KURRIMINE BEACH (JUNE 2013)

I know, I know.....no blogging whilst we are at KB.  At least give me credit for resiting for the two and a half weeks we have been here so far.  But enough is enough.  Time for a quick (and I mean quick) update.

As I alluded to in my last post, the town of KB seems to have been enveloped in a time warp since we were last here.  A few new houses have gone up and a few more are now showing the benefits of the insurance payments post Yasi, but by and large we have returned to a spot where all is as we remembered it.  And the town is still for sale!  Even the pub.

  

Our stay here this year has, so far, been little more than a series of social events.  Primary amongst these have been 'happy hour', that standard afternoon activity in most parks, but here, to date, they have been very well attended.

On many afternoons almost the entire population of our side of the park has been gathering at whatever site happened to be vacant.  As a result of a joke with our friends the Vogts, when I wandered into their annex and rang the brass bell I have been carrying with us for just such an occasion (to summon them to drinks), it has now become a camp tradition that I ring in happy hour each afternoon.   I have to say that some of the newcomers have been a little taken aback at first, but it is amazing how quickly most have joined in.  Indeed, a number of couples who have travelled extensively have commented on what a very welcoming park this is.

Even the weather gods have smiled on our festivities.

And, true to form, those who run the park have been playing their part in maintaining social bonhomie among their patrons.  Wednesday morning scones are on again in the camp kitchen, and on Saturday last the staff threw on a free (basic) BBQ followed by the traditional karaoke session.





And, also true to her KB form, our Liz was one of the star turns of the evening, and was the

subsequent subject of some very favourable comment.  She can actually sing a bit!  Consistent with another camp tradition, our host Tracey ended the evening with a rendition of 'My Way', as only she can!

Another feature of this stay in KB has been Sunday evening meals at the local Motel.  I cannot for the life of me fathom how they do it, but this august establishment provides a three course BBQ buffet for the princely sum of $10 per head.  Needless to say, bookings are essential and the house is always crowded.

I must admit I suspected that the offerings may have been somewhat paltry for the price, but not so.  Soup, sausages, steak, patties, simple but very good salads, stews, potato bake, veggie patties and a fine apple crumble and ice-cream all serve (?) to blunt the most ferocious appetite (and some of the locals certainly have an appetite...and a strange understanding of the purpose of a queue).  Needless to say, we have descended on this food hall in significant numbers (after happy hour of course).

We have made a couple of trips into Innisfail, one to restock the larder and another to check out a by-pass road which we were considering as an alternative route back up onto the Tableland when we move on next week. 

As this example shows (mowing the grass takes on a different style in FNQ), we have decided that any distance saved is not worth the towing hassle this back road presents

 

and therefore our current plan is to revisit the Tableland via the Palmerston Highway which is challenging in parts, but remains by far the easiest route from here to Mareeba, our next port of call.

 

We have booked into Mareeba for two nights at this stage, during which time we intend to visit the nearby Granite Gorge and a couple of 'interesting' local distilleries before making our way further north to Cooktown where we are planning to spend a week.  We have had very differing personal reports about Cooktown from a number of our fellow travellers.  I strongly suspect that it is a place which presents much for those with an historical bent, and very little for those seeking more spectacular forms of travelling stimulation.  Time will tell.  I am also hoping to do a fishing charter in the time we are in Cooktown, but this will depend largely on the wind conditions, which, unfortunately at this time of the year, are generally pretty fierce on the northern Cape. 

 

And speaking of fishing, we are not (talking too much about it that is)!  My sorties to date along the KB beachfront, river mouth and river flats have been little more than very long walks.  Mind you I have learnt a great deal more about local conditions in the past couple of weeks and did manage to hook a sicklefish, the identification of which presented a challenge to even the local pundits.  Fortunately there is a very good fish identification book kept in the park office into which I was diving headlong as this unknown piscatorial offering was sizzling away on JV's BBQ plate (along with a couple of trevally about which we were considerably more confident).  Needless to say, my first port of call was the section which identified those species which are poisonous!  As it transpired, sicklefish, otherwise known in these parts as 'butterfish', are "esteemed for their table quality".  And so it proved to be....delicious.  Have I been able to catch another?  Not on your nellie.  I hope there is not too much complacency in the sicklefish community of KB...we shall be back for another month. 

