TOWNSVILLE (18 - 20 JULY)

What an odd feeling having 'a holiday within a holiday' is but that is how we both felt as we boarded Fantasea to return to the mainland.  What a wonderful time we had on Maggie and what wonderful hosts we had in Jenny and Steve. 

Our return crossing could not have been more different from the first....warm weather and no rain!  Townsville took on a whole different look.

Of course, retrieving the little black beast from his incarceration was the first job on the return agenda.  True to previous form, we found Max prancing around the cattery when we arrived...lord of all he surveyed!  He is nothing if not adaptable.

Finally, the following morning, we hit the tourist trail in Townsville.  We had previously driven around the city centre on the way to and from the boat, but this time we were on foot, the only way to really see anything.

The Strand, the renowned Townsville seafront area, was our first destination.  What a wonderful strip it is.  Extending some 2.5 kms from a marvellous rock swimming pool at one end to Anzac Park at the other, The Strand provides a delightful venue for a good walk.

A short jetty midway along the strip was well populated with fishing hopefuls, one of whom had just landed a fine mackerel as we approached.  We were told that many good piscatorial captures are made from here....next time!

Apart from the rock pool, a series of swimming beaches, two of which host surf lifesaving clubs, are features of The Strand.  Mind you, there are constant reminders posted on signs all along this area warning of the dangers of various stinging jelly fish which also make these waters their home for many of the warmer months.  For us antipodeans, it was quite strange to see vinegar stations (the white barrel) at every set of steps down onto the sand. (and yes, that's Maggie in the background). 

 

I found the warning signage particularly notable.  Full descriptions of the six most toxic nasties which make these waters their summer home were complemented by broad detail relating to the signs and symptoms of stings inflicted by each, together with immediate and longer term first aid and medical treatment advisable.  As you would gather, washing with vinegar is a universal first step.

As one would expect of a venue like this, a number of restaurants, where one needs plastic or a large cheque book to avoid having to do the dishes at the end of a meal, feature along the strip.  At the other end of the culinary scale, those wishing to be somewhat more circumspect in the cost of their dining can make use of the many very well appointed BBQ areas.  Covered children's playgrounds and other areas in which to just sit and relax cater to the leisure needs of all.  Impressive.

Equally impressive is the determined manner in which this area is kept free of the usual assortment of hoons, drunks and ratbags often attracted to such places.  The local constabulary have a group of seven based in  an appropriately colourful local station.  This sergeant and six are dedicated solely to ensuring that The Strand remains crime free and inviting to all.  What a beat! 

 In common with so many beach front areas, holiday accommodation is another feature of The Strand, some old, some new,

 

with Castle Hill ever present in the background.

At the city end of The Strand our service men and women are honoured in the beautiful Anzac Park to which unfortunately my limited photographic skills and equipment do not do adequate justice.

A few short steps from here brings us to 'old' Townsville and reminders of some of the grandeur of the past.  The old Customs House

 

and the office block (which was originally a hotel of significance) on the opposite corner are two examples.

Within sight of this corner we could see another grand old building with which we discovered we had a 'travelling connection'.  We first came across the name of the trading company Burns Philp in Normanton where they operated for many years out of what remains one of the largest buildings in that small town.  And here we are, six weeks later, standing in front of what was the headquarters building of that same company.

Built in 1895, this grand edifice housed the administrative and management sections of the company for many years as it traded throughout the top end and the Torres Strait Islands.  We were somewhat dismayed to discover that it now serves as a venue for 'gentlemen's mornings' and the like...this would have to be the flashest strip joint in the country, well, in terms of its venue at least. (I can make no comment on the standard of either the interior or the presentations of its occupants).

The nearby (seemingly mandatory these days) Irish Pub is also elegantly housed,

but it was the sign over the door of its predecessor which really caught my eye. 

Unfortunately it was very difficult to capture....for those of you like me who may be struggling in the optical department, the sign reads "we're open till we're closed".  What impeccable Irish logic.   I loved it. 

