KURRIMINE BEACH AND DEPARTURE OF HMAS MELBOURNE (AUGUST 2013)

Well, dear readers, after our brush with history in Cooktown and our 'green' adventures in the Daintree and elsewhere, here we are back at Kurrimine Beach for the month of August. 

Actually, in real time it is almost the end of the month. I've just returned from five days in Sydney seeing Stu off to the Middle East and we are now planning our trip south and west. It seems extraordinary to think we have now been here almost a month, but that's KB for you, or at least, for us....a place which is now almost like a second home.

 

But before I reminisce on this current stay, let us briefly visit Sydney.  As I am sure most know, my younger son Stuart is a Navy Seakawk pilot, currently posted to the Australian guided missile frigate HMAS Melbourne. 

 

Melbourne left Garden Island on Sunday last (August 25) for a seven month tour of duty as part of the Combined Maritime Forces which are operating in the Middle Eastern waters to combat piracy, drug smuggling and other activities which threaten the safety of mariners in that part of the world. Australia is one of 29 countries contributing naval forces to this effort, which is actually part of what is known as 'Operation Slipper', a vast military operation which includes the fight against the Taliban in Afghanistan.

 

One of the reasons we chose to stay again in KB was to be near the major airport at Cairns from which I could easily access Sydney by air.   The other great advantage was that we are very well known here and I knew that Liz would have much support if any problems arose in my absence. (and indeed the offers came from everywhere)

 

And so off I went on Wednesday 21 August to spend five nights in the  big smoke with the young Lieutenant, his most charming, intelligent and delightful partner Briony and his brother Cameron, who flew in to join us on the Friday afternoon.

 

I think it fair to say that times like these always carry their own tensions and stresses, but I would not have missed it for quids. A dinner with Stu's fellow officers at a Kings Cross restaurant, a detailed personal tour of the ship, and the chance to see his unit in the heart of Sydney (he lives in a high rise in Castlereagh Street) were all highlights. 

And then came the big day, or the big morning at least.  I was delighted that two of my closest friends, who are Sydney residents and who have known both boys since childhood, could join us for the occasion.  Off to Fleet Base East we went where we became part of the throng of friends and relatives all bent on the same purpose.  And after a wait at the gate,

we were joined by Stu (who had to be on board early for a flight briefing..more of that later), who took us through the security gate and dockside.

 

And once here we passed group after group of the ship's company  posing with their loved ones for the obligatory farewell photographs.  We were no exceptions.

The departure of any navy ship on an overseas posting is always an occasion for a spot of pomp and ceremony.  The navy band tootles away pending the arrival of the Fleet Commander, the relevant Government Minister, and the skipper, all of whom have a few words to say to the assembled crowd, which at this point still includes most of the crew.

But then the time came for the final goodbye,

and the final boarding. (Stu is almost at the head of the gangway)








Once on board, all those officers and sailors not directly involved in the departure tasks 'dress the ship', positions they all hold until the ship is well underway out of the harbour.  So once on board Stu made his way to the upper deck just aft of the bridge wing where he took up station with his shipmates. (Stu is the third officer from the right...a head taller than the others!)

By now things were getting busy.  The skipper can be seen standing on the forward wing of the bridge (immediately above the red life ring), whilst the Executive Officer has taken up his position at the rear corner of the wing.  From here they directed the ship's departure.


To the strains of the National Anthem, Melbourne cast off at precisely 1100 hours as planned (would Navy pride and military precision tolerate anything else?) and made her way stern first (the basin here at Garden Island is too narrow to allow the ship to turn about)

   

  

 

down the channel and out into the haze of Sydney harbour (there were apparently controlled burn offs being conducted around the Sydney bush...thanks fellas...made for great photos ...not!) where her departure was shadowed by a hovering Seahawk. 

 

 

 

 

 

This was not Melbourne's helicopter, and herein lies another story, one of money and influence, which leaves me less than impressed.  The inhabitants of the highly priced apartment block opposite the dock, the end of which can be seen here at the left of shot (this is where Russel Crowe lives), have objected to the noise of navy helicopters being flown onto ships moored directly opposite at Fleet Base East (Garden Island).  Infuriatingly these arrogant and ludicrously influential bastards have won the day and that accounted for the fact that Melbourne's helicopter was not on board. 

 

The aircraft had been the subject of an extensive pre-departure service at HMAS Albatross, the Fleet Air Arm base at Nowra.  For a number of reasons this had not been completed before Melbourne moved onto the dock from which the farewells are managed and helicopter landings are prohibited. 

