Port Douglas through a new lens

When our friend Dan invited us to housesit his resort apartment in 'Port' we gladly accepted. In the hottest and most draining wet season we have yet encountered the relief his air-conditioned pad provided from the barrage of heat was welcome indeed. Knowing we could return to a cool apartment, drained and drenched, after brief forays out enabled us bravely to face the sauna outside. We also had some relief from the heat while visiting Melbourne, and without these respites it’s hard to imagine having survived this last wilting wet season entirely on the boat. Happy hours were spent in Port meeting locals and cooling off. Thanks Dan! ☺

The very dry ‘wet’ is not over yet and the Matey shouldn’t tempt fate by speaking too soon, but we have not yet needed to venture up a mangrove creek to befriend crocs and sandflies while escaping an approaching cyclone. With very little cloud cover and even less rain, the water also overheated and, like us, the coral found the ambient temperature to be intolerable and have gone into preservation mode by expelling their colourful algae. We can only hope this bleaching event will be brief enough for them to survive and for the colour to return, before it becomes permanent and fatal. How sad it is to see once colourful, lively ecosystems reduced to a ghostly white. If only, like us, they could have escaped to a generous friend’s cooler abode. (As we all know the reason for this heat and coral damage is human-induced climate change, but the Matey shall spare you her rant about that, for now).

Spending time in Port Douglas allowed us to explore some of the surrounding landscape and pay homage to a much loved local waterfall at Spring Creek, as well as cooling off in fast-flowing local rainforest streams. A recent walk with the Cairns Bushwalking Club enabled us to make some new friends and discover the Mowbray Falls, which we accessed from private property, but it can also be accessed from above via the Bump Track. This was a great day walk involving much rock-hopping and even a mandatory swim across a gorge with sides steep enough to prevent climbing around. The swim required floating backpacks and we discovered large vacuum sealed bags with an air pocket inside (along with packpacks) were quite effective in keeping the contents dry. One well-organised walker had brought an inflatable dinghy/lie-low for the purpose.

The gorge: no way of avoiding a swim 

The gorge: getting dressed after hauling packs up the side

Just another swimming pool

The top of Mowbray Falls

A little sideshow with pool near the top

Rainforest retreat

Given our love of rainforests, the offer to house-sit in Rossville seemed too good to be true. The first week we were blessed with perfect weather and made the most of the opportunity to explore the surrounding area. The second week reminded us why rainforest is called rainforest!

We finally managed to visit Kija (Roaring Meg Falls), a waterfall we had long hoped to reach, but had been reluctant to attempt the Creb Track without a four wheel drive. As it turned out, in dry conditions the 4WD wasn’t required (approaching from the north) apart from the last kilometer on the track in to the falls, which was very rough, so we walked it. Kija is quite spectacular, but we refrained from taking photos in respect of the wishes of traditional owners, for whom this is a very sacred place. Some things just have to be filed away in the neurons (though a Google search will retrieve many images). Definitely worth visiting!

We managed to complete our exploration of the Bloomfield Track by approaching the Daintree from the north, having previously been stopped at Emmagen Creek by deep water.

Near Rossville we eventually found our way up to the ‘Rock of Knowledge’ from which we had an excellent view of the surrounding mountains. We also managed dips in some of the freshwater swimming holes, including at Wallaby Creek and also at a confluence of creeks at Ngalba Bulal (Cedar Bay) National Park (Mangkalba). The drive through this rainforest between Bloomfield and Rossville is one of the most beautiful and dramatic the Matey has seen. Ever. Sigh …

We also visited the Bloomfield Falls after rain, which was as dramatic a change from its dry season flow as we could have imagined. On the way home we discovered the joy of strawberry mangoes falling to the ground. It would have been a terrible shame to waste them …

The more time we spend at Cooktown, Rossville and their surrounds the more lovely people we meet and the more amazing homes we are invited to. One family wakes up to Black Mountain every day. Another couple live at Mt Amos and wake to as spectacular a view as we have seen anywhere, and live in a work of art.

Matey makes new friend

Unexpectedly attractive bridge on Bloomfield Track

View from 'Rock of Knowledge'

Brumbies on Creb Track

Refreshingly cool swimming hole, Ngalba Bulal NP

Poor old Capt relaxes his weary bod.

First glimpse of Bloomfield Falls after rain

Confluence of creeks

View at Mt Amos

Blasé no more

Back in Cooktown the wait for the replacement rudder cable finally ended. The new starboard steering cable was installed in record time (about an hour), as we’d done this twice already for the port side. Another potentially serious problem emerged though: the flexible solar panel heated up so much it started to burn the fibreglass underneath. The instructions of placing the panel directly on the surface were ill-advised, it seems, as an air gap is required. Fortunately the supplier sent through a replacement panel and will hopefully now revise instructions to other purchasers.

