It was with both relief and disappointment to know the worst roads were behind me, at least until we get to the notorious Gibb River Road in WA. Relief in that Max came through a very tough initiation on Cape York relatively unscathed, and disappointment because notwithstanding all the shaking, rattling and rolling associated with those corrugated red dust roads there is a sense of adventure, challenge and of going where not so many people have gone before.

Heading south from Port Douglas I was looking forward to seeing Pixi and Banjo again and getting some washing done, including myself! Pix and I resumed where we’d left off at the Narrow Track cocktail shed and Pixi gave me some great tips on places to visit as I headed south including visiting Innisfail, which for no apparent reason has a strong art deco heritage, and Horseshoe Bay at Bowen which I’ll get to in the next chapter.

In the meantime I had a reunion planned at Mission Beach with someone I hadn’t seen for thirty years. Mike and I shared some wild and crazy times together in Wesley College at Sydney Uni back in the mid-70’s and after a distinguished legal career culminating in his appointment as a QC Mike’s life took a sharp turn when he decided a conventional life was not for him and he needed to test himself as an artist. That was in the mid-90’s and the last time I saw him, and it was only due to a tip off from a mutual Wesleyan friend that I discovered he was now residing at Mission Beach. I called him not really knowing what to expect and was relieved when he suggested I drop by on my way south.

Still not sure how things would work out it was a sign of things to come when we disposed of the traditional handshake and greeted each other with a spontaneous hug! I was also delighted to meet his wife Jen (#3) who was just as welcoming and their 11 year old son Dylan who took a little while to warm up, but once he did he was interesting and smart beyond his years, and seemed to bear an uncanny resemblance to a younger version of that other Dylan (of Blood on the Tracks fame)!

At Mikes suggestion we adjourned to the beach where we drank too much red wine, listened to music from the ’70’s and ’80’s (some of which was laden with memories and others that were new to me), and laughed ourselves stupid while the full moon rose silently over a tropical sea. A perfect setting for a special reunion… Suddenly it was after midnight and we hadn’t had dinner, hadn’t even thought about it which goes to prove what a great night it was.

The next morning Jen had an appointment in Tully so in convoy we dropped Dylan at school with a parting wave and vow to stay in touch we headed into the wettest town in Australia. This is Tully’s indisputable claim to fame and the rationale for the giant golden gumboot that greets visitors on arrival. Mike took me for a tour of his local golf course while Jen was at her appointment and explained the finer points of “one ball” golf; where you compete against yourself, listen to whatever music you feel and only keep a mental score. This, combined with the fact that the course was deserted, we were wearing thongs and in a cart made golf seem like a game worth playing again, only tempered by the need to keep an eye out for rogue reptiles.

Following this revelation we headed back into town for a coffee and croissant with Jen and parting promises, and the most important comment Mike made the whole time we were together: that he’s the happiest he’s ever been! A great note to part company on!

I couldn’t leave Tully without visiting the golden gumboot and was amazed to discover it’s 8m tall, the same height as the highest ever annual rainfall for Tully!

Realising Townsville was only two hours south and not being in any hurry to get there I decided to head up into the mountains to the Tully gorge which sounded interesting even though it was 40km away. After initially travelling through cane fields, then banana plantations and finally the army jungle warfare training base I crossed the Tully river and entered the Tully Gorge NP. Winding ever upward there was no sign of the gorge and after travelling over 50kms I decided to get out of Max and investigate on foot only to be immediately attacked by about twenty vicious March flies. After beating a swift retreat back to Max I decided I’d had enough and headed back down the mountain headed for Townsville. I have the March flies to thank for the fact that about 10ks back down the road I found the gorge I’d missed on the way up, otherwise I might still be looking for it.

Something weird happened on the way south from Tully, without me realising it I’d not only left cassowary country but the vegetation had changed completely, from cane fields and rainforest to the arid scrub reminiscent of the gulf country and Cape York, and the closer I got to Townsville the more Central Australian it seemed, a hash landscape dominated by huge red granite monoliths not unlike Uluru. Then all of a sudden I was in suburbia, it seems Townsville has grown out not up, with it’s own form of creeping brick venereal disease extending the city limits, this is still the land of the project homes, steel fences and the quarter acre block.

In case you hadn’t picked up on it, based on my one previous business trip to Townsville I am no big fan of this city. Maybe it’s the disproportionate representation of the military and academia but somehow, like Canberra, it seems to be dominated by government employees. What I hadn’t remembered is the imposing big red rocks that seem to frame the city and reminded me of what I imagine an overgrown Alice Springs might be like, or perhaps the badlands of east Los Angeles with the Sierra Nevadas as a backdrop. A weird concoction of Canberra, Alice Springs and LA in the tropics contrasting with the beautiful islands of the great barrier reef. Having said that as I got closer to the coast things got better and the Strand is really quite nice, if you had to live in Townsville this would be the place to live.

After a quick trip to the Townsville Maritime Museum where they have the relocated the Bay Rock Lighthouse to and the nearby roundabout that is now home the Wharton Reef Light I made enquiries about how to get to Cape Cleveland Lighthouse which is in situ located at the end of a long peninsular about 18km due east of Townsville. The trouble is that’s as the crow flies, by land it’s a 40km drive over rough roads and through private property followed by a rugged 10km hike over mountains and through swamps. Not ideal. The alternative was a $ 1,500 45 minute helicopter ride to the Cape for 30 seconds and a couple of quick snaps, then back with a bit of Townsville sightseeing thrown in for good measure. Hard to see the value in that! A much easier and more economical option was to take the ferry to Magnetic Island which passes about 10km from Cape Cleveland light and offers a clear line of sight. Much like Booby Island, sometimes being near enough is good enough, it’s about the journey and researching the lighthouses as much as it’s about actually touching them (anyway that’s my excuse)!

So after a quick return trip to Magnetic Island which I’d didn’t find particularly magnetic it was time to saddle up and get out of Town-sville!

On the way out I dropped by JCU which I found almost as soulless and depressing as the road south. Looking at my intended route the only settlement of any note seemed to be Ayr which would also be where I would turn off to go to Cape Bowling Green Lighthouse if I could be bothered, which I couldn’t. Because back in 1987 they decided to relocate the original lighthouse to Sydney Maritime Museum, and replace it with a very functional but equally unattractive steel tower. You can read about these various lighthouses in the relevant “Lighthouse Stories” blog if you’re interested.

So without this distraction I headed into downtown Ayr, which sadly didn’t live up to it’s interesting name. I’d originally thought I might overnight here but based on first impressions I decided to push on only to be greeted by a gigantic concrete snake on the southern outskirts which I learnt was the local aboriginals totem for “Welcome” or in my case “goodbye”. Shortly after this we crossed the incredibly wide but very dry Burdekin River on a very long and strangely constructed steel girder bridge that gave the impression that the welcoming snake had had second thoughts and decided to eat us!

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Next stop Bowen where I arrived just in time to see a spectacular sunset over Queens Bay, which I took to be a good omen!

Sunset over Queens Bay, Bowen