The upshot of this meant that Melbourne had to recover her helicopter whilst steaming past Jervis Bay, flown out to the ship by Stu's fellow pilot, who has family in Nowra and was more than happy to depart from there.  But as you can imagine I was disappointed to have been unable to see the aircraft in its on board hangar purely because a group of Sydney silvertails have oversensitive ears.  But enough of my railing against these self-centred plonkers...I had similar problems in Adelaide when managing the State Helicopter Rescue Service there...as you have no doubt guessed it remains a raw nerve!

So, "farewell Stu". I must say, having checked the maritime forecast, I did not envy him his prospective passage through Bass Strait and across the Great Australian Bight to Fleet Base West in Fremantle where the ship will refuel and take on more stores.  It looked particularly messy!

 

And what do those left behind do.....obviously, find a pub an raise a glass!

 

And so it was off to Sydney airport the following morning and back to 'reality'....Liz, the cat,  the caravan and Kurrimine Beach, where, as I mentioned in the introduction to this piece, we have now been in residence since the beginning of the month.

 

Doing what all that time I hear you ask?  Not a lot realty in comparative terms.  I think our stay this time can be best summed up in four words...relaxing, reading, exercising and socializing.

 

Up until the time I left for Sydney, the weather here had finally turned for the better.  The winds dropped and we were blessed with three weeks of fine, warm, sunny days and coolish nights.  In fact, in all the time we had spent here, I have never before seen glassy seas at KB.

 

 

Without wishing to harp on the subject, I was still seriously struggling with the effects of the shingles, and was more than happy to be able to potter about, read, swim and take in some rays.  Liz was equally at home with this regime.  And, apart from our first few days, all our neighbours were wonderful folk with whom we shared many afternoon happy hours which just added to our enjoyment.

 

But first, the tale of the 'neighbours from hell'.  In all our travels to date, whilst we have occasionally found ourselves next to fellow campers who are less than sociable, we had never previously struck anyone like those on the site next to us at KB when we pulled in on 1 August. 

 

We always occupy site 12 at KB.  Site 13, which is right in the back corner of the park, is a tight spot on which the park owners usually place camper vans, tents or something equally small.  If anything bigger comes in, we always negotiate with the new arrivals re vehicle parking, mutual movement if necessary, and a general effective use of the combined space of the two sites.  Critically, however, our site includes the patch immediately next to our slab on which we park to make sure we are well off the front roadway.

 

Not so on August 1!  We pulled in to find site 13 taken over by a large motor home, an equally large boat and vehicle trailer, a small 4WD, a tinnie and the tinnie trailer, all spread totally inefficiently throughout the entire site.  The only problem was that the boat trailer had been left on our patch which meant I couldn't park the cruiser off the edge of the road as normal. 

 

And by now I am sure you have guessed the rest.  Notwithstanding a reasoned approach and explanation that the trailer was on our site, and the fact that there was oodles of room for it to be located elsewhere on site 13, our NSW neighbour flatly refused to move anything.  He claimed to have been told that the area where I normally park was his, and refused outright to accept my protestations that I was an old hand here and that this was not so.  Unfortunately the park management did not wish to intervene at this stage, and I decided that taking matters into my own hands could end in tears. 

 

So the cruiser had to be left near the roadway, and sure enough, the following morning a somewhat inexperienced traveller came around the corner and clipped the top of the vehicle on the site opposite ours.  Point proven!  I was now really agitated but remained unable to do anything short of physically removing the boat trailer. 

 

Thus we sat through Thursday and Friday.  I had discovered that they were leaving on the Monday and hoped the trailer would have to be moved before then for packing.  Indeed it was, on mid Saturday morning.  By now I'd had well and truly had enough, particularly when next door numpty then deliberately moved the small 4WD to block any access to our park. 

 

By this stage I had ascertained from our many friends in the park and the staff, that this bloke next door had also been totally unco-operative with those who had preceded us on site 12 and that the pair of them had refused to join in any of the many park activities, notwithstanding personal invitations.  So when mother later drove out to go shopping, the cruiser went into our parking spot at the speed a light.

Because Liz was in a bit of a flap about possible repercussions (damage to the cruiser etc) I decided to front our unco-operative friend and make the point that I was not attempting to be provocative, but, particularly given the early scrape on the corner, was very keen to get out of harm's way.  I also made the point that we were not intending to go anywhere before Monday and that they could park the 4WD across our stern.