The old section of the Townsville CBD is relatively small and compact. The entire city is built generally around, but sometimes on, a number of hills, the largest of which is, of course, Castle Hill.  This rock really dominates the Townsville landscape.  Unfortunately our trip to the top was undertaken on a day on which the cloud cover and rain sweeps were such that good photography from the top was a non-event. This shot attempts to capture the old and the new Townsville with Castle Hill in the background.


The Ross River, a largish stream which empties into the sea at the docks area, runs quite close to the old section of the city.  As could be expected, developers have not missed their opportunity....the city stretch boasts a boat harbour and apartments all located a stone's throw from the old section.  As with so many places, the rich of Townsville have not been denied the opportunity to descend from their penthouses and board their  'stinkies' moored conveniently below.

The main street through the old section leads directly to the main shopping and commercial precinct in which all the usual suspects can be found.  The streetscape is lush with large trees and garden plots along the centre of the road which complement wide footpaths.

Something of a far cry from Rundle Mall!

I mentioned previously that many citizens of Townsville have taken good advantage of the hills which are a feature of their city. This shot shows houses perched on that which overlooks the intersection of the old and new sections of the city and across to the Ross River boat harbour,

 
whilst this, sitting so proudly atop the cliffs backing a section of The Strand, affords the lucky owners magnificent views across the sweep of the Coral Sea out to Maggie and across to Cape Cleveland.

 
I could not move on from Townsville without one final photo.  Now, as you would probably guess, I am no fan of graffiti, but I do admire enterprise and daring.  This depiction of 'The Saint' (who will admit to being able to remember Roger Moore in the role?)  is very high up on a very steep cliff face.

We can but hope that the bold souls responsible for this art work high on the side of Castle Hill have gone on to use their undoubted skills in a more productive way.

And so, with some chagrin that our schedule, the weather and our required logistical commitments did not allow us more sightseeing time in Townsville, we prepared to move on further north in the knowledge that a return visit will see us with plenty still to experience in what we found to be a city of interesting contrasts. 

TOWNSVILLE - MAGNETIC ISLAND (11 - 18 JULY))

Culture shock!!  Laned highways, traffic lights, shopping centres, walk and don't walk signs. How easily we forget (and how willing we were to do so again).

We had arrived in Townsville, a 'big smoke', after almost six weeks of the small towns of the NSW and QLD outback (with apologies to Charters Towers where they also have traffic lights).  I must confess that I found myself somewhat out of practice when confronted by some serious traffic wheeling at close quarters down the fine freeways of Townsville (and speaking of quarters...none given or taken by the Townsville drivers as I discovered).  Back to the 'might is right' principle...always applied with crossed fingers and the hope that following drivers do understand that the "Do Not Overtake Turning Vehicle" sign means exactly what it says, especially at roundabouts, of which there are many in TV.

After driving past the seemingly endless Laverack Barracks, the home of the 2nd Battalion, Royal Australian Regiment (it is a really impressive complex), and negotiating some of Townsville's more populated main roads, we approached our destination, the Coral Coast Tourist Resort.  Now I think it is fair to say that we were somewhat disenchanted at this point to see that we were about to be ensconced slap bang in the middle of a serious industrial area.....but what a delight awaited us.

A moment or two of serious panic followed our arrival when the presence of a preceding van in the park entry lane (which is ludicrously short for the situation) meant that the rear end of ours was hanging in the breeze on a very busy road (and on a bend).  Marshie was called upon to effect a spot of serious traffic control until Liz could request forward movement (with a wonderful blend of urgent diplomacy) of our nemesis. I was grateful to have been abused by only one semi-trailer driver of the several who recognised that they would have to hit me before the tail of the van. The saying 'bleed for your team' was very much in the forefront of my mind at the time!

But once inside....what a revelation.  This park has been the result of some serious thought.  All the sites are angled off the entry roads and bounded on each side by lovely garden screens.  The end result is a park which houses travellers cheek by jowl, but at the same time leaving all with a feeling of privacy and space.  Very clever, and as is often the case, so simple.