           

We managed a short trip back to Lizard Island. We had intended to volunteer at the Marine Research Station there, but while in Cooktown we were offered a house to sit in the rainforest; a tough decision but the rainforest won, and volunteering at Lizard Island has been postponed. Our stay had to be brief, therefore, but being able to swim and snorkel again, without being overly concerned about crocodiles, though we had been told a two meter one lived there, was a joy.

Back in Cooktown we were given a timely reminder not to be complacent about potential dangers in the water. Captain stepped out of the dinghy onto a stingray. The stingray, of course, was not pleased about this and poor old Captain felt its wrath via a venomous barb. It managed to draw a surprising amount of blood as well as creating intense pain so Capt initially thought he had been bitten by something with lots of teeth, like, say, a small crocodile.

Nasty as this was at the time, considering the remote places we have been recently, it was fortunate it happened in Cooktown, where we have friends, there is a hospital, and across the road from the police station. Help was fast in arriving. The young ambulance officer gave Capt a painkilling pipe to inhale from, which resulted in a very calm Captain (Matey would like to source more of these!!) At the hospital the foot was immersed in hot water to neutralise the venom and more painkillers were administered. Poor old Captain spent the night in Cooktown hospital.

It’s also very fortunate that this reminder came from a stingray and not a crocodile. As it turned out, just a few days after we left Lizard Island, someone was bitten by the resident croc. Luckily it was during a night snorkel for the coral spawning, the guy was bigger than the croc and he was able to repel it with his flashlight so his injuries were minor. Mr Croc, of course, had unwittingly written his own death sentence.

Ninian Bay

After waiting for the succeeding high pressure systems in the Bight to weaken so that the south easterly winds stopped howling up the north Queensland coast, we were finally able to return to the benefits of so-called civilization. Admittedly, the notion of fresh fruit and the mangoes ripening in Cooktown did make this prospect tempting, after six weeks without fresh fruit, and even longer without internet or phone reception.

Flinders Island is not a difficult place to pass time. Matey couldn’t really wish for more spectacular scenery, though the lack of fresh water is a constant concern. National Parks have kindly provided two rainwater tanks (with a roof to catch it) but you need to be mindful of other boats who might be passing through before the wet season begins, so being parsimonious with water remains important in these otherwise dry islands.

The day when the wind was forecast to ease off to 10–15 knots arrived, with 10 knots forecast for the following day and 10–15 again for the next. This provided an opportunity to 'run' for Cape Flattery, where we would have internet and phone access at least, and then there would be just one final leg to Cooktown. We’d still be going against the wind, but not against 25–30 knots of it; with a broken rudder cable and limping boat we didn’t want to tempt fate.

The plan was to leave early each morning before the wind strengthened; first stop would be Cape Melville. Fortunately conditions were better than forecast and we were able to continue to Ninian Bay, where discovered a beautiful freshwater lake rich with melaleucas, magpie geese, and of course crocs! 

The next day after another 4 am start we anchored at Cape Flattery and today we reached Cooktown and the joy of fresh fruit! Just before we arrived a large Bludger Trevally hooked itself and provided dinner. New rudder cables can now be ordered.

View of 'the castle' at Stanley Island from our anchorage at Flinders Island

Ebb Tide at Flinders Island

Melaleucas and fresh water at Ninian Bay

Captain: always cheered by fresh water

Denham Island

'Penned' 14 October

We are waiting in the Flinders Group until a suitable ‘weather window’ presents itself for going south. Each new high pressure system creates a ridge on the Queensland coast and brings strong south-easterlies. The wait gave us time to visit Denham Island. The morning was beautiful with just a gentle breeze so getting there involved a pleasant sail. Our friends showed us a large cave with numerous paintings, mainly of ships. Were these all Aboriginal? Some appeared old and fading, but others might have been more recent. Perhaps some of the many Bêche de Mer fishermen wrecked in the 1899 cyclone Mahina ended up here? 

Apart from the paintings the rock formations on Denham Island were striking. The return trip was a little more exciting than on the way across. Ebb Tide was rolling in the swell, and launching the dinghy to return to her was challenging. We managed to break a paddle (we were already using one of the spares) and getting from the dinghy onto Ebb Tide was also challenging in the swell. Retrieving the anchor proved worrisome as it turned out we had anchored too close to a coral bommie that had been invisible at high tide when we arrived, and then getting the sail up proved dramatic. Firstly the halyard went half-way up the mast without sail attached! Eventually it was retrieved and the sail was raised while the swell was rolling, the wind was blowing at 25 knots and with all this going on Matey tried to keep Ebb Tide’s nose into the wind for mainsail hoisting with — as it turned out — a broken rudder cable!