 

Once we leave Cooktown, our plans include an overnight stay at the famous (notorious?) nearby Lions Den Hotel, and thence to Mossman which we'll use as a base from which to visit the Daintree and the surrounds, including Port Douglas, which is the only town in the Cairns area we really liked on our last trip to these parts some eight years ago.  From there it will be back to KB for August. 

 

Stay tuned....more travel tales in a week or so.

 

  

 

WET WEATHER AND THE CRYSTAL CAVES (5-9 JUNE 2013)

I have yet to find a caravanning magazine which shows long suffering campers huddled beneath their awnings, staring mournfully out at the sheeting rain, when life degenerates into a constant round of checking for leaks and making sure your annex floor slab does not flood, or, when it does, everything is up off the ground (especially the freezers).   

  

(you can see the water pouring off the end of the awning roller...I set it on an angle for just this purpose)
 

And when the wind is a screaming banshee, no amount of checking guy ropes and pegs, awning rafters and anti-flap stays brings peace of mind. Flapping canvas and creaking stays do nothing to induce those feelings of blissful mental indolence universally portrayed as the constant companion of all who spend their lives on the road.  And absolutely no amount of mental rationale can ever really overcome those nagging night-time doubts when the elements are on a rampage and the volume on the TV is at its highest to be able to hear it over the rain .....I'm sure that tie down strap is tight enough...what's that new noise?  Bugger, better go out and check.  Or, alternatively...no, we need a new awning...let it shred and we'll claim it on insurance (naughty)!

 

So what does one do when a long walk or a paddle or reading in the sun are all out of the question? 

(there is actually a line of hills behind the tree-line)

Apart from the obvious...raid the bar...wet weather does provide other opportunities.  These are the times to get into the galley, cook up a storm (deliberate!) and fill the freezer with meal packs (until it is time to raid the bar!)

 

  

Bill paying, trip planning (I have now worked out it will take us about 40 days to reach Fremantle from Kurrimine Beach....without killing ourselves in the process, that is, and allowing time for such things as photographing Mark D's plaque in the Tennant Creek Police Club), spring cleaning (it's amazing just how grubby the inside of the van can look on a wet day) and finally finishing that book which has sat on the bedside table for the past week, are all alternatives. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But, best of all, it can be time to party.  At Lake Tinaroo we did our bit, starting with Rhonda's birthday, when we finally graced the interior of the Tolga pub for a celebratory lunch, 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and later boxed on with birthday cake and bubbles. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another inevitable result of crappy weather is the awakening of the 'silly section' of the brain.  I was disappointed to find that JV did not consider an invitation to an evening meal of Marshie's highly prized tuna pasta (still going strong, David W..great recipe) warranted dressing for the occasion.  At least one of us maintained a sense of style!

 

 

 

(I was a touch concerned that John was laughing so hard he was about to induce a hernia!)

 

It was indeed a fine evening, notwithstanding the fact that the drying clothes in the  

background created an atmosphere akin to dining in a Chinese laundry.

This was also the evening of the feathered visitor.  I know have previously fleetingly referred to that menace of night time peace and quiet, the Stone -Curlew.  This is the only known member of the bird family which can unnervingly imitate the sound of a screaming baby, at a volume which has to heard to be believed.  Fortunately we had experienced this phenomenon on Magnetic Island, and knew what was going on, unlike a couple of our less worldly  fellow campers at Lake Tinaroo who later in conversation reported flying out of their van on a mission of rescue with the first salvo. 

We had seen curlews on our travels around Lake Tinaroo
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

but were unaware of just how many of them make the caravan park their home, until the evening cacophony began. 

And, of course, there is nothing like proving who owns the park. This cheeky devil had actually come right up to our slab as we were enjoying post dinner drinks.  I stupidly threw it a piece of left-over pasta.....he was onto it like a seagull onto a sick prawn, and remained on station until we had to shoo it away.  I am sure it was merely coincidental, but we did receive an especially fine chorus later than night.


