Despite our idyllic surroundings at Fishery Falls, we did not sit on our proverbials. The Devils (sic) Pool at nearby Babinda beckoned and we were ready to answer the call. In some respects we wish we hadn't.
But first, some background. The Devils Pool forms part of the Babinda Creek at a section where it flows over large granite boulders. According to aboriginal legend, a local lass, who was betrothed to a tribal elder, met and fell in love with a young warrior from a neighbouring tribe. To escape the arranged marriage this couple ran away together but were caught by the less than impressed prospective groom and his mates. As she was being escorted back to her own lands, the runaway bride wriggled free and threw herself into the Babinda Creek. As she disappeared in the torrent, the large boulders which form the Devils Pond were thrown up to mark the spot where she perished.
And let me tell you, it remains a lethal stretch of the watercourse to this day.
Mind you, why such notices are necessary, when one looks at survival prospects in the stream below, is anyone's guess, but as this memorial to poor old Pat McGann so poignantly demonstrates, there have been those who have taken the plunge, either accidentally or deliberately.
The access path to the Pond area begins in the most delightful park where visitors are provided with a range of picnic facilities, toilets and changing rooms.
The latter might seem a bit odd, given the history of the area, but there are actually safe swimming pools upstream of the park.
Obviously swimming was not on our agenda, so it was off down the designated path to the Pond
where the rain forest threw up yet another oddity of nature. How the trunk of this tree managed to achieve this woody imitation of a large python is anyone's guess.
And so on we wandered until we came to the first of the series of rocky chutes and rapids where the calm and inviting waters of the Babinda Creek upstream undergo a real personality change,
one which is viewed from the safety of a viewing platform high above the course of the creek. From this point upstream of the platform,
one which is viewed from the safety of a viewing platform high above the course of the creek. From this point upstream of the platform,
the torrent sweeps over the rocks directly below it
to disappear into the narrow rocky chute just downstream. And bear in mind this is low, dry season water. I would just love to be here when the creek is in spate as it drains the tropical downpours off the slopes of Mount Bartle Frere where it has its origins.
An admission....this is actually not the 'Devils Pond', merely its rocky precursor. The Pond itself is located some half a kilometre further along the track. Notwithstanding the fact that I was, and remain, determined not to let the ravages of shingles slow me down too much, on this particular day I capitulated at this point. In fact it was Liz who suggested I had probably had enough...she was diagnostically correct as usual and we took the decision to make a day trip of the Pond from Kurrimine Beach.
As they say, a plan is merely a blue print for change, and change this one we did. I didn't notice it at first for some strange reason, probably because I was not driving this day and my view through the windscreen was not what I have been used to, but halfway back to Fishery Falls I saw it, or more to the point, saw where it wasn't. Our UHF radio aerial, which I am sure you will recall has imposed itself on a number of photos taken on the move from the passenger's seat, was no longer there. Some @#*&#*% had snapped it off at the base whilst we had been taking in the sights. My understandable outrage was only tempered by the fact that we had both the kayak and fishing rods on the roof racks and that they had remained unscathed.
When we raised the matter with John, the park hand at Fishery Falls, he merely nodded sympathetically and told us that the park at the Devils Pond is notorious for this type of thing. Apparently the local brothers retain an unrequited envy for what they consider to be the tourists' trappings of luxury and frequently vent their ludicrous spleen accordingly. Bastards! What amazes me is that Babinda is not a wealthy town. To discourage tourists by failing to curb this nonsense strikes me as sheer stupidity. We, for one, cancelled our plans to return.
But then there was the upside to this whole sorry saga. John, who lives in his very large bus, asked if we would like a replacement aerial. He had recently bought a very long one which came complete as a set with a second, a stubby little offering which was of no use to him. We checked, and the fitting was compatible. On it went with our sincere thanks. And, to my real surprise and delight, this tiny version of our former stick worked a treat on the highway, where all we really need is to be able to talk to any truckies steaming up behind us. In fact, I have decided an inability to pick up much of the drivel broadcast far and wide by many on our highway contact channel will be a bonus.
So, after a stay of varying fortunes, we farwelled Fishery Falls on 1st August and took what is by now, the very familiar route back through Innisfail and Mourilyan to Kurrimine Beach, where our old site 12, a stay for a month, and the neighbours from hell awaited us.
More of this, and the social life of KB after my return in a week or so after spending a few pre-embarkation days with Stu in Sydney .
An admission....this is actually not the 'Devils Pond', merely its rocky precursor. The Pond itself is located some half a kilometre further along the track. Notwithstanding the fact that I was, and remain, determined not to let the ravages of shingles slow me down too much, on this particular day I capitulated at this point. In fact it was Liz who suggested I had probably had enough...she was diagnostically correct as usual and we took the decision to make a day trip of the Pond from Kurrimine Beach.
As they say, a plan is merely a blue print for change, and change this one we did. I didn't notice it at first for some strange reason, probably because I was not driving this day and my view through the windscreen was not what I have been used to, but halfway back to Fishery Falls I saw it, or more to the point, saw where it wasn't. Our UHF radio aerial, which I am sure you will recall has imposed itself on a number of photos taken on the move from the passenger's seat, was no longer there. Some @#*&#*% had snapped it off at the base whilst we had been taking in the sights. My understandable outrage was only tempered by the fact that we had both the kayak and fishing rods on the roof racks and that they had remained unscathed.
When we raised the matter with John, the park hand at Fishery Falls, he merely nodded sympathetically and told us that the park at the Devils Pond is notorious for this type of thing. Apparently the local brothers retain an unrequited envy for what they consider to be the tourists' trappings of luxury and frequently vent their ludicrous spleen accordingly. Bastards! What amazes me is that Babinda is not a wealthy town. To discourage tourists by failing to curb this nonsense strikes me as sheer stupidity. We, for one, cancelled our plans to return.
But then there was the upside to this whole sorry saga. John, who lives in his very large bus, asked if we would like a replacement aerial. He had recently bought a very long one which came complete as a set with a second, a stubby little offering which was of no use to him. We checked, and the fitting was compatible. On it went with our sincere thanks. And, to my real surprise and delight, this tiny version of our former stick worked a treat on the highway, where all we really need is to be able to talk to any truckies steaming up behind us. In fact, I have decided an inability to pick up much of the drivel broadcast far and wide by many on our highway contact channel will be a bonus.
So, after a stay of varying fortunes, we farwelled Fishery Falls on 1st August and took what is by now, the very familiar route back through Innisfail and Mourilyan to Kurrimine Beach, where our old site 12, a stay for a month, and the neighbours from hell awaited us.
More of this, and the social life of KB after my return in a week or so after spending a few pre-embarkation days with Stu in Sydney .
No comments:
Post a Comment