I'll not bore you with the details of the subsequent conversation other than to note that my approach to the matter was less than well received, and that the response from Mr Bozo included the comment that it was as well they were leaving when they were or "I would probably deck you".   Needless to say I did point out the potential unpleasant repercussions of any such attempt in words of one syllable and left it at that.  Fortunately we were able to completely avoid them from that point on and they did leave first thing Monday morning, to the great relief of us and many others. 

Our KB life then returned to its normal happy state and one day just drifted into another. 

 

 

But of course, there are always meals to be prepared such as these green tiger prawns from Innisfail















and later enjoyed with a fine glass or two (the prawns here are still not a patch on ours).

And then there are the little things which go wrong from time to time, such as a hole in the hot water system inlet pipe which we discovered only after finding ourselves sloshing about in water under the table.  But after unsuccessful attempts to seal the hole with (very damned expensive) spray and special tape, we picked up a new hose from a nearby caravan dealer and repairs were effected.  Liz almost managed to conceal her amazement that I had  dredged up a hitherto well hidden ability to actually fix something.  Some of my less kindly mates wanted to know where I was able to arrange the brain transplant!

One of the highlights for us here at KB is the social life.  Even those who come in and only stay for a few days or so, as opposed to us 'long termers', have commented on how welcomed they have felt.  Our happy hours are becoming a thing of caravan park legend.  At 1630 hours most afternoons all ears are poised to listen for the happy hour summons....Liz walking up and down the roadway 'ringing the bell'...a little brass bell we have carried for ages and are now putting to good use.(I can't now even remember how we came by it!)

They came from all quarters of the park to answer the summons.  We would often congregate on an empty site slab, but when the park is full it is off to the front beer garden 'chez Marshies'.

This is one of the smaller groups.  Our record stands at 22 late afternoon revellers.  It was on that afternoon a professional photographer turned up and took a number of happy hours snaps (where we all pose in that dreadfully contrived 'cheers' position...broad grins and glasses raised).  I understand that we are shortly to feature in one of the monthly Top Tourist Park news letters.  Ah, fame at last!

And these are the times in which the information flows and connections are made, some of which are mind boggling.  At one recent gathering we were joined by a newly arrived couple, who we knew were from SA, but it got better.  After a few minutes of conversation, Sandra, who had been looking in my direction for some time, piped up with the question, "did you go to Brighton High?"  "Yes".  Response, "you were a singer".  Incredibly after all this time (1958-61 were my high school years) Sandra had remembered my performances in the high school operas and a couple of gigs with a local rock band.  She had been year behind me, but notwithstanding that, later reminiscences revealed that she was a close friend of a lass with whom I had (platonically) knocked around throughout my entire high school life.  Extraordinary!

Apart from the regular happy hours, the social life here at KB is given a real boost by virtue of the (usually) weekly 'all in' meal in the camp kitchen.  This generally takes the form of a sausage sizzle, but every so often we are treated to something a touch more exotic.  One such recent event took the form of a 'fish supper'. We all took a salad or sweets dish in return for which we were served the most delicious fish fillets all supplied and cooked by fellow campers who had had recent success at sea.

This was so popular that we all had to sit at tables outside the kitchen area. (this is about half the group)  What an imposition on a balmy FNQ evening!

But as you all know, there is no such thing as a free lunch.  After we had eaten there was the inevitable outcome.....the karaoke machine.  Somewhat foolishly, a week previously, I had responded to a suggestion that I belt out a couple of old Elvis Presley numbers during which half the camp was up jiving (we are of an age you realise!)  Bad mistake.  I have now become the park's lead singer by default.....and the backup for Cory, one of the park managers, who would insist that I join him in his renditions.

Of course, as soon as we got started the cunning bugger would bale out and leave me to it!  So, what the hell...let's go solo and live with the consequences.

At least Eunice was up on the dance floor...it is nice to be appreciated! 

I was about to close this missive when I realised it has been some time since I posted any news of the ship's cat.  You will be relieved to know he continues to do his duty...the killer guard cat has assumed a new position at the front bedroom window where he does his best to remain alert,

until the sun becomes really warm on his head, that is, when it all gets just too much.








So that's Kurrimine Beach for 2013.  It really has been fun.  Almost like being on holiday!

Our attention is now firmly focused on the business end of this caravanning lark.....fine tuning our travel plans, making the necessary advanced park bookings as far as Mount Isa, cooking up meals for the freezer packs, checking all our other supplies, including medications, booking services for the van and the cruiser, and beginning the job of packing things away for the road.   I must confess that notwithstanding the fine time we have had here, the gypsy in us both is beginning to re-surface.  It will be good to be on the road again.