Fortunately catamarans have two steering cables and as the port cable had broken before, we knew it was possible to rig the steering up with octy straps. Of course, we also didn’t have spare rudder cables so this is another reason to return to ‘civilisation’ rather than further away from it. Now we wait safely back in our anchorage at Flinders Island, for the northerlies to blow …

Matey the hunter?

It appears that Matey’s reluctance to kill is inversely proportional to the amount of food available. She managed to skewer a crab through the brain (as demonstrated by a fisherman friend) to save it from a more unpleasant death, and then, back at Flinders Island, with food stores declining she had her first deliberate fishing expedition in a long time — with success! Matey and Captain each caught a schooling sweetlips and these provided enough lunch for the four of us. This is the progress Matey was hoping for. She can do it when required ...

To Princess Charlotte Bay

'Penned' 13 October

We said a temporary ‘goodbye’ to Annie and Ronnie as we made our way to Bathurst Head with Sam to explore some of Princess Charlotte Bay. Having a much deeper draft, our friends on Siri weren’t keen to anchor a long way offshore in this shallow, flat bay. The first night we anchored behind Bathurst Head, where there are some quite spectacular rock formations. It wasn’t hard to imagine molten rock bubbling here.

With strong winds forecast for the next few days we needed to find somewhere more protected to hide. There are several large and crocodile-rich rivers draining the surrounding flat wetlands into Princess Charlotte Bay, so for the first few days we hid in the Normanby River. This is quite an attractive river with tall mangroves but just one problem: it’s virtually impossible to get ashore, though we did manage to dinghy up the river for several kilometers before admitting defeat in the face of the wind and chop making the dinghy ride unpleasant and approaching dangerous. Sam helped ease the pain by supplying us with mudcrabs and laughs.

After a couple of days a change of scenery was required and we went further south into Princess Charlotte Bay in search of a river with shore access. We ended up anchored in the Annie River near a popular campsite for barramundi fishermen and crabbers. It was a flat, windswept spot that showed how much they value their fishing as they weren’t there for the view or ambience. After the rainforest blanketed hills of much of FNQ and the dramatic scenery at the Flinders Islands the flat landscape surrounding us was uninspiring (to the Matey anyway). At least it was possible to get ashore though, and a bumpy, 4WD track promised an escape route. About 10 km along this were some freshwater billabongs (also croc-infested) but the view was pleasant, the melaleucas welcoming and it was possible to wash clothes and cool off via a bucket lowered down to the water by rope from a considerate live log across the billabong.

Due to the untimely re-emergence of an ancient knee injury, which made walking or bike riding difficult, Matey was mostly boat-bound and doesn’t have fond memories of Annie River and the flat, windswept landscape nearby. Strong wind warnings forced us to hide there for more than a week. During this time a mud dauber wasp began constructing a nest inside the boat (it would have been fascinating to watch it grow but it seemed likely that the wasp’s rage at eventually being cast out of the boat was likely to be proportional to the amount of time it had invested in building its abode, so once the wasp’s intentions had become apparent Ebb Tide went into lockdown. The wasp was quite persistent though until it became acquainted with some heavy duty Bushman’s applied through the (sarong) sandfly screens by which time it seemed to comprehend that the hitherto accommodating Matey had changed her mind. (Note that Matey was febrile with boredom at this point and had imagined the brightly coloured wasp to be just curious and friendly — until it dropped the mud it was carrying as it gazed into the Matey’s eyes and she realised what it was really scheming.) Fortunately Ebb Tide escaped the river next morning so the wasp and Matey had no further showdown. As we exited the river pretty wallabies on the banks hopped, stopped and stared after us. A large white thing floating along the river was apparently unusual enough to inspire curiosity …

Finally, the wild winds eased slightly and we were able to return to Flinders Island. We had contemplated going further north to Lockhart River or possibly even Portland Roads — tempted by the promise of phone and internet coverage and lured by the possibility of fresh fruit — and then on to the allegedly beautiful Forbes Island. But, circumstances conspired against us. First the engine-charging battery showed signs that its life was ebbing. Then the dinghy motor had issues and Captain discovered the propeller needed replacing (we had no spare on board). 

Apart from the concern of being able to return, which depended on the winds relaxing or going to the north (which usually occurs briefly in late October or November) or otherwise pounding head-on into the constant strong south-easterlies, going further north and then having a longer return trip with potential problems seemed not to be a good idea …

Interesting rock formations at Bathurst Head

Waiting for the tide to come back in at Bathurst Head