Catching up with those otherwise 'put off' jobs provides another useful way of spending a wet day.  In this case, it was a trip to Cairns to have one of our large mirrors repaired.  The folding mechanism had failed, a result, we suspect, of someone having knocked it.  Our man Jason at TJM, the local Clearview dealer, could not have been more helpful.  And our trip down the mountains through Gordonvale and later the return up through Karanda more than proved the  wisdom Hen's advice to take the Palmerston Highway to Atherton, no other. 

Jason very kindly drove us from the industrial area into Cairns central where we had a couple of hours wandering about in a nostalgic frame of mind.  We had flown up for a week in the sun some eight years ago.  Why we were surprised about wet weather on this trip is a matter of memory loss, I suspect.  We had one day on that previous visit when the sun actually shone from dawn till dusk. 

What a surprise the walk along the Esplanade presented.  As we looked back towards the marina, we realized that someone had stolen our yacht.  But at least it presented a photo opportunity.

Many of you may recognise this monster as 'Octopus', the plaything of Paul Allen, the co-founder of Microsoft . It is  big.  As the fifth largest privately owned yacht in the world, this leviathan of the seas stretches for over 125 metres along the dock, caries a permanent crew of nearly 60 and has a cruising range of 8,000 nautical miles at 17 knots.  Mind you, that trip will empty the fuel tanks of the 850,000 litres they can hold.  The purchase price of $200 million is just the start.  Then add the toys...7 tenders, the largest of which is 20 metres, two submarines, one of which can accommodate 10 crew for two weeks below the surface, jet skis housed in starboard and port side lockers (whole sections of the hull just drop down), and of, course, not just one helicopter, but two.



 

The larger of the two, pictured here on the aft helipad, had been winding up as I was watching. What an opportunity, I thought, to show it lifting off.  After twenty five minutes of increasing frustration I realized that the pilot must have been doing run up testing of some sort only. 

Before we leave Octopus and re-join the real world of mere mortals, consider that this trinket costs over $20 million per year to maintain, and that does not include crew salaries.  And believe it or not, Allen owns another yacht, 'Tatoosh', one of similarly obscene size and expense.  Just as well his wealth is estimated at $15 billion.  I should have been born a nerd!

Back to Atherton and the Crystal Caves.  As you would expect, my innate scepticism and dislike of commercialism held me back for a while, but, as with the emu eggs in St George, my curiosity finally won out, despite the awful advertising material in the main street and the equally gauche shop front.

Before going any further, I must ask, how many of you can truthfully say you have heard of a 'geode', let alone know what it is?  Come on, truthfully, I said!  I confess to having had no idea.  In brief, and in real lay terms, a geode is a hollow rock which contains crystals.  The most common formed when air was trapped as a bubble in hot, volcanic rock in the days of yore.  As rain fell on the surface of these pockets, minerals leaching into the empty centre formed crystals, which, millions of years later, can be discovered when the rocks are split open. 

With extraordinary results, as became clear in the Crystal Caves of Atherton.  Beyond the entry shop area, where, as you would expect, there are myriads of baubles of vastly varying quality and price for sale, and, after paying the entrance fee of $17.50 and being equipped with a hard hat (very necessary), one enters the man made labyrinth of the caves.

What a wonder-world.  Crystal formations of all sorts are set into the walls and ceiling of the cave.  I have included but a few to give some impression.

Relatively wide passageways like this one snaked up and down to reveal a number 

of different grottos, all of which contained displays of different styles.  In this, which is obviously kept relatively dark, the crystals are all luminescent.







I have to profess to having nothing but the most rudimentary knowledge of rocks and crystals, and I spent my time 'being impressed' rather than studying the exhibits in detail.  And impressive it is.

At every turn there was something new.

Largish cut geodes, like this of amethyst, from Brazil,

rubbed shoulders with crystal displays, some in cases like this

and others free standing.

And then there were the fossils, such as this example of the many on show, these purportedly 300 million years old. (one would hope that this display is so public that the representations made are true).