If the forecast for next week is anything to go by, we shall be leaving KB just in time.  Strong onshore winds and pretty consistent showers are on the way.  At the risk of sounding somewhat like a dog in a manger, this will suit us fine...a tail wind for our route west to our first destination of Mount Surprise where we plan to visit the famous Undarra lava tubes before continuing north-west along the Savannah Highway to Croydon, Normanton and beyond.   From Normanton down and across to Mount Isa will be familiar territory, but beyond that the big adventure recommences!  Stay tuned.
 

THE DEVILS POOL - BABINDA (30 JULY 2013)

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,
 

 

 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 .
 

 

FISHERY FALLS (29 - 31 JULY 2013)

We had booked three nights in Fishery Falls on the recommendation of a number of fellow travellers.  A lovely spot to relax for a few days en route back to Kurrimine Beach in a park boasting award winning gardens, a charming waterfall virtually in its backyard and a nearby pub was what we had been told.  All true.....and that's it!

 

 

This is  Fishery Falls, some 30 kms south of Cairns, in its entirety. The entrance to the caravan park is at the far right of the shot, the long building is the pub/cafe and next to that, an artisan glass maker's studio, all tucked up beneath the heavily forested mountains on the western side of the Bruce Highway.

 

But before we take a closer look at what really was a most delightful park, we have to get here.

 

We left Mossman in reasonable time, but not too early.  Experience with our earlier trip to Cairns to have the truck serviced had taught us that Cairns morning commuter traffic was to be avoided. 

On that particular day, when we had to be at the Toyota dealer by 0830 hours, we had been staggered by the number of vehicles jostling along the multi-laned Bruce Highway from about Palm Cove onwards.  It reminded us of the morning rush on Anzac Highway with long queues forming at the approaches to the many roundabouts which feature over the last ten kilometres or so into the Cairns CBD.  In fact, it was but a few days later that we noted an article in the local Cairns Post which was strident in its condemnation of the morning traffic congestion at these choke points.  Hear, hear! 

We were particularly pleased that the Mossman mill suffered a mechanical failure on the weekend prior to our departure.  With no mill soot deluging the van, and a sharp overnight shower, I did not have to scrub down the awning before packing it and everything else up in readiness for our next venture.



So with a perfectly practical reason to avoid a very early morning start we farewelled Mossman and made our way out of town and back onto the Bruce yet again.  The 15 kms of road to the Port Douglas turn-off is wide and flat, but beyond that the route to Cairns features many narrow mountainous sections

and a number of stretches where the road hugs the coastline.

It is impossible to overtake on much of this section of the highway (even for Queenslanders!), but a number of slow vehicle pull-outs cater for those of us in towing snail mode to be able to rid ourselves of the inevitable tail.  And some of these do offer brilliant views south along the coast.


  

Our plan to avoid the hubbub of 'commuter Cairns' worked perfectly.  We made our way along what is, by now, a quite familiar route.  The Bruce Highway through Cairns is also the road on which the Toyota dealer, Dan Murphy's and other critical supply points are located (we did actually resupply at Dan's).






So, restocked with the other liquid essential besides fuel, we chugged on down the Bruce, past the most appropriately named Pyramid Mountain,






through Gordonvale, which is really the southern outpost of suburban Cairns, and on to our park at Fishery Falls.

Despite what we had been told we were a little surprised to find just how small Fishery Falls actually is, (as can be seen in the first photo) but let's face it, a caravan park and a pub, which is accessed through the back fence of the park, is all that is really needed for a short break.

Our approach to the park entrance immediately confirmed what we had been told about the wonderful gardens which are a feature of this spot.

And it just got better and better once we were in. Our allotted site was huge, right at the end of this eastern park roadway.

 

Although shade was limited, and the morning sun did have the potential to bake the exposed side of the van, we used the shade cloth we normally run along the awning roller to good effect on the other side.







  

Most of the sites here at Fishery Falls are set between rows of palms, shrubs and flowers which form borders on either side of the site, 

and, as you can see when looking along this row of happy campers, the vans and associated bits and pieces are almost hidden in the shrubbery.  Not to mention the lawns....every open patch in this entire park is beautifully grassed.  Shade and privacy and lawns!  Three of the most prized features of a caravan park site.  Add to this the backdrop of the green mountain ridge and the picture is complete. 

 

 

 

And what is another very well received feature of a caravan park site...elbow room!

