Styles and Tribulations
Trip Start
Nov 08, 2003
1
43
74
Trip End
Oct 22, 2004
Sunshine Coast,
Australia
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
It was the morning after the day before, and that day before had been the Great Barrier Reef. We were sad to see Port Douglas disappear in the rear-view as we headed north on the last stretch of tacmacked road in Northern Queensland. 60km along the road was Cape Tribulation, our last stop-off before doing a U-turn to head the 3,500km back to Sydney.
We crossed the Daintree River via a rickety rope-towed ferry and drove through Daintree National Park, the greenest, densest forest Australia has to offer. You had to remain alert along the way as the road was pitted with all known obstacles to man including Beware Wildlife signs, rumble strips, sleeping policemen, floodways and hitch-hikers.
We arrived at Cape Trib and made our way down to the most surreal beach you're ever likely to come across
Airlie Beach from a safe distance
. Whereas a slice of scrubland leads you to your regular strip of sand (or a motorway and a row of unbuilt hotels in the Costa del Sol), this mile of beach was backed by a solid cliff-face of green rainforest and dotted along the shoreline were bushes seemingly growing with the aid of sand and not soil.After a return journey along the beach and a hike uphill to a lookout point we began our seventeen-day journey south to where it all began. But before we could just speed off we had some planning to do and it wasn't just to do with sightseeing because a certain little footy tournament was just about to get under way the following morning. So after a five-minute meeting it was decided we'd stay in Port Douglas again that evening in a luxury room with Sky TV and after a quick browse through wotif.com we secured a place at Rydges hotel for $99.
We made the most of our luxurious surroundings that evening by ordering a takeaway from the resorts very own curry house which we wolfed down while watching 'Catch Me If You Can' on satellite and a top-class eviction on Big Brother where the evictee appeared on stage for his aftershow interview and proceeded to tape over his mouth with masking tape and hold up a 'Free the Refugees' sign for the entire slot. He was protesting against a prison-like refugee camp somewhere in Australia and being half-German of all things he felt it was a topic close to his heart
Back Seat Pilot
. Top TV.We then had an early night for the early kick-off the following morning.
14/6
Our alarm went off at 4.30am
The match kicked off at 4.45am.
England led against France in the 90th minute.
Enter Zidane.
Enough said.
We managed to get a few minutes sleep between 6.30am and 10.30am but were kept awake by nightmarish visions of mocking monsieurs and taunting tricolors.
We left Port Douglas under dark clouds of both kinds and by noon it had begun to rain on our unvictorious parade south so we stopped at a very damp Ellis Beach for a comfort fry-up at a greasy spoon overlooking the sea
Bushes on a beach
.It was raining along the entire Queensland coast apparently so we weren't too sure where we were stopping tonight, we'd just have to see where the wind and rain blew us and how far we could last on two energy drinks each. The speedometer would have to be watched keenly today aswell as it was a Bank Holiday in Oz for the Queen's birthday (You don't hear them bleating about becoming a republic when there's Mondays off to be had), and along every long stretch of road was a cop with a speed gun. We arrived back in Townsville by 5pm just as the skies were clearing but we decided to press on 90km further to the town of Ayr.
It was dark as we arrived at the caravan park and as I fumbled with a power cable to plug us into the mains the fading light of my mini torch picked up something lurking by the socket. It was small, had eight legs, mostly black with a lovely red sash running down its back. Hang on . . . a spider . . . black . . . red back . . . A REDBACK!
Three inches from my clumsy left hand sat the deadliest spider in the world otherwise known as 'Certain excruciating death in a minute'. Suddenly it hit home and it was time for me to break the world long jump record
Cape Tribulation
. . . backwards. Soph was fetched to witness the menacing arachnid and confirmed my fears that it was the closest I'd come to death since our little coming together with a cow in the Red Centre.
We now couldn't wait to leave this country full of dangerous creatures for the safe haven of New Zealand where the worst you can expect is a nip from an irate sheep that's just been sheared.
15/6
Come first light we sloped out of the van to see if our little bundle of venom was still around and to take some snaps as proof but he was gone. He was probably a bit cold last night and crept through a gap in the van to keep warm bless him.
After a quick shakedown of quilts for unwanted stowaways we continued south on the Australian figure-hugging Bruce Highway to the town of Airlie Beach. We were to spend a couple of nights here as it was known as a base for exploring the dreamily titled Whitsundays, a large cluster of islands full of expensive resorts a short water-taxi ride from the mainland
Coming in to land
.Airlie Beach seemed very 'Magalluf'. Armies of backpackers wandered the streets like the waking dead in search of dollar-a-night accommodation with bellies full of Happy Meals (trademark). Open air bars, internet cafes and record shops gave the place a cheap Balearic feel and although the town had 'beach' in its title, wasted travellers nursed their hangovers around a man-made concrete lagoon that looked as though it had been a skateboard park in a previous life.
Once we had a negative feel for the place we retired to the van site to lounge under a newly-blue sky before heading inside to watch a TV we'd hired from town for $10 a night.