The narrow entry road did present a certain docking challenge, but we managed without entertaining the watching crowd too much (and of course, then had the later fun of observing....discretely of course...the arrival antics of those who followed us over the next few days).  Anyone who thinks 'smug' is a character flaw has never managed to squeeze a big rig into a small space without either a red face or damage.

Once we were settled Liz commented (in a tone which could be fairly described as unenthusiastic) on the fact that our park was situated immediately adjacent to the northern boundary of the TV airport and RAAF base where S70A-9 Blackhawks, CH-47 Chinooks and other assorted helicopters were flying about all day.  Your correspondent just grinned.....helicopter heaven....what a bonus for an old chopper man!

Now I must confess to a small editorial trick.  The photos of our camp were not taken on our arrival, but, as Murphy dictates, on the day of our departure.  The sunny skies depicted had not been a feature of the previous ten days or so.  Rather, as later shots of our adventures on Magnetic Island will show, we cracked hearty under leaden overcast and periods of precipitation which ranged from heavy rain to annoying drizzle and very low cloud.

Mind you, sight-seeing was not our initial priority.  A replacement windscreen and some serious food and grog resupply were our immediate tasks.  Dan Murphy's.....bliss...a reasonable Scotch for less than $30.00 (I had previously given in on one occasion after a period of self-righteous abstinence in Normanton where the cheapest available was $50.00).  The hell with the traffic...off we go.

So, with a new windscreen and bulging caravan lockers, we did a quick tick and flick around TV before making preparations for our Maggie adventure.  And what fun that was to be.

Of course we had to do something with Max.  Some astute pre-planning by Liz saw him booked into in the nearby Herveys Range area, where he was to luxuriate for five days at the adventurously named 'Pussycat Park'. Interestingly, the near TV area abounds with catteries and doggeries (?) and despite its rather gauche name, Liz's choice of a temporary 'Maxville' proved admirable.  Max had the time of his life, and true to form, was reportedly behaving like the lord of the manor in no time flat (after the obligatory period of faux panic and disdain!) 

We did take the opportunity en route to visit the nearby Heritage Tea Rooms, an establishment nestled high in the ranges.    Built in 1865, the former Eureka Hotel is one of Australia's few remaining slab sided inns and is claimed to be North Queensland's oldest surviving building.  In its former life it provided a welcome place of respite for  those travelling to and from the area goldfields.  Now the speciality of the house is Kopi Luwak, a coffee made from the beans of berries eaten and passed by the Asian Palm Civet (and hopefully later well cleaned before roasting).  A mere $50.00 will see a cup of this exotic brew placed before you.  My only real question is...why?  Each to his own (with apologies to my old mate...eat your heart out Dalb!).  Needless to say, our indulgence at the Heritage Tea Rooms was photographic only.

With Max incarcerated it was off to Maggie (no one in the know refers to it as 'Magnetic Island') on the good ship 'Fantasea', the only vehicle carrying ferry which plies the 8 nautical mile ditch between Maggie and the mainland.  Sealink (the company which operates the Kangaroo Island ferry service) provides a number of completing vessels, but they do not (yet) cater for motor vehicles.  Given the rapacious business ethos this company has demonstrated on KI over the years, it will only be a matter of time.

Now I did mention the weather?  Hopefully these shots of our departure down the harbour channel, a stern view of TV in the retreating distance, and one of our arrival in Nelly Bay will provide an appreciation.

but nothing was going to detract from our long awaited visit.

True to his word, our host Steve Lyneham met us in Nelly Bay and guided us over the 10 kms of island road between Nelly Bay and our home for the next four days at Horseshoe Bay.  And what a home it proved to be.

'Island Crest', which is built into the side of a steep, granite boulder strewn hillside some 1.5 km from the beachfront, luxuriates over several levels all of which boast delightful 'nook and cranny' balconies offering a wonderful range of views.  The rocky hill shown here behind the house is absolutely typical of the island topography, which is spectacular.