 

On our patch here at FF we had this in spades.

 

 

 

 

 

Just before we leave the park itself, I had to include this shot.  Aside from the fact it provides a somewhat panoramic view of the park amenities block you will note the 'green thing' mid shot which from here looks something like a nissan hut.

 

What is it I hear you ask?  A rather oddly designed king sized tent is the answer, which is just what I though when I first saw it.  But as I walked past it later I spotted a number plate on the base frame, then wheels.  This whole edifice is actually mounted on a large mobile platform, which one can only assume from the fact that it is registered, can be readily towed from spot to spot (with what we are not sure).  As you may have gathered by now, we had never before seen anything like this. 

 

But enough of the park.....other than to comment that it has been the recipient of a number of yearly awards for the quality of its gardens and surrounds...well deserved.  The only drawback we could find was the fact that it does abut the Bruce Highway and the main north-south rail line.  The regular deep throb of the diesel engines of large freight trains and the traffic noise on the Bruce does present a sleeping challenge, but this has obviously not deterred many who were clearly settled in for a long term stay.

 

 

 

 

 

Fishery Falls.  The name would indicate a nearby waterfall, and so there is, a brisk 15-20 minute walk up this roadway past the park and into the nearby foothills where

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the road morphs into a pretty benign track through the ubiquitous rain forest

 

 

which does throw up a surprise on the way....a pig trap....what else would you expect to find?  Apparently the local forest is home to a number of feral pigs, one of which has been recently threatening folk using the track to the falls.  I remain unsure as to whether the efforts to capture this porcine terrorist have been mounted to protect tourists or more to ensure the safety of Queensland Water workers.  The falls area forms part of a local water supply system (as will be seen shortly) which obviously requires the attendance of maintenance workers from time to time. 

Irrespective of the reason for the trap, its presence did give an added impetus to our reactions to any rustling in the forest!    

The good track eventually petered out and led us to a short flight of stairs

and on past the pond at the base of the falls.

 

From here a metal mesh walkway runs alongside a Qld Water cement spillway and off take channel,  

 from the end of which the falls come into view.

 

 

As can be seen, Fishery Falls do not present the most impressive display at this time of the year, but I am sure this is an entirely different matter during the wet.  As it was, the walk up the hill had certainly not been a waste of time.

 

Our return jaunt did present us with another offering of the natural beauty to be found in this part of the world....butterflies.  The startlingly electric blue 'Ulysses' is the undisputed monarch of the tropical FNQ butterfly world, a fact which becomes very evident by virtue of the fact that almost every tourist brochure and other advertising of all kinds feature this splendid creature.  We had seen several in our travels, but had never managed to catch one on film. 

 

Three very colourful cousins of the Ulysses were much more cooperative (after a fashion) on the Fishery Falls track.  After a concerted stalking effort and re-focusing of my somewhat limited photographic device, and the patience required (not my strong suit) to allow these flitting aerial acrobats to settle, I did manage three shots which give some idea of just how colourful the butterfly world is in the tropics.

 

 

This little red and black fellow was my favourite,  but he had a couple of close rivals in firstly, the orange team representative

 

 

and, bringing up the rear, the yellow peril.

 

 

 

As is evident, I can make no claim to expertise when it comes to this sort of photography, but I hope I have been able to give some feel for the colour these delightful creatures bring to the rain forest.

 

Whilst at Fishery Falls we did take a trip to nearby Babinda, another small town just off the Bruce Highway which is the home to the 'Devil's Pond', a section of the Babinda Creek with a tale to tell.  And it was here that we suffered our first taste of vehicle damage at the hands of local vandals, but that's a story for the next blog.

 

As I have occasionally had to do in the past, I must conclude this offering with an apology for the fact that I have been unable to centre the text alongside many of the photos.  For some completely inexplicable reason the programme which drives all this has spasmodic hissy fits and acquires a stubborn mind of its own.  This is invariably accompanied by frustratingly long delays in uploading the photos to the blog......I have spent almost six hours over three days on this one! 

 

In real time (it's now Sunday 18 August)  we are still at Kurrimine Beach, where the weather is, at last, absolutely wonderful.  Mild to cool nights followed by calm, warm days in the high 20's.  Just what we came here for.  We have almost forgotten what cold, windy winter blasts feel like, which is exactly the plan.  Our fingers are crossed for much more to come.

 

I'll hopefully catch up with our travels to date before I head off to Sydney this coming Wednesday for a few days with Stu and Cam prior to Stu's departure for the Persian Gulf and beyond.