THE LIONS DEN (11 -12 JULY 2013)

The Lions Den.  A pub of legend.  A night of revelry beckons.  But before we head off, a final Cooktown snippet.

Our route south out of town took us past the turn off to Quarantine Bay and the Cooktown golf course.  I had to have a nose, partly just because we could and secondly because I found it hard to conceive that there was enough flat land for a golf course. 

We have often commented somewhat disparagingly about FNQ 'beaches', many of which are little more than tidal mudflats with a tiny fringe of sand at the high tide mark.  Well, in another first for FNQ at Quarantine Bay....no sand at all...pebbles and large granite rocks.
 

I found it strangely appealing to crunch along the shore to the end of the bay, where, as the advertisements say, 'the rain forest meets the sea'.  And no sand in one's shoes!

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As I was looking around, I spotted these two houses perched high on the southern sweep of the hill.

What a view they must have north along the coastline.  On a clear, still day, at low tide, they would be able to see all the reef shoals between here and Cooktown.

Yes, it was still blowing!

The golf course was our second surprise for the morning.  A charming nine holer set on the edge of Walker Bay, as the painting on the wall of the clubhouse so amply shows. 

The course itself is a little up hill and down dale as would be expected, but the fairways and greens were in pristine condition.   I was chatting to a local about to have a round while taking my photos and he agreed that on days like this he needed to use his driver on a par three on holes into the wind!

It really is a lovely course...I've often thought how many towns around the country offer great sport for those devoted to belting the small white ball.

So, onwards on the whole 29 kms to the Lions Den, a pub which I had always thought of as being in Cooktown itself until we did our local homework.  On the basis that any caravan site booking here must be accompanied by full payment on the spot, we decided to do a recce from Cooktown before committing ourselves.  This was a good move.  Not only did we satisfy ourselves that our van would more than easily fit, we were able to pick the site we wanted.

It was in the course of this first trip to the Den that we had the pleasant surprise of finding that the road in off the Mulligan was now entirely sealed.  The sign proclaiming this achievement had us somewhat puzzled until, by sheer chance, we ran into the bloke responsible for the work as we were making our site booking in the pub.  And there emerged another of those wonderful Aussie bush tales of 'let's just get the job done and bugger the bureaucracy'.

It turns out that this chap is a local Transport and Main Roads Department contractor, who "came across a bit of money" and knew that both the owner of the Den and the nearby Aboriginal resort community all wanted the road sealed.  But, as he said, he was not a qualified road engineer, and as such could not 'officially' seal the road.  Problem solved...let's lay some bitumen and call it a trial.....and put up a sign to that effect.  As the hauler of a non-off road van I could have bought him drinks all afternoon!

And so it was a week or so later we arrived with the rig and took up our spot on a wonderful green sward with no overhanging trees (useful given it was still blowing a gale).  And, as you can see, it was still wet, much wetter than Cooktown.

But with all this wonderful grass and the surrounding green canopy we were not complaining.  And on day one, the camp site was relatively quite.....that was to change.

I have considered a number of ways to describe the Lions Den, and have concluded that no words of mine could adequately match a pictorial presentation.

'The Den' sits at the northern end of the Bloomfield Track, the unsealed coastal road which runs between Cape Tribulation and the Mulligan Highway (and thence on to Cooktown).  As it was in Cooktown, it was amazing to see the types and state of the myriad of vehicles which call into the pub in a constant stream throughout the day...everything from off road buses to groups of guys on trail bikes (they were indeed a sight to behold).

On the southern approach to the pub it is almost completely concealed behind a veil of large trees, its location given away by the vehicles parked at the front (always).

And then, there it is.....well at least the entrance is evident!  And that's it.  The pub and the campground stand alone.  No township and only two nearby country homes.

So why a pub ostensibly in the middle of nowhere and, more interestingly from my perspective, where on earth did the name originate?  Lions in outback Australia...nonsense! As the photos to come amply demonstrate, the walls of the Den are covered with all sorts of bits and pieces, included in which is a spiel on just that subject.

Now, I confess that I have taken the story provided on faith.  The credits at the bottom of the poster attribute it's contents to the descendants of the first owner, a provenance I am prepared to accept, if only on the basis of the fact that if it is not true, it remains a great yarn.

In the late 1800's a stowaway jumped ship in Cooktown and made his way to the area of the Den, where, in those days, an active tin mine was to be found.  This erstwhile accidental tar was in desperate need of work and duly presented himself at the entrance of the mine where he was confronted by the mine boss.  In the ensuing enquiry made about the possibility of work, the boss asked two preliminary questions...what's your name and have you ever previously worked underground? The response....."Daniel, and no".