A separate unit abuts the entrance driveway.  To our amazement this was currently occupied by one Phil Stephens, who, together with another island resident, Bernadette Smith, entertains visitors at their 'Stage Door Theatre Restaurant' in nearby Arcadia.  Sadly their "hilarious comedy cabaret dinner show" is only presented on Friday and Saturday nights and we missed out on what is apparently a wonderful night's entertainment and dinner.  At least we had the satisfaction of rubbing shoulders with the famous (including his little dog, 'Judy Garland Liza Minelli' complete with its pink dyed ears and tail and pink nail polish)  Is any further comment really necessary??

But back to our digs which I shall try to present pictorially as well as I can.  The entrance path  meanders past the pool (on the right of the shot behind the shrub screen)

and on up the stairway to the deck which separates the bedrooms and living areas.

Our assigned bedroom (there are three),walk in robe and en-suite was situated at the north-western corner of the complex

and presented us with wonderful views over to Horseshoe Bay, to the hills to the north-west. and across the water to Palm Island (of a certain Police v locals notoriety).

This, one of the several balconies which allow guests peace and quiet in all weather conditions, looks over the delightful pool area

whilst cooking, dining and socializing are all catered for in the expansive and fabulously appointed living area on the upper level.

I am somewhat embarrassed that my photographic skills do not extend to having captured the ambiance of this area entirely adequately...from the foreground lounge area the room extends back across the dining space to the kitchen beyond.  Three balcony areas abut the front and two side of this level one of which faces the rear of the house and the steep hill on which it is built.

This hillside, cluttered with granite boulders of all sizes (as is the entire island), provides the home for Island Crest's secret (and from Liz's point of view particularly..mesmerising) feature....rock wallabies.  And what was for us (and I am sure would be to any but the most hard-hearted) a super bonus, two of the furry company were completely tame.  At this point I am confronted with a significant editorial dilemma...which of the tens of photos we took to include.

Let us start with the mid-afternoon feeding time when a call or two resulted in wallabies bounding in from far and wide.  What they will do for a scattering of a handful or two of feed pellets.  The challenge presented by this shot of 'feeding time at the zoo' is to count just how many are scoffing away.  Apart from our amazement in watching the extraordinary sure-footedness of these creatures as they made their way up and down the hillside, we were constantly taken back by the natural camouflage their colouring provided them. 



Apart from their afternoon treat, these little chaps were well able to fend for themselves in the food stakes.  Never let it be said that wallabies are less than creative when it comes to managing a munch (even palm leaves are on the menu...and what a fine venue the roof makes...food and a view!)




The Island Crest mob had obviously been 'well at it'.  Joeys abounded (that's almost another pun I suspect...indulge your correspondent a little, please) both in

and out of the pouch.

 

As well as the genuine delight we both had watching the antics of the mob, the real highlight was provided by 'Nay-Nay' and 'Lotty', both of which had elevated food scrounging to an art form.  They were the most cheeky little things, with a boldness which stemmed from having been hand reared, and we soon became convinced that their stomachs were bottomless pits.  In fact, we had to exercise real constraint to ensure that we did not over-indulge them.

How could one possibly resist Nay-Nay

or the 'terrible twins'.

Liz certainly couldn't!




















And just when we thought it safe to walk around the decks without fear of a wallaby ambush, up popped the competition!  A very pregnant and very bold little possum no less.









This cheeky little miss even had the temerity to jump up on one of the dining room chairs whilst we were eating with a very 'come on you two, what about my tea' look on its face.  Needless to say a short , sharp lesson in possum manners resulted......but its retreat to the deck was rewarded with a smorgasbord of healthy veggie nibbles.  Possums can eat at the rate of knots when pressed!




You must all be thinking by now that the Marshies did nothing on Maggie but play with and feed the wildlife.   Not so.  After our initial arrival at Island Crest and managing the priority task of plugging the Waco into power, it was off to the Horseshoe Bay foreshore where we were joined by Steve's charming wife Jenny.  After a delightful lunch, a bit chat and introduction to some of the locals, we retired to our digs to unpack and settle in.