Amidst this plethora of varying exhibits were some real oddities, like this (real) crystal ball, for example.  It was in spots like this I thought things were becoming a little 'side-showish', but the undoubted real star of this place is............

'The Empress of Uruguay'

 

This enormous amethyst crystal geode, the largest found in the world to date, stands 3.5 metres high and weighs in at 2.7 tonnes.  The untold numbers of amethyst crystals which have been formed in the centre are all of 'jewellery-quality' (or so says the blurb).  Goodness only knows what it is worth.....I didn't ask.

 

The other star turn in the Caves is this extraordinary block of carved Lapis Lazuli.

 

 

It is unfortunate that the lighting set up in the Caves was such that I was unable to properly photograph the incredible detail in the carving, which depicts a Chinese scene.  Once again, the supporting information rattles on about the rarity and value of this piece, something I am in no position to challenge.  It did occur to me, however, as I looked around, that there was scant security, either human or electronic, protecting these objects of such purported value.  As I said before, I was happy to just believe what I read and remain 'impressed'.

 

And, as I also mentioned previously, this pictorial 'whistle-stop' tour of the Caves is just that.  There were literally hundreds of pieces on display.  I could not help thinking of my old mate, Nifty Nev from South Brighton, a real collector of rocks and minerals, as I wandered through.

 

Finally, with all this wet weather, how does the ship's cat manage?  Very well indeed!  Periods on skink and bird patrol (he is still yet to catch anything)

 

 

 

were liberally interspersed with necessary recovery periods, for some of which your correspondent

 

 

  

uncharacteristically weakened (but it was happy hour after all).

 

Well, this brings us to the end of our stay at Lake Tinaroo where we really did our best to ignore the lousy weather and make the most of it, but I have to confess that after fourteen days in which only two were rain free, we were happy to be leaving.  Not that the trip down to Kurrimine Beach was a stroll in the park.

 

 

Our descent from the Tableland was challenging, to say the least, when the concentration necessary to keep the rig on the straight and narrow (literally) down the steep slopes of the Palmerston Highway was exacerbated by the rain and heavy fog which was a feature of the majority of the two hour trip to the coast. 

 

I have learnt that there is always a risk in returning to place of a previous stay with set expectations, but we had no such concerns with Kurrimine Beach. It was like coming home.  We have now been here for five days, snugly settled into our old site, which we like to think is the best in the park, and have sat out another period of four days of pouring rain.  This is so much easier when surrounded by friends, old and new, and at KB we are. 

 

I've not included photos of our camp here for the simple reason that it would be a repetition of what I posted last year which is still quite accessible.  In fact, our recent sorties around the town have revealed that nothing much has changed, and frankly, that suites us fine.  The weather has now broken, John and I are fixing our fishing rigs, the kayak is off the Cruiser, I have already done 20 laps in the large park pool and happy hours to date have been a hoot.  And we have finally discarded the quilt at night!  This is what it is all about.

 

For obvious reasons, I intend to take a blogging break for a week or so.  Liz and I are booked in here for just over another fortnight after which we'll be making our way up to Cooktown and back before spending August back in Kurrimine Beach.  That will all be new territory for us, so the trusty camera will be out and my eyes will again be everywhere.  In the interim, may the fishing and weather gods smile on us for the next two weeks and the fridges keep the beer cold. 

 

 

 

 

 



 

ATHERTON AND TINAROO (2 JUNE 2013)

On that frenetic 'photography Sunday' I was determined to get as much done as possible.  The forecast for the following week was not encouraging.  This suited in that I have a theory that it is always much easier to photograph a town on a Sunday than any other purely because of reduced traffic.  Not so in Atherton...the main street was a constant stream.  I later discovered that it is commonplace for those on the coast to visit the hinterland during the weekend.

 

Mind you, in comparison to the main streets of other towns we have visited, Atherton's does not have a great deal to invite attention architecturally. This is not to say that the CBD is not entirely functional, but it is just that.  The most impressive building on the main drag is undoubtedly the Court House.

