to our first camp at Corroborree Billabong.

Tom being Tom meant that we were off for a sunset cruise in the tinny. My first wild encounter with a croc was up close and personal – there was a freshwater croc sunning itself on the boat ramp! Nothing to be afraid of, it was only a little ‘un. The big ones were out in force once we hit the billabong. It was a beautiful billabong, full of waterlilies, maleleucas and the ever-present danger of extra large crocs. We even saw a buffalo come down for a drink (I didn’t know that this was such a rare event and my camera wasn’t ready..) and while we hoped the large croc skulking nearby would attack it, as per the nature docos, this wasn’t to be.

We pulled the pin as darkness fell, only to be met at the ramp by the most amount of insects that I’ve ever encountered. Dinner was hastily prepared (leftover barra curry thanks to Tom’s last efforts off Dinah Beach in Darwin) and eaten in the tent to escape the mozzies. Bedtime came at about 7.30pm…

The next day was spent on the billabong cruising for saratoga and barra. Despite the wonderful weedless scumfrogs which skipped across the lilies, my lure remained fishless and we returned to shore in the early arvo.  After a quick swim down at Corroborree Park, I jibbed the van like it was going out of style and re-tubbed our belongings, packed the lockers and rigged up a mosquito net for later. Another sunset cruise proved fruitful fishing for Tom but again I came up sans fish.

Tom headed out early the next day for the most productive session of saratoga fishing yet, whereas I stayed behind in the van. We packed up camp and headed out to Kakadu in the middle of the day (Note: I had sweated more after these few days than I have in my entire life, it is hot, humid and sweaty). We stayed near Jabiru that night at Malabanjbanjdju in a bush campsite and got up early and rode our bikes around the walking track nearby (thank you to everyone who suggested that we take bikes, they have already proved their worth- and they fit so neatly in our trailer… I mean boat). After the couple of days in the sun, we laid low and just hung out reading books, hiding in our mosquito/ fly net and sweated out the day.

On Saturday the Mahbilil festival was on in Jabiru. This featured a magpie goose cooking competition, local footy, music and dance. It was great to see what groups from the local area could do and the footy on the oval was an absolute highlight. I also finally saw Goose Lagoon, a Darwin Festival show and caught up with Bec and Bec’s Mum.

Outback Tom…

Outback Mandy… Why wouldn’t you be here?

We headed out to Muriella Park on Sunday, via the spectacular Noarlangie rock with an amazing shelter and paintings by the local Indigenous population. Avoiding the tour groups, we mostly had the site to ourselves. It certainly has paid to arrive 2 weeks after most of the tourist season has finished. We went out on Djarradjin Billabong yesterday, Tom catching many, many fish to my dismay until I finally hooked a barra as we were trolling back to the boat ramp. After a hair raising boat retrieval where the Delica proved itself more than capable (croc danger signs everywhere) it was back to camp for a beautiful night with a bright, bright moon.

I write this as we are again waiting out the middle of the day at Cooinda Lodge, surrounded by French tour groups before we go for a cruise on Yellow Waters. Some people have to pay $65 for the privellege… others just do it in their own tinny!

Coming up… Ubirr, Victoria River, Katherine Gorge

• - Miranda

Mandy has covered most of the detail so I will just add a few personal vignettes. The bug attack at Corroboree on the first night was insane – and I am a man who has spent more time than most in mangroves, swamps and other bug-infested regions. The cavalry were mosquitoes but the infantry was a veritable horde of small brown beetles the size of a matchhead that flew, kamikaze-like, directly into every light source. This made wearing headtorches a very hazardous activity. There were also moths, crickets, midges, beetles, crickets and ants adding to the throng. We both lost about a litre of blood and for a few minutes I was about to involuntarily recreate the scene from “Platoon” where the young private hurls himself into the mud and claws maniacally at his kit before being slapped back into reality by the Sergeant (“pull yourself together Private!”).

I lit a few small decoy fires and watched with perverse delight as wave after wave of insects hurled themselves onto the pyre with fanatical zeal. I am still getting over the rash of bites that were sustained in a short but brutal hour that night…

The night at Jabiru was great fun. We had our bikes out and just rode around digging the scene. They had free bush-ticker going and we tried Magpie Goose and Buffalo. Goose was delicious but the buffalo was pretty crudely cooked and served. Watching the footy was fantastic. The oval had the escarpment in the background and was surrounded by large trees that were full of roosting flying foxes. The kids had amazing skills for their age and it is not hard to see why the recruits keep a keen eye on the Arnhem Land league. Never saw so many dummy-sells and handballs to oneself in a single quarter-quintessential Indigenous footy!

Mandy mentioned the harrowing boat retrieval at Muirella Park. Well, if it was scary for her, imagine being in the driver’s seat. It was a moderately steep formed dirt ramp but nothing too crazy. I thought it would only be a 4wd option if absolutely necessary, however, it turned out to be a little bit looser and steeper than anticipated. Had to have about 5 stabs at it in low-range as we skidded and slipped around the ramp. There was a pronounced “knuckle” at the top of the ramp and the feeling of relief I felt as the front tyres crested it will be hard to top for a while (until I attempt something equally dodgy). Anyway, full marks to the car and good to see what it is capable of.