A wonderful trip around the island with our tour guide Steve saw us through to Sunday afternoon.  This really is the island of bays.  Most are accessible by road but a group on the northern shore  (Five Beach Bay) are only accessible by boat.  As we discovered, each has its own 'personality' and points of interest. For example,  Arthur Bay, a smallish by on the north-eastern side of the island boasts one solitary house which was built before local restrictions on construction in that area were introduced.

The roof of the house (read mansion...current value...$7 Million give or take) can just be seen nestling in the trees at the edge of the bay.  Access to this hideaway, and Radical and Balding Bays further around the north-eastern coast, is gained via a narrow, winding road which features many significant washout pot holes of varying degrees of difficulty.  It transpires that whilst this remains a public access road, its upkeep is the subject of some local disagreement between the owners of a major landholding at Radical Bay (the thoroughfare's final destination) and the National Parks folk (much of area traversed by this road is National Park).  A seriously deteriorating road surface is the upshot of this standoff.  In fact, the next wet season could well reduce it to a 4x4 adventure track.

Interestingly, the Arthur Bay house is apparently used quite often by the seriously rich and famous (film and rock stars) to gain respite from the press and their otherwise often tawdry worlds.  Liz and I were devastated that none popped out to greet our passing.

The Radical Bay road leaves the one main road which crosses the island from north to south at a spot some 2 kms from Horseshoe Bay (nothing is very far from anything on Maggie).  This is also the starting point of the 'Forts' walk, one of a number of walking trails to be found on Maggie.  Mind you, to describe this track as a 'walking' trail, is to ascribe a new meaning to the word.  But what an experience awaits the adventurous.








The initial sections of the trail very cunningly lull one into a false sense of security.  I mean, just how hard is this?? (note the rock formation at the top of the photo...these are a real feature of the island)













But then things morph rapidly into a serious challenge for all of us with dicky knees 

.

And onwards and upwards it goes,

winding its way over and sometimes between some significant  rocks.










Let me take a figurative breather here to provide some of the history of 'The Forts'.  In 1942-3, Cleveland Bay, which lies between Maggie and the mainland, provided an assembly point for many allied naval and supply vessels.  The bombing of Darwin (and indeed two scares in Townsville) prompted increasing concerns about the activities of the Japanese and the potential invasion of Australia.  General MacArthur, who was by this stage commanding the war in the Pacific from his (secret) HQ in Brisbane, ordered the diversion of two large field guns, which were originally bound for Manila, for use in the defence of Cleveland Bay.  These, together with two 3M candlepower searchlights (capable of holding an aircraft at up to 30,000 feet), a radar facility, command post, signal station and the associated ammunition dumps and personnel quarters, were all built on the heights which afforded clear views over the Bay, Townsville and the seaward approaches.

The vast majority of this infrastructure has been removed or has merely deteriorated, but as the remains of this ammunition storage bunker demonstrate, 12 inch reinforced concrete is pretty durable.

The guns, which were carried on wheels with rubber tyres, were mounted on circular concrete 'cheeses'. 

These allowed the guns to be rotated on their wheels through 360 degrees.  Whilst they were only the two in number, these weapons did have considerable clout.  They were capable of hurling a 48 kg shell from their 7.9 metre barrels over a distance of some 16 kms.  Legend has it that, whilst they were never actually 'fired in anger', an American PT boat on which the skipper had rather lazily omitted to announce his presence, was the subject of a pot shot or two until some hasty and rather terse communication ended hostilities.

Ranging and target selection was managed from the command post, which was unfortunately inaccessible due to repair work during our stay.










However, we were able to access the signal station, located on another nearby hilltop, from which stunning views across the island and beyond are available.

 Significant editorial rigour was needed to reduce the many we took to two.

This photo shows some of the sweep of Horseshoe Bay (I would have loved an hour in a light aircraft)

whilst this, panned through some 100 degrees to the left, looks out over the Horseshoe Bay oval to the housing area beyond.  Island Crest is one of the tiny dots at the base of the hillside in the far centre.