 

 

 

This is an imposing edifice, to the extent I could not get the wing of the building to the right of the shot in the photo.  I dare not venture as to what this says about Atherton! (sorry Hens...I know you have never seen the inside)

 

The lower end of the street is the venue for the local war memorial, and the roundabout leading to the road north out of the town to Mareeba.

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

This is a pretty spot from which the main street extends for something less than a kilometre in a generally westerly direction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apart from the Court House I found three of the four pubs located amongst the commercial buildings of this street to be of some interest.  They were certainly the largest of the varied buildings. The Grand Hotel (of previous mural interest) was in the classic outback style.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Atherton Hotel was decidedly, and oddly, art deco,

 

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

whilst the designer of the Barron Valley Hotel seemed to have a style bet each way.







The 'Kitsch Award' for Atherton's main street definitely goes to the piece of kit which advertises the Crystal Caves, an exhibition of some quite extraordinary geodes and crystals, which I did visit later.  To my relief, the exhibits were of significantly higher standard than the advertisement.

Leaving Atherton, one of the two roads which took us back to our park at Lake Tinaroo passes through the tiny township of Tolga.  I particularly liked Tolga which straddles the main road from Atherton to Mareeba and is virtually a satellite town of Atherton.

On its short, tree lined 'main street' can be found an array of shops which provide for just about all one could want by way of foodstuffs, including, would you believe, a take-away which stocked Vilis pies!  What a find. 

We strive to maintain a reasonably normal and healthy diet whilst on the road, one which sees pastry on the generally banned substances list, but when confronted with Vilis pies, how could I resist?  Six of these treats now lie in the Waco for those occasions when nothing but a pie will do!

Just beyond the line of trees sits the Tolga Hotel, at which we indulged in a delightful birthday lunch, but more of that later.

And just before we leave the Tolga area, we must mention The Humpy, this incredible little store which offers an array of flours, nuts, fruits, vegetables, spices, jams, relishes, sweets and ice creams which has to be seen to be believed.  But wait, there's more.....bamboo socks no less.  Ever since buying my first pairs in Winton (of all places) last year, I have become a devotee of their comfort.  They are not easy to come by, and lo and behold here they were, just as I had realised I needed a few new pairs.  Mind you, this was all we bought....the prices were through the roof!

And so, back to Lake Tinaroo, where the caravan park lies at one end of the small village of Tinaroo itself.   
 

Here, the Tinaroo Lake Resort dominates the scene. 

A mix of privately owned apartments and those available for holiday rental, this large complex affords all who live here, either permanently or for the short term,

some wonderful views over the lake and its surrounds.

Those fortunate enough to live in the cluster of private homes which makes up the rest of the village, either along the quaintly narrow streets,












or here overlooking the local park area,








are also privileged with marvellous views over the many nooks and crannies which make up the lake's edge.

Indeed it is all these small bays and inlets, the result of flooded valleys of the river catchment, which account for the fact that the edge of the lake covers a distance of over 200 kms.

As we continued our walk to the side of the village which overlooked the dam wall, we were disappointed to find that the restaurant which had previously operated here was now defunct.  If their sign was anything to go by, we would have hoped the quality of the food on offer would have matched the proprietor's sense of humour.

Now I know I have banged on about the rotten weather cards we were dealt during our stay at Lake Tinaroo, but I did manage to take advantage of one of the two sunny days on offer, to not only get some shots of the lake's edge immediately in front of the caravan park,

but finally launch the kayak.  The moment of truth.....had I bought a lemon..would it track as I had hoped...would it provide the stability needed for fishing....would it be as quick as I had been promised?





 
 





Could I still remember how to paddle properly?

Of course I could!

And is this the grin of one happy chappie?  Sure is.  I had just under an hour on the water, including a bash into some pretty nasty chop, and found that this little boat handles as well as I had been assured it would.  To my intense frustration, this was the only day I was able to get out.  From this point on the wind strength increased to the degree that the benign surface you see here became a constant  white-capped and decidedly uninviting mess.  But at least it is christened!


To come, some Lake Tinaroo social activities and my visit to the Crystal Caves.