16/6
This morning we had another stroll around town to give ourselves a second opinion of the place but it still remained firmly Majorcan. Albeit Southern Majorcan as we don't want to be sued for a Million Pounds by Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones who apparently have a lovely holiday home in Northern Majorca and whom apparently a Million Pounds isn't a lot of money
Dinner by Candlelight
.The afternoon was warm and sunny so we spent an hour playing tennis at the caravan parks own court before cooking a late afternoon barbie and watching State of Origin II, Australia's tribal Rugby League series where Queensland born players play their New South Wales counterparts, and I'm sure that's as far as you want me to go on the matter.
17/6
We'd been here a day and a half and we'd yet to see a Whitsunday island in all its glory but this morning it was about to change. These were islands that had to be seen from the air so a few kilometres along the road at Whitsunday Airport we handed over a small fortune for a 20-minute scenic helicopter flight with HeliReef. Sometimes destitution and insolvency are small prices to pay for a few moments of never-to-be-repeated sightseeing.
We met our pilot in the dining-room sized terminal and were led out to a yellow matchbox 4-seater chopper. Soph took her seat in the back while I was ushered into the front seat with a 'Don't-touch-the-controls-sonny' look from the pilot
Port Douglas
. We then donned our headphones and lifted off at 9am and were soon heading out of the bay towards the islands when a nice crosswind hit us that juddered our little copter and made our blood run cold but thankfully that was the worst it got for the duration of the flight.We hovered over each of the islands with our pilot pointing out the nicest of them including Hamilton, South Molle, Daydream and the swish Hayman in the distance, then we buzzed over Airlie Beach town and harbour before returning to the airport. It had been yet another experience and a fine way to view the Whitsundays.
Once back on terra-firma we continued south and ended up in the town of Rockhampton, the 'beef capital' of Oz, just before dark where we checked into the Palms Motel for another early morning of torture watching England try to hang on to a lead.
That evening we ventured into town for a meal at the Hogs Breath Café famous for its large-scale steaks and we weren't disappointed. Soph had a regular one inch thick rib-eye while I super-sized mine to an inch and a half door-stop of prime cut and as steaks go it was a sight to match even the best Whitsunday island
Serena can sleep easy
. Half an hour later and our stomachs were screaming for mercy as we chewed and devoured the last mouthfuls.Back at the motel room we crashed out for an early night but our bellies were having none of it and the audible digestion process kept us awake til kick-off.
18/6
At 2am we watched the boys restore some faith against 10-man Switzerland but they were far from convincing and after five hours sleep we left the drive-thru town of Rockhampton heading for the seaside town of Hervey Bay.
400km later and suffering from Euro sleep-deprivation we pulled into an activity filled holiday park on the edge of town and just secured the last ensuite site by the skin of our teeth. Once again we hired a TV from reception as Soph can only read so many romantic novels and I can only bug Soph so much while she tries to read her romantic novels.
We then had a brief stroll along the esplanade with its row of forgettable shops and cafes before heading back to the site to snooze in the sunshine followed by an early evening barbie
Showing off my best angle at Cape Trib
.19/6
We woke to another gloriously sunny day and spent the morning having a leisurely alfresco breakfast and browse through the local papers before sauntering into town for a proper look at Hervey Bay's attractions . . . and couldn't find them. Sure it had a nice long beach but the giant sewagey-looking pipe running into the sea did it no favours. The town's main pulling-point was 5km out to sea in the shape of Fraser Island, the largest sand island in the world, whatever that meant.
Fraser Island was supposed to be very picturesque but time was standing still for no tourist and other shallower, childish attractions awaited us along the coast in Brisbane and after buying some hake for tonight's barbified dinner we headed back to the site for a late afternoon game of tennis.
20/6
We left the Coral Coast on yet another belter of a sunny day heading for the Sunshine Coast segment of the South Pacific Ocean
Some more Whitsundays
.Sounds lovely? It didn't quite live up to its billing.
The colourful-sounding town of Maroochydore rolled off the tongue like a smooth Shiraz but tasted like a stale Sarsons. The increasingly busy local highway led to a stretch of coastline packed solid with ugly holiday apartments vying shoulder-to-shoulder for a sea view and the local population seemed intent on spending a sweltering Sunday afternoon wandering around the hallowed shopping halls of Sunshine Plaza.
We left the Maroochydorians to their Maroochyified Maroochyness and went searching for Maroochydore's Woolworth's (you just can't say Maroochy enough). After raiding Woolie's fish department we headed to Bluewater Caravan Park to feed Maroochydore's (enough already) ducks followed by a barbie of Maroochy's (OK just stop it) finest prawns. Back in the wagon the night had turned rather cool and for the first time in three weeks the in-van electric heating was fired into life.
Our next sojourn would be Brisbane for some good old-fashioned enjoyment in the shape of a theme park and a zoo. Now we're cooking, turn it up . . .
GC and the Sunshine Band
xx