Getting warmer?  According to the scribes the mine boss immediately responded with the quip, "Well it looks as though Daniel is about to enter the lion's den."   The pub was built shortly after this conversation for the specific purpose of providing appropriate refreshment for the thirsty throng across the road.  Joined all the dots?  Knowing about the now defunct mine certainly explains the pub's location, but the name....I just hope it's true.

It is clear that the main section of the pub is original, little more that a low roofed tin shack.  Obviously the logistical demands of its current use  have seen the addition of other amenities, but by and large the core of the pub is as it has always been.  Different?  Certainly is!  Cluttered, ramshackle?  You be the judge.

The entrance door to the bar can be found midway along the front verandah

which runs the entire length of the font of the pub and caters for outdoor dining and a smoking area (which is still not far enough away!).

The northern end of the front verandah expands into a large outdoor deck area

where patrons can order from the associated servery counter and enjoy the great outdoors (when it is not quite as wet as it was this day)

And, on days like this, where else but inside where those who are quick enough can collar one of the limited number of stools at the tiny bar.  Liz and I were indeed early starters and managed to stake our claim at the far end of the bar, a wonderful spot to watch all the comings and goings of tourists and locals alike. 

By the time we had moved into the dining area some hours later, we had concluded two things.  The first was that some of the locals have yet to come to grips with the fact that 'their pub' actually caters for tourists (we endured one particularly red-necked group for a hour or so, grumbling about the fact that 'they couldn't occupy their normal seats' and duly engaging in what I assumed was that night's round of the local swearing contest) and the second...in the course of a year there would hardly be a country in the world not represented at some stage by a national who had visited The Den.

At our dinner table (note the Torquay SLSC shirt above us) we were joined by a delightful couple from Queanbeyan with whom we shared a wonderful evening and far too much wine.  I was feeling very little pain as we sloshed (in more ways than one) our way back to our van.

The following morning dawned clear, speaking of the weather only that is.  With it came the invasion.  Our peaceful and relatively uncluttered camp site was the destination for a constant stream of vans and camper trailers from the first early morning arrival to the last, who finally settled at 2100 hours that evening.

These second day photos do not do real justice to the clutter, particularly in the section

given over to those who do not need power, as can be seen on the left of this shot, but believe me things were chaotic in that section.

We felt particularly for one couple to whom we had chatted earlier in the day as we strolled down to the nearby Little Annan River which runs along the northern boundary of the park (where Liz managed to capture some idiot playing 'where's Wally?')

who had set their van up in delightful seclusion in a lower section of the camp site only to find themselves surrounded by campers and kids in the latter part of the afternoon.

  

 

 

 

But let's finish our tour of the pub, where the other side of the bar services those enjoying the (disappointingly small) meals in the inside dining room (the barman pictured is a Brit traveller who had previously served on HMS Manchester, a Brit destroyer...we had a bit chat)

 

 

 

and allows those engaged in a quiet game of pool under the backdrop of this impressive piece of self promotion, to also slake their thirst.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The nearby souvenir room is maintained in true 'Den' style and I have to confess to having been persuaded to strut about in one of their overpriced T shirts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have previously mentioned the fact that the walls are covered with posters of all descriptions and the signatures of many of the thousands who have passed through these portals.  The outside is not forgotten.  I loved this cautionary gem.  It really encapsulates the atmosphere of the pub.

 

 

Now believe this or not, but I had every intention of spending our second day in Leo's place as an AFD, a decision borne of my state of health after night one with our newly acquired NSW mates rather than as an act of purity and good health (but you didn't really need this confession to have worked that out did you?) when fate intervened. 

 

Two of our Kurrimine mates rolled into town several days earlier than expected.....what could a true stalwart mate do but catch up over a quiet libation or two?  But here let me emphasis two only.

 

And so with this this parting shot of Liz and me (in which I was determined to crack hearty for the camera despite the headache....this hair of the dog stuff is nonsense) quietly enjoying the ambiance of this truly remarkable Aussie pub,

 

 

before we then repaired to the trusty Roma, we farewelled the redoubtable Lions Den.  My deep and contented sleep was rudely interrupted at 0500 hours when I spent the next hour again waiting for the newly invigorated squalls to separate us from our awning (and I had tossed up as to whether or not to take it in before we went to bed...bummer).  Dawn could not come soon enough.

 

But we again survived nature's assault, duly packed up and headed south, this time to Lakeland for our return visit, where in our two night stopover we planned to visit the township of Laura on the Weipa Road and the famous aboriginal rock paintings to be found there.