We completed the return walk down the Forts trail feeling grateful that the day was overcast and merely mild.  My right knee was a creaking mess by this stage, but I did have the sense of satisfaction that apart from having seen some marvellous scenery and historical sites, our efforts had burnt off at least some of the previous day's alcoholic calorie intake.

From here on our sightseeing was far less strenuous.  Our island road  southwards took us next through Arcadia and the nearby Alma Bay.  The beach itself is set off by a lovely park,

which we found were a feature of all the swimming beaches, through which the small, sheltered beach tucked in between two headlands could be accessed.

As can be seen, this is a patrolled beach.  The surf club is the building at the far right of the photo.  My fraternal enquiries with the lone, English, female lifesaver on duty revealed that rescues were not a daily event in the benign waters of Alma Bay.




Past the wide sweep of Geoffrey Bay we then drove to come, once again, to Nelly Bay, the place of our arrival.  As I suspect is the case with many small, somewhat isolated communities, recent high rise development in this area had been the subject of some controversy, but the passing of time has apparently seen the wounds heal.  We found it fascinating to view on the one hand the modern high rise






and on the other, on the other side of of the same road, some genuine 'old Maggie'.








Of course, given that Nelly Bay provides the docking point for the Island ferry services, a boat harbour is an obvious part of the local infrastructure.

Picnic Bay, the last 'major' bay at the southerly tip of the island, was also our last port of call on this day's trip.  This beach is also serviced by a surf club, but was unpatrolled at the time.






In fact we were amused by the sign erected at the beach head and the dire warnings it carried, including stingers, falling coconuts (that is seriously different) and a lack of patrolling troops.   Not entirely encouraging of a good splash in the briny! 

Picnic Bay boasts the Island's only serious jetty, which, as can be seen, is undergoing extensive repairs as a result of the visit of cyclone Yasi.

The Picnic Bay water front houses an arcade of various shops and eating houses, at one of which I was able to acquire the most outrageous chenille trousers and shorts.  No.....no photos yet!  

So, back to Horseshoe Bay where we finally managed a walk on the beach in weather which was trying valiantly to be user friendly. (it didn't last long) as seen here in a shot looking back across the low tide beach flats to the Esplanade. 

  

This is the largest of the accessible bays.  Apart from the ubiquitous water front pub, cafes, convenience store and surf wear shop, this bay provides good mooring for visiting boats of all descriptions.  Looking around Horseshoe Bay with its craggy points, granite boulders and pines, we were reminded very much of Victor Harbor, a mere doddle from the Bay's namesake at Port Elliot.

As with most of the bays, Horseshoe is no exception when it comes to providing  impressive up-market rentals. (like Island Crest!).  There was a serious lunchtime 'knees up' in full swing in this one as we walked by.

  

And then again, Maggie hosts a significant population of 'alternatives', which I am sure is part and parcel of most smallish islands.  We saw number of interesting home dotted in the backwaters, but this one boasts and entrance on the main drag.  We could only speculate as to what one would find at the end of the driveway!

Just a couple of snippets before we leave our tour of Maggie.  I was very impressed with the surroundings of the Island RSL Club in Arcadia

but even more so by the fact that even the sartorially challenged who wish to join the locals for a refreshing ale or two (or three or four) are catered for by the Club.  Forget the tie and jacket concept....a pair of thongs sits at the front door for use by those who arrive inadequately attired...i.e. no shoes!! 

We were also impressed by the extraordinary ficus trees which are a feature of the waterfronts.  Our later tour of Townsville confirmed that these are widespread in this region, but the way in which they sent down huge roots from spreading branches was something e had never seen before.

There is just so much more I could say about Maggie, but the time had come to think about a return to relative reality.  In what was an almost inadequate way of saying thank you, we hosted Jenny and Steve (it is quite odd hosting someone in their own house!!) at farewell drinks

before packing preparatory to our departure the following morning and a couple of days exploring Townsville, hopefully this time in fine weather.