The billabong was amazing and atypical of the others in the region. Completely devoid of lilies, it was typified by a series of discharge creeks coming in from the east that had deposited huge amounts of beautiful, clean white sand at their mouths. The other side was marked by tangles of snags that had been shot across the waterbody and lodged there by the same creeks. Within 20 minutes I had caught the “Billabong Grandslam” of a barra, Saratoga and Archer Fish. Mandy was having a little trouble with the heavy cover so I stopped fishing and, after dropping a few and missing a few hits, we got her a tidy fish to finish the day.

All is going amazingly well. Only complaint is a pretty serious heat rash I have developed which is curtailing daytime activities significantly. Apparently there is no treatment other than hanging out in air-conditioning which is not really an option at the moment. Hope I adapt soon!

- Tom

Welcome to Hotel Delica…

6 September 2010

After months of anticipation and a sticky period of preparation in Darwin, we are poised to hit the road tomorrow and head east. Last minute purchases have included Thai fisherman pants (never thought I’d see the day…) and an arsenal of tins, pastes and staples. I have my doubts that the van will even be able to hit fifty under the weight of our combined effects but I guess we’ll see tomorrow.

The drive up was crazy and boring at the same time. Headed out at 4:00pm on the 7th of August and spent the night catching up with the homies in the mid-north and capping a few bunnies for old time’s sake. Thanks to Cow and Catherine for the feed and bed. Oddly, the rig was covered in several millimetres of frost in the morning which seemed bizarre as I prepared to plunge into the interior. Michael Casey and Ryan met me for lunch at Pimba which was nice (they were working at Roxby). Had to trim the speed back as anything over 100 was smashing the juice which added a few hours a day. That night at Cadney Park and the next at Tennant Creek. Nothing of note to mention-ate a lot of metwurst and revisited a lot of punk rock to keep me alert. Tennant Creek north is always a nice drive as the country changes from the Barkly Downs (which looked amazing after good rains) to savannah. Around 11am I stopped for a piss, suddenly noticed I was uncomfortably hot and threw off my hoody and jeans like an escaped mental patient shedding a straightjacket. Before long I saw the first termite mound and then, around Katherine, the first pandanus. Finally I pulled into Darwin and was elated to see Mandy who had a great dinner and cold beer waiting. But I digress….

The build-up has started early and the humidity has seen multiple daily underwear changes an absolute necessity (At least for Mandy-I stopped wearing them weeks ago).  The change in season was quite stark. One day it was like November in Adelaide (32 and clear) the next my little toe was about to drop off from tinea and 6 months worth of dessicated flying fox shit was running down the outside wall creating interesting fan-shaped deltas.

The Festival was a resounding success and it was a great event to be involved with even if all I was doing was slinging tinnies and snapping at itinerant European workmates. Highlights for me were the Chooky Dancers (a young Aboriginal dance troupe from Elcho Island) and Tex Perkin’s Johnny Cash Tribute show.

Had some good little fishing jaunts in the harbour as well as a day trip out to Corroboree Billabong. Was pleasantly surprised at the fishing considering the abject failure I have sometimes encountered during NT missions. Getting Mandy onto her first Barramundi on her first trip out (third cast…..) was pretty mind-blowing. I hope it will turn her into a rampant “barrajuana” fiend prepared to spend 12 hours at a stretch in the swamp risking anaemia at the hands (proboscises?) of the local insect population.

- Tom

Having spent the past three months living and working in Darwin for the Festival it’s a little sad that I peel myself off the couch and head on out of town. It’s been real fun from nights spent at the Ski Club with Mags and Casey, to finding the best yoga teacher and Sunday mornings discovering how good a locally grown banana tastes at the Rapid Creek Markets (really, really good).

After a short jaunt back to Adelaide in late July and being reminded what winter felt like, it was all systems go for the Festival. Casey left and Tom arrived safe and sound after the long haul from Adelaide just in the nick of time.

I have to say that it is an amazing Festival, pulled together by a small but willing group of people (you know who you are). I won’t go into all the details of the program but highlights included Dunganda Street Sounds as they stormed the stage at the Opening Night Concert, the blues tunes of Christa and Dick Hughes, electrifying energy of The Chooky Dancers in Wrong Skin (so much so I had to see it twice), the raw truth of Head Full of Love and Tex Perkins as Johnny Cash. After 18 days of full on work and play and visits by Brett, Sal, Danny, Dad, Tom Hahn and a brief appearance by Shane aka Mav I was well and truly worn out.

Fast forward a week with goodbyes a plenty, the wrap party where we rocked out with our crocs out and a spot of barra catching and it’s time to head out of town. Darwin has been more enjoyable than I could have imagined; I learnt a lot, I laughed a lot and I drank a lot of Pure Blonde. It’s time for the start of a new chapter in our adventures.

See ya later Coconut Grove, and hello to Corroboree Billabong, Shady Camp, Jabiru, Kakadu and more!